As a priest I probably shouldn’t admit to this, but I know next to nothing about James and Philip, the two saints whom we honor today. To be fair, none of us can claim to know much about them either.
Gilded chapels and stained glass light have been the setting of my past reflections on the feast day of Saint Mark the Evangelist. But this year, there is COVID-19. It seems that nothing is left untouched by the pandemic.
You might notice that people around you are in clashing shades of green, pinching priests who forgot a green accessory,
Our faithfulness is not a reality show to be won, but rather transformation for God and glory to God alone.
I am the oldest of three children in my family. My two sisters are my best friends, though for many years before I came to see them that way they were also my worst enemies.
Saint Martin’s Day, held each year on November 11th, is not one that makes many calendars outside Europe, but it’s one of our absolute favorites.
There’s going to be a brother in our house. The two big sisters, upon learning we are expecting a boy, spent nearly five minutes in anguish before returning to delightful anticipation of Baby.
It happens often when we are in church: at the time of the children’s sermon, my daughter is nowhere to be found.
Today, we honor the feast day of Hildegard of Bingen, a twelfth-century Benedictine abbess who was not elevated to sainthood until 2012. She was a prolific writer and composer, leaving us dozens of songs and poems, and nine books, including works on medicine and pharmacology.
We were standing in front of an overflowing trash can in the neighborhood “fast-food chicken” franchise. It took me a moment to register my son asking me the question. I’d been daydreaming and lost in thought.
