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While they were still speaking about this, he stood in their midst and said to them,"Peace be with you." But they were startled and terrified and thought that they were seeing a ghost. Then he said to them, "Why are you troubled? And why do questions arise in your hearts? Look at my hands and my feet, that it is I myself. Touch me and see, because a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you can see I have." And as he said this, he showed them his hands and his feet. While they were still incredulous for joy and were amazed, he asked them, "Have you anything here to eat?" They gave him a piece of baked fish; he took it and ate it in front of them. (Luke 24:36-43)

This is a curious Gospel passage. Having broken the barrier of death, Christ appears in the humdrum human world and eats a piece of fish with his friends. His body—now...
Benedict XVI's last Easter homily pays tribute to nature's presence in the life of the Church

We know that Christ, raised from the dead, dies no more; death no longer has power over him. (Rom. 6:9)

Unlike Easter Sunday Masses and services, the Easter Vigil—the most important moment in the Christian calendar—begins in the dark.

At the onset of tonight’s Vigil, one of the catechumens—a father in his thirties—turned and looked behind him. From his front pew, he surveyed faces lit by the glow of hundreds of solitary candles that were being extended to kindle others. He had been an individual separated by shadow; now he was united by a flame that, while divided, was far from dim.

The glorious truth about this moment—this communion of souls aglow as God is praised in the singing of the ancient Exsultet—is that each of us at the Easter Vigil is entirely different in our gender, age, size, health, backgrounds, skills, sufferings, and joys. And none of us know if that new Paschal Candle will be the one lit for our funeral this coming year. But in that moment of light, that happy moment, we are unified by those solitary, uniform...

If they persecuted me, 
they will also persecute you. (Jn. 15:20)

The end of Holy Thursday provides a dramatic image: watching my pastor, deacon, and the alter servers extinguish candles and dismantle the sanctuary. Within moments after the Mass of the Lord’s Supper, the main focus of the church is bare and dark, with the central tabernacle open, empty, and cold. But in a side shrine (normally the home of the Blessed Mother) is the Eucharist, reposed among flowers and bathed by candlelight until midnight.

The world with and without Christ are thus on display: a living shrine and a normally robust sanctuary now made bare by deicide.

I thought of this being with Christ or being without Christ while driving home earlier this week after taking part in a panel discussion on the environment. It was held at the interfaith center of a business university here in Rhode Island. The coordinator knew of my Catholic ecology writings and asked if I could speak about faith, even if I was initially invited to speak only as...

Gethsemane and Church of All Nations, Jerusalem

God of all consolation, you chose and sent your Son to heal the world. Graciously listen to our prayer of faith: Send the power of your Holy Spirit, the Consoler, into this precious oil, this soothing ointment, this rich gift, this fruit of the earth.

Bless this oil and sanctify it for our use. Make this oil a remedy for all who are anointed with it; heal them in body, in soul, and in spirit, and deliver them from every affliction.

As my bishop prepared the Oil of the Sick at my diocese’s annual Chrism Mass, I paid special attention to these words. A few weeks ago, my mom was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. Healing of body, soul, and spirit are now in the forefront of my mind as I watch my mom fight this degenerative illness. She, like the human race and, indeed, the cosmos, suffer...

The suffering Jewish people found much to celebrate when Jesus entered Jerusalem. But in days, most rejected him. What he was coming to do, and undo, would not unfold the way they had expected. There was no earthly army eviscerating the Roman occupation forces. There was no cloud of fire purifying Jerusalem from pagan influences.

There was only this simple, curious man, Jesus, who promised a kingdom that no one could see. In the end, he was arrested, executed, and buried. His followers vanished. His miracles were forgotten. For the vast majority of his would-be disciples, life after Jesus’ crucifixion was as dismal as it had been before.

The lessons of Palm Sunday are ones that Christians must remember in all facets of our lives. Christ came to wash the feet of his followers and die on a cross. He did not come to summon armies. He came to invite, not terrorize. He came to take a road that was counterintuitive to human nature—and in doing so he would elevate our nature forever.

For Catholic ecologists, Palm Sunday teaches important...

It’s fitting that as we approach the Great Week of Holy Week, I rediscovered a document that expresses the warm, exciting unity of Catholicism’s Eucharistic faith. I bought the book on impulse a year or so ago, read it quickly for the content needed at the time, but never had the time to embrace it.

That changed this evening.

A few hours ago, I pulled it from its pile for utilitarian purposes—for a paper on the Holy Father—and found myself in a world of Eucharistic wonder.

From the Paschal mysteries and the Holy Triduum, to the sacramental nature of the church, to the celebration of our liturgies, to the place of the Eucharist in our lives, to our place in the cosmos, and much more, this text by Pope Benedict XVI is gem like few others.

Indeed, it should be the genesis of diocesan Eucharistic Congresses across the globe during the upcoming Year of Faith.

While this text has a very long, complicated name, it comes with a short title, too: The Sacrament of Charity. It's a summary of a...

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Catholic Ecology posts my regular column in the Rhode Island Catholic, as well as scientific and theological commentary about the latest eco-news, both within and outside of the Catholic Church. What is contained herein is but one person's attempt to teach and defend the Church's teachings - ecological and otherwise. As such, I offer all contents of this blog for approval of the bishops of the Church. It is my hope that nothing herein will lead anyone astray from truth.