The other weekend I attended the wedding of my nephew in Huntsville, Alabama. My brother’s family is not Catholic. They belong to a non-denominational evangelical church. When I visit them, I usually go to church with them on Sunday morning, and then later I go to Catholic Mass. There is much that my brother’s church does very well. The preaching is excellent. The music is fantastic. The people are friendly. The community is mission-focused and growing. The congregation is full of young families with children. People are engaged, enthusiastic, and serious about their faith. And yet, every time I go, I leave with the same feeling: something is missing.

Over the past few weeks, our bulletin reflections have focused on the “why” and the “how” of the Church. We have reflected on the missionary command of Jesus: “Go, therefore, and make disciples.” We have remembered that the Church does not exist for herself. She exists for mission. We have also reflected on the practical “how” of evangelization: how we serve, how we organize ourselves, how we use our gifts, and how we work together as one parish so that the Gospel may be proclaimed more clearly and fruitfully.

Over the past few weeks, our bulletin reflections have focused on a simple but important question: why do we do what we do? We have reflected on the fact that the Church does not exist for herself. The Church exists to evangelize. That is our why. When we remember that, the many things we do as a parish begin to make more sense: our liturgies, our school, faith formation, outreach, councils, staff, volunteers, finances, and even the difficult work of organization and planning. All of these are meant to serve the mission Christ has entrusted to the Church. This week, on the Solemnity of Pentecost, I would like to take that reflection one step further. If our why is evangelization, then how should our parish be organized for mission?

Over the last few weeks, we have been reflecting on the importance of knowing our “why.” Before a parish can wisely decide what to do, or how to do it, we need to remember why we exist in the first place. The Church does not exist simply to maintain buildings, organize schedules, run programs, or preserve what is familiar. These things matter, but they are not the deepest reason for our life together. The Church exists to evangelize. We exist to proclaim Jesus Christ, to lead people to Him, and to help one another live as His disciples.

Last week, we reflected on the importance of knowing our “why.” Before a parish can wisely decide what to do or how to do it, we need to remember why we exist in the first place. The Church does not exist simply to maintain buildings, organize schedules, run programs, or preserve what is familiar. These things matter, but they are not the deepest reason for our life together. The Church exists to evangelize. We exist to proclaim Jesus Christ, to lead people to Him, and to help one another live as His disciples.

Pope Paul VI once wrote that evangelizing is the Church’s “deepest identity” and that “she exists in order to evangelize.” In other words, the Church does not exist for herself, but for the mission Christ has entrusted to her. We see this demonstrated in this Sunday’s readings.

This Sunday’s readings are full of movement, clarity, and decision. In the first reading from Acts, Peter stands before the crowd and proclaims Jesus Christ with boldness. The people are cut to the heart and ask, “What are we to do?” Peter gives a clear answer: repent and be baptized. In Psalm 23, the Lord is the Shepherd who guides, feeds, protects, and leads his people on right paths. In the second reading, Saint Peter reminds us that Christ shepherds us not by domination or threat, but by patient, sacrificial love. And in the Gospel, Jesus tells us that he is both the Shepherd and the Gate. His sheep know his voice. They do not follow every voice, and they do not enter through every opening. What stands out in all of this is the way the readings urge us toward greater clarity: a clearer voice, a truer path, and a more decisive way forward.

Happy Easter! Yes, we are still celebrating Easter! One of the challenges of writing bulletin columns around the holidays is that they often need to be written well in advance so they can be printed and delivered on time. As I write this, it is the Monday after Easter. Looking back on our celebration of the Easter Triduum and Easter Sunday, I find myself filled with gratitude.

Happy Easter to all of you! This weekend I will be away leading a parish retreat in North Carolina on the theme of God’s mercy. That is especially fitting, because this weekend is Divine Mercy Sunday. In those retreat talks I will be drawing from St. Thomas Aquinas and St. Bernard of Clairvaux. Aquinas teaches us that God’s mercy is not simply God feeling sorry for us. It is God acting to heal what we cannot heal ourselves. If Aquinas gives us a theology and ethics of mercy, Bernard gives us a spiritual psychology of mercy. He helps us see why so often we fail at mercy and how God can reform our hearts.

Happy Easter! Christ is Risen! Alleluia! Alleluia! Happy Easter! To all our parishioners, and to all our guests, family members, friends, and visitors joining us this weekend: welcome! We are glad you are here. Easter is the heart of the Christian faith, the day when the Church proclaims with joy that death, sin, and the grave does not have the final word. Jesus Christ is alive. Alleluia!

As we arrive at Palm Sunday and begin Holy Week, our Lenten journey with Lectio Divina reaches its natural “next step”: living what we have prayed. Over these past weeks we’ve practiced the classic movements of sacred reading: listening carefully to the text (lectio), “chewing” on a word or phrase until it sinks in (meditatio), responding to God in prayer (oratio), and resting quietly in God’s presence (contemplatio). These stages are not rigid. In prayer they often overlap, circle back, and deepen over time.

As Lent draws closer to Holy Week, the Church invites us to slow down and go deeper. In this bulletin series we’ve been practicing Lectio Divina, a traditional way of praying with Scripture. We’ve learned to read attentively (Lectio), chew on a word or phrase (Meditatio), and respond to God in prayer (Oratio). This week we arrive at the fourth step: Contemplatio or “Contemplate.” Contemplation is not about saying more, but about resting quietly in God’s presence, allowing Him to work within us beyond words. Pope Benedict XVI described it as receiving God’s own way of seeing and judging reality, and then asking: What conversion of mind, heart, and life is the Lord asking of me? In contemplation, we don’t force the moment. We sit with the Lord and let His Word shape our vision until, little by little, we begin to see with “the mind of Christ.”

In this Lenten bulletin series we’ve been practicing Lectio Divina, a traditional way of praying Scripture. So often when we pray, we start by talking. Lectio teaches us to listen first. We began by reading (Lectio) slowly and attentively. Then we meditated (Meditatio), “chewing” on a word or phrase until it sank into the heart. Now we respond. This week we move to the third step: Oratio- “Pray.” Oratio is where the Word becomes a conversation with God. One simple guide is the acronym A.C.T.S.: Adoration, Contrition, Thanksgiving, and Supplication.

Lent keeps leading us back to one simple place: an encounter with Jesus. For centuries, Christians have sought that encounter through sacred reading, or Lectio Divina. Last week we focused on the first step, Lectio (Read), and we were challenged to slow down and listen for what God is saying in the text. This week we move to the second step: Meditatio (Meditate). To “meditate” in the Christian sense doesn’t mean emptying the mind. It means filling the mind and heart with God’s Word. Medieval monks used a vivid image: masticating, or “chewing,” like a cow chews grass. In Meditatio we gently repeat a word or phrase, turn it over, and seek to draw out its nourishment. A single line can become a doorway into deeper conversation.

All through Lent, we follow Jesus into the emptiness of the desert. Our Lenten disciplines are not meant to be punishment; they are meant to make room for God. One of the best habits we can take up in these weeks is also one of the simplest: spending real, unhurried time with Scripture.

I’d like to use the weeks of Lent to introduce the ancient Christian practice of Lectio Divina. Meaning "divine reading," it is way of scriptural reading, meditation, and prayer aimed at fostering a deeper communion with God and understanding of His Word.

“Put out into deep water and lower your nets for a catch.” (Luke 5:4) These words of Jesus have echoed through the centuries as a call to trust, to mission, and to renewal. As we continue to consider what it might look for us as St. Michael Parish to put out into “deep water,” this week we begin Lent. Lent is a time of renewal. Perhaps these 40 days can help us to renew our trust in God and to reinvigorate our sense of mission.

“Put out into deep water and lower your nets for a catch.” (Luke 5:4) Last week we reflected on the original setting of this verse in Luke’s Gospel and its significance for Pope John Paul II’s call to a new evangelization. This week, we turn to the wisdom of the Church Fathers and how the early Christian community understood and lived this call to put out into the deep water.

“Put out into deep water and lower your nets for a catch.” (Luke 5:4) This verse comes from the Gospel of Luke, written around 80–90 AD to a primarily Gentile Christian audience. In this scene, Jesus, standing by the Lake of Gennesaret, calls Simon Peter to trust Him and cast his nets again after a night of fruitless labor. The request seems illogical- fishermen knew the best time to fish was at night. But Peter responds in faith, and the result is an overwhelming catch. The passage illustrates a key theme in Luke’s Gospel: God’s power is revealed through trust and obedience, especially among the humble and faithful.

“Rise up in splendor, Jerusalem! Your light has come, the glory of the LORD shines upon you.” (Isaiah 60:1) This is the fourth and final reflection in our January series. Isaiah’s promise was never meant to end in private comfort. God’s glory shines upon His people so that His people can become a sign of hope in a world that still knows darkness. That is why the Gospel’s call is always outward. Jesus says, “Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men” (Matthew 4:19). Disciples do not merely admire the Light; they learn to carry it.