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.

“Rise up in splendor, Jerusalem! Your light has come, the glory of the LORD shines upon you.” (Isaiah 60:1) This is the third reflection in our January series. After celebrating Christmas and stepping into a new year, we have been returning to one central truth: God has entered our darkness, and that arrival is the beginning of real transformation. Last week we reflected on Baptism and the new identity it gives. Holiness is not mainly a self-improvement project; it is belonging. It is surrendering to God and letting Christ’s light live in us. This week that same light asks for something further. It does not only comfort; it purifies. It does not only inspire; it heals.

“Rise up in splendor, Jerusalem! Your light has come, the glory of the LORD shines upon you.” (Isaiah 60:1) This is the second reflection in our January series. Last week we meditated on the basic order of the Christian life revealed at Christmas: first we receive the Light as gift, then we follow where that Light leads. But by now the decorations have begun to come down, and as we enter Ordinary Time we can be tempted to return to business as usual. If the excitement of Christmas has worn off, what remains? The Church answers this week by pointing us to Baptism. Christmas is not an ending but a beginning, because in Baptism the Light we celebrated at Christmas becomes the Light we are called to live for the rest of the year.

“Rise up in splendor, Jerusalem! Your light has come, the glory of the LORD shines upon you.” (Isaiah 60:1) As we begin a new weekly series for January, we are still celebrating Christmas and a New Year has begun. Church celebrates Christmas beyond December 25 because the mystery is bigger than a single day. God has entered our history, and that changes our ordinary days.

“It is the hour now for you to awake from sleep. For our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed.” (Romans 13:11) This week, we continue to live the joy of Christmas within the Octave of the Lord’s Nativity. We also observe the Solemnity of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. This weekend we reflect on what it means to be family- not just in our homes, but also as a Church, a people, and a global Christian body bound together in the mystery of Christ.

“It is the hour now for you to awake from sleep. For our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed.” (Romans 13:11) This week we come to the final days of Advent. The fourth candle of the wreath, the Angel’s Candle, is lit, returning us to the purple hue of longing, repentance, and now love. This candle points us toward the Annunciation and the Blessed Virgin Mary’s response to God: “Let it be done unto me according to your word.” That radical yes, full of faith and love, ushers in the Incarnation. At the end of this week, as we move into the solemn celebration of the Nativity of the Lord, some wreaths add a fifth candle, the Christ Candle, glowing white to signify the sinless light that comes into the darkness of the world. This light shines not only to console, but to awaken hearts to the fullness and mission of love.

“It is the hour now for you to awake from sleep. For our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed.” (Romans 13:11) As we come to the third week of Advent, often called Gaudete Sunday, this verse from Romans takes on a particularly joyful chord. The Church teaches that Christian joy flows from the nearness of the Lord. It is not rooted in fleeting feelings but in the deep awareness that Christ is with us and is coming again. The Catechism of the Catholic Church reminds us that the joy of the Christian is a fruit of the Holy Spirit (CCC 1832) and an essential mark of the life of grace. Paul’s exhortation to “awake from sleep” is more than a personal nudge; it is a call to the whole Church to live in the radiant joy of salvation that is both already present and still unfolding.

“It is the hour now for you to awake from sleep. For our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed.” (Romans 13:11) The early Christians treasured this verse, and the Church Fathers returned to it often as a summons to spiritual vigilance. St. John Chrysostom reflected on how St. Paul uses the imagery of waking because “sleep” is the state of those who have grown careless or sluggish in virtue. Chrysostom notes that Paul “stirs up their zeal” by reminding them that salvation is ever drawing near, urging believers to shake off the torpor of worldly living.