Monthly Newspaper • DIOCESE OF BRIDGEPORT

During the summer months, the Diocese of Bridgeport will be sharing homilies from pulpits all over Fairfield County in an effort to showcase our diversity and our communities of faith.

This week’s guest homilist is Father Joseph Marcello from St. Catherine of Siena Parish in Trumbull.

My friends, all of us have had the experience of either being in the hospital ourselves or visiting someone who was in the hospital or both. And when someone’s in the hospital, that person is referred to as a patient, and that’s because the word patient comes from the Latin word, patient, which means “bearing” or “enduring. “So a patient is literally the one who is bearing or enduring the pain and suffering of illness while in the hospital.

When we use the word “patience” in common parlance, as in, “I need to grow in patience” or “I would like to be more patient than I am now, “what we are really saying is,” I need the strength to suffer well, to endure well to bear well, whatever I’m going through or dealing with right now.” That’s what it means to grow in patience.

At the end of the Gospel passage we just heard is a reference to the 12 apostles anointing with oil many who were sick and curing them. This is a foreshadowing of the gift that Christ would leave to his Church, which we know today as the Sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick. Even more explicitly, in the Letter of St. James in the New Testament, we read these words: Are there any who are sick among you? Let them send for the priests of the church and let the priests pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer of faith will save the sick persons and the Lord will raise them up. And if they have committed any sins, their sins will be forgiven them.”

One thing I’ve noticed over the years is that there seems to be some misunderstanding or confusion around the Sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick. So I thought that this weekend would bring a good opportunity to offer a few points of clarification of this sacrament, which is such a beautiful aspect of our life in Christ.

First, for a long time in the life of the Church, the Sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick was customarily given just just before death. And so it was customarily referred to as unctio in extremis, or Extreme Unction. And back when I was first ordained, I remember clearly that when I would go to the hospital to visit the sick, especially visiting an elderly person, when I offered them the Sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick I was surprised that they would almost instinctively decline it because they thought it was going to kill them.

But that’s not what the sacrament is. That’s not why Christ has given it to us. It is a sacrament of healing. And nowadays the sacrament of the anointing of the sick is appropriately given to anyone who is experiencing serious illness or the frailty of old age. Physical healings do sometimes come about from this sacrament if God wills them. This is something I’ve seen happen with my own eyes, but this sacrament is more than about just the physical. So it would be a misunderstanding to think that if this sacrament does not bring about physical healing, it somehow did not work.

Think about it this way. You and I were baptized and when we were, we were baptized into Christ, into his life, his suffering, his death, and his resurrection. So the wonderful truth is that because you are baptized, because I am baptized, when you or I intentionally unite our sufferings, whatever they may be to the sufferings of Christ on the cross, then you and I can truly come to share in Christ’s work of the salvation of the world.

So the sacrament of the anointing of the sick has two primary effects, and they are these:

The first grace of this sacrament is one of strength, peace, and courage to overcome the difficulties that go with serious illness or the weakness of old age. This grace is a gift of the Holy Spirit who renews our trust and faith in God and strengthens us against the temptations of the Evil One, which are the temptation to discouragement and anguish in the face of death. This assistance from the Lord by the power of his spirit is meant to lead the sick person to healing of soul, but also healing of the body if such is God’s will.

The second effect of the Sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick is union with the passion of Christ. By the grace of this sacrament, the sick person receives the strength and gift of uniting himself or herself more closely to Christ’s passion. In a certain way, this sacrament consecrates the sick person to bear fruit by configuration to the savior’s redemptive passion, suffering which is a consequence of original sin now acquires a new meaning. It becomes a participation in the saving work of Jesus Christ.

Speaking of the Anointing of the Sick or being in the hospital, here’s something I’d like everyone to keep in mind. If you or someone in your family is ever in the hospital, please be sure to let us know at the parish office. Because of HIPAA laws, hospitals are no longer allowed to notify us when our parishioners are there, even if the parishioner indicates their parish affiliation when they are admitted to the hospital. And what I don’t want to happen is that if someone from the parish is in the hospital, they think we know, but we don’t know and they’re anticipating a visit from us, but there’s no visit because we don’t know. So this is just to say, if you or someone in your family is ever in the hospital, please let us know because the hospital cannot. Similarly, just going under general anesthesia is reason enough to receive the anointing of the sick. So if and when that need ever arises for you, don’t hesitate to reach out, and I would be more than happy to impart to you this beautiful and powerful sacrament.

All of this is just one example of how Christ is alive and active in the world today, and how the work of the apostles continues: the apostles who received from Christ himself the power to anoint with oil many who were sick and to cure them.

During the summer months, the Diocese of Bridgeport will be sharing homilies from pulpits all over Fairfield County in an effort to showcase our diversity and our communities of faith.

This week’s guest homilist is Father Peter Adamski from St. James Parish in Stratford. This homily from the 14th Sunday in Ordinary Time, specifically targeted the children parishioners as a part of the parish’s monthly Family Mass.

Well, good morning everyone! Good morning. I hope that you all rested ready for a wonderful week ahead.

Who can tell me, what holiday did we celebrate with this past week? The Fourth of July? Yes, this week, we are honoring our country and we’re talking about it. We hear a lot of good things said about our country around the Fourth of July when we celebrate our independence from England, many years ago. We declared our independence from England in 1776, and we see a lot of red, white, blue around these days, don’t we?

We are all citizens of the United States, or we’re trying to become citizens of the United States. Right? And so, can anyone tell me what flag this represents? The American flag, yes! You get 4,353 points for that answer. Yes. The American flag. And you’re gonna see a lot of American flags around this week. I have placed a lot of these American flags around our church grounds this week because we live in the United States, and in my humble opinion, it’s the best country in the world to live in.

So we’re proud of that fact. We all live here. We’re supposed to be good, loyal citizens of the United States. Wave those flags. But you know what, everyone? We belong to someone who is bigger than any one country.

Who can tell me who we belong to? God! Yes, we belong to God. You get a million points for that. Yes, we belong to God and we are should not be ashamed to say that Jesus is Lord. That’s what He wants us to do. He wants us to confess that Jesus is Lord. “Confess” means to speak it with our mouth.

Jesus told us in the Bible that if you confess me, meaning Jesus, I will confess you to the Father, to God the Father. So “Jesus is Lord” is something that we should be not ashamed of, but is something that we should say and do. Right?

So I want you to practice this with me. Say,  “Jesus is Lord.  Jesus is Lord.” Say it again. “Jesus is Lord.” One more time. “Jesus is Lord.” Yes, he is. And I want you to do me a favor this week, okay? Every time after you leave church today, every time that you see an American flag, I want you to say, “Jesus is Lord.” Okay? Better yet, I want you to tell somebody Jesus is Lord, when you see these flags.

Will you do that for me this week, please? Yes, who’s gonna do it? Raise your hand. “Jesus is Lord,” say it again. “Jesus is Lord.” Amen!

So let me just spend a moment talking to the more mature people here in this church. This morning, Deacon Joe proclaimed that beautiful gospel passage where Jesus is in front of his native people. Some of the Pharisees were there, but in his own town, they were looking at him saying, wait a minute. Isn’t this guy a carpenter? Isn’t he the son of Mary and Joseph? We’ve watched him grow up, but he seems to have a lot of wisdom, doesn’t he? And we’ve heard about these miracles that he did.

So there’s kind of this discontinuity going on with Jesus. They’re looking at the external Jesus and saying, he’s just an ordinary guy. But then their hearts are telling them, wait a minute. There’s more to him than him just being a carpenter, my friend.

Sometimes I gotta confess to all of you. I feel that I’m just an ordinary guy because I am. I’m just an ordinary guy. But every once in a while, I do a few things that amaze me. Perhaps I say the exact right thing to someone in counseling, or I say the right thing in that reconciliation room, or I say the right thing at the bedside of somebody who’s ill. And I’m amazed that this came out of my mouth. Or sometimes I’m so generous with some of my treasure that I plan to use to buy something nice for myself. But no, it’s all a gift from God here, it’s yours. And I’m amazed when that happens. Or sometimes I get requests outside of this parish, perhaps to do a funeral or a wedding or to give a talk someplace. And I go that extra mile. And I’m, I’m amazed that I can do that.

But yet, I, I feel that I’m just an ordinary guy. And I think most of us will admit that we feel we’re just ordinary people, living ordinary lives. Am I not the student? Am I not the receptionist? Am I not the accountant? Am I not the construction worker? Am I not … and you fill in the blanks, my friends. We are more than that, much more than that. And God wants us to allow the Holy Spirit that dwells in all of us, to inspire us, to encourage us to live in us, and can go out into that world and be more compassionate, more merciful, more loving, more kind than we ever could imagine us to be.

So don’t ever think of yourselves as ordinary. Yes, none of us are national or international public figures perhaps, but we are not ordinary. You and I are created by Almighty God, and you and I and every other human person has a dignity about them and has a mission from God. And we are to go out into the world and be disciples of Jesus Christ and extensions of Jesus Christ, his eyes and his hands, and his feet, and his voice in that world.

Praise be to Jesus Christ, now and forever!

By Deacon Anthony P. Cassaneto, Ph.D.
Currently serving as a deacon at St. Lawrence Parish in Shelton and former director of the diaconate office of the Diocese of Bridgeport

St. Paul in his 2nd Letter to the Corinthians 5:6-10 reminded the Christian community of his day as well as ourselves today that we are exiles in this world, yearning for our true home with God.

Today the demands of the world consume our time and energy. I often wonder how many of us take time to reflect on one simple fact: we will die. While we are away from the Lord, you and I are called to be holy, merciful, just and kind in a manner pleasing to the Lord. Anchored by our faith and trust in the Lord’s Divine Providence, we aspire to do the will of God in our lives.

The parable of the mustard seed gives us food for thought. It is a seed, seemingly insignificant, that sprouts and grows in ways beyond our understanding, symbolizing the Kingdom of God. Think of an oak tree, towering into the heavens. It puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the sky can dwell in its shade. It came into being from an acorn no larger than the tip of your thumb. Nothing is impossible with God.

Sr. Madeline, a colleague from Preston High School, gave me a gift for my diaconate ordination that I have treasured for the past 38 years. It expressed a powerfully faith-filled message: “Who plants a seed beneath the sod and waits to see believes in God.” Her sister composed, and beautifully framed this inspiring reminder. Like the mustard seed, may we grow and flourish in our faith, nurtured by the knowledge of God’s active presence and faithfulness.

The Spirit of God is the seed of the Christian life. It had been implanted in you and me at our Baptism, growing within us quietly, patiently, and powerfully over many years. As it matures within us, we have the option to resist the gifts given to us by the Spirit: wisdom, knowledge, understanding, piety, and fear of the Lord, or we can embrace these gifts and so grow closer to the Lord as we await the coming of His Kingdom.

Be aware the Kingdom of God surrounds us each and every day when we put the Word of God into practice in our lives. As we journey through life, our work is to proclaim the Kingdom of God by demonstrating through our words and actions that we are true disciples of Jesus the Christ, By refocusing our life’s journey from the worldly to the sacred, we allow the Spirit of the Lord to guide, to shield, and to lead us on the path of righteousness and justice.

Be aware that on journey we will get distracted and at times take the road untraveled. Do not be discouraged. We must be patient with ourselves and our progress in the spiritual life. Know that the Lord is working is us through the Holy Spirit. We will not become saints over night, but by opening our hearts and minds to the will of God, our foresight is clear and our goal is before us: the Kingdom of God. St. Augustine “Thou hast created us for thyself, and our heart is not quiet until it rests in Thee.”.

Remember always to give thanks to the Lord, to proclaim His kindness and faithfulness. God’s word will produce a bountiful harvest within us if we let it. What we need to do is provide a rich soil for the seeds of Faith, Hope, Love, perseverance and justice to take root. When we open our hearts to the will of God, the Holy Spirit will overpower us with His tender loving care. The seeds that may lie dormant will grow miraculously, quietly, and powerfully to transform us into servants of the Lord who will be known by our words and works.

The following is from Msgr. Kevin T. Royal, Pastor of St. Mary Parish from their Keeping the Faith newsletter (June 7, 2024)

Dear Saint Mary Friends,

June is many things to many people (end of school, weddings, the NBA Finals, and my favorite, the Stanley Cup Finals). The month has also been commandeered for certain 30-day long observances – although mom gets only one day in May and dad one in June.

Do a search and you’ll find June is African-American Music Appreciation Month, Caribbean-American Heritage Month, LGBTIQA+ Pride Month, National PTSD Awareness Month, and National Safety Month.

You likely didn’t know about most of these designations because one of them swallows up the rest in the public’s attention. And that’s a shame. This is not meant to be disrespectful to those observing that month, but simply to point out it has become a social behemoth not allowing for rivals.

And for the umpteenth time, do we have to say all human beings deserve respect and are precious in the eyes of God, but that every human thought, action, or choice may not be so? Disagreement does not mean hatred. In fact, in the church’s case it means love.

It’s all too bad, because June is also the Month of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. The month of absolute Divine Love.

When Jesus appeared to St. Margaret Mary Alacoque and revealed his desire that we have devotion to his Sacred Heart, the heart he showed her was pierced with thorns (our sins) and surrounded by flames (his burning love for us).

The humble heart of Christ pierced in death on the Cross out of love for all.
The humble heart of Christ offered as healing and mercy to all.
The humble life-giving heart of Christ inviting everyone to come to him.

About her vision she wrote:

I saw this divine Heart as on a throne of flames, more brilliant than the sun and transparent as crystal. It…was encircled with a crown of thorns, ….He made me understand the ardent desire He had of… drawing us from the path of perdition….to manifesting His Heart to men, together with all Its treasures of love, mercy, grace, sanctification and salvation….

Who does not desire those treasures?

He is the Light “more brilliant than the sun” who shines in any darkness in our lives.

Back briefly to the behemoth celebrating this month.

Would that there could ever be a reasoned, respectful, and dispassionate conversation on Christ’s Light and his true Love in relation to the purpose and importance of the human body and identity, but that is difficult these days.

Would that there could ever be an appreciation and understanding that the body is an essential part of our identity and communicates who we are (there’s a reason Christians insist on the Resurrection of Jesus in his body – our body).

Would that this would be the first medicine sought in our times.

Please take this month of June to see yourself in the Heart, Mind, and Body of Christ. It is your primary identity. An identity to which all other secondary identities are united, blessed and healed.

Marhabaan. Chào mừng. Tervetuloa. Su’agata hai. These words and others, mostly unfamiliar, appeared above the Leo D. Mahoney arena at Fairfield University, greeting me as I entered the building for Saturday morning’s Mass of Thanksgiving. After absorbing the immensity of the crowd and the beauty of the temporary sanctuary, I caught a word I recognized among the many I did not: Bienvenido. Welcome. This single word, displayed in so many languages, summarized the day. Hello. Greetings. Great to see you. Welcome, everyone, to the altar of the Lord.

Karibu. I came alone, my family unable to attend, but I did not feel alone. Though I knew personally just a dozen or two of the thousands in attendance, a feeling a fellowship permeated the entire Mass. What is it, I thought, that brought these thousands out early on a glorious Saturday when errands, a morning walk, sleeping in, or even mowing the lawn could have otherwise occupied their time? Something even more glorious – the chance to be welcomed to a celebration at the Lord’s table and share that with our brothers and sisters in Christ.

Maligayang pagdating. With hymns and prayers in English but also Spanish, Vietnamese, Polish, Portuguese, and Haitian-Creole, each of us had the opportunity to recite and chant in our own language, becoming an intimate part of the experience. A woman seated beside me prayed in Spanish while a couple behind me spoke a language I could not understand. No matter. They were understood – and welcomed – by God.

Selamat datang. The families with young children. Those in jeans or summer shorts. The elderly stooped with walkers. The crying babies. The women in heels and the men in jackets. They sat and sang and kneeled as I did, coming together to worship the Lord and share in a communion of faith. We came from places nearby and across the globe, some having been born and raised in this community and others having immigrated from countries where those words above me are spoken fluently. Diverse in so many ways, we united as one, holy, catholic apostolic church.

Hwan-yeong. Though the inclusivity of music and language allowed us to worship together, we were joined more closely as we stood together to receive the Body of Christ. Having sat with folded hands and sang a joyous Alleluia, I felt nothing as powerful as kneeling before the monstrance as the Bishop carried our Lord to us all, an awesome experience that moved many, including myself, to tears. Jesus, fully present in our midst. There is nothing more glorious.

Welcome. We came to Mass that day as we always come, ready to worship with an open heart but left with something else. A heart more open, more joyous, one set on sharing with others our diverse cultures under our one true faith.

By Emily Clark

By Deacon Paul Kurmay
Deacon Paul has served as a Deacon at St. Mark Parish in Stratford since 1985. He founded Bethlehem House in 2000 (a transitional home for homeless families). He also founded the Lord’s Kitchen.

Let me tell you a little story. One day a priest went to the hospital to give a dying parishioner the last rites. When he got there, the man’s wife was relieved to see him and offered to wait outside the door so they would have some privacy. The priest saw that the man was conscious but could not speak. He said to him, “Harry, I know it’s hard for you to speak so let me give you a pen and paper so you can give your wife your final farewell message. With that, the man hurriedly wrote down a few words and gave it to the priest who put it in his pocket. As he was administering the Sacrament, Harry quietly passed away. He blessed him and went out to console his wife. “Marge,” he said, “Harry wanted to give you his last message.” He then gave her the piece of paper. “What did it say?” he asked. As she opened it, her face blushed as he repeated Harry’s last words:” Take your foot off of my oxygen line!”

Ah yes, I bet you didn’t expect a little gallows humor! Actually, before you think I am totally insensitive and callous, there really was a spiritual message in that story. Without even being aware of it, we have the power to stand on the Holy Spirit’s lifeline and to cut off the spiritual oxygen to our souls. And the result can be catastrophic, just as it was for poor Harry.

This weekend, we’re celebrating Pentecost, one of the three most important solemnities of the year, along with Christmas and Easter. In the eye witness account from the Acts of the Apostles, we can vividly experience the miracle as it took place. A driving wind mysteriously fills the inside of a closed room. Tongues of fire, bright red, descend on each person’s head and they all begin to pray in different tongues. Jews from every corner of the world can understand the various languages spoken by foreigners. And they are all filled with wisdom, peace and fortitude. They had truly become one in Christ.

This was in stark contrast to the story of the Tower of Babel taken from the first pages of Genesis when human pride and ambition sought to acquire the power and glory of God Himself, and when, in response, God took away their ability to understand one another. They were no longer a united people, but a badly divided one.

Today, in our nation, we have reverted to the days of Babel. By stepping on the gifts of the Holy Spirit, we are no longer united as at Pentecost but terribly divided and no longer able to understand one another, no matter what the language spoken.

Our society is suffering from a frightful case of extreme angst and anxiety, resulting in agitation, impatience, irritability and intolerance. We look for scapegoats everywhere, to blame for what ails us. If only they would go away and go back to where they belong, there would be peace and harmony in the valley again. To justify our thoughts, we enter a vast social media echo chamber in which the like-minded applaud one another for their wisdom and despise everyone else! The result is bitterness, anger and hatred, leading to both verbal and sometimes physical warfare — the exact opposite of the fruit of the Holy Spirit.

So, what is the antidote for this spiritual and social disease? What are we to do as followers of Christ and temples of the Holy Spirit? Surely the Lord is not calling us to engage in more verbal warfare. That’s precisely what Jesus came to save us from! But the world doesn’t want a Savior, does it? You’d have to admit that you need saving in order to want a Savior, and that is something the egotistical mind can’t imagine or accept. The world wants a conqueror, to redress the terrible wrongs committed against it. It doesn’t want peace and reconciliation. It wants conquest and victory. And how does the world see victory? — not in harmony and peace based on mutual understanding and respect, but by the annihilation of our enemies, domestic and foreign. That is the medicine the world has prescribed for its angst, and its side effect is spiritual death. Thomas Merton once remarked: “It may make sense for a sick man to pray for health and then take medicine, but I fail to see any sense at all in his praying for health and then drinking poison!” That is exactly what we are doing when we swallow Satan’s lies.

The famous Franciscan spiritual author, Fr. Richard Rohr, put it this way: “if a voice comes from accusation and leads to accusation, it is quite simply the voice of the ‘Accuser,’ which is the literal meaning of the word ‘Satan.’ Shaming, accusing or blaming is simply not how God talks. It is how we talk.” Merton made it even clearer: “In the devil’s theology, the important thing is to be absolutely right and to prove that everybody else is absolutely wrong. *** It means that everyone wants to be absolutely right himself or to attach himself to another who is absolutely right. And in order to prove their rightness they have to punish and eliminate those who are wrong.” Sound familiar? I heard two Congresswomen verbally attacking each other on the House floor the other day. To say that they were acting like two year olds is to insult two year olds! I fear what would have happened if they were wielding pistols instead of vicious tongues.

The Holy Spirit acts in the exact opposite way. He is the loving Advocate, defending each one of us from attack and false accusations. In sharp contrast to Satan’s deadly medicine, the Holy Spirit offers us His life-giving medicine: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. St. Paul told us long ago: “You must know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit. *** You are not your own. You have been purchased, and at a [great] price. So glorify God in your body.”

In the little book, God Calling, filled with spiritual lessons given to two British women in the 1930’s, Jesus offered this sage spiritual advice: “All agitation is destructive of good. All calm is constructive of goo, and at the same time destructive of evil. When man wants evil destroyed so often he rushes to action. It is wrong. First be still and know that I am God. Then act only as I tell you. Always calm with God. Calm is trust in action. Only trust, perfect trust, can keep one calm. Never be afraid of any circumstances or difficulties that help you to cultivate this calm. As the world, to attain, has to learn speed, you, to attain, have to learn calm.”

Each of us has a choice: to swallow and promote Satan’s poisonous lies or to take the Holy Spirit’s life-giving medicine. Which medicine will you take? If you listen carefully enough, you might even hear the good Lord whisper to you: “If you really want to live, take your foot off of the Holy Spirit’s life line and follow me!”

By Dr. Patrick Donovan

Thirty years ago this month, the people of Rwanda experienced a tragedy my western American mind could not fathom. Over the course of 90 days or so, members of the Tutsi minority ethnic group, as well as some moderate Hutus, were killed by armed Hutu militias. Neighbors killed neighbors. Family members turned on other members of their family. Even ministers, gathering their flock into the Church, betrayed the faithful and saved themselves.

By the time it was over, nearly one million people were dead. Most of the world, including the U.S., just watched.

Because justice was such a slow process – and in an attempt to heal the communities – the Gacaca courts were established. These trials, to put it simply, allowed those who were willing to admit their part in the killings a chance for early release. There were conditions: if they showed where bodies were buried, and if the communities were willing to take them back, people who had participated in the atrocities could be released from jail to return home. Nearly two million trials were held and though the system was plagued with problems, nearly a million people were released.

Ten years after the genocide and eight years before the Gacaca courts were shut down, I was in Rwanda with a small group from Catholic Relief Services. We were there to witness, among other things, what micro-finance programs had done to reestablish small businesses, restore dignity to the people – especially women – in the years after the genocide. We were also there to pray with the people, visit the mass graves, and talk about what the country had been through. It was then, and likely will always be, one of the great honors of my life. It was also deeply disturbing.

After several days in the city of Kigali, the group was split up and my friend, Anthony, and I traveled to the far western part of the country to the Diocese of Cyangugu. There, we visited parishes, prayed with the residence, played soccer with the students, and visited refugee camps (the people fleeing Congo). Mostly, we listened to their stories.

It has been 20 years since our visit, but several conversations remain in my mind as though they occurred yesterday. On one particular morning, we were sitting with less than a dozen people, listening to their stories of the days of the genocide. We heard how people hid from neighbors. They spoke about never finding the bodies of loved ones. They spoke of darkness, fear, and what it was like to run for your life.

Then, unexpectedly, one man introduced himself and said he had participated in the genocide. He had killed many people. He had been jailed. Then, through the Gacaca courts, he had admitted to what he had done, revealed the mass grave to his town, and been freed – welcomed home, returned to his family, and was now sitting across from me.

I think my shock surprised them. My limited capacity to love could not comprehend how this person was free. He had killed people. We had been to that mass grave. I vaguely remember saying something, more to myself than anyone in the room, “How does that happen?”

The elderly woman sitting next to me took my hand. I can still feel her small, wrinkled fingers on top of mine. Through our interpreter she explained.

“If we do not forgive, hatred wins.”

That was it. That was her explanation. For her, it was just that simple. Either you forgive or you rot inside. Suddenly, the loss I had experienced in my own life – losing grandparents, a brother, friends – my own struggles in life – all rearranged in my head. My loss was nothing compared to theirs. My life was easy compared to theirs. My whole world needed a reboot. All these years, I had believed forgiveness was something you gave to others, but this woman, still holding my hand, reminded me that, often, forgiveness is something you give yourself.

The alternative is you can let hatred win. You can let yourself be eaten from the inside out with the anger, disillusionment, frustration, and lament.

At the cross, Jesus loves hatred to death. His “yes” to God gives hatred a space to die. This man who is not owed forgiveness, forgives others. He sees what is happening around him and knows the world needs saving. He knows, at his core, if we do not forgive, hatred wins.

I think about the people of Rwanda all the time. I am still challenged by the words of that old lady and I am still struggling to forgive as she had, as her community had. But each day, I feel like I get a little bit closer.

This week, let us strive to forgive those little things around us. May our perspective be rearranged so we understand injuries as inconveniences and people who irritate us as opportunities to love other people more sincerely.

Most of all, may we love the hatred around us to death so that new life can begin again.

This article originally appeared on the personal blog of Patrick Donovan, director of the Institute for Catholic Formation. To read more, visit https://fiveminutesonmonday.com

Fr. Joseph Gill, the host of Restless Catholic Young Adults, partnered with Veritas Catholic Network to release a Divine Mercy Sunday Special explaining the Divine Mercy Chaplet, Image, and Feast Day.

He also shares stories about saints that illustrate God’s gracious Mercy.

My personal favorite was a story about Pope St. John Paul II and a former priest in Rome.

The humility of the Pope in this story made real the mercy of our Father in Heaven…

We hope that you will enjoy this special presentation.

By Rose Brennan

Against my own will, something happens to me every Good Friday. And unfortunately, knowing it’s coming doesn’t make it any easier.

I walk through the doors of my home parish. The altar is bare. And the sight that causes me to involuntarily gasp every year: the tabernacle is open—and worse, it’s empty.

When I see the open tabernacle with nothing in it, I feel nothing short of distress. Dramatic? Maybe. But allow me to explain.

There is a certain feeling that comes over me whenever I enter a Catholic place of worship: parish, shrine, chapel or otherwise. I feel a deep and abiding sense of calm and peace. And much of that is tied into the True Presence in the Eucharist. Whether the host is in a monstrance, on the altar or even in the tabernacle, Christ is with me when I am there.

Imagine, then, not feeling that. That sense of peace, gone. Only an open, empty tabernacle.

That absence was one that followed me this Holy Thursday. For the first time, I had the opportunity to undertake a seven church pilgrimage with several other young adults in the diocese, visiting the altars of repose at seven different parishes throughout the city of Bridgeport. And at each of them, an empty tabernacle greeted us.

Many of the parishes had beautiful altars of repose, decorating the repositories where the hosts would remain until Easter. I tried to direct my attention to them, to reflect upon Our Lord’s agony in the Garden of Gethsemane, recalling his humiliation at the hands of Annas, Caiaphas, Pilate and the crowd as he neared the hour of his crucifixion. But every so often, my eyes would wander to the empty tabernacles, and that feeling of distress would return.

It didn’t get easier with each church I visited. Each time, the same words would come back to me: “He is not here.”

We try to recognize the presence of God in every moment and every aspect of our lives, but there’s something to be said for his True Presence in the Blessed Sacrament. And when he’s not so easily located, it can be very distressing indeed. Especially so when you experience it seven times over.

At about midnight, we found ourselves at the last of the seven churches on our journey. The altar of repose was particularly breathtaking, truly fit for Our Lord as we awaited his resurrection. Once again, the same words came to mind: “He is not here.”

This time, I allowed myself to think and pray more on those words. What might they mean? They surely meant something, if I kept thinking of them.

And then, I recalled what was to come in just a few days. How those exact words– “he is not here” – would come into play for the women at the tomb. The stone rolled back, the burial cloths lying on the ground, and the tomb empty.

Those women must’ve felt the same level of distress I did during the Triduum—perhaps even more so. But unlike the women at the empty tomb, we know how the story ends.

The emptiness of the tomb is a promise fulfilled. The disciples didn’t know Jesus really meant it when he said he’d raise the temple again in three days. Maybe they thought he was being allegorical, as he was known to do.

But no. He kept his promise. And that’s what I remembered when I entered my home parish for Good Friday services this year. Yes, I was still taken aback at the initial emptiness of the tabernacle, but now I had a new perspective.

With the sorrow and bitterness of Christ’s death we commemorate every Good Friday, there is still a promise of the joy to come on Easter Sunday. And in the same way, the emptiness of the tabernacle becomes a promise of the emptiness of the tomb.

By Father Joseph of St. Jude Parish

The writer of the Book of Ecclesiastes in the Bible seems quite depressed. Perhaps most people know that book through the famous Byrds song “Turn, Turn, Turn” but the book itself is far more despairing of the human condition. Consider this opening of the book:

Vanity of vanities, says Qoheleth,
vanity of vanities! All things are vanity!

What profit have we from all the toil
which we toil at under the sun?

One generation departs and another generation comes,
but the world forever stays.

The sun rises and the sun sets;
then it presses on to the place where it rises.

Shifting south, then north,
back and forth shifts the wind, constantly shifting its course.

All rivers flow to the sea,
yet never does the sea become full.

To the place where they flow,
the rivers continue to flow.

All things are wearisome,
too wearisome for words.

The eye is not satisfied by seeing
nor has the ear enough of hearing.

What has been, that will be; what has been done, that will be done. Nothing is new under the sun!

Indeed, it does look like time is cyclical, even meaningless. The Greek philosopher Heraclitus famously quipped, You can never step into the same river twice, because all is constant change, a cycle that we are trapped in but can never break free.

But there is a way out of the seemingly-endless cycles of nature and life. And that is to take the cycle and go deeper. Life is not a circle; it is a corkscrew. It goes around and around, but also hopefully goes deeper with each passing year.

I was thinking of this in reference to two things this past week. One, of course, is the beginning of a new Spring (my favorite season!). Yet another season passes—but it’s not meaningless if I am able to more deeply appreciate, enjoy, and learn from the passing season. Recently someone said to me, “Just think—I only have 40 more Christmases!” It was a sobering thought—how many more Springs will we get to enjoy? Rather than feeling drudgery at the return of the cycle of seasons (and the cycle of life), we ought to feel grateful that we get to experience it again and again, going deeper each time into the mystery of the rhythms of life.

But the other thing on my mind is Easter. It’s a bit mind-boggling to consider that there have been less than 2,000 Easters in history—and we get to celebrate another one in a few weeks. But rather than this being an exact carbon-copy of last Easter (and the fifty Easters before it), will we be “going deeper” into the mystery of what Christ did for us in His death and Resurrection?

How can we dive into the Paschal Mystery (Christ’s Passion, Death, and Resurrection)? The best way is to attend all three Triduum Liturgies. Triduum, meaning “Three Days”, are the Holy Thursday Mass, Good Friday Service of the Lord’s Passion, and Easter Vigil. I believe wholeheartedly that you cannot understand Christianity unless you participate in the Triduum. They are Masses unlike any other.

At Holy Thursday, we wash the feet of parishioners to symbolize what Christ did for His Apostles. At Good Friday, we kiss a cross to recall Christ’s sacrifice. At Easter Vigil, we begin with a bonfire and a darkened church, lit only by candles. If you want to have a rich Easter where you can truly enter into the mystery, please come to the Triduum—it will absolutely change the way you see your faith.

It is a real gift that we have solid, unchanging, cyclical “touchstones” such as seasons and feasts. Without them, we would feel adrift in the modern world. Perhaps this is why so many people who have jettisoned religion and live in a digital world feel ungrounded, aimless, lost. Once I attended a Walk For the Cure walk-a-thon at a local park with my pastor. They had a beautiful ceremony where they lit luminaries and had music playing with pictures of those who are fighting cancer battles projected onto a screen. My pastor turned to me and said, wisely, “See how the human heart needs rituals!”

Rather than the meaninglessness that the author of Ecclesiastes writes about, the cycles of nature – and the cycles of the Feast Days of our Catholic Faith – are the solid rhythms upon which we build our lives. We fast and we feast; we rejoice and we repent; we remember and we look forward. Every year we have the opportunity to deepen our understanding of – and participation in – the mysteries of the coming Feasts. Will you prepare your heart for a rich Easter by engaging in the Triduum liturgies this year?

STRATFORD—Every year, baseball enthusiasts and historians make a pilgrimage to St. Michael Cemetery in Stratford to pay tribute to the most famous ballplayer to come out of Bridgeport — Jim O’Rourke, one of the first 19th century players who was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1945.

James Henry O’Rourke, born September 1, 1850, was a professional ballplayer in the National Association and Major League Baseball who was primarily a left-fielder. He is one of 14 pro-baseball players buried at St. Michael, which is believe to be the highest number of any cemetery in the state.

A statue of O’Rourke, who later became a lawyer and was known as “Orator Jim” is at Harbor Yards. Born in East Bridgeport, he worked on the family farm and played in the youth league and semi-pro baseball during his early years. He made his professional debut with the Middletown Mansfields in 1872 and joined the National Association team as a catcher.

After the Mansfields folded, he was offered a contract with the Boston Red Stockings and played with them until 1878. O’Rourke was the first person in the National League to record a base hit on April 22, 1876.

During his career, he also played for the Providence Grays, the Boston Red Caps, the Buffalo Bisons, the New York Giants and the Washington Senators and managed for several seasons with the Bisons and Senators. In 1880, he was the National League home run leader.

O’Rourke graduated from the Yale School of Law in 1887 and practiced in the city when he wasn’t playing ball. According to the Sporting Life, O’Rourke “earned the nickname ‘Orator Jim’ because of his verbosity on the field, his intellect and his law degree—uncommon in a game regarded as a rough immigrant sport at the time.”

He and only 28 other players in baseball history had careers that spanned four decades. Even though he left the major leagues in 1893, he played in the minors until he was more than 50 years old. While he was an executive for a Bridgeport team in the Connecticut league in 1895, O’Rourke hired the first African American minor league ball player.

When O’Rourke was 54, he became the oldest player to take the field in the National League for his final appearance with the New York Giants on September 22, 1904. At 60, he caught a complete game in the minor leagues. Primarily a left fielder, he also served as catcher and first baseman. His lifetime batting average was 311, he had 2,643 hits, 62 home runs and 1,208 runs batted in.

Several legends surround O’Rourke, who was the son of Irish immigrants and married to a woman born in Ireland. According to the Sporting Life, he was asked to drop the “O” from his name when he signed with Boston and he reportedly responded, “I would rather die than give up my father’s name. A million dollars would not tempt me.”

In addition, it is said that one condition for O’Rourke to sign his first contract with the Mansfields was that management had to get someone to do the chores on the family farm. John O’Rourke, his older brother, and James O’Rourke, his son, also played in the major leagues.

Jim O’Rourke died at 68 on January 8, 1919 in Bridgeport and was buried at St. Michael Cemetery. Very often, his enthusiasts and fans honor him and keep his memory alive by leaving behind baseballs, balloons, cards, rosaries and even a spatula and wooden spoon at his grave.

By Joe Pisani

By Fr. Joseph of St. Jude Parish

Two big leaps in technology happened in the last few weeks. The first is Neuralink’s announcement that it has successfully implanted its first brain-computer interface chip, which purports to allow a seamless connection between technology and the human person. This could potentially allow a person to control a computer through their mind, and allow a computer to augment a person’s brain activity, as well.

The second leap is Apple’s “Vision Pro”, which came out – and it touts itself as a game-changer, up there with the iPhone in terms of a radical cultural shift. Now, for the first time, we have “spatial computing” – no longer a computer in our pocket disguised as a phone, it’s now a 3-D, totally immersive event where we can actually leave this world with our five senses, and enter a new one.

There are four huge, huge problems with this. First, we are becoming ever more disconnected with the real world. As a blogger wrote, “We are living in unreality!” As we continue to blur the lines between what is real and what is only digital, we are apt to miss the “sacrament” of this world – that this physical world, with all of its rainy days and stubbed toes, family dinners and squirrels frolicking, is actually a medium through which God communicates Himself to us. The beauty of nature, the way in which we see Providence at work, the very fact that we live in a creation far vaster than we can ever imagine or discover, is itself a revelation of God. To detach from the real world and instead inhabit, more and more, an unreal world which we ourselves have created, will continue to alienate us from God.

Second, it alienates us from one another. Imagine trying to have a conversation with someone who is wearing Vision Pro – you have no idea if he’s paying attention to you or a cute cat video he found on the internet! One may say, “But it doesn’t have to be used that way!” But who among us hasn’t seen people sitting across from one another at a restaurant, each buried in their own screens and completely ignoring the living, breathing Image of God across the table? San Mateo County in California just declared “loneliness” as a health emergency. As we retreat into our digital worlds, will this not continue to increase?

Third, living amongst such “augmented reality” makes actual reality seem flat, boring by comparison. This was the insight shared by a writer from “Vanity Fair” who had tried the Vision Pro – he found that real life was boring, because he had become so accustomed to the constant dopamine-hits of novelty and control that he had while wearing the headset. This constant stimulation fragments our attention span, so that we can’t have sustained quiet, prayer, or study. Reading a book becomes tremendously boring. Mass is not nearly as thrilling as watching a 3-D movie. We wonder why it’s hard to have a prayer life, or why many young adults would rather retreat to the world of video games and porn than actually have a dating life – because real life is not as thrilling and doesn’t offer as much novelty or dopamine as the “augmented reality” promised by this new technology.

And, of course, ultimately it’s the age-old temptation – we seek to become gods who have the power to create reality as we want it. Rather than receiving reality as a gift and uncovering the hidden truths and principles that God has written upon the structure and the wonders of this world, we want to write our own meaning in the worlds we are designing.

There are so many other dangers that we could write about (how many “ads” will pop up in our headset or brain with this technology, proving that really all is for sale? Will these technologies be vulnerable to hackers? Etc). But suffice to say that this is a huge step away from a truly Christian society, and all Catholics serious about a relationship with God and with one another ought to avoid such technologies, or at least be exceptionally wary of their dangers.

By JOe Pisani

I did something totally insane — or inane — after I saw that Mark Wahlberg Super Bowl ad for Hallow, urging us to join the Lenten 40-Day Challenge to pray along with him, Jonathan Roumie and others.

Hallow, the #1 prayer app worldwide, was being offered free for three months, and Wahlberg was asking us to take Lent seriously and pray the rosary, read Scripture, meditate, say daily devotions and go to confession. The ad so overwhelmed me with fervor that I got the app and paid for a year’s subscription.

Then, still overwhelmed with fervor, I did the unthinkable. Maybe it was the Holy Spirit working in me or maybe it was my lifelong desire to get my family members into heaven even if I have to drag them by the ears, kicking and screaming.

Anyway, I sent out a group text message with a link to the Lenten Challenge to everyone in my family — not just my wife and four daughters and their husbands, but my sisters, their husbands, their kids, their boyfriends and girlfriends. I sent it to anyone who would listen and a lot more who would not listen. Almost 20 people. With this note: “Let’s do this together. Look at the ad. I will pay for a subscription for you if you join me.”

I was so proud of myself as I pressed the send button that I sat back with a cup of coffee and waited for the responses. And waited and waited … and I’m still waiting. The silence was deafening.

To be honest, my wife replied in her usual fashion, with words of wisdom: “Why do you do things like that when you know what’s going to happen?” Great question, and I had no answer.

In her defense, she already has the Hallow app and took the challenge last year, and she’s doing it again this year. I admit I was disappointed. I mean since I invited so many people, I expected some kind of response, even if it was, “Please stop bothering us for crying out loud.” Or “Did you forget my husband’s Jewish?” Or “Thanks, great idea. We’ll look into it … not.” Or “You live your life and let us live ours.”

The possibilities were endless, but the only response was no response.

I should add that these family group texts are common: “Hey, we’re having a cook-out on Friday. Everyone’s invited!” Or “Please join us for So&So’s graduation.” Or “We’re opening the pool on Saturday. C’mon over!”

More than once I’ve been tempted to send one out that says, “Anyone up for Eucharistic adoration Friday night?” But I’ve restrained myself.

Let me say this. I know Jesus is always at work and every spiritual action has a spiritual reaction, even though we may never know the result of our prayers until the next life. But Jesus doesn’t waste prayers, so you can be sure something good’s going to happen.

That having been said, I confess that I understand how St. Monica must have felt when she was approaching the 30th year of praying for her husband with no results. At least she saw results with Augustine after 17 years.

Here’s the thing. What I witnessed is pervasive worldwide, more widespread than COVID was. It’s indifference to Jesus, which is probably worse than animosity toward Jesus. Our friends, family members, neighbors and strangers have no idea that Jesus has all the answers to all their problems. Or they just don’t care. Or maybe some of them are afraid of people who seem to be pushing religion. (I’m guilty as charged.) Still others have never been told Jesus is the way. The only way.

I suppose when it comes to spreading the Gospel, the best advice is to take Jesus’ advice: “Whoever will not receive you or listen to your words—go outside that house or town and shake the dust from your feet.” But keep moving on to the next person.

The other lesson I learned is that my faith is an unimaginably wonderful gift, the best gift possible … and that’s something people who don’t have it can’t comprehend.

By Monsignor Kevin Royal, pastor of St. Mary Parish in Ridgefield

This Wednesday is Ash Wednesday, and so, Lent begins. Let’s reflect.

“What are you giving up for Lent?”

I know someone who lived his Catholic faith throughout his early life and college years. He was faithful in practice, but not in spirit. He observed Lenten fasts and abstinences, but to no real transformative end.

For him, Lent was just giving something up for forty days. When Easter came, he overate what he had given up. Lent was successful, but in reality, he didn’t come though it any closer to Christ and his neighbor than before.

Maybe, to some degree, this describes you.

“Repent and be faithful to the gospel.”

A turning point came when one Ash Wednesday, the familiar words spoken at the impositions of ashes seared themselves into his heart, mind, and soul: “Repent and be faithful to the gospel.”

This is Lent, turning away from sin, being faithful to the gospel.

Fasting, prayer and almsgiving are means to that end when offered in right intention. “Lord, I fast from (chocolate, wine, etc.) to hunger more for you, your word, your righteousness. I fast so I can stop sinning and unite with your fasts. I give alms so to help the poor and to offer penance for my sins. I pray so that my heart, mind, and soul will be attentive to you and your spirit more than to anything else.

Repenting and turning away from sin and being faithful to the gospel isn’t easy. It requires grace and perseverance.

Plan your prayer, charity, and fasting for Lent (along with spiritual reading). Follow the advice of St. Benedict. Do these in moderation because right intention means more than the acts themselves. It also avoids temptation to pride. Lenten practices in moderation more easily allow for right intention and do not set us up for failure by doing something beyond our capability.

Saints Speak of Lent

“The true purpose of our Christian life is the acquisition of the Holy Spirit of God. But fasting, prayer, alms and every good deed done for the sake of Christ is a means to the attainment of the Holy Spirit. Note that only good deeds done for the sake of Christ bear the fruit of the Holy Spirit.” — St. Seraphim of Sarov

“It is not a simple matter of living through forty days. Lent is the epitome of our whole life. Lenten fasts should not be as for a diet; they should be to partake in the sufferings of Christ…temperate in eating and drinking…. [most importantly] I am not asking what food you abstain from, but what you love. Do you love Justice? Well, let your love be seen!” — St. Augustine

“Lent is a time of going very deeply into ourselves… What is it that stands between us and God? Between us and our brothers and sisters? Between us and life, the life of the Spirit?… We can do without those unnecessary things which become habits, cigarettes, liquor, coffee, tea, candy, sodas, soft drinks and those foods at meals which only titillate the palate. We all have these habits, the youngest and the oldest. And we have to die to ourselves in order to live, we have to put off the old man and put on Christ. That it is so hard, that it arouses so much opposition, serves to show what an accumulation there is in all of us of unnecessary desires.” — Dorothy Day

“Let the mouth fast from foul words and unjust criticism for what good is it if we abstain from birds and fishes but bite and devour our brothers.” — St. John Chrysostom