I went to the church half an hour early to pray. The most difficult part of the afternoon was figuring out how to get inside the confessional.
I am fond of saying that the older I get the better I look in gray. The contrasts and paradoxes in the Holy Land are so obvious and remind us that a black and white world does not exist.
I never had much interest in going to the Holy Land, primarily because I thought that it would never happen. But on the Thursday after commencement I found myself with a group of pilgrims on a plane from New York to Tel Aviv. I will be eternally grateful.
Pope Francis is not the first person to suggest that the story we all know as “The Parable of the Prodigal Son” is not named well.
When I was a novice, our novice master, Father Nick Ayo, CSC, ’56, ’62M.A. often said, “If everyone set their life story to music, you would recognize the melody everywhere.” So true, so true. In the end our sins are very similar.
Ever since my appointment as a Missionary of Mercy in February, I have received several hundred emails and notes and phone calls congratulating me, promising prayers and asking questions. Most people don’t know quite what to say.
On Ash Wednesday 2016, the author was in Rome to receive Pope Francis’ commission as a Missionary of Mercy. We asked him to tell us what that means.
During the Feast of All Souls, I had the great privilege of concelebrating Mass at the border between Ciudad Juarez in Mexico and Anapra in New Mexico. Each year Mass is offered for all those who have died trying to cross the border.