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.

My friend and fellow pastor, Father Paul, noticed unsightly, overgrown trees near his parish church. He asked the maintenance crew to cut back the growth, which they happily did, telling him the trees would be much healthier and even fuller after a good pruning. A few days later, Father Paul received a letter from an irate man in the neighborhood who wrote, “Jesus would never prune trees like that. He loves trees, unlike you.”

Recently I was with my little dog Libby at a retreat center in the Arizona desert. I sat in a chair near a ravine filled with shrubs. Unbeknownst to me, Libby wandered down there and disappeared. Suddenly an animal’s wild shriek erupted from the area. Without thinking, I bolted down into the ravine fully expecting to see coyotes, javelinas, or rattlesnakes. I didn’t care. I desperately wanted to get Libby out of there, without any selfregard. Before I could face whatever danger lay hidden, my dog blissfully trotted out from an entirely different area, utterly unaware that I had (quite heroically) just placed my life on the line.

You know what are some of my favorite moments in Scripture? The little “Easter eggs” of Jesus’ humanity, things like Jesus falling asleep, Jesus drawing in the sand, Jesus playing with kids. And how about Jesus rising from the dead, appearing to his disciples and saying, “So, have you got anything to eat?”

A protestant pastor friend of mine was invited to meet Pope Francis with a group of other pastors. He noticed the Pope’s chair was especially ornate and set at the head of the group. He somewhat playfully said, “Holy Father, why do you get that special chair?” The group chuckled nervously at my friend’s audacious chide.

Alleluia! This Hebrew word is a powerful prayer which means “Praise the Lord!” It is a prayer we now voice to celebrate Jesus’ resurrection from the dead; it was absent from our liturgies during the season of Lent. The liturgical Easter season extends from Easter Sunday through Pentecost Sunday, May 19. The season includes Divine Mercy Sunday (the Second Sunday of Easter, April 7) and Ascension Thursday, May 9. The Fourth Sunday of Easter, this year celebrated on April 21, is often called Good Shepherd Sunday because the gospel reading is always one of the stories about Jesus, the Good Shepherd. The Sunday first readings during the Easter season are from the Acts of the Apostles, the story of the early Church, while the second readings, which focus on our lives as Christians, are all from the First Letter of John. Most of the Sunday gospel readings are from John’s gospel. You can read about The Acts of the Apostles (outline, themes, etc.) on Fr. Felix Just’s Catholic Resources webpage, catholic-resources.org/Bible/Acts.htm. Fr. Just also has a webpage with many resources regarding the Gospel and Letters of John at catholic-resources.org/John/Intro.html. You can prepare for every Sunday’s readings at liturgy.slu.edu/.

We have completed our 40 day journey and we find ourselves looking joyfully into an empty tomb. We began our Lenten journey on Ash Wednesday and find its fulfillment here, on Easter! Throughout our journey we challenged ourselves to search and find all the brokenness and weakness of our lives, all that would distract us from being true disciples of our Lord Jesus Christ. We were led this past week, Holy Week, to carry all our troubles, weakness and brokenness to the tomb with our Lord, and now we rejoice in the fact that through His death and Resurrection, he has saved us, restored us, and made us whole again.

The Bible is a strange book.

It’s one of the only books that most people never read in its entirety, even those who claim it as one of their favorites. It’s also one of the only books that we feel comfortable chopping up and sectioning out. There’s nothing wrong with that, really, until people start making wholesale judgments of divine revelation based on one tiny part of it. You can’t base your belief system on a few lines from Leviticus and ignore the Gospels, just like you can’t embrace the teachings of Jesus and ignore the Old Testament. You need to accept the whole story, in its entirety, or none of it means anything.

We parents know that it’s tricky, tackling the topic of fear with our kids. We want them to know that it’s okay to be scared, that it’s something we all feel from time to time. We want them to understand that bravery isn’t the absence of fear, but the choices we make in persevering despite that feeling.

Most of all, we want to model the right kind of behavior for our kids. Whatever our scary situation is — illness, a job loss, life changes — we want them to see us make a choice to face that fear head-on.

Our national pastime isn’t baseball. It’s what the Bible calls “condemning the world.” We generally enjoy pronouncing curses upon those whom we see as trouble, wrong, or evil. Don’t believe me? Listen to almost any podcast, cable news network, or social media platform to hear it. It will be some version of: “We all agree that if they are eradicated, things will be great.” Condemning is almost always clothed in virtue. It basks in its good intentions. That’s why it is so attractive. Condemning seems like our best path to saving what is good.

Watch your fellow churchgoers today as the priest or deacon reads the story of Jesus raising hell (or perhaps he’s raising heaven?) in the temple square. Dollars to donuts, they’ll be squirming.

As Catholics, we have become very uncomfortable with Angry Jesus. He makes us cringe in the same way that the Old Testament God does when He calls Himself “jealous” and talks about punishment. That level of intensity makes us recoil. If it were present in a human relationship, it would be toxic and abusive, because in humanity, fierceness and love rarely coexist in a healthy way.