This past Wednesday we stepped over the threshold into another Lenten season.  I hope you had the opportunity to come to church for one of the liturgies that day, and to receive the gritty black smudge of ashes that reminds us of both our mortality and our sinfulness—both of which the Risen Christ will remedy if we give him our hearts. 

Like you, I’ve been asking myself “what should I do for Lent this year?”  It’s a worthwhile question, and hopefully our answers go deeper than doing without ice cream or a favorite show on Netflix!  God thirsts for our love, for all that we are and all we’re becoming.  To surrender more of ourselves into his hands, the Church calls us to prayer, self-denial, and acts of charity.  Below you’ll find a short list of possibilities—just a few options to which you might commit yourself with the hope of turning from sin and growing in friendship with Christ.  The Lord does the heavy lifting, but our cooperation is key.  Whatever you choose to do—or to refrain from doing—let it be with your whole heart, and a deep sense of trust that the Father loves you abundantly!

May our brother and patron, St. Lawrence, pray for us!  God love you.

My Lenten Prayer Commitment

During this sacred season of repentance and renewal, I hope to do the following: (Reflect on the suggestions below, and check however many you choose. Keep this in a place where it can serve as a frequent reminder of your commitment.)

• Come to Mass every weekend.
• Come to at least one weekday Mass each week (perhaps the 12 noon on Wednesdays)
• Spend a set amount of time in private prayer each day.
• Read the Daily Reflections booklet distributed in church
• Read the Scriptures in preparation for Sunday’s Mass
• Make a quiet visit to church during the week
• Celebrate the Sacrament of Reconciliation (Confession).
• Pray the Rosary (or a decade of the Rosary).
• Pray grace before meals.
• Attend the The Search video series (four Saturdays at 10 AM).
• Attend the Stations of the Cross (Fridays at 12 noon).
• Give an offering to the poor.
• Fill a CRS Rice Bowl.
• Limit screen time, social media, or television.
• Reach out to someone who is lonely, grieving, etc.
• Other ____________________________

Surprise!  Ash Wednesday is this coming week.  Whether it falls early on the calendar (sometimes it even coincides with Valentine’s Day) or late, the solemn beginning of Lent often seems to creep up on me.  Back in January, I looked to February 18^th with the comfortable reassurance that we still had plenty of time to get set.  But now it’s almost here!  On Wednesday we begin the most penitential time of the Church year, begging our merciful God to wash over us with his forgiveness, and fortify us in a spirit of prayer, charity and self-denial. Lent can be an amazingly transformative season—if it’s approached in the right spirit, and not as a drudgery or a mere obligation. 

Since the time I was in high school and then the college seminary, I’ve always felt drawn to Lent.  I wouldn’t say it’s my favorite liturgical season, but I do value the opportunity it brings to “get serious” about living the Christian life.  By its nature, Lent isn’t intended to be an “easy time.”  If one approaches the season in the proper way, it’s meant to be challenging, even strenuous.  Not because giving up ice cream or a favorite show on Netflix is beyond our capability, but because Lent is designed to urge us toward real introspection, to purify our hearts, to point us in the direction of sacramental Reconciliation, and to help rearrange the interior landscape of our lives.  That’s not easy stuff, and again, if Lent is approached in the right way, it should be challenging, even uncomfortable.  You may not be in the mood for “uncomfortable” right now, but here it comes, nonetheless!

As with the days leading up to Advent, I invite you to take some time before coming to church on Ash Wednesday to ask the Spirit’s guidance . . . how can you best approach Lent at this particular time in your life?  What might your heart be most hungry for?  What habits, attitudes, or ways of relating do you most need to jettison in order to resemble Jesus more?  How do you need to repent?  A little bit of forethought can be a very profitable thing: ask the Lord in prayer to take your hand and show you how to let this Lent be the most enriching you’ve had yet.

Next weekend we’ll be giving away copies of  an excellent booklet of Daily Reflections for Lent—brief meditations to offer food for thought throughout the coming season.  Today’s bulletin includes many of the spiritual practices we’ll engage in as the weeks go by, including an additional Mass at 12 noon on Wednesdays, and the Stations of the Cross each Friday, also at noon (note the time change).  You can also do the more high-tech thing and sign on for any number of daily online programs, whether it’s through Hallow, Dynamic Catholic, Word on Fire, or FORMED.  Regardless of what resource(s) you settle on, please take the time to ready yourself for this sacred season.  Too often I’ve arrived at Ash Wednesday night, only to realize I haven’t really thought about how I’d like to approach the next 39 days!  Take the time think it through—and find this Lent your most inspiring yet.

May our brother and patron, St. Lawrence, pray for us!  God love you.

Hmm . . . which are you more likely to have on your mind today—the matchup for Superbowl LX, or the 2026 Catholic Ministries Appeal?  I’m going to guess that for most, it’s the Superbowl that has our attention this weekend, and even though I’m not a rabid fan, I get it.

That being said, if the USPS is on time you should just be receiving a letter from me, announcing the kickoff (pun intended!) of the Catholic Ministries Appeal for this new year.  If it feels like the 2025 Appeal just wrapped up,  and that we’re heading into the next round with barely a pause, you’re right.  But remember that the people served by the CMA are always in need of our help, regardless of what month it happens to be.  We could wait till sometime later in the year to begin, but that would be of no benefit to those who depend on our generosity.  So many programs supported by the Catholic Ministries Appeal provide services that our parish could never provide on its own.  By pooling our resources with the other 132 parishes in our Diocese, we can impact the lives of literally hundreds of thousands of people across Long Island, through programs that teach, heal, counsel, house, and feed. 

Apart from the material you’ll be receiving at home, you’ll find more information about this year’s Appeal on posters around the church and in donation brochures right by the doors.  And our website already features quick links to make a pledge, as well as a very good 8-minute video that helps connect real faces and stories to the programs we’re supporting.

I give to the CMA every year—not just because I’m a priest of the Diocese, or the pastor here at St. Lawrence, but because I’m convinced the Appeal is vitally important to the Church’s mission on Long Island.  So with less than two weeks remaining before we move into Lent, I wanted to dedicate this column to asking you to participate.  Every pledge made to the 2026 CMA is valued, and will help us reach our goal of $90,000 (the same amount as last year).   And to repeat what we announced last weekend, we can be justifiably proud for having reached almost 103% of last year’s goal—a response that triggered a rebate of $19,950 for our use right here at St. Lawrence! 

Imagine how many lives we can impact if we all step up—even in a modest way—to this challenge.  With Lent around the corner, and its age-old call to works of charity, I ask you to prayerfully consider being a part of our parish’s effort by supporting the CMA in proportion to how the Lord has blessed your life.  It's this very notion that goes to the heart of Christian stewardship:  if God has filled my life with blessings, I have an obligation to return a choice portion of that gift to him—and to the least of my sisters and brothers in particular.  Thank you for the many, many ways you already give of yourself—in ways that may have little to do with money, and are likely known only to God.  May God continue to shower your home, your family, your work, and your life with his goodness.  Thank you for all the generosity that’s so evident in our community!

May our brother and patron, St. Lawrence, pray for us!  God love you.

NOTE:  To make a donation to the 2026 CMA, simply go to www.catholicministriesappeal.org  or call (516) 678-5800 x 296.

Last weekend’s weather certainly made for an unusual experience here at the parish!  For days beforehand the impending snow seemed to be the only thing people were thinking or talking about, so it came as no surprise that the 5:00 PM Mass on Saturday—before any of the “fun” began—was  packed.  Parishioners who habitually attend one of our Sunday Masses opted to go to “the 5,” anticipating that Sunday’s snow wouldn’t allow them to get out safely.  And I could only appreciate that kind of forethought on the part of those who didn’t want to miss Mass if they could help it.

Sunday was an unusual day for us all—but in a unique way for me as a priest.  I knew the numbers in church would be far less than typical, and they were (the 11:00 Mass was attended by 22 people, instead of the usual crowd of well over 200).  I celebrated all three Masses, since I couldn’t ask one of our visiting priests to brave the weather and the roads.  Each liturgy had a kind of quiet calm about it.  We were without music, so I did my best to lead the small congregations in just one hymn, a capella.  In some ways, they resembled the kind of simple, “unadorned” Masses we have on a weekday.  But I have to admit I enjoyed the change of pace.  Sometimes we need to approach familiar things in an unfamiliar way, so as to appreciate them more deeply.

At the same time, I need to give a “shout out” to the ministers who appeared even as the snow was ramping up—each Mass had a lector, an Extraordinary Minister to help distribute Communion, and ushers to take care of the (modest) collection.  We even had an altar server (thanks, Elena!) at 9:00.  I don’t mention these intrepid folks to make any-one feel guilty about not being in church—in fact, I had been trying to get the word out that there was no obligation to come in person if leaving the house or traveling to St. Lawrence would be in any way hazardous.  Still, I have to express my thanks to those who did manage to come out—safely, I hope!—and especially to those who stepped up so willingly to minister.  On such a terribly cold weekend, I went back to the rectory after the last Mass feeling warm with serenity and gratitude.

A Gift of Healing

On a rather different note, I want to point out that this weekend we’re offering a general Blessing of Throats, in connection with next Tuesday’s feast of the 4^th century Armenian bishop and martyr, St. Blaise.  Most of us are familiar with the sacred legend according to which Blaise cured a child who was choking on a fish bone, and for centuries his intercession has been invoked for deliverance from diseases of the throat.  With so many people experiencing some form of illness as we move through cold and flu season, we didn’t want to restrict the traditional blessing of throats to February 3^rd.  As Fr. Jude and I pronounce those brief but powerful words this weekend, try to bear in mind how deeply the Lord desires that each of us experience health of body, mind, and spirit.  May the prayerful intercession of St. Blaise remind us that we are dearly loved, and that our God has particular compassion for those suffering with any kind of illness or disability. 

May our patron and brother, St. Lawrence, pray for us!  God love you.

It’s hard to believe that only a month ago we were coming together around the Lord’s altar—at some Masses in great numbers—to celebrate Christmas!  At the risk of being redundant, I hope your celebration of our Savior’s birth was much more than twinkling lights and delicious meals, but an occasion to remember how precious we are in the sight of God, that the Father should send his Beloved Son into the darkness and pain of our world so that we might be freed from sin and raised to new life.   And I hope, too, that these first weeks of the new year have come carrying hope and promise for you, and all those you love.  God is ever with us, so we have ample reason to walk in faith and trust. 

Since Fr. Ben took off from JFK on December 28^th, I’ve tried to keep up with his comings and goings back in Nigeria, though texting only conveys so much.  Father had a long trip to arrive back at this family’s home, but he’s very glad to have arrived there safely.  I’ve seen photos of him with his 92-year old mother—she’s a beautiful woman, (as her youngest son is handsome!)—and in every picture Fr. Ben has a big, beautiful smile.  This return trip also involves a convocation with his Cardinal and fellow clergy; it may well have concluded by the time you read this.

Many of you have become increasingly aware of the very real danger involved in going home for Father.  The genocidal terrorism that has overtaken Nigeria—a country painfully divided between Muslims and Christians—has claimed thousands of lives—perhaps tens of thousands.  Kidnappings are commonplace.  Fr. Ben himself does not wear his Roman collar in public, and he remains largely “out of sight” for good parts of the day.  Fellow priests have been kidnapped, and even killed.

I don’t write this to cause you undue anxiety, but rather to urge you to keep Father, his family, and the people of Nigeria—Christian, Muslim, and traditional religionists—in your prayers.  What was once a leading African nation is plagued not only by sectarian violence, but by rampant hunger, poverty, government corruption, and despair that real change is not on the immediate horizon.

Fr. Ben is confident he will return to the U.S. safely, and as planned on February 14^th.  But in the meantime, let’s redouble our prayers that his visit home will continue to be a pleasant one, undisturbed by any hardship or difficulty; that he can come back refreshed and hopeful; and that the nation in which he takes such pride will somehow see a new dawn in the very near future.

May our brother and patron, St. Lawrence, pray for us!  God love you.

It was on Friday, June 24^th 2022, that the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade, the tragically misguided 1973 legislation that made access to abortion a protected right in the United States in virtually all circumstances. The decision in June of ‘22 was enormous in its significance, dismantling almost 50 years of legal protection for abortion rights on the federal level, and paving the way for individual states to curtail or outright ban abortions.  

Given the gravity of the Court’s decision, one might understandably ask if the March for Life held each January in Washington, D.C. would continue to take place as before.  The answer is  yes, it has been.  This year’s March is scheduled for this coming Friday, January 23^rd (the Roe v. Wade anniversary is actually Thursday, the 22^nd.)  I’d like to reproduce a brief piece from the website of the National March for Life, entitled, “WHY WILL WE CONTINUE TO MARCH?”  It reads as follows:

Even with the wonderful blessing of Roe v. Wade being overturned, which allows more freedom at the state level to enact pro-life laws, the necessary work to build a culture of life in the United States of America is not finished. Rather, it is focused differently. Sadly, the number of abortions annually is still well over 900,000 each year, and that number is expected to decrease only by roughly 200,000 each year in a post-Roe America. Many national legislative battles loom, including even keeping longstanding Hyde protections, which limit government funding for abortion on annual appropriation bills. The Hyde Amendment has saved over 2 million lives and is arguably the most impactful pro-life policy in our nation’s history, but now cannot be taken for granted.  Last, our most important work is changing hearts and minds. The goal of the national March for Life is to not only change laws at the state and federal level, but to change the culture to ultimately make abortion unthinkable.

With the role of the states being more important, we are also growing a strong state march for life initiative quickly, however, we will continue to march every January at the national level until a culture of life is restored in the United States of America.

Here at St. Lawrence, you are invited to participate in our observance of this year’s 52^nd anniversary of  Roe v. Wade in two ways:  (1) Next Sunday, January 25^th, we will pray the Rosary together in celebration of the sanctity of human life, immediately following the 11:00 AM Mass; and (2) on Thursday, January 22^nd, the annual Day of Prayer for the Legal Protection of Unborn Children, the Blessed Sacrament will be exposed for adoration following the 9:00 AM Mass until 3:00 PM.  (If there should be a funeral that morning, Exposition will begin around 11 AM). 

This Friday, the 23^rd, let’s be sure to take time from whatever we may be doing to lift up our hearts in prayer for those marching in our nation’s capital; for an end to abortion; for mothers and couples faced with the vexing situation of an unexpected  or unwanted pregnancy; for state and national legislators, those in the judiciary, and those in the medical profession; for pro-life advocates here at home and around the world; and most importantly for a radical transformation of mind and heart in our country that will eventually “make abortion unthinkable.”

May our brother and patron, St. Lawrence, pray for us!  God love you.

PS – For more information on events surrounding the Roe v. Wade anniversary and the March itself,  go to www.marchforlife.org  

Happy New Year, everyone!  I hope the grace-filled days of the Christmas season, and your celebration of the arrival of 2026 have been bright, festive, and full of hope for the year we’ve just begun.  Some are glad to see the old year slip away, but no matter how you feel in looking back over 2025, we ought to be mindful that every year—every minute of every year—is ultimately God’s gift.  Uncovering the goodness and beauty in what we experience over twelve months can be a challenge, especially if 2025 was marked by any of the things that weigh on our hearts or burden those we love—illness, financial stress, broken relationships, violence, loneliness, or grief to name only a few.  With you, I hope the twelve months ahead will bring a full measure of hope, resilience, courage, healing, and peace.

On this ancient and beautiful Feast of the Epiphany, our imaginations turn to the exotic characters “from the East” who arrive in Bethlehem of Judea, to pay homage to the newborn king of the Jews.  It’s only St. Matthew who relates the drama of the Magi, but it would be hard for any of us to imagine the Lord’s Nativity without the presence of these scholar-kings, riding on camelback with precious gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh to lay at the feet of a seemingly ordinary baby boy.

One of the themes running through today’s feast is that of seeking and finding.  The Gospel account tells us that the Magi climbed into the saddle and embarked on their famous journey because they had observed the rising of a new and luminous star—a celestial indicator that long-forgotten prophecies were being fulfilled with the appearance of a newborn king.  Though these men were foreigners, and non-Jews, once they saw the sign they were quick to act—traveling distances St. Matthew doesn’t specify in order to pay homage to  a child they do not yet know. 

For us, the Magi can certainly represent the human impulse to seek out what we believe can satisfy the longings of our hearts, to shake ourselves out of the complacency and routine of day-to-day in order to find Him who satiates every hunger, dries every tear, gives meaning to every struggle, holds the  answer to every question.  Jesus is the treasure at journey’s end.  No one, and no thing on this planet can bring wholeness to our lives like Bethlehem’s tiny child.  If only we can recommit ourselves to seeking him out.  

But perhaps we can also serve as guides for one another’s seeking.  As I’ve suggested around this time of year on more than one occasion, one of our resolutions for 2026 might be that we—like the star of Bethlehem—could serve as guides to those who are searching . . . searching for meaning in their lives, searching for comfort and peace, searching for healing, reassurance, companionship, understanding, forgiveness, and acceptance.  We already know the One who can give all those gifts in greater measure than we might dare to ask.  But so many of our sisters and brothers do not know Jesus, or if they do, are just barely acquainted.  The wise men needed the star to bring them to the place where the holy child was.  Just so, the Lord wishes to use us to point the way to the Lord of life for one another. 

May our brother and patron, St. Lawrence, pray for us in the new year!  God love you.

Dear Parishioners, Visitors & Friends,

I’m composing this message more than two weeks before Christmas actually arrives, and just this afternoon we received a call from Moloney’s Funeral Home in Bohemia.  The woman I spoke to called to schedule a funeral Mass in a few days’ time.  I took down the information we’d need, but after hanging up I was struck by how jarring it is to contemplate loss, grief, and death at what everyone tells us is “the most wonderful time of the year.”  The Advent season we’ve been celebrating since November 30^th is brimming with hope, peace, joy, and love, yet the sadnesses of life keep coming.  We may try to distract ourselves for these several weeks with twinkling lights, festive decorations, tree-lightings, Christmas concerts, and loads of shopping, but we know that life has a way of barging into our reverie.  Like that phone call from Moloney’s. 

As we step over the threshold from Advent into the bright and beautiful feast of the Lord’s Nativity, a very natural question to ask is this:  why was Jesus born?  Why did the eternal Father choose to send his Son, his Beloved, straight into the violence and hatred, the poverty and pain, the vulnerability and injustice and tears of our human condition?  Why did Jesus come?

There are many ways one could respond to so deep a question, and saints, theologians, scholars, and poets over the centuries have written countless pages on the subject.  But for me, there’s one answer that rushes to the forefront . . . Jesus came so that we might live forever.   The Son of God lays aside his glory, and is born to a frightened, homeless couple in ancient Bethlehem precisely so that my dad, and your mom, or grandfather, or cousin, or best friend, or child—and the whole of our fragile, fallen human race—might be restored to the promise of everlasting life.  That’s the WHY behind Christmas.  Ultimately it has little to do with beautifully wrapped gifts or an aromatic tree, carolers in the street or cocoa in the kitchen, or that first magical snowfall (and don’t get me wrong—I love all that stuff!)  But why does God leap down from heaven in the silence of night, to shiver in a manger full of hay?  So that each of us might be rescued from our sins, and enjoy the bright promise of immortality in our Father’s house. 

“What wond’rous love is this?” asks one of my favorite hymns.  That our merciful God would not allow his wayward children to slip away into shadow and death, but sent his Son to take us by the hand and lead us home.  We are meant to rejoice in that heavenly place, where loved ones wait for us and pray for us even now.  And all because an infant was born on that first Christmas.  May this Christmas find you at peace in the hollow of God’s hand, secure in the knowledge that you are dearly loved, and confident you are destined for eternity. 

A very merry Christmas to you, and all those you love ~

Father Brian & the Staff of St. Lawrence the Martyr Parish 

This weekend, with the lighting of the rose-colored candle on our handsome Advent wreath, we’ve already completed more than half of the season, but still have time to accept the challenge of putting our relationship with Jesus at the very center of our lives, despite the fierce temptation to give first priority to shopping and wrapping and card-writing and party-planning. That temptation can be almost irresistible, when so much of our culture is swept up in the more secular enticements of this “most wonderful time of the year.”  But we know that there would be nothing special at all about late December, were it not for the birth of a baby boy—a Divine Child—some two thousand years ago in that crude stable in Bethlehem.

Last Sunday, along with many of you, I had the pleasure of watching a troupe of our youngest parishioners gathering around their own replica of that stable for our Children’s Christmas Pageant.  I was smiling at the very first rehearsal, and I’m still smiling now . . . the children presented us grown-ups with a fresh, poignant (sometimes very funny), simply wonderful rendition of a Story we know so well, but can never get enough of.  I’m so grateful not only to the narrators and cast (who knew the Roman army recruited such pint-sized soldiers?), but also to the stage crew, to Jeanette, our young leader of song, to the adults who put in so much effort on costumes and props, scripts and sets, programs and refreshments, and in a very special way to Mrs. Allison Jeanes, the director and cheerleader for the whole delightful production.  (Allison was directing the program for the first time this year, so I want to offer her added applause!).

That was last Sunday!  This Sunday we have just as beautiful an opportunity to enter more deeply into the fleeting spirit of Advent—though in a distinctly different way—by experiencing a service of Lessons and Carols.  This beautiful interplay of Scripture readings (“lessons”) and some of our most beloved hymns and carols is a wonderful way to be transported, even if just for an hour+, to a place of serenity, hope, and joy.  Our lectors will proclaim the prophecies foretelling the Messiah’s coming, and the familiar episodes of the Nativity story, while our Music Ministry will lend all their skill and prayerfulness to lift our spirits in song.  If you’d like to make the latter half of Advent even more special, or if the season hasn’t gotten off the ground in the way you might have hoped, participating in Lessons and Carols might be just the thing to rekindle your longing for the Prince of Peace. Please join us.  And happy Gaudete Sunday!

May our brother and patron, St. Lawrence, pray for us!  God love you.

I’m cobbling together this weekend’s column   a little hastily on Monday night, with this coming Saturday, December 6^th, very much in mind.  The 6^th would have been my dad’s 93^rd birthday.  It’s hard for me even to imagine him as a 93-year old, especially when so many of my memories of him are from years ago when he was constantly on the move and full of energy and purpose.  Later this week I hope to hang a beautiful cross-shaped ornament I found several years ago at Pier 1 on our Tree of Remembrance, and say a prayer that the One whose birth we’ll soon celebrate has taken my dad into his strong arms, swept aside every trace of struggle or pain, and made him radiant and new in His kingdom.  If you’re feeling a twinge of grief during these otherwise festive and colorful weeks, please know that you’re certainly not alone.  It’s hard to be gleeful when one’s heart is feeling the sting of having said good-bye.  But do be mindful that the reason God sent his Son 2000 years ago to that crude stable in Bethlehem, is so that we might not perish, but have eternal life (cf. John 3:16).  Advent is meant to be a season rich in hope, even if we may not always be feeling that way.

December 6^th is not only my father’s birthday, but also the feast of St. Nicholas, the 4^th century bishop of Myra (in what is present-day Turkey).  He is, of course, the altogether real person who over time becomes the “jolly old elf” standing at the center of our culture’s celebration of Christmas.  I have a statue of St. Nicholas on the mantle in the rectory—he’s one of my favorite saints, renowned not only for his holiness and devotion as a shepherd to his people, but also for his charity, his compassion for the least among his people, and his goodness to children.  His “look” has certainly changed since the 4^th century, but the primacy of generosity and love to which he calls us remains very much the same.  I have no doubt he’s praying for us this Advent—even as he readies his sleigh!—praying that we might remember how best to love God and love one another, and that (as the children in Sunday’s Christmas Pageant love to say) Jesus is the reason for the season. 

With Christmas falling on a Thursday this year, we get to enjoy about three and a half weeks’ worth of Advent.  The season can be shorter, so I’m glad for the few extra days.    Do try as best you can to grab hold of every opportunity that presents itself before the 25^th to steal some quiet time for yourself, to set aside the endless to-do’s we heap on ourselves this time of year, and to allow the God who loves you so dearly to cleanse and  refresh your spirit as we continue our journey to Bethlehem together. 

May our brother and patron, St. Lawrence, pray for us!  God love you.

“Almost anything can be fixed if you unplug it—including ourselves.”

Is that a great quote, or what?  It’s from author Anne Lamott, and I read it just a little over a week ago.  For all of us who don’t specialize in tech stuff, it’s true!  Try unplugging the computer, or the microwave, or whatever, and often enough it’ll reboot.  But Ms. Lamott wants to convey a truism about human nature—WE need to “unplug”—at least somewhat—from the frenzied pace of contemporary life in order to find ourselves; to discover new reserves of peace, resilience, acceptance, and joy; to recognize that God truly IS in our midst.  

But “unplugging” from what’s demanded of us day after day can be so hard: there are only so many hours in a day, and the demands keep growing, the emails and texts keep coming, the to-do’s keep piling up—at this time of the year more than any other.

Advent is meant, among other things, to be a help to our unplugging.  This weekend we begin an entirely new liturgical year, with a single candle flame flickering on our beautiful Advent wreath, and the church draped in the familiar purples of the season.  The days here in the northern hemisphere have become so very short and increasingly dark—perhaps it’s all the more fitting that a flicker of warm light should invite us into this season of expectation and mounting joy. 

I often wish that Advent didn’t zip by so fast. . . one minute we’re lighting that first purple candle, and getting ourselves oriented to the distinctive rhythm of the season—the next thing you know we’re deciding how to arrange the poinsettias in the sanctuary, or which Christmas Mass to attend!  (I not-so-secretly wish that Lent could be the shorter liturgical season, and Advent take its sweet time!)

On behalf of our parish staff, I want to wish you, not a “Merry Christmas”—it’s too early for that, no matter what our impatient culture says—but a “Prayerful Advent.”  Personally, I find these coming weeks to be my favorite season of the Church year, but it takes effort to unplug!  It might sound all but impossible, given how fast-paced these coming weeks typically become, but why not work at making this Advent different by safeguarding bits of time and solitude to enter meaningfully into this brief but beautiful season?  There will be plenty happening in the parish to guide us through this meditative time; please be sure to look over the opportunities for gathering and praying together listed in today’s bulletin. 

On a more personal level, make a resolution or two that you’ll try to keep in the weeks ahead:  15 minutes for silent prayer, or Scripture reading, or seasonal music every day; or choose a weekday to attend Mass; or pray the Rosary for a special intention; or keep pace with the meditations in the Little Blue Book; or light an Advent wreath in your home; or make some small sacrifice for the coming 23 days (much as we’d do for Lent).  Go to confession.  Go for a walk in the cold air and share your heart with your Father in heaven.  Call or text someone from whom you’ve been distant.  So many possibilities, if only we can be persistent about the “unplugging” part!  May the Lord enliven your spirit this Advent season, and prepare you to receive the Word made flesh in a more poignant and heartfelt way than ever before. 

May our brother and patron, St. Lawrence, pray for us!  God love you.

With this weekend’s beautiful feast of Jesus Christ, the King of the Universe, we reach the last Sunday of the Church’s liturgical calendar.  For 52 weeks we’ve traveled alongside our Master, listening to his teachings, mesmerized by his miracles, swept up in the drama of his crucifixion and death, and then wonder-struck with the news of his Easter triumph.  Each year brings us—by way of the Scriptures and the Church’s sacramental life—through the mystery and majesty of the Lord’s saving life, death, and resurrection, and now we come to a kind of grand finale.  Next weekend, our church will be draped in the familiar purples of the Advent season; we’ll light the first candle on our beautiful Advent wreath; and we’ll enter into the same story we think we know so well . . . but hopefully with new eyes, ears, and hearts.

Of course, Thursday of this coming week we also begin the holiday season in earnest (even though hints of Christmas have been in the air since well before Halloween!).  Thanksgiving makes for such a beautiful beginning to the several weeks that follow, particularly because (as holidays go) it hasn’t wandered very far from its original intent.  Admittedly, alot has changed since the fabled meal of 1621, and each year the frenzy of Black Friday and Cyber Monday shopping seems to encroach more and more on the otherwise uncomplicated  beauty of the day.  But Thanksgiving retains a kind of purity, a simplicity, and a spiritual grounding that so many of our other holidays have lost.  Thanksgiving still manages to be about giving thanks, about friendship and family, about sharing with the needy, and about celebrating the abundance that comes from God.  May this week be a time for counting blessings even more diligently than we normally do, and lifting up our hearts and voices to the One who is the source of all that is good.

Speaking of counting blessings, I want very much to thank you, the parishioners of St. Lawrence, for giving me, our parish staff, and one another so many things to be thankful for.  No parish is a perfect place, and there’s always plenty of room for growth in living the Christian life, sharing our resources with those in greatest need, deepening our commitment to prayer and the sacraments, and giving witness to our faith in the midst of an often hostile world.  But there is marvelous goodness, generosity, sacrifice, dedication, holiness, camaraderie, and joy here at SLM, and I want you to know how thankful I am for the privilege of serving as your pastor, and walking the path of discipleship alongside you. At Thanksgiving, and throughout the year, I want you to know how grateful I am for that opportunity.

May our brother and patron, St. Lawrence, pray for us!  God love you, and happy Thanksgiving!

PS – If you can, please join us at 9:30 in church on Thanksgiving morning, to begin the day in the best possible way by worshiping around the Lord’s altar.

As I compose this column on the evening of Veterans’ Day, I’m smiling to think back to this morning, when sitting in my room at the rectory before Mass, I noticed the lightest and briefest of snowfalls outside my window.  I’m sure most of you caught it too.  If the sight of a few flakes zipping through the unusually cold and windswept air didn’t immediately lead to thoughts of scraping windshields and clearing driveways, I hope you enjoyed that brief incursion of winter into what’s become a very beautiful autumn.  I’m not eager to race from autumn into winter, even though there’s been plenty of red, green, and gold in the stores for weeks (months?) now, and I’ve already seen more than a few homes lit up for Christmas.  Even though the temptation is certainly there, I hope we don’t skip too hurriedly past the falling—or fallen—leaves, the light jackets, and the golden sunsets too quickly.  This season of Thanksgiving is too important on a psychological and spiritual level to be brushed aside in favor of getting a fast start toward December 25^th.     

Autumn can be a marvelous teacher.  Allow me to share with you a meditation a friend passed along to me many years ago.  It may be the work of Sr. Joyce Rupp (but I’m not positive about that) . . .

“The falling leaves dance the autumn dance beneath the great blue sky.  The leaves seem glad at the going, sparkling in the fall sunshine.  This gigantic death scene does not smell of sorrow and sadness, rather the earth is colored with joy, and the leaves make music in the wind. No new growth will come, unless autumn agrees to let go of what has been.    The same is true of our lives . . .

We cannot grow without change.  The life events that rip open the security of home, relationships, job, or personal beliefs are our “dying leaves.”  The more drastic the change, the more potential we have to discover another aspect of our inner selves that we haven’t known before.  Much of this growth depends on whether we give ourselves to the process   of change, or run from it with our fears and insecurities.

The fallen leaves help us appreciate with reverence everyone and everything that is part of our life as we are challenged to accept the truth of our own dying.  Perhaps this autumn we will not run from the reality of life’s necessary changes.  Perhaps we’ll walk through the leaves pondering the reality of the season, as we accept the dying leaves that need to fall from our life.  Above all, let us celebrate the season, for its message has the power to ripen us for the final harvest.”

May our brother and patron, St. Lawrence, pray for us!  God love you.

PS – I want to extend a BIG thank-you to all our Parish Raffle ticket-takers!  The long-awaited drawing will take place Sunday afternoon, following the 11:00 AM Mass.  A whole lot of work has gone into this fundraiser, and the money the parish receives thanks to your generosity and spirit helps propel us through what’s left of 2025 and into the new year.  Thank you all so much!  Good luck!

Last Sunday, the Church celebrated the Commemoration of the Faithful Departed, better known as All Souls Day.  Whether it  falls on a weekday or a weekend, I’m always moved by that annual opportunity to lift our hearts and voices in prayer for those who have completed life’s journey.  We entrust them to the Lord’s tender mercy, in a spirit of confident hope that they will share in Christ’s resurrection and be welcomed to places of honor in our Father’s house.  Though All Souls Day invites us to pray for all who have died—and in particular for those being purified so as to enjoy the bliss of heaven—most of us naturally think of our own loved ones: spouses, parents and grandparents, relatives, friends, and perhaps even children whom we have lost.  We ask God to forgive their sins and failings, to make them radiant and new, and to take them into his strong arms.

The whole of this month of November is dedicated to our remembrance of the faithful departed—especially the holy souls in Purgatory—so we’ll continue to display the Book of Remembrance to the right of the sanctuary, and to keep your All Souls envelopes on the  altar till the end of the month.  And as our nation marks Veteran’s Day this Tuesday, November 11^th, we pray for all the men and women who have served in the armed forces  of the United States, certainly including those who have died.  May God bless them for their gift of service, and take those who have died home to paradise.

For those of you who may have a bit of time  on Tuesday morning, our seventh and eighth graders will be gathering in St. Lawrence Cemetery on Lakeland Ave., to pray the Rosary with Maria Davidson on such an important day of gratitude and remembrance.  All are welcome to join them at 10:00 AM.

Given the theme this column is taking, I’d like to take the opportunity to thank Mr. George Ferrer, the Director of our Parish Cemetery.  George has been a wonderful asset to our parish staff, bringing great skill and a depth of knowledge to his very important role, but always with a sensitivity and pastoral care that has no doubt been a real consolation to literally hundreds of grieving families.  George has expert and compassionate assistants in the Cemetery Office, and all of them together have helped those who suffer a loss here at St. Lawrence with a generous measure of patience, compassion, and understanding.  Whenever I drive past the cemetery—or spend some quiet time there—I’m always grateful for the solemn beauty of the place, and grateful for the people who are so dedicated to keeping it that way. Perhaps you might spend some time in our cemetery this month—whether you have a loved one buried there or not—and lift up a prayer for all who rest in that holy ground.  May the One who vanquished death by his own dying and rising beckon them home, and grant them peace!

May our brother and patron, St. Lawrence, pray for us!  God love you.

If the liturgies of this first weekend in November seem strangely placed, it may be because the last time we observed All Saints Day on a Saturday, and All Souls Day on a Sunday was 11 years ago. 

All Saints Day remains a solemnity—the  highest rank a feast on the Church’s calendar can have—though Mass is not obligatory this year.  On All Saints we honor the countless men, women, and children who learned to love as Jesus commands us to, and—whether they happen to be canonized or not—are now rejoicing in heaven’s embrace, beholding God for eternity.  It was only several weeks ago that Pope Leo canonized two new saints—St. Carlo Acutis and St. Pier Giorgio Frassati.  St. Carlo was only 15 when he was diagnosed with and died from leukemia.  Given his age, and the appeal of a teenager being recognized for his extraordinary goodness and virtue, it’s not surprising his story has captivated millions around the world, both Catholics and non-Catholics alike.  Never forget that St. Carlo’s reward is OUR destiny too, from the moment of our baptism.  And on All Saints Day we not only celebrate those who’ve been welcomed into paradise; we also ask their prayers as we make our pilgrim way to the house of God our Father. 

This Sunday, November 2^nd is All Souls Day.  For centuries the Church has pointed to this particular day on the calendar as an especially opportune time to lift up our hearts in prayer for all our departed loved ones—indeed, for every human being who has crossed the threshold of death.  Like the liturgy of a funeral Mass, All Souls Day urges us to cling tightly to hope, even in the midst of the heartache, emptiness, and bewilderment that can come with grief.  Tears are a natural and very human response to loss, and the Lord himself was no stranger to the sadness of death (think of how he wept at the death of his friend, Lazarus).  But as Christians, we are called to trust that our 60 or 80 or 100 years of living in this present world are simply a foretaste of what God has planned for those who love him.  As St. Paul famously proclaims in his Letter to the Romans, nothing can separate us from the love of Christ—not age, not illness, not even death!  We are designed for eternity, and All Souls Day encourages us to pray for all who have gone ahead of us, asking that the Lord enfold them in mercy,  and carry them safely home. 

This Sunday, I invite you to pray for all those you have loved and lost (for a time).  The 9 AM Mass is our Family Mass for November, and at 11 AM we prayerfully recite the names of all our parishioners who have passed away over the course of the last year.  May these holy days renew our faith in the promise of Resurrection.  The One who promises is trustworthy!

And may our brother and patron, St. Lawrence, pray for us!  God love you.

PS – Don’t forget we’ll be showing an excellent 90-minute film on St. Carlo Acutis next Sunday, right after the 11 AM Mass.