Every morning, as we wait in the drop-off line at school, my daughter Rose and I share a pack of Belvita breakfast cookies. It’s usually my breakfast, half of it siphoned off by an already fed (but quickly growing) 3-year-old who is about to have quite a full day in her pre-K classroom. I usually don’t mind sharing.
According to legend, this latter goldfinch witnessed Jesus carrying the cross on the path to Golgotha to be crucified. Moved by the intense suffering of the man, the goldfinch alighted atop of Jesus’ head and began to gently pull the thorns out of his head in an effort to ease his suffering.
Msgr. Quinn was a prime example of seeing the goodness in everyone. As a priest, he witnessed many local parishes not ministering to black Catholics, which caused him to have an examination of conscience. This examination of conscience led him to minister to the black Catholic community, ultimately establishing two churches that still stand today.
Over the course of my almost 11 years of priesthood, I can honestly say that Easter Sunday has to be one of my favorite liturgies. There’s something about Easter Sunday that brings about a spirit of welcome and community.
These three gentle men — a doctor, a man with special needs, and a parish priest — reflect the nobility of soul so needed in our world. I say thank you, thank you, thank you. Your lights will shine forever.
It was a year ago on March 14 when the first death from COVID-19 was confirmed in New York City. It was that same date that the Diocese of Brooklyn suspended public Masses and our parishes ceased public worship in order to help mitigate the spread of the virus, deadly to so many.
If there is one thing that humanity has learned to do over the last year, it is to wait. Wait while in quarantine. Wait until we “flatten the curve.” Wait for a vaccine. Wait for an appointment to get vaccinated. Wait to see your loved ones again. Wait for the economy to open again.
Here in the Diocese of Brooklyn, there is a deeply respected and highly regarded Roman Catholic-Jewish dialogue where leaders of both faith traditions come together as thought-partners to discuss critical theological and social histories and attitudes.
I know that many will say that slavery was in the past, and what’s done is done, and that’s all over now. I hear this often. And while yes, it’s true that black persons are no longer exploited to work as slaves, centuries of racism and its remnants have resulted in blacks being cataloged and labeled: they are “the other.” We’ve been conditioned to view hem differently, suspiciously.
When I was in eighth grade, I almost suffered a heat stroke in Death Valley during a family road trip through the Southwest. Conditions on that day were particularly brutal, and thankfully a nearby country store stocked dry ice.
