The Twinkling of Little Lights...

I was delighted to celebrate Christmas at Our Lady of the Annunciation Parish in Queensbury, New York, where I preached this homily.

In the beginning it was very dark. Nothing but dark and bubbling chaos beneath the deep…and God said “Let there be light” and vegetation grew from the cold black dirt, while waters bubbled from dry ground and little creatures began to crawl on their bellies…and God breathed into the dirt, saying “Let their be light,” and the first of our kind walked and loved and saw the light. And it was very good.

As in the fulness of time on that first Christmas night, when it was so very dark.

Shepherds, scared and trembling, exiled to the night watch of their flock, ‘midst all kinds of fearful visions and phantasms wandering afraid amidst desolate hills. While three lost men from far away on camels, wandered hither and yon seeking for a King to guide them, and desperate for a star.

And perhaps it was darkest of all for a young girl on a donkey, heavy with child and the old man lumbering beside her wandering the dirt path of a strange town, desperate for a place to rest their baby on the verge of birth. They were a people walking in darkness, aching to be saved from a millenia of desperation, as prophets cried in the wilderness to a God they feared would never come.

And then it happened. They saw the child who is love and light and truth who came to save them, and to save us as well.

Like us, tonight. For it is very dark outside. Dark with the tyranny of the cold, bleak hatred of the truth, the propagation of the lie, embracing gladly the dark blindness of ignorance, refusing to forgive, with hope in short supply. My God, how dark it gets!

For the mother who can’t feed her child who cries softly tonight, it is very dark. For the young man, afraid of the sin that is slowly taking over his life, overwhelmed and ashamed by deeds of darkness who cries softly tonight, it is very dark.

For the teacher across the street whose brother and sister died from a needle full of heroin who cries softly tonight, it is very dark.

For the old woman whom no one has come to see this Christmas eve afraid that soon she will die alone who cries softly tonight, it is very dark.

For the parent who has been abandoned with a child in her arms,

alone and afraid, with no idea how she can do it who cries softly tonight, it is very dark.

For the girl who sits in her car across from the abortion clinic and imagines what it is like inside contemplating the darkest of deeds

with fear and desperation who cries softly, it is very dark.

For the guy who no longer believes and whose sole and fervent hope is to escape it all in a bottle, a needle or a pill who cries softly tonight, it is very dark.

For they are tempted and very much afraid, that the last small glimmer of the setting sun in their lives will fade and that the darkness will overcome it all.

But then they catch sight of it, and at first it is barely a glimmer: a barely perceptible twinkle of light, a promise of something to guide them.

So they follow this guiding star, hesitantly at first, which leads them to the unapproachable light. And basking here in the warmth of the Christ, the cold dark fear begins to go away, knowing the Babe who did not cling to his power as God, has been born for them.

That’s why, in here, we see the twinkling of little lights. For ‘a people who walked in darkness have see a great light,’ and he is is Christ the Lord, the Light through whom we were made who has taught us how to hope.

No darkness is so dark that he cannot shatter it.

No sinner so evil that he cannot forgive.

No fear so overwhelming that he cannot quench it.

No desperation so deep that he cannot lead us home.

He is not a cute story, or a fond or cuddly legend, He is the Christ, who giggled in a manger beneath a star crucified on a cross when the sun went black. Who wept by a grave and rose from the dead. Who heals us of blindness and commands us to love. Who is, who was and who is to come. He is the reason for our being our life, our love and our only hope.

So come to Church, and let us sing those ancient songs and hear the wondrous story yet again. And gaze at the twinkling of those little lights, for we need never, ever fear the dark again.

Obedience, Respect and the Holy Family...

Even though it’s been several days since Christmas, all the decorations are still up and the manger over there dominates the space, in this Cathedral Church, in our minds and in our hearts.

It’s good, therefore, to think about the Holy Family on this first Sunday of the Christmas Season, as the Church reflects on the ancient commandment: Thou shalt honor thy father and thy mother.

God calls us to honor our parents in gratitude for the “gift of life, their love, and their work.” (CCC, no. 2215) The author of the Book of Sirach tells us as much: "With all your heart honor your father, and do not forget the birth pangs of your mother. Remember that through your parents you were born; what can you give back to them that equals their gift to you?" (Sirach 7:27-28)

It is a debt of love which we fulfill in all the various ages of our lives.

As a child, we owe our parents not only respect, but obedience, for they are our first teachers of all the mysteries of life and living. As Proverbs reminds us: “keep your father's commandment, and forsake not your mother's teaching. . . . When you walk, they will lead you; when you lie down, they will watch over you; and when you awake, they will talk with you.” (Proverbs 6:20-22)

This is why Saint Paul reminds children of their obligation to "obey your parents in everything, for this pleases the Lord.” (Collosians 3:20; Cf. Ephesians 6:1) Day to day, in everything from waking up to going to school, children should obey their parents: it is what God wants them to do. It’s their job!

As children grow up, they still owe a debt of love and respect to their parents, although this takes on new and unique dimensions. For no son has ever grown up to be exactly like his father, and no daughter will be exactly like her mother. Which is why adolescence, the end of childhood and the beginning of being an adult, is such an exciting time!

Saint Luke tells us the story today of Jesus on the cusp of being a teenager deciding to remain behind in the Temple without his parents’ knowledge. In fact they find out he is missing 24 hours later, and find him in the Temple only after frantically looking for him for three more days! 

You can imagine their state of mind! It’s clear from their first words to him: “Son, why have you done this to us? Your father and I have been looking for you with great anxiety.” “Why have you done this to us?” is a kind of responsorial refrain for parents of adolescents.

But when Jesus responds, we are told that his parents “did not understand what he said to them.” Jesus, a man like us in all things but sin, knew the pain of adolescence. Respect for parents is one of the biggest struggles for an adolescent, for at the same time I am defining myself over and against my father and mother, I am called to respect them! But despite the tensions, we are told, Jesus returned with them to Nazareth where be obeyed and respected them. For it is the will of God that parents at all stages of life be honored and respected.

As years pass into adulthood, the obligation of obedience grows into an obligation of respect, as new challenges emerge. For the first time, sons and daughters begin to see their parents for who they really are: as human beings with strengths and weaknesses, hopes and fears. There is a wonderful opportunity at this stage of life to make friends of your parents and to learn from the couple of decades of experience they have under their belts. 

There are temptations at this stage as well. Such as the temptation of allowing unresolved adolescent tensions to become petrified states of alienation between child and parent. The only cure for such temptations, of course, is the forgiveness and love which can lead to respect of another adult, who, with their gifts and faults, first helped you (literally) to stand on your own two feet. 

It’s like the great story of Naomi and Ruth. Naomi’s son, Mahlon, fell in love with and married Ruth. Then Mahlon died. So the widow Naomi, sobbing and all alone in the world, tells the still young Ruth that while she will miss her and bless her for all she had done for her now dead son, she must now go back to her own mother, for Naomi has nothing more she can give her.

But Ruth protests to her mother-in-law: "Do not ask me to abandon or forsake you! For wherever you go I will go, wherever you lodge I will lodge, your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Wherever you die I will die, and there be buried." (Ruth 1:16-17)

Ruth provides an example for every child of the debt they owe to their parents, to ever be their child and to love and respect them until the day they die. So Ruth returns to Bethlehem with Naomi and, with the help of God, provides for “the comfort and support of her old age.” (Cf. Ruth 4:15)

So it is with each of us. We all grow old, parents and children alike (although parents have a bit of a head start on their children). But when we are old, the obligation of respect and love perdures. “As much as they can,” the Catechism of the Catholic Church reminds us, children must give their parents “material and moral support in old age and in times of illness, loneliness, or distress.” (CCC, no. 2218)

So, when parents and children grow old  (although parents have a bit of a head start on their children) and we find ourselves caring for those who first cared for us. It’s when Sirach’s advice should be heeded: “when [your father] is old...be considerate of him...for kindness to a father will not be forgotten…” (Sirach 3: 14-16)

And even once our parents have returned to God, our obligation to them continue, as we owe them a debt of prayer, that God might look upon them with mercy and show them perfect peace. Our love for them, like theirs for us, cannot be stilled, even by the separation of death.

For what makes the Holy Family holy is the honor and respect which Jesus, Mary, and Joseph held for each other. May we follow their example, showing to those who brought us into this world that “heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience” which the Lord had shown to us.” (Collosians 3:13)

PRESS RELEASE 

FROM THE DIOCESE OF WORCESTER

Bishop Robert J. McManus, Bishop of Worcester, has announced the appointment of Monsignor James P. Moroney as Interim Rector of Saint Paul’s Cathedral and the Office for Divine Worship, effective January 1, 2019.  

Bishop McManus recalled “the sacrifice which the Diocese of Worcester has made in allowing one of its finest priests to serve as Rector of Saint John’s Seminary." He continued, “I am now grateful that his extraordinary pastoral leadership skills will once again be placed at the service of his home Diocese.” 

Monsignor Moroney served for the past six years as Rector of Saint John’s Seminary in Boston. During that time the Seminary experienced a significant increase in enrollment as many new seminarians entered through the work of the Archdiocese of Boston’s Vocations Office and four new sending Dioceses were added.  During Monsignor’s tenure the Seminary facilities were expanded, new faculty members were added and the Archdiocese established an affiliation between the Seminary and the Pontifical University of Saint Thomas.

In August of 2018 Cardinal O’Malley and Monsignor Moroney mutually agreed that Monsignor would begin a sabbatical, in order to assure complete transparency for the process of a review concerning matters pertaining to St. John’s Seminary.  The Cardinal also held it unfortunate that there were reports that the sabbatical was prompted by complaints against Monsignor Moroney, noting that Monsignor had fulfilled his responsibilities very well as Rector.

Monsignor Moroney expressed his gratitude to Bishop McManus for his new assignment and for making him available for service to Saint John’s Seminary.  He also thanked Cardinal O’Malley for the privilege of serving as Rector. “Over the nearly forty years since my ordination,” he reflected “my single goal has been to be of whatever service to the Church I can. I am deeply grateful for my time at Saint John’s Seminary and look forward to serving the people of Worcester in the years to come.”

28 December 2018

Thank you...

Dear Loyal Readers,

Thanks for following the SJSRector Blog for the past six and a half years.  It has been an extraordinary privilege to be pastor of this Holy House in which God performs miracles in men’s hearts every day.

This morning Bishop McManus announced that I will be returning to Saint Paul’s Cathedral in Worcester, and I look forward to this assignment with the same eager joy as I have for each new assignment I have received in my nearly forty years as a Priest.

Needless to say, I am sad to leave Saint John’s Seminary, but I will always carry the good men and women there in my heart and in my prayers.  

As you will recall, I went on sabbatical in August in order to assure a fully transparent Review of the Seminary in the light of allegations by two former seminarians.  I look forward to the results of that review and am sure the Seminary will be an even better place as a result of the recommendations of that Review.  I also want to make it clear that no one accused me of anything, and I leave Saint John’s Seminary proud of our many accomplishments.

This time on sabbatical, however, has given me the opportunity to reflect on many things, and I have come to the conclusion that many of the current administrative challenges and complex institutional relationships faced by Saint John’s Seminary demand a fresh approach and a renewed energy.  I will pray for my successor and I ask you to give him your unwavering support and every encouragement.

For you, and especially for each of you seminarians whom I have been privileged to call “My Lord,” I pray simply that the Lord might bring to completion what he has begun so well in your life.

Ironically, my last homily at the Seminary was on “Endings and Beginnings,” and my last Rector’s Conference was “On Leaving” and “On Professional Standards.”  Allow me to quote from what I said in that last Rector’s Conference, as I believe God may have been putting those words in my mouth then as a foreshadowing of my leave-taking now.

Few things in life are as tough as change and few changes are as tough as taking your leave. As a Priest, you will experience innumerable leave-takings, from deaths to transfers. And each leave-taking is a rehearsal for the next and a preparation for that final leave-taking which is your death, that complete letting go, when you will be called to let yourself fall into the arms of God in a final great kenotic imitation of Christ upon his cross….

Sometimes those deaths, big or small, happen in a seminary, which is, by definition a place of formation and discernment. Sometimes those leave takings are the result of long days of wrestling in a seminarian’s heart. Sometimes they come from Bishops or rectors or faculty councils. But always they are painful, both for the man packing his bag and for the ones he leaves behind. For you see, leave-taking is never a solitary act. It deeply affects an entire community of people…

In fact, no one leaves as often as the diocesan priest. In the beginning you get transferred a lot because you need a lot of experience. And while I never really believed it when I was sitting where you are, there is nothing like experience. And then you get moved for all kinds of other reasons, some of which will make sense to you and some of which will not. But in obedience you go and do whatever he tells you, ever cognizant of what you said when you knelt before the bishop and placed your life in his hands.

I left my first parish after burying my first pastor, who dropped dead at the end of a parish pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Then I went as an associate to Father Bill O'Brien at Saint Leo's in Leominster, then off to Catholic University for a year. I came back as an associate to two parishes in Spencer and was then named pastor there. After the two parishes were joined, I went to the Bishops' Conference for thirteen years to run the Liturgy shop. I left there to become Rector at Saint Paul's Cathedral in Worcester, and now, here I am as your Rector.

That's a lot of moving (an average of once every five years) and a lot of people to say good-bye to. But as the contact list on my iPhone will tell you, I keep in touch with some. But the leaving is never easy.

It's never easy because you have become their father and you have witnessed them at their very best and their very worst. You are there when they are perfect reflections of Christ's love and when they have been hateful and vengeful and spiteful. Like any good shepherd you know and love your sheep. You may not always like them all, but you love them so much that you are willing to lay down your life for them.

And so leaving a parish can be very, very hard. For when you leave, the tears and the smiles will make something very clear. That some have loved you and through your personality, your actions and your good self, Christ was able to touch their lives. And that some have not been fully appreciative of your presence and are more grateful at your going away than your arriving…

And it is good to change assignments. Change reassures us that we are not God, but only an unworthy servant doing whatever he gives us to do, for whatever time he chooses, through the wisdom of the Bishop. Change is good for you and for me, for each time I have been transferred I leave behind my successes, but I also leave behind my failures which, by the grace of God and the fading of the memory, will slowly disappear…

Leaving and arriving and leaving again. Saying yes to it, opening your arms to it, accepting whatever he sends your way. That’s doing the will of God, and what more could we ever ask for?

Oh, and by the way, as God has taught me every time, leaving is usually just a prelude to a happy ending. Even when it’s sad.

The Press Release announcing my new assignment will be the last post to this blog.  At the same time, my new blog (msgrmoroney.blogspot.com) and twitter feed (@msgrmoroney) are already live, and you are welcome to join me there if you wish to share in all that God continues to have in store for me in this next chapter of my Priesthood.

In the Lord,

Monsignor James P. Moroney

Rector

Honoring Alice Driscoll

Last week I was delighted to attend a luncheon with Cardinal O'Malley honoring Alice Driscoll and her family at the Pastoral center. Alice and her late husband Roland, God rest his soul, have been among our most generous benefactors and it was a great joy to join Alice and her family for this celebratory meal.

Happy Birthday Kevin!

One of our dedicated Trustees recently celebrated his 60th birthday! 

Here, Kevin Mulkern is pictured with his son Sean and his daughter Shannon at festivities commemorating the occasion!

Seminarians Beneath the Falls...

Seminarians Patrick O’Connor, Nick Stano, Colin McNab and Alex Boucher recently braved Niagra Falls on the same day as Nick’s Birthday. All our brothers are taking advantage of the last days of summer vacation before the new men arrive in a little over three weeks from now!

On Loaves and Fishes

Here is the homily I preached this weekend at Saint Patrick's Parish in Hampton Beach.

How hungry we are! How way down deep inside the hunger gnaws at us! We call it emptiness, loneliness, isolation or pain. We call it fear, depression, confusion or loss. We call it seeking, grasping, despair or need.

But whatever the name, it is the same. A deep gaping pain, like a black hole of fear that threatens to eat us alive. And especially on some days, we are tempted to quiet the beast with all kinds of perverse delights, passing pleasures to calm the soul and quiet the ache.

Sometimes we choose power as our balm while at other times we embrace money or chemicals or sex. Sometimes we bask in satisfactions of reputation or prestige, while at others we build castles of self-indulgence and self-congratulation.

The snake oil salesmen of sin offers many a remedy for the pains of life, though each, at the end of the day, but deepens the hurt, extends the alienation, and leaves us alone and hurting and desperately sad.

But only One satisfies, One who is a he and not a thing, One through whom all was made. One who died and rose, destroying death. One who waits for you here on this altar. One who waits with the life-giving drink that quenches every thirst and the bread that takes away all hunger. He waits for you.

You who have tried it all…experimentum ad absurdum. You whose trail of sin and self-exploitation looks back on broken relationships, broken promises, and bleeding hearts… He waits for you, with his bleeding Sacred Heart. He waits to bleed for you, to die for you, and through offering you a chalice of himself to make you like himself: a Victim for the world who loves the least as he first loved us. He waits for you.

And you who left the practice of the faith out of boredom or resentment or offense, you who sometimes turn the channel to the Mass out of a curious nostalgia, seeking a combination of infomercial and local news: He waits for you! He knows your name, and he calls to you from this altar to receive from the hands of the apostles and their helpers the bread which he has broken, which is the Body of the Lord, offered to give you strength for the journey. He calls you to this altar to come without money and be filled. He waits for you.

And You whose sin has kept you away…he calls you too…To lay upon this altar with those gifts of bread and wine the futility of your best efforts, the brokenness of your fears, and the stupidity of your narcissism. He is waiting here for you…he whose body was broken like the hosts he longs to place in your hands….that by his brokenness you might be healed.

You who have grown old and bent, who are tired of fearing pain and dreading death, who long for relief and are desperate for hope. He waits for you! He took your pain upon his shoulders with arms nailed to a cross, a pierced heart and a crown of thorns. He longs to gather your pain to his and to transform it by his Passion, to redeem your sufferings in the Paschal sacrifice of this Altar. For the bread of life is a healing remedy unto eternal life and the cup of salvation the Blood of the Lord which makes us ever young in him. He waits for you!

He waits for you, this Jesus, this Christ, this good shepherd, this way, this truth, this life waits for you no matter your pain, no matter your fear, no matter your sin or excuses. He waits for you.

All you who are heavily burdened, he waits for you, and looks upon you with pity, as upon sheep without a shepherd, and he says to me and to my brother priests: Do not send them away, but gather them to me around this altar and give to them the bread that I break and they will be filled.

So come home for supper….come home to God…come home and eat well the bread of angels. For the real miracle of the multiplication of the loaves was not that Jesus once fed so many men upon a hill in Galilee. The real miracle is that he feeds me and you today and that he calls everyone who hears my voice a Holy Communion with him that he might live in you and you in him.

That you might know the peace which his world cannot give: He waits for you.

Choral music from Renaissance Spain

Our annual Early Music Academy is taking place in the halls of Saint John's Seminary this week.  It concludes with a concert of Choral Music From Renaissance Spain on Friday night.  All our friends are welcome to attend this wonderful event!
                

Welcoming the Bishop of Kumbakonam

I was honored this afternoon to meet with and receive the blessing of Bishop Francis Anthonysamy of the Diocese of Kumbakonam in India. Two of Bishop Anthonysamy's seminarians are Second Theologians at Saint John's Seminary: Valanarasu Newton Williamraj and Alwin Joseph Chinnappan. I gratefully accepted the Bishop's words of thanks along with his kind gifts and blessings.

Left to Right: Father M.S. Selva Raj, Monsignor Moroney, Bishop Francis Anthonysamy

Shepherds After His Own Heart

This is the homily I preached at Saint Patrick's Church in Hampton Beach this weekend.

It’s a terrible thing, betrayal. A father who betrays a son, a daughter who betrays her mother, an uncle who abuses his nephew, a brother who steals from his sibling, a friend who betrays an old friend, but most of all, a priest, who steals, abuses or lies.

Woe to such shepherds, Jeremiah declares. Woe to the shepherds “who mislead and scatter the flock,” says the LORD. The ones who scattered rather than gathered, who neglect rather than love, they will be punished for their evil deeds.

And while it is true that the vast majority of cases of the abuse of children by Catholic Priests took place decades ago, even one child harmed long time ago is a crime that cries to heaven.

Which is one of the big reasons why I do what I do for a living. I’m Monsignor Jim Moroney, the Rector of Saint John’s Seminary in Boston, the oldest and largest seminary in New England. Since 1884 we have prepared more than 3500 priests for service in New England and throughout the world. And if you want to know who is supposed to assure that we will have shepherds for the future who will gather rather than scatter, who will increase and multiply, rather than drive the flock away…well, that’s us.

Pope Saint John Paul II gave us the best advice on how to accomplish that task when he told wrote that Priests should be a bridge to Christ and not an obstacle. By the way they speak, by the way they live they should draw us to Christ.

For the Priest should be like John the Baptist, ever seeking to decrease that Christ might increase in the lives of everyone he meets. Indeed, his whole like should be one constant declaration, pointing to that Cross and saying: “Behold the Lamb of God! Behold him who has come into the world!”

That means that a Seminary must be devoted not just to the Spiritual, the Intellectual and the Pastoral dimensions of a young shepherd’s life, but to the human parts of him as well.

With the aid of psychologists and spiritual directors, formators and veteran pastors, we seek to lead a man to understand who he is, how he feels and thinks and understands the world around him. We seek to help him to let go of those tendencies and neuroses which would drive people away, and to foster and encourage those natural talents which would draw all men and women to Christ.

Sometimes that means that the seminarian must undergo an agonizing re-examination of his motives and patterns of behavior in order to eliminate from his daily life those tendencies which would alienate or manipulate others.

The most extreme example of such behaviors are those psycho-sexual sicknesses which lead people to act out in all kinds of inappropriate ways that violate the dignity of another person and are rooted in anything but truth, purity and love.  For, as Pope Saint John Paul II said so clearly, there is no place in the Priesthood for those who would harm a child.

For the Priest is called to act in the very person of Christ, must be conformed, mind, body and soul, to the the incarnate love of the man who hangs upon that Cross. The priest should be the one to whom you can always turn, who will always listen, who will struggle to understand, and who, like the Good Shepherd, is willing to lay down his life for his flock.

The priest is the one who leads us to verdant pastures and restful waters, where resting in Christ’s unconditional love, our souls are refreshed and we realize that with Christ’s love for us, we have nothing to fear, nothing to really worry about ever again. He is the epitomy of kindness and the one I can always trust.

The Priest is the one who I must always be able to trust, the one who guides me along the right paths, even through the dark valleys, ever reassuring me that Jesus is walking right beside me.

The Priest is the one who feeds me with the very Body and Blood of the Son of God, the Bread of Life and the Cup of Everlasting Salvation, with the assurance that he who eats and drinks of this Sacrament will never really die.

The Priest is the one who baptizes our children and buries our parents with tender love, devotion and piety.

The Priest is the one who anoints us when we are sick and absolves us when we sin. And always, through his hands and his words, it is Christ who acts: baptizing, confirming, anointing and consecrating. It may sound like Father’s voice, but it is Jesus speaking; and it may look like his hands extended as he prays, but it is really Christ’s arms, extended on the Cross in an everlasting Sacrifice.

The Priest is the man, like the Lord in whose Priesthood he shares, whose heart is moved with pity and who has chosen to renounce fame and family and fortunate in order to kneel before the Bishop and promise to him and to his successors as Chief Shepherds of the Church both obedience and respect.

So wherever the Bishop tells him to go, he goes. Whatever the Bishop asks him to do, he does it; all because he has learned that a life of goodness and kindness, true happiness is never found in grasping for what you can get, but in opening your arms on a Cross and offering all to God in service to his Holy Church. His one aspiration and only hope is to dwell in the house of the Lord for all his days.

And while such shepherds will sometimes fail and fall, the more than a hundred men who will return to Saint John’s Seminary at the end of August seek only to discern God's will for their lives and then do it.  

Pray for them. Beg God to send his Spirit deep within their hearts. And, once and a while, pray for those of us who have been given the enormous privilege of forming Priests in service to the coming generations in Manchester and all the other Dioceses, forming shepherds after Christ's own heart.

Next time you are in Northern New England...

Make sure you visit the La Salette Shrine in Enfield, New Hampshire, where a magnificent Church contains this window, commemorating the mid-nineteenth century apparition of the weeping Virgin, calling all to prayer and penance.

The shrine is built on the site of the former Shaker community of Enfield, with part of the property restored as a fascinating museum to the Shakers, dedicated to extraordinary craftsmanship, like these simple but beautiful miniatures painted by one of the more artistic members of the community.

Make sure you visit the birthplace of Calvin Coolidge, our thirtieth President, (most impressive presidential site I have seen). Here’s the simple room he was born in:

And the extraordinary Union Christian Church he prayed in, the first example of "Carpenter Gothic" I have ever seen.

And the simple grave he was buried in.

When Calvin Coolidge was still a young member of the the Great and General Court of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts (before he was elected Governor) he insisted to his fellow legislators that God was the true author of all good order and that "Men do not make laws, they do but discover them."

Finally, in Tamworth Village, New Hampshire there’s a lovely "country doctor" museum on a working farm which reflects on the medical care provided by two generations of "Doctors Remick."  This is the chair on which you would sit to have your tooth pulled (or experience all sorts of other procedures).

And by the way, try to pick a day to visit when it is less than one hundred degrees out!

Remembering Georgia, from long ago...

During vacation, now drawing to a close, Father Busch and I found many geocaches, including one this morning in Freeport, Maine. It was, like many of the Maine caches, close-by to a cemetery, this one in Freeport, Maine (Yes, we made a pilgrimage to LL Bean, too).

We wandered a bit through the cemetery and came across the grave of Georgia Brewer, daughter of George and Hanna Brewer. She was nineteen years old when they buried her on August 25, 1874.

It was the eve of the industrial revolution and barely a decade after the civil war when George and Hanna buried their teenage daughter. Just a little over 2,000 people lived in Freeport (and LL Bean was just two years old and living over an hour away).

I was touched, as I am frequently, by the deep feeling and faith of the epitaph, which I share here with our dear readers. Please join me in saying a prayer for Georgia, and for her faithful mom and dad.

We give thee up our Georgia dear,
Whom on earth we loved so well;
For we know that thou art happy,
In that land with Christ to dwell.
But oh! Georgia, how we miss thee,
Miss thy voice so full of love;
But we know that thou art singing,
Songs of joy with saints above.

Just a few more weeks...

As the sun begins to set over the Institute for Priestly Formation in Omaha, the men from SJS take a few hours to relax and their weeks of prayer and study begin to draw to a close.  

BEST GOLF TOURNAMENT EVER!

Monday witnessed the best SJS GOLF TOURNAMENT ever with 114 golfers (one of whom even got a Hole in One - congrats, Kevin Landry!) 26 hole sponsors, and a rip-roaring Live Auction at the end of the evening. For the first time ever we even had bidding online leading up to the event, which made it all the more exciting!  A wonderful time was had by all, all the the Glory of God and the good of our Seminarians!

Thanks to All Who Made this Possible by their Hard Work and Great Ideas!

Here are a few photos from the day, courtesy of the talented George Martell. See the rest here!