Twenty-three years ago I sat beside the ‘cross on which hung’ my beloved husband Joe. I could touch only his shins as the bone cancer had invaded every other ounce of him. He was planning his funeral. He specified the songs to be sung, his altar boys, and his Sacred Hearts’ priest buddies, along with Fr. Lowell Fischer, to celebrate his Mass. I nodded numbly and then said, “What shall we do after your ashes are sprinkled?” He laughed and said, “What do you think, ‘woman’? Have a party. We are at the beach, let the kids have fun. Laugh and dance…this is Hawaii! I will be with God. I will have no more pain! Rejoice with me. Rejoice with me.” So we did as he said. Most of our parish community flooded the church, then headed to our yard to “Rejoice” with Joe! I could almost hear him laughing.

And what of the gang who stood beneath the cross, who hid behind locked doors, who trudged the miles to Emmaus with long faces? Each of us have stood beneath the cross within our lives … the loss of a loved one, a serious medical illness, fear of the uncertain, the constant inability to shed ourselves of recurrent sin or memories of abuse or rejection. We, too, have hidden behind the locked doors of false personas or bitterness. We, too, drag ourselves along the journey of life whining and complaining that what we “expected” didn’t materialize.

But the tomb was empty! Mary Magdalene rushed in with the news, the fellows paid little attention, and suddenly HE stood there in their midst. His first words were of peace. His wounds gleamed. Their hearts leapt within them. “It is the Lord!” He ate with them, broke bread with them, set out a picnic breakfast for them, and forgave them. He does the same for us on a daily basis! Hip! Hip! Hooray!

Jesus is risen! Jesus is in our midst! Death has been destroyed. We will live forever. Listen carefully to His hearty laugh as He speaks to us this Easter, “I am with you always. You are mine. Rejoice, my beloved one…let’s party!”

Tags: Miscellaneous, Holy Week

Palm Sunday today. Ash Wednesday almost six weeks ago...

On Ash Wednesday, we stood in church and received a mark of ashes on our forehead as a token of penitence. We were reminded of our mortality, our sinfulness, our need for penance and prayer. But those ashes weren’t just scraped together from the bottom of somebody’s fireplace. They were the remnants of burned palms.

I would like to share just one thought about something that is a vital and meaningful part of this weekend. It is the part, in fact, that gives this Sunday its name.

Last week I decided to clean the altar of my mother’s holy statues of Jesus and Mary. It was a very crowded altar with all sorts of candles, angels and fake plants made out of ceramic and plastic. Behind the altar, there was a rosary hanging on the wall along with a bible and a bottle of holy water from somewhere in the world. Tucked in among them was a small folded cross made of palm leaves, a remnant from Palm Sunday’s past.

This week I spent most of my free time at different churches and experiencing different masses . On Wednesday I had the oppotunity to be elected to recieve the newly refined oils. In the midst of the mass I was shocked to hear a full choir with an ensemble. The best thing about the mass is that Bishop Larry celebrated it. The music made me jubilated as the choir’s voice was meant for a prince. I felt that all we did in the past few weeks will lead us to what we are about to experience next week. Take these palms. Let them be a reminder that we are entering the holiest week of the year. These Palms are the iconic symbol of our christian faith.

Today we stand here again, six weeks older. Maybe, hopefully, six weeks wiser. We hold in our hands new palms. New growth.

Ultimately, that is what these weeks are about. Burning away, clearing out, and cultivating something new. That is Lent.

Tags: St. Michael, Reflection, Miscellaneous, Holy Week

To view in HD click on the HD button on the bottom right.

We may come from different backgrounds, religion, culture, and ethnicity, but it’s communication that brings us together as human beings. Meet Matt Harding, “Dancing Matt” is his celebrity name. He became famous for his viral videos that show him dancing in front of landmarks and street scenes in various international locations. Harding has since received widespread coverage of his travel exploits in major print and broadcast media outlets. When I first saw this video it almost made me cry. Even-though it seems that our world may be in war, there will always be a group of people in the world dancing. Seeing people from different parts of the world with the mixture of the background music; manifested itself as a message of hope. God is acting, this is the work of God.

People want to feel connected to each other. They want to be heard and seen, and they're curious to hear and see others from places far away. He shares that impulse. “It's part of what drives me to travel. But it's constantly at odds with another impulse, which is to reduce and contain my exposure to a world that's way too big for me to comprehend.”

Over at NPR, he's offered his thoughts on what that exercise taught him:
My brain was designed to inhabit a fairly small social network of maybe a few dozen other primates — a tribe. Beyond that size, I start to get overwhelmed. And yet here I am in a world of over 6 billion people, all of whom are now inextricably linked together. I don't need to travel to influence lives on the other side of the globe. All I have to do is buy a cup of coffee or a tank of gas. My tribe has grown into a single, impossibly vast social network, whether I like it or not. The problem, I believe, isn't that the world has changed, it's that my primitive caveman brain hasn't.

Check out the rest right here. And, while you're at it, watch that wonderful video again, and smile. We all need it...now, more than ever.

Tags: World News, Miscellaneous