With all the world’s wickedness on display, perhaps we could use some good news today? It’s been a wonderful week, friends.
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Brendan and Becky were in town last weekend for a beautiful wedding—and as friends on the groom’s side we made the short list of guests who could actually attend. It was a great blessing to celebrate the love of God and of two young people in a church at the end of a long week of violence and sorrow.
On Monday, Lily, Jodi and I paraded by vehicle through the Big Woods Elementary School parking lot to cheer and be cheered by the teachers and staff. (In retrospect, Gabe should have joined; he did most to help her with distance learning these past few months.) It was a bittersweet end to the school year, capped by a tear-jerking video from Mrs. Skon to all her students later in the week. We were all blessed to have her as a teacher through these challenges—Lily most of all. Continue reading
This piece was published in the May 24 edition of the St. Michael Catholic Church bulletin. At the time, I thought it resonated with our typical approach to welcoming people into our church, but a week and a half later, I challenge myself and everyone else to read and reflect on it in light of the killing of George Floyd and the aftermath.
People need a place to belong. They want a reason to believe.
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Two weekends ago, Fr. Richards preached a homily that has not left me. Over the years, he has talked often about the need for hospitality in our parish—and more recently, he has urged us to move beyond welcoming to actively inviting people into relationship: with ourselves, with Christ and with the Church.
This time Father presented a simple model of how to do this—or more precisely, how we often do it wrong. The model was summarized in three short words: Belong. Believe. Behave.
People are looking for a place to belong. We are made for love and community—without it, we can’t step forward in trust toward belief. And if someone does not believe—specifically, if someone does not believe in a God who loves us and has a plan for us—why would they ever behave? How can they receive a love they cannot see? Why would they follow a God they do not know? Continue reading
My bride and I met while working at Wall Drug, on the edge of the Badlands in South Dakota. I was selling boots and moccasins that summer; she was selling hats and western wear. The day she started at the store, I had been working about a week. Her supervisor had gone to Mass (“On a weekday?” I thought.) and asked me to keep an eye on things and show the new girl how to run the register when she arrived.
So I did. It wasn’t long before I wanted to spend all my time with her, even accompanying her to Mass, which I hadn’t gone to in years—and when I went back to Yale in the fall, I missed her.
I had a job for the School of Music’s Concert Office that took me all over campus and several classes at the far end of Hillhouse Avenue, so multiple times a week (sometimes several times a day), I walked past St. Mary’s on Hillhouse (good photos). Sometimes I would see sandaled and habited Dominicans greeting students as we passed by, and I loved the tall stone steeples, which, unlike the numeorus other gothic structures on campus, announced the presence of the divine. When the I finally (inevitably) decided to go to church and pray for (at least daydream about) the girl I hoped to marry, those gray steeples and thick wooden doors were the ones that welcomed me home, if only as a heathen dabbler at the time.
Along with many of you, I am frustrated with all the conflicting information circulating about the coronavirus pandemic, and particularly, with the mixed signals from our government leaders about what is deemed safe (big-box retailers, for example) and what is not (public Masses). I have great hope that this issue will be resolved soon, and we will again be able to worship in freedom, peace and safety.
In the meantime, however, I have made peace with the situation we are in and am doing my best to pray for and support our church and civic leaders. It’s not always easy, but I thought I’d share my thinking, in hopes that it helps someone else along the way. Continue reading
On some level, everyone I know is feeling the strain of the coronavirus quarantine. It’s a challenge to make decisions for own family—balancing basic needs and less urgent desires, physical health and emotional well-being, the fear of endangering someone’s health and the cry of our hearts for flesh-and-blood interaction—so I am grateful not to have the burden of deciding for churches, cities, states or nations.
I am also blessed to be busy with both work and family projects. But lately I find myself oscillating between excitement about the good things that are happening at our parish and home and feelings of futility when faced with an unknown future. Great things are happening at St. Michael Catholic Church and School; the Thorps are installing a long-awaited second shower and, God willing, new floors in our house; and we are preparing for our first granndchild and our third graduate leaving the nest—but what about this virus, the economy and the upcoming election? Can the parish maintain its positive momentum? Should Jodi and I be saving the money we’re investing in our home? What will the fall bring for our children and our grandbaby? Continue reading