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.