Dear Family,
Some people think that ‘Christ’ is Jesus’s last name. Actually, it is His title. It means Anointed, the Chosen One. One writer notes, “In Old Testament prophetic writing, it (Christos) was used as a descriptive title of an expected deliverer of the Jewish nation.” Attaching Christ to Jesus, switching it from description to name happened over centuries, coming to the way we now speak his name, Jesus Christ.

What does it mean to us? Today would be a good time to think about just what does the name “Jesus” mean to me?

Dear Family,
Lent ends this Wednesday, April 13th. Then we enter into the Sacred Triduum, three Holy Days that say it all. This is who we are: the people of the Table, the people of the Cross, the people of the Empty Tomb.

Today, our palms remind us of the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem to the shouts of Hosanna. (Our palm crosses are made by a church up north that uses the proceeds to support some African missions.)

Reading the Passion account from Luke reminds us of how quickly the Hosannas proclaimed by the people of Jerusalem become Crucify Him of the temple leaders.

We’ve heard it before. We’re inclined to think, “Been there, done that.” But have we?

Dear Family,
It seems strange that during the most sacred time of year we cover everything that is beautiful in our churches, even the crucifix. Shouldn’t we be looking at the painful scene at Calvary while we listen to the Passion narrative on Palm Sunday?

The Church recommends this practice during the last two weeks of Lent to heighten our senses and build within us a longing for Easter Sunday.

Why? Aren’t the images designed to raise our hearts and minds towards heaven?

First of all, we use veils to alert us of the special time we are in. When we walk into church and notice everything is covered, we immediately know that something is different.

Dear Family,
A co-worker of mine had a great insight: “I can hardly stand watching what is happening in Ukraine, but I feel guilty if I turn it off.” (Annie has the brilliance in this operation.)

Boy, did that strike a chord with me. You feel helpless, but you know you can’t simply tune it out. Once again, we find ourselves on our knees, or as close to that as you can get when you are 80.

Does prayer work? Well, I guess if rockets are flying into your apartment building you might wonder. On the most basic level, standing at a distance from the Ukraine horrors, I find myself appealing to God for the people who may not even be able to think straight, much less pray. However, the more I see of the Ukrainians, the greater my admiration.