The world is filled with people whose basic needs aren’t met, whether for clean water, nutrition, safety, education, meaningful work, stable family life, basic medical resources, religious freedom, and the right to life. So how can we possibly believe what Psalm 145 says to us this week, “The hand of the Lord feeds us, he answers all our needs”? Does he? What about the countless poor? Can’t we identify at least a few unmet needs in our own lives right now? Is the Bible promoting wishful thinking and laziness in helping others?

A Deserted Place

In one of my favorite shows, “Parks and Recreation,” there is a scene where one of the characters, Jerry, is tasked with stuffing hundreds of envelopes with flyers as part of his volunteer work for a local city council campaign.

Shake Off the Dust

Our kitchen floor is at least 35 years old, and it’s the ugliest color to come out of the ‘80s. But it’s a good, durable floor, and my husband, bless his heart, guards it like it was a finely finished hardwood imported from Brazil.

A Prophet and His Native Place

“A prophet is not without honor except in his native place.” It could be the slogan of high school reunions everywhere. I speak from experience — I didn’t go to my high school reunion, but I do live in the same area in which I grew up. Ghosts from the past lurk in every grocery aisle and gas station. Former classmates fill my prescriptions at the pharmacy. I am always sure to see an old teacher or two at the Fourth of July parade.

The Touch of Christ

For a long time, I didn’t understand why the virtual Masses of the pandemic were so wearisome to me. Theoretically, shouldn’t it be a tired mother’s dream, fulfilling her Sunday obligation from the couch, not having to worry how much noise the kids are making?

Right now, you and I are only worried about one of only two things: wind or water. Bear with me. This week we hear the account of the terrified disciples waking Jesus in a sea storm. He chastises them for their lack of faith, and then, “rebuking the wind, he said to the sea, ‘Quiet, be still!’” He rebukes the wind and stills the water. In the Bible wind and water represent the two most fundamental poles of our experience of creation. Wind means heaven, spirit, that which gives identity, unity, order, light. Water stands for earth, variation, potential, that which can be drawn into identity, darkness, chaos.

Living Parables

Whenever someone begins a sentence with, “This parable means…” I roll my eyes. (Sometimes I do this inwardly, to be polite. But I still do it.)

We have a tendency to treat the parables like our mom’s favorite casserole recipe. Ah yes, we think as we sit down to dinner, smiling as we inhale the aroma of childhood. Good ol’ mushy-chicken-rice-thing. I recognize you. I know exactly what you are. I don’t even have to think about you.

In the Family Way

Look here: there is no one more family-oriented than me. I drive a minivan. I wear mom jeans. I wipe unidentified gunk off of kids’ faces without a second thought.

I’m all about family, but I’m not always a fan of what “family” has come to mean in the modern lexicon. Family values. Family-friendly. Family-oriented. It’s usually a synonym for “non-offensive.” Soft. Moderate. Nice.

A friend in high school once asked me why I wore a Crucifix around my neck. She was a Christian and very devout, so I was surprised at her confusion. “To remember Jesus’ sacrifice,” I said.

Her upper lip curled in disgust. “The cross is a sign of Jesus’ sacrifice,” she said. “He’s not on the cross anymore. It’s really weird that you wear his dead body.”

My dear friends, Cardinal O’Malley has truly blessed St. Mary’s by assigning to our parish a new priest. I am happy to announce that Fr. John Tanyi, ordained this weekend at Holy Cross Cathedral by Cardinal O’Malley, is St. Mary’s new Parochial Vicar. I am grateful to Cardinal O’Malley for this assignment and upon his arrival in a few weeks, I look forward to welcoming Fr. John Tanyi and introducing all of you in person. Until then, here are some excerpts from a write-up on Fr. John from a recent Boston Pilot article. - Fr. Bob

Summer Ordinary Time starts off with a liturgical bang, with Trinity Sunday and the Feast of Corpus Christi taking center stage on May 26 and June 2, respectively. Officially called the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity, Trinity Sunday is a celebration of one of the central tenets of our Catholic Christian faith: Three distinct persons (Father, Son and Holy Spirit) in One God. The New Testament lectionary readings on Trinity Sunday refer to this mystery of our faith. The second reading, which is from the letter of St. Paul to the Romans, reminds us that we are God’s children and, along with Christ, God’s heirs; the Spirit witnesses to our relationship with God, the Father. The gospel reading from Matthew is even more explicit, telling us that Jesus commissioned his disciples (and us) to bring his message to all the nations and to baptize people in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.  This formula is one which we repeat every time we make the sign of the cross; it helps us to remember that our God is indeed One in Three persons.

When I was twenty-two years of age in August of 2000, I experienced World Youth Day in Rome. As for many of my generation, the event was life-changing for me. Surrounded by joyful, hope-filled young people from seemingly every nation and tongue, we were gathered around the Pope, sharing a common Faith and love. The Pope spoke to us of our shared family bond in the Church and invited us to give our lives in service to others. Now twenty-four years later, my life as a priest, like that of so many others from those special days, continues on that same path of love and unity — despite my many weaknesses. What makes that continuation possible?

I only pray out loud when I want my kids to hear what I’m saying.

I know what you’re thinking — hypocrites in the synagogue and the street corner; go to your room and shut the door — but I think if Jesus had to raise children he would understand where I’m coming from. I pray out loud not because I want my kids to think I’m holy and not because I want them to admire me but because I want them to know how broken I am, how desperately I rely on the mercy and love of God.

Once a man came to the Vatican and asked to see Pope John Paul II, claiming that they had been friends in Poland. When told of the man, the Pope said, “He is mistaken about our friendship. I don’t recall ever having suffered with him.” As it turned out, the man had never known the Pope. Now, I’m not sure if the story is totally factual. But doesn’t the juxtaposition of suffering with friendship sound exactly like JPII? He understood that the deepest and most lasting friendships are forged in the fires of shared suffering. No suffering, no friendship. Amazing.