by Sister Shirlee Tremont, M.F.P. This pilgrimage from Great Meadows, New Jersey to Doylestown, Pa., began in early June when Father Mariusz Koch, C.F.R., proposed the possibility to me. At first, I thought it was absurd, but I agreed to pray about it. Once I got the details, I was convinced that it was not for […]
by Msgr. Steven Ferrari“Oh, my God! I think I threw away my wallet!” My 21-year-old niece, Marlina, sat next to me at the Irish Rep Theatre on West 22nd Street, off Sixth Avenue, in Manhattan. It was intermission of a matinee performance of Sean O’Casey’s “Juno and the Paycock.” Marlina was frantically searching the contents of her large backpack.
For high schoolers, the college application process is daunting. It seems that every year, getting into college becomes more difficult, increasing the stress level of juniors and seniors.
by Effie CaldarolaOver 60 years ago, a young African American boy named Emmett Till was brutally murdered in Mississippi after an encounter with a white woman in a country store on a dusty road on a hot, humid Southern day.
by Father John Catoir God cares enough to call you his child: “You are a child of God, by faith in Jesus Christ.” Gal 3:26. “Do not fear, I have called you by name, for you are mine.” Isaiah 43:1.
by Father Michael A. PerryI’m writing this on July 3, perhaps with a sense of nostalgia because l am not home to celebrate our Independence Day with my people. I’m in Ukraine, where my ancestors came from 100 years ago.
“Behold” is my favorite word in Scripture. Every time it shows up, we’re summoned to snap to attention and take notice. God is about to do something new. Let’s not miss it.
This year, my husband and his sisters are facing what so many families must. Their elderly parents, unable to live on their own, and with great memory loss, have been moved to a residence for people with dementia.
Not too long ago, Bishop Nicholas DiMarzio told me a story of the time he was a young priest and how he cared for his grandfather as his grandfather became older and in need of medical attention.
Some 75 years ago, my uncle and thousands of other young men, some my age, some even younger, stormed Normandy’s beaches. The barbed-wire frontlines of Hitler’s Third Reich were teeming with landmines waiting to blow, Luftwaffe overhead, waiting to strafe.