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
The placement of St. Peter and St. Paul in the dome is one of my favorite details in our church’s artwork. As we approach the altar from the center aisle, St. Peter is above us—the apostle who first declared Jesus to be the Messiah—reminding us of Whom we are receiving. At the end of Mass, as we exit up the center aisle, St. Paul is front and center above us—the great missionary apostle who took the Word of God out into the world, reminding us of our own mission to invite people into relationship with Jesus and His Church. Continue reading
So when he had washed their feet [and] put his garments back on and reclined at table again, he said to them, “Do you realize what I have done for you? You call me ‘teacher’ and ‘master,’ and rightly so, for indeed I am. If I, therefore, the master and teacher, have washed your feet, you ought to wash one another’s feet. I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do.” – John 13:12-15
In his Holy Thursday homily last night, our pastor Fr. Peter Richards encouraged us to reflect on why, in St. John’s gospel, Jesus interrupts the Passover meal to do something incredible: wash the feets of His disciples. Washing another’s feet was the job of the lowliest of servants: St. John the Baptist uses a similar comparison to tell his followers how far above himself the Messiah would be: “One mightier than I is coming after me. I am not worthy to stoop and loosen the thongs of his sandals” (Mark 1:7).
Why would Jesus do this? Father encouraged us to contemplate how great the Lord’s love for us is, to allow ourselves to receive that love, and to yield to it…to surrender to the One who gives Himself entirely for our good.
Here’s what occurred to me during and after his homily. Continue reading
It has been almost a month since Catholics in the Archdiocese of St. Paul and Minneapolis were dispensed of our Sunday obligation to attend Mass, and even less time since public Masses were suspended and we were told by state officials to stay home for two weeks. It seems longer, doesn’t it? It appears likely we will be asked to persist in this relative isolation awhile longer.
People are rightly concerned about the health of their loved ones, the most vulnerable among us and healthcare workers (among other “essential” employees). They are also rightly concerned about their livelihoods and the economy, their family’s mental and spiritual health, and how much freedom and control we are willing to sacrifice based on what evidence.
That’s a great deal of concern. It’s exhausting to carry, and people everywhere are asking, “When will things get back to normal?”
I am not sure they should. Continue reading