Servant of God Julia Greeley, Denver’s Angel of Charity, was born into slavery and emancipated after the Civil War. She spent her life serving the poor with a special devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus and a love for children and praying for the city’s fire fighters.

The name of the Lord is a curiously powerful thing. Say it deliberately, even in a group of people who are not particularly religious, and you’ll know what I mean. There is a shift in the mood, a change in the atmosphere. When we utter the name of the Lord, He turns His head.

In my experience, one of the peculiarities of being a man is the somewhat unlikely ability to look into the mirror, no matter how out of shape he may be, and declare with full confidence: “Looking good, buddy!” Ask a man. He’ll probably confirm it.

Venerable Father Patrick Peyton, C.S.C. was an Irish immigrant to the United States. A true pioneer of mass media evangelism, The Rosary Priest reached the entire world with his message of devotion to Christ reminding us that, “A family that prays together stays together.”

“Fire! Fire! They’re all gonna die! They’re all gonna burn up!”   I had absolutely no hope of restoring order as I read the story of Pentecost with my young children last year. As soon as they glimpsed the tongues of fire hovering over the foreheads of the apostles, they were lost to giggles and shrieks. I sighed, sipped my coffee, and wondered resentfully why the Holy Spirit couldn’t have chosen to be a dove on that particular day. Just a nice, peaceful dove.

I hope you’ll acknowledge with me a simple fact: it’s not normal to have tongues of fire “part and come to rest” on people. It is actually pretty strange. Yet that is precisely what we celebrate in this feast of Pentecost. How can this mean something to us in our daily lives?

Servant of God Fr. Emil Kapaun was an American military chaplain who served heroically on the battlefield as well as inside of a POW camp in North Korea until his death. While a POW, he cared for other prisoners bodily with stolen food and medicine, and spiritually as a priest.

The funeral luncheon, the Irish wake, the vigil at an ailing loved one’s bedside: in times of crisis, people gather. In moments of sadness, fear, and confusion, we gravitate toward one another. For some reason, the feelings are so much more bearable when we are not alone.

Traditionally, the four writers of the Gospels are symbolized by four creatures that make their way into Church art and architecture: Matthew, an angel; Mark, a lion; Luke, an ox; and John, an eagle. These images can be found in churches across the world, a nod to those who recorded the stories of Jesus for us, thousands of years ago.

Servant of God Mari-Rose Juliette Toussaint, was originally born into slavery in Haiti and later freed in New York City as a young adult. Along with her husband, Venerable Pierre Toussaint, she is remembered for her incredible charity work inside and outside of the Church.

For some time, I have worn a brown scapular. If you don’t know much about this devotional practice, here is a very quick-and-dirty version, greatly lacking in detail: it’s two little pieces of brown cloth, connected by a cord and worn around the neck beneath one’s clothing. One of the cloth pieces depicts Our Lady of Mount Carmel appearing to St. Simon Stock, and the other piece — the one that is sometimes visible at the nape of my neck — depicts Our Lady’s “scapular promise:” Whosoever dies clothed in this Scapular shall not suffer eternal fire.

My dad was adopted as a baby. It’s a big part of my family’s story. His birth mother placed him in a Catholic orphanage not long after birth. A young couple longing for a baby strolled among the bassinets. My father, then only a few months old, looked at the husband and smiled. The man said, “That’s my son.” They took him home and the family grew. This moment of adoption was a wonderful truth they celebrated even when my dad was a young boy. They told him, “You’re even more special than the other children, because we chose you to be our son.” My dad’s eyes well up with tears of gratitude whenever he tells the story, even eighty-three years later. 

Blessed Miriam Teresa Demjanovich made it her short life’s mission in early 1900s New Jersey, to educate everyone about humanity’s universal call to holiness. Her writings can be found in a book called The Greater Perfection. She lived a life of contemplation and charity.

Before I married my husband, I assumed there were “ugly houses” and “pretty houses,” and that was that. But Matt is an architect, someone who reads books with titles like “A Field Guide to American Houses” for fun and who uses the term vernacular architecture like he knows what it means.

If you had to summarize the essential core of the Christian life, what would it be? Mercy, truth, or love, perhaps? The readings today suggest another word which may surprise you. That word is priesthood. 

An American-born missionary known for his work in Uganda with the Brothers of the Sacred Heart, Venerable Norbert McAuliffe was nicknamed The Man Who Always Prays by those he served. His work continues to this day through the leadership of the many African Brothers he formed.

Everyone who has been married knows this feeling: you’re in the midst of a disagreement with your spouse. You’ve really dug in your heels. You’re ready to die on this hill. And you have the awful, heartbreaking realization that you are wrong. Whatever it is you’re arguing about, you’re wrong. You.   So where do you go from here? The only way forward is to own it. Fess up. Grab a fork and dig into that humble pie. It makes me cringe just to write about it, because it’s the worst feeling.

I recently rescued a dog. She’s a terrier and rather adorable. And she’s crazy about me. She could spend all day with me. But I’m a pastor at a parish and sometimes I leave her at the front desk of the church office. She constantly amazes me by her ability to distinguish between my voice and that of everyone else. If I say one word, even if I’m hidden around a corner, she’ll sprint toward me and jump up into my arms.

Venerable Maria Consuelo Soledad Sanjurjo Santos was a native Puerto Rican who served as Provincial Superior of the Servants of Mary, Ministers to the Sick in the Caribbean in the mid-1900’s. During her 62 years of consecrated life, she greatly expanded the mission of the congregation!

Have you ever felt like you weren’t doing the work you should be doing?   We have all had jobs that leave us feeling unfulfilled. Bored. Dreading the next day. We may even experience a sensation of unfamiliarity, of being unable to recognize ourselves.