A Glimpse of Heaven....Monday's Homily

When Father Belchner buried his sister last week everyone was sad.  She as too young, with too many people who loved her, too religious, too good.

But then, for just a moment, Father wondered aloud what it would be like when she got to heaven.  And amidst the angst and the gloom there was an almost whimsical breath of joy at the thought of what it will be like.

Saint Benedict famously speculated in the same way in his last meeting with his sister Scholastica on what he called the “mutual comfort of heavenly talk.”

It’s the way I felt when I buried my father fours years ago and spoke of “that same heaven for which our aching hearts long...that paradise, where we pray that one day he will run out to meet us and we will be together with Christ, with perfect love, forever singing the praise of God in the presence of the angels.”

It is that heaven for which we long and where we pray to be with God in perfect peace.

And today Isaiah gives us a glimpse at what that Heaven, that Messianic Kingdom, that New Jerusalem will be like.  “I create Jerusalem to be a joy and its people to be a delight,” the Lord says through his Prophet.  “I will rejoice in Jerusalem and exult in my people. No longer shall the sound of weeping be heard there, or the sound of crying…”

The author of the Book of Revelation builds on Isaiah’s description, calling this Holy City ”God’s dwelling place…where we will be his people, and he will be our God…He will wipe every tear from our eyes and there will be no more death or mourning or crying out or pain.”

That is what we long for, my brothers, and it is that city for which we were made.  We are strangers and aliens in this valley of tears where what lasts is seen darkly in a mirror.  But in that Blessed Homeland we shall see clearly and praise him forever in peace.

The Seven Sorrows of the Blessed Virgin Mary

The first sword: The Prophecy of Simeon

Each night every priest or religious and perhaps many of you, pray Night Prayer, including the Gospel Canticle of Simeon, who with his weary arms holds the baby Jesus in his arms and whispers to God: “Now Lord, you can let your servant go in peace, for my own eyes have the seen the salvation you have prepared, the light to the nations and the glory of your people Israel.”

And after that joyous canticle, he turned to Mary and told her this baby would be the rise and fall of many, concluding with the words: “and your own heart will be pierced with a sword.”

At that moment, Saint Alphonsus Liguori tells us, the joy which had filled Mary’s heart must have been turned to sorrow, a sorrow which would perdure and a foreshadowing of the Cross on which her Son would offer the perfect sacrifice.

For her suffering was a participation in the Cross of her son, just as each of the Crosses God sends to us is a way of participating in the Cross of Jesus.  “Whenever you suffer,” Mother Theresa once told an old woman, “it is really just Jesus loving you so much that he is holding you closer to his Cross.”   “But could I ask him,” the woman responded, “not to hold me quite so close!?”

Sometimes he holds each one of very close, just as he held his Mother, the most blessed among women, closest of all.  So, if Lent is the Via Dolorosa, the Road of Sorrows leading to the Cross of Jesus, perhaps we can spent a moment with Our Lady of Sorrows as each of those swords pierce her Immaculate Heart.

The second sword: The Flight into Egypt

Chances are that Mary had never been further from home than Jerusalem, a three day journey.  But now, here she is, a newborn in her arms with no place to lay him but the animals’ feedbag and Joseph comes to her with the news that he has had another dream, and now the Angel is telling them to go to Egypt.  To become refugees, strangers in a strange land with a newborn child.

Mary must have felt like Jinan, a Syrian refugee with three young sons and six months pregnant.  “Honestly, I have no more strength.  I am so tired…Sometimes, I put my kids to bed and when they are asleep, I look at them and I cry.  I don’t care about myself.  I care about my kids and how they are living.  There is nobody to help me.  My parents are dead.  There is nowhere I can go.”

Imagine the suffering of the Blessed mother on the back of a donkey, or the young mother fleeing the drug Lords or the gangs or the failed state where her children were born, and you will imagine the sufferings of him who was nailed to a cross and spat upon, and who took all their sufferings upon his aching shoulders.

The third sword: Jesus is Lost in the Temple

Chances are that Mary must have been hysterical when she realized that Jesus was not with them as they left Jerusalem.  And then, as she ran from one part of the Temple to the other looking for him, her heart must have ached with the fear she would never see him again.

Like those 800,000 mothers whose children went missing in the United States last year.  Most of them were found, but imagine what life is like for the 24,000 mothers who will never see their children again. 

Imagine the suffering of the Blessed mother as she stares into the crowd with Jesus nowhere to be seem, or the mother who finds her child has died in his crib, or the parent who stares down the street and no little boy comes home from school.  Imagine the ravaged heart of the mother who will never hold that child in her arms again and you will imagine the sufferings of him who came to seek out the lost, raise the dead child and return him to her mother’s arms, and lead us to a place where no one will ever be lost again.

The fourth sword: The Meeting of Mary and Jesus 

Chances are she watched him for a very long time as he dragged that cross, now smeared with blood up every step of the road of sorrows.  She watched for a long while, until she could not control herself any longer, and according to an ancient tradition, ran to embrace him as he walked to his death on Calvary Hill.

Her heart was broken when she saw what they had done to him and she would have given her life to take that suffering away.  Like the mother at Children’s Hospital this morning who listens to the click click of the respirator as the body of her child struggles to live.  Or the mother who sits in the waiting room at MCI-Framingham who has seen her giggling child become a teenager and then an addict, enslaved to Oxycodone.  Imagine their suffering, and you will imagine the sufferings of the Son of God who stretched out his arms upon a cross in order to embrace all who are afraid, broken and alone.

The fifth sword: The Crucifixion of Jesus

Chances are she had seen a crucifixion before.  The criminal tied to a gibbet, asphyxiated by his own exhaustion, hanging there and taunted by the jeering crowds.  But she had never seen her own son up there, nailed to the wood and gasping for breath.  And then she hears him speak his last words to her as he looks at the young Apostle John:  Woman, there is your son.

Her heart was truly pierced when they thrust that lance into the side of her son.  Like the mother of the girl in her twenties who was shot on Juliette street in Dorchester a couple weeks ago, or the mother of the guy who was stabbed outside of Michael’s in Natick two days ago.  Imagine their suffering, and you will imagine the suffering of Jesus, who looks upon us in our sin and breathes his last to save us from them.

The sixth sword: Taking Jesus Down from the Cross

Chances are Mary had helped to prepare a body for burial before.  There were no funeral directors in those days, just the women of a family who would wash and tenderly cradle the body of the person who had died in their arms.  But this was no distant relative, this was her son.  

And so the Pieta, the mother cradles the dead body of her son in her arms.  The same body who had weaned at her breast and danced on her knees, lies lifeless in her arms.  Imagine her suffering, and imagine the son who lies in her arms, who gives his own life in sacrifice to save us from our sin and destroy even death.  Imagine the love of a God who becomes a weak little child and then offers himself upon a cross, that we might never fear death ever again.

The seventh sword: The Burial of Jesus

For  then there is the grave, as the body of Jesus was placed in a borrowed tomb.  Chances are that the most Blessed among women would have suspected that her Son would rise from the dead.  But she did not know with certainty.  And as everyone ran away, from the cross and from the tomb, it must have seemed the end of a terribly cruel story. Imagine that sorrow, and imagine the one who raised Lazarus from the dead and who rose from the tomb that he might be the firstborn of many brothers, that no mother might ever fear again that her sorrow is infinite and that death is an end.

A final story about Marie Claire.

Marie Claire Mukangango was born in 1961 in the small village of Kebeho in Rawanda.  She was just eighteen years old when her friend Alphonsine told her that she had seen a vision of the Blessed Virgin Mary.  Marie Claire at first laughed at her and then accused her of witchcraft, telling her friends that their friend must be possessed by demons!  So Alphonsine asked the Blessed Mother to appear to more of her friends so that they would believe her.  So she appeared to Anathalie and then to the biggest skeptic of all, Marie Claire.

The Blessed Mother encouraged the girls to pray to her under the title of Our Lady of the Seven Sorrows and for six months she repeated a simple message: “Repent!  Repent!  Convert while there is still time!”

But then something strange happened, for the gentle lady began to show them visions of what would happen if people did not repent, with dreadful visions of death, violence, blood, fire and destruction. She spoke of rivers of blood, piles of severed human heads, people chopping and hacking at each other, and a valley filled with a million rotting, headless corpses.

The next year the visions ceased and Marie Claire finished school, becoming an elementary school teacher.  Ten years later she married a journalist who went to work for the Prime Minister’s Office in Kigali.  

And then the visions became true.  For three months one of the most horrific genocides of our time resulted in the deaths of close to a million Rwandans of the Tutsi tribe were hacked to death with machetes by their neighbors, friends and even family members in a frenzy of ethnic rage. The rivers ran red with blood, bodies were chopped to pieces, and corpses lay rotting on the ground with no one to bury them.

Among the bodies was Marie Claire and her husband.  The young girl who had tried to tell the world that if they did not embrace the Cross through Our Lady of the Seven Sorrows, they would be only sadness and death.

For the sorrows of the Mother of God, as deeply as they pierced her Immaculate Heart, had meaning, for they were a participation in the Perfect Sacrifice offered by her Son as he gave his life for our Salvation.

And we too, Like Marie Claire, are called to embrace all the sufferings God sends us, accepting the little crosses as a means to joining our poor lives to his perfect At of Love.  That is what Mary teaches us this Lent, to see him in every desperate immigrant, every lost child, every suffering mother, each son who is about to die.  To accept him into our hearts and our arms and to believe in his Passion, his Death and his Resurrection with our whole hearts and souls.

 Mary, Most Sorrowful!  Pray for us!

Visit of Bishop Lechowicz from the Polish National Conference

Bishop Wiesław Lechowicz, delegate of the Polish Conference of Bishops to Polish communities throughout the world, was our guest this past week along with Monsignor Anthony Czarnecki, Rector of Saint Joseph’s Basilica in Webster, Massachusetts.  We were joined for lunch by Monsignor Caron, Father Briody and two of our semianrians who are fluent in Polish, Mark Olejnik and David Madejski. We had a fascinating conversation concerning the Polish Church all around the world, learning that more than twenty million Polish people live outside the territorial boundaries of Poland. Bishop Lechowicz, a former Seminary Rector in his native Diocese of Tarnów, compared notes concerning formation at seminaries here and in Poland.

Upcoming Co-Workers Conference!

COME HEAR MONSIGNOR MICHAEL HEINTZ AT OUR NEXT CO-WORKERS CONFERENCE ON APRIL 7TH!!!

"Be Not Afraid" on the Feast of the Annunciation

The Knights and Dames of Malta joined us for a Lenten Morning of Recollection at the Seminary this morning.  Here is the Homily I preached at Mass.

What are you afraid of?

What is a seminarian most afraid of?  That they will throw you out before breakfast?  That I will not turn out to be the super-priest I thought I’d be?  That my friendships will fall apart?  That I won’t be able to stuff all that stuff into my head?  That they’ll laugh at me?  That maybe this is not what God is calling me to?

And what is a Knight or Dame of Malta most afraid of?  That their children will get in trouble?  That I’ll not have the strength or the grace to provide the example I think I should be?  That I will get cancer or have a heart attack or start to pass a kidney stone during this Mass?  That my spouse will get sick and die before I do?  That my faith will grow cold? 

That’s probably enough for this time of the morning.  But we are afraid.  No matter our age or our station in life.  We tremble deep inside.  Every one of us.  On a regular basis. 

We suffer anguish over the things that wake us up at two in the morning.

We are distressed by the things that assault us throughout the day.

We are persecuted by those who resent or just don’t trust us.

We hunger for love and fulfillment and hope.

We are naked, when we come into this world and when we leave, and desperately try to clothe ourselves with artifice in between.

We bleed from the slings and arrows and don’t always see them coming.

OK, now that’s enough for this time of the morning.  Forgive me, I’m Irish, and I love  doing this.

But we fear.  Like the Mother of God.  We all know the first words of he Angel to Mary: "Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you.”  But did you notice what his second words to her was?  “Be not afraid, Mary!”

Why?  Because she was scared half to death by an angel coming to tell her that she was to be the Mother of the Christ!  She was petrified, just as we are so often petrified in the face of the presence of God.

But, be not afraid!  For God smiles on us in our foolishness, like a knowing parent looking down at a three year old, and he loves us.

Loves us so much that he sends his Son.  Loves us so much that he wills him to carry our death down into the grave, rising triumphant (taking us with him) interceding at his father’s right hand for his friends, for his brothers.

For we are sisters and brothers of Christ and the daughter and sons of the Eternal Father, sealed with the Holy Spirit, made a Royal Priesthood by our Baptism, tasked with joining the fears and the joys, the hopes and failures of our lives with the perfect sacrifice offered on that Altar for our salvation.

So what have we to fear?  What can harm?

Nothing and No One.

Just listen to the angel, and be not afraid!

Mass Explained Queensbury: March 22nd

Here's the video for March 22nd answering questions from the folks in Queensbury studying the Liturgy of Word and the Mass Explained.

   
The Mass Explained II: Queensbury 22 March from James P Moroney on Vimeo.

Remembering Saint Joseph at Pope Saint John XXIII Seminary

I was honored this evening to celebrate Mass with our brothers at Pope Saint John XXIII Seminary.  Here is my homily.

Obedience.  That’s what Saint Joseph teaches us.  Obedience.

Do not hesitate to take Mary as your wife. And he obeys.  Take Mary and the child to Egypt.  And he obeys.

And it’s good for future priests to learn obedience.  For, in a very real way, obedience is their work.  Obedience to their Bishop, to their pastors, to their Faculty Advisor and Spiritual Director and even to their Rector.

But why are you called to be obedient to your legitimate superiors?  Is it because they are always right?  They are always brighter than you, more talented than you and always more capable of making the right decision?

Not necessarily.  Because sometimes your legitimate superior will be less bright than you, less experienced and sometimes even less capable of making the right decision.  

But you obey with docility because God has made this man your Bishop or your Rector of your Pastor and its up to God alone to make sense of it.  And for now God calls that man to make the decisions and you to obey them, as a participation, if nothing else, in the kenotic self giving, the obedience unto death which is at the heart of Christ’s perfect sacrifice of love upon the Cross for our salvation.

Saint Joseph helps us understand obedience in a very real way.  Actually Origen does, when he writes:

"Joseph understood that Jesus was superior to him even as he submitted to him, and, knowing the superiority of his charge, he commanded him with respect and moderation. Everyone should reflect on this: frequently a lesser man is placed over people who are greater, and it happens at times that an inferior is more worthy than the one who appears to be set above him. If a person of greater dignity understands this, then he will not be puffed up with pride because of his higher rank; he will know that his inferior may well be superior to him, even as Jesus was subject to Joseph.”

I think of another Joseph, Joseph Ratzinger, our beloved Pope emeritus.  After experiencing the increasing weight of his physical limitations he set aside the Petrine office for a life of prayer.  "I am,” he told us, now a “simply a pilgrim beginning the last leg of his pilgrimage on this Earth.”

And then he, the Pope did a remarkable thing.  Joseph of Bavaria made a promise of obedience, “unconditional reverence and obedience,” to whoever his successor will be.  A promise he has kept.

Did he do it because he knew his successor would be a better theologian than him, a more powerful preacher or a more effective Pope.  No.  He did it because there could be only one Pope, and he, the emeritus, would render him unconditional obedience and respect.

He did it because he belied the words he preached years before:

 “Only if we know how to lose ourselves, if we give ourselves, may we find ourselves. When this occurs, it is not our will that prevails, but that of the Father to which Jesus submitted himself: ‘Father, if you are willing, take this cup away from me; still, not my will but yours be done.’ (Lk 22:42)…. This is what St. Joseph has taught us, with his renouncing, with his abandonment, that in a certain sense foreshadowed the imitation of the Crucified Jesus, the paths of fidelity, of the resurrection, and of life.” (Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, homily 19 March 1992)

Just one more brief story.

I was recently reading an old favorite book, a diary from the middle of the last century.  “It tells the story of a prideful, loudmouthed, sensitive 14 year old boy who was tired of getting yelled at by his seminary superiors and the old ladies in his native town of Bergamo; it tells the story of a young man who didn’t believe he had what it takes to be a priest or even a faithful man of God; it tells the story of a young seminarian in Rome overwhelmed with his studies and who felt far from God …[it tells the story of a man] “radically in love with Jesus Christ, and completely disposed to doing the will of God no matter what.”  Despite it all, his episcopal motto said it all: “Obedience and Peace”

And that Pope is your saintly patron, and his diary, the Journal of a Soul.

So take this from our Feast of Saint Joseph the husband of Mary and custos of the Son of God: Obey.  Obey your Rector, or your Bishop, or any legitimate authority with humility, docility and love and you will grow into the image of him who was obedient unto death, even death on a Cross.

Saint Patrick's Day Homily

Father Joseph Briody preached this homily for the Feast of Saint Patrick a few days ago. We are grateful for his inspiring words.

We know much about St. Patrick because of his writings, especially his Confession. Born in 389 he was captured and taken to Ireland as a slave. He was about sixteen years old. He displays no self-pity in his writings. Indeed he notes in his Confession that he and thousands of others taken as slaves deserved this because, he wrote, “we had gone away from God, and did not keep his commandments. We would not listen to our priests, who advised us about how we could be saved.” In captivity in Ireland he turned with all his heart to God who had mercy on him. His task in slavery was to tend sheep on the slopes of Slemish Mountain. This he did for six years, the average time of priestly formation. This was probably the most formative period in his life. There Patrick fell back on the faith of his childhood and fell into the hands of God. His faith became so strong that it triumphed over the piercing cold of the mountain and the profound loneliness of isolation.

The six years of Patrick’s captivity became preparation for his future apostolate. He became proficient in the Irish language in which he would later preach Christ’s Gospel. He learned about the druids from his master, who was a druidical high priest. This knowledge would be essential later in his work of conversion. Through those difficult six years Patrick was equipped for his future mission. God uses everything to shape and prepare us for what he asks of us. God used Patrick’s capture and slavery to bring an entire people to the true God, a people who would in turn bring other peoples to God. God can use everything that happens to us. He takes account of everything from all eternity. He has factored in even what is most upsetting in our lives – like Patrick’s captivity. He brings good out of evil. “All things work for the good of those who love God” (Rom 8:28).

Eventually Patrick, under God’s guidance, escaped and returned home. He became a priest and bishop. A recurring vision drew him back to Ireland in which the voice of the Irish called out to him: “We beg you, holy youth to come and walk once more among us.” Patrick did return as the apostle of Ireland, with the blessing of Pope St. Celestine I, arriving on Irish soil in 433.

Apparently this was the final act of Pope Saint Celestine before he died. Just two years before that, in 431, Pope Celestine had sent another bishop, Palladius, to Ireland, but it didn’t work out. We’re not sure why it didn’t work out with Palladius. Put simply, Palladius didn’t want to be in a strange land and returned home again. It wasn’t God’s will – or – as the Book of Armagh states: “God hindered Palladius.”

When things didn’t work out with Palladius, St. Patrick, who, to his great disappointment, had been refused this assignment before, now received the commission a few days before the death of Pope Celestine. God’s will will never be thwarted! This is something we need to be aware of in our own lives. God is in control. Jesus is Lord! Knowing this helps us grow in surrender and obedience to God and those he has placed over us. It’s a lesson Patrick learned. It’s a lesson Jonah learned when he ran in the opposite direction from God’s will and God placed him right back in Ninevah where he wanted him.

It’s a lesson the young Irish Jesuit Frank Brown learned and cherished for the rest of his life. Fr. Frank Brown became a very famous photographer and gave us the last photographs of the Titanic. He was a seminarian in Dublin when his uncle sent him a ticket for the Titanic’s maiden voyage. He travelled on the Titanic from Southampton to Cork. He was to travel on to New York but sought his superior’s permission to do so. His provincial sent him a reply by telegram saying only: ‘GET OFF THAT SHIP!’ He obeyed, and the rest is history. Fr Brown kept that telegram in his wallet for the rest of his life claiming that holy obedience saved his life. Sometimes it’s better to ask permission than forgiveness!

Obedience and trust in the divine will is the lesson of the saints. “Obedience is the sure sign to us of the divine will” (St Maximilian Kolbe). “The awkwardness of God is that his will must always be first and must prevail” (D. Peter Burrows). “If there were another and better way, Christ would certainly have shown it to us by word and example” (St Maximilian Kolbe), he who was obedient even unto death. What struck me re-reading the Confessions of St Patrick was the immediacy and intimacy of his relationship with Christ and the Holy Spirit. The Spirit guided him closely and directed him clearly and vividly, just as the Spirit acted in the Acts of the Apostles. Christ acted in and through him, almost identifying with Patrick.

Looking back on his life, Patrick expressed great gratitude to the Lord for the wonders of his grace in him. He wrote: “Who am I Lord and what is my calling that you worked through me with such divine power?” “I didn’t deserve … that the Lord would grant such great grace … after so many years among that people. It was something which, when I was young, I never hoped for or even thought of.”

May it be the same for us looking back on our lives, that cooperating with God’s grace, through obedience and trust in the divine will, we may reap an abundant harvest and rejoice in gratitude for what God has done in us, “things we never hoped for or even thought of…”

SOCIAL MEDIA AND THE PARISH

I was delighted to be invited by Monsignor Caron to lecture for two days in his Introduction to Communication course.  The topic of my presentations was Social Media and the Parish.  To download the slides from that presentation in Powerpoint format, please click here.

Saint Patrick's Feast 2017

This evening we celebrated our annual Saint Patrick's Feast with the Saint John's Seminary community.  I began the evening with this blessing, which was then followed with songs, toasts, limericks and stories.  A wonderful evening was has by all!

Heavenly Father, Creator of all that is good, whose sun rises from the craggy shores of Kerry to Saint Botolph city’s bay, look upon us, the sons of Patrick in the Faith and imbue us with a full measure of his zeal, that through our ministry you might drive from these shores the serpents of deception and sin, the snakes of infidelity and fear.

And in their place, raise up good and faithful stewards of the Gospel, who like the Saints of Irish shores will lead this land to adore and embrace the Cross of your only begotten Son. Through the merits of his Passion and Death, bless this Feast of Faith, O Lord, and watch over us as your children, for ever and ever.  Amen.

A Little Homily for a Snowy Tuesday in Lent

“Wash yourselves clean!” the prophet demands!  So clean that the scarlet becomes like the new fallen snow!

And then he tells us how:

By putting away our misdeeds. By ceasing to do evil. And by hearing the cry of the poor.

Put away your misdeeds

The two moments that open our every experience of reconciliation are contrition and confession.  Feeling so bad about my sin, being so completely convinced of how wrong it is, that I am willing to imitate Bartimaeus by the side of the road: “Jesus, have mercy on me a sinner!”

And the second moment follows: to confess not only my sinfulness, but my sin.  To say to Christ through his Priest, I, Jim Moroney, committed this sin, and I repent and beg God’s mercy.

But these two moments must be followed by the commitment not to sin again.  “I firmly resolve, with the help of thy grace…to amend my life.”  Not to turn back like the pig to the trough of dissipation and darkness.  But to turn away from all that filth and follow the Lord.

And so the final moment of my reconciliation, the moment in which I am really put back together by God is when I return to hearing the cry of the poor, to living the virtuous life.  Having been cleansed from my sin I return to living the life of grace and by that grace to loving others as he has loved me.

We do all this intently, purposefully and with concentration during Lent: putting away our misdeeds, with a firm purpose of amendment and a determination to dedicate our lives to loving all the widows and orphans the Lord might send us.

We do it intently now, that we might continue to do it for the rest of our lives.

Arrives the snow...

“Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,

Arrives the snow, and, driving o’er the fields,

Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air

Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven,

And veils the farm-house at the garden’s end.

The sled and traveller stopped, the courier’s feet

Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit

Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed

In a tumultuous privacy of Storm.”

                                                              From "Snow Bound" by John Greenleaf Whittier

Video for the Queensbury Study Group

Here's a video I prepared for the good folks at Our Lady of the Annunciation Parish in Queensbury, New York who have been studying my book The Mass Explained at a series of Lenten Soup and Study sessions.  Each week I am preparing a video to answer their questions.  Hope you enjoy!

 
Queensbury 15 March from James P Moroney on Vimeo.

Father Cessario Lectures at Quarr Abbey

Thanks to the Isle of Wight County Press, we have some pictures from the lecture given last week by our own Father Romanus Cessareo, OP at Quarr Abbey on the Isle of Wight.  Here Father Ryan Connors is pictured with Father Cessario, Abbot Xavier Perrin, O.S.B., and Father Brian. O.S.B., who organized the conferences.

Snow Day on Tuesday

   

After consulting with the Dean and looking at the latest weather forecast, I have decided to cancel classes tomorrow, Tuesday, 14 March.  

SJS Offices will also be closed.

Morning Prayer and Mass will be at 8:00am and Holy Hour will be at the usual time.

More Pics from the West Virginia Mission Trip!