Saturday, August 16, 2014


Poem for Today - August 16, 2014


Try first this figure 2,
how, from the point of the pen,
clockwise it unwinds itself
downward to the line,
making itself a pedestal to stand on.
Watch now. Before your eyes it becomes a swan
drifting across the page, its neck so carefully
poised, its inky eye
lowered in modesty.
As you continue, soon,
between the thin blue lines,
swan after swan sails beautifully past you,
margin to margin, 2 by 2 by 2—
a handwritten swirl of swans.
Under them now unroll
the soft, curled pillows of the 6's,
the acrobatic 3's, the angular 7's,
the hourglass 8's, and the neat tadpole 9's,
each passing in review
on stilts or wheels or platforms
in copybook order.

Turn the page, for now
comes the alphabet, an eccentric
parade of odd characters. If at first you tangle,
now and again, in a loop or a twirl,
no matter. Each in time will dawn
as faces and animals do, familiar,
laughable, crooked, quirky.
Begin with the letter S. Already
it twists away from the pen like a snake or a watch spring,
coiled up and back to strike. SSSS, it says,
hissing and slithering off into the ferns of the F’s.
Follows a line of stately Q's floating
just off the ground, tethered by their tails,
over the folded arms of the W's
and the akimbo M's. Open-eyed, the O's
roll after them like bubbles blown away.
Feel how the point curls round them lovingly
after the serious three-tongued E's.
See now how the page fills up
with all the furniture of writing—the armchair H’s,
the ladders and trestles of A's and Y's and X's,
the T-shaped tables and the upholstered B's.
The pen abandons a whole scaffolding
of struts and braces, springs and balances,
on which will rest eventually
the weight of a written world, storey on storey
of words and vows, all the long-drawn-out telling
that pens become repositories of.
These are now your care, and you may give them
whatever slant or human twist you wish
if it should please you. But you will not alter
their scrawled authority, durable
as stone, silent, grave, oblivious
of all you make them tell.

Tomorrow, words begin.

© Alastair Reid
Pages 381-382
In The New Yorker
Book of Poems,
Selected by the Editors
Of the New Yorker,
Morrow Quill Paperbacks,

New York, 1974

Friday, August 15, 2014



The title of my short homily is, “Assumptions: We All Have Them!”

Today is the feast of the Assumption – and I assume we all know it means the Assumption of Mary into heaven – after her time here on earth.

It’s an amazing assumption. It’s an act of faith – that there is resurrection – life after death.

I was visiting a lady in hospice the other day – whose husband once said to me that he doesn’t believe in life after death. I didn’t bring that up the other day – as I sat with both of them and with their kids on their back porch.

Resurrection – life after death – is the big assumption – the big hope – the big act of faith.

I would stress faith and hope – because there is no proof – in life after death – just faith and hope – and a belief in the charity and love of God that Christ is the one who will be the bridge that will take us into heaven.


The title of my homily is, “Assumptions: We All Have Them!”

We would go crazy without assumptions. We assume the water is good. We assume the pilot can fly the plane. We assume that the other people in the cars around us are not about to fall asleep. We assume that those who say they love us, love us.

We have assumptions about there being a tonight and a tomorrow – and a next week and a next year.

Tragedies, accidents, abuse, terrorism, can destroy our trust in others as well as life.

Goodness and kindness and love and presence can firm up our trust in others – especially those around us.


I assume this is where Mary fits in. Her presence in the Christian Vision – helps us build up our faith and our hope and our assumptions about life and eternal life.

I think one of the blessings of being a Catholic is our assumptions about Mary – as a model and a mother. She lived some 2000 years ago. Yet she is more than that. The Christian assumption is that after her life, she was taken up to heaven by Christ ago. And like those who have gone before us, she is someone whom we can pray to. She is someone who we know by faith is with God – and so we can pray, “Hail Mary full of grace…”  We give her that compliment  - then we ask for help.

She modeled how to live life. When she lived her life in Israel – Nazareth, Bethlehem, Jerusalem, and on the road, we see that she was full of grace. She spotted those who had run out of wine – a couple at a wedding in Cana of Galilee - and someone who were running out of blood – her son – on the way to his death at Calvary. She told people to listen to her son. She was there after his resurrection – helping the Early Church get off to a good start.

As we heard in today’s gospel [Luke 1:39-56], in the Early Christian hymn, the Magnificat, she proclaimed the greatness of the Lord with her life – her spirit rejoiced in God our Savior.

She was not only a model, but she has become a Mother for our Church down through the centuries. We see her shrine – statues, pictures, etc. in every Catholic Church – and so many Catholic homes. We see so many churches – like this one – named after her.

When I was a kid I was an altar boy and then a candle boy at Our Lady of Perpetual Help Church,  Brooklyn, New York, I saw firsthand people visiting Mary’s altar – as well as lighting a candle. We grew up as a family saying the rosary – every evening. It felt like an hour – especially with my mother’s add ons – which I’ve always hated – but all this taught me that there are assumptions here when it comes to Mary.


The assumptions are: there is a God. There is the Christ. There is Mary – a model of faith and hope and charity – showing us how to live life to the full. There she is also  a mother – someone whom we can pray to and hear her say: Go to Jesus. Amen. 

Poem for Today - August 15, 2014


In Mary's body miracles took place
Expressions, Yahweh, of Your holy plan.
She danced in You before her life began,
Conception sweetly clean, without a trace
Of sin or imperfection, full of grace.
As conceived, so conceived in Anne;
So conceived the way the Son of Man
Would enter time, would join the human race.
In Mary's body, normal flesh and blood,
A spirit lived unburdened, free to love.
Normal soul and body, hand in glove,
She was as You intended: simply good.
Singularly normal in this wise,
She bridged the gap from earth to paradise.

© Christopher Fitzgerald
Painting: Virgin With Child
Mikhail Vrubel,
detail of Mary's Face

Thursday, August 14, 2014


1894 - 1941

Here is a painting of Saint Maximilian Kolbe by a friend of mine, Al Pacitti.

St. Maximilian Kolbe was killed in 1941 in Auschwitz, Poland. It was by lethal injection. Notice his prison uniform.

He was a member of Conventual Franciscans. Notice his religious habit.

He spoke out against the Nazis - and was imprisoned.

In July of 1941 - 3 prisioners disappeared  - and the German camp commandant chose 10 men to die by starvation. One of the 10, a Franciszek Gajowniczek screamed out that he had a wife and kids. At that Max Kolbe volunteered to take his place.

"A man can have no greater love than to lay down his life for his friends." [Cf. John 15:13]


August 14, 2014


Collect your mind’s fragments
that you may fill yourself
bit by bit with Meaning:
the slave who meditates
the mysteries of Creation
for sixty minutes
gains more merit
than from sixty years
of fasting and prayer.
high-soaring hawk
of Intellect's wrist
resting at last
on the flowering branch
of the Heart:
this world and the next
are hidden beneath
its folded wing.
Now perched before
the mud hut
which is Earth
now clasping with its talons
a branch of the Tree
of Paradise
soaring here
striking there—cacti moment
fresh prey
gobbling a mouthful of moonlight
wheeling away
beyond the sun
darting between the Great Wheel's
star-set spokes, it rips to shreds
the Footstool and Throne
a pigeon's feather
in its beak
or a comet
till finally free of everything
it alights, silent
on a topmost bough.
Hunting is king's sport,
not just anyone's
but you?
you’ve hooded the falcon
-        What can I say? –
Clipped its pinions
broken its wings …

© Sana’i (Persian Sufi poet)

Wednesday, August 13, 2014


Poem for Today - August 13, 2014


When we are able to place
ourselves inside the wings
of the butterfly and feel its
fluid motion,

When we are able to enter the
head of the ant and see through
its eyes, and to feel the
burden of the bread that
lies upon its back:

This is the time when we are
and only begin to
touch upon the borders
of the eternal spirit
the borders of the soul.

© Eamon J. McEneaney,
Page 32 in
A Bend in the Road,
Poems by Eamon J. Mceneaney

Cornell University Press

Tuesday, August 12, 2014



The title of my homily for this 19th Tuesday in Ordinary Time is, “We Become What We Eat.”

That’s a 5 word bumper sticker truism if we ever heard one.

“We Become What We Eat.”


Today’s first reading from the 2nd and 3rd chapters of the Prophet Ezekiel triggers this homily. 

Ezekiel is told to take and eat.

So he takes the scroll – which has writing on both sides – eats it – digests it – then speaks it out in his homily. I get that. I do that.

We get that image – because we do this very thing every day. Take and eat. Take and read. 

So we’re familiar with Ezekiel’s words – because we’re familiar with this everyday reality.

We’re all ears. We’re all mouth. We're all eyes.

We spend our days taking it all in - digesting it - processing it - being effected by everything.

We become what we read. We become what we eat. We are the evening news. We are Morning TV shows. We are our conversations. We are our coffee breaks. We are our comments and our gossip. We are our phone calls. We are our e-mails. We are out everyday conversations.

We are what we eat. We still remember those words we heard years ago: “Garbage in – garbage out.”  “Good stuff in – good outcome coming out.”


Today’s gospel - Matthew 18: 1-5, 10, 12-14 -  has Jesus telling us to become like little children.

Children hear English coming into their ears and English comes out their mouths. So too Chinese – so too Russian and Arabic.

We are formed by our environment - our surroundings - the atmosphere we breathe in - each moment.

Children hear love coming into their ears – and the outcome is love.

Movies in, movies out.  I keep chewing on that scene in the movie, 42 – the life of Jackie Robinson – when the little kid goes out to the game to see this new player on the national scene – he goes out with excitement – and then he hears his father screaming “Nigger” at Jackie Robinson. It shocks the kid – a possible hero is crucified on the infield at Crosley Field, in Cincinnati. And then the kid - in imitation of his dad, also yells out, “Nigger”.

We become what we eat; we become what we hear; we become our parents; we become our teachers and out TV personalities.

Movies move us. News nudge us. We become what we see, and hear and touch.

Listen to people and you’ll hear reruns of the news.


So we get the Mass – that’s why we’re here. We’re  here to hear. We’re here to eat. We’re here for communion with each other and with the Lord. We’re here to eat. We’re here to digest. We’re here to chew. We’re here to become one with Christ and the Body of Christ.

So at each Mass we hear words and they become us. We eat bread and drink wine and they become us.

We talk to ourselves about what we hear at Mass and at Mass we talk to ourselves about what we heard last night – or today – all being digested in the belly of our minds – as our belly is still digesting food from our tables.

So we get the description of the mass as a meal  - with two tables – the table of the word and the table of the Eucharist.  We get that because we talk and listen to each other at tables – as we eat our Cheerios or our meatloaf, eat our bread and drink our water or wine.

 Even those who eat alone – sometimes have a book or a newspaper or a magazine in front of them – or the TV or radio in the background.

We’re always eating. We’re always eating two things: food and words.


So we get today’s first reading – about Ezekiel eating the scroll. So we get Jesus’ words about becoming little children. How becoming is that. And we get Jesus ending words in today’s gospel – that all are to be welcomed and celebrated at Mass – the Mass of humanity – as well as the 100th sheep.

As priest if I have digested what I hear grandparents and parents saying – what’s eating them up – is their worry about their lost sheep – who have left the flock.

And what eats God up – It’s the same message. Hear again the last sentence in today’s gospel: What eats God up is: “Just so, it is no part of your heavenly Father’s plan that a single one of these little ones shall ever come to grief.” Amen.


Picture on top: Pat Doherty, Plate of Donuts

Poem for Today - August 12, 2014


I'm a tangled up puppet,
Spinning round in knots,
And the more I see what I used to be,
The less of you I've got.

There was a time that you curled up in my lap; like a child
You'd cling to me smiling, yours eyes wide and wild
Now you slip through my arms, wave a passing hello
Twist away and toss a kiss, laughing as you go

You used to say "Read me a story and sing me songs of love"
For you were Princess Paradise like your wings of a dove
Now I chase you and tease you trying to remake you my own
But you just turn away and say "please leave me alone."

And I'm a tangled up puppet
All hanging in your strings
I'm a butterfly in a spider's web
Fluttering my wings

And the more that I keep dancing
And spinning round in knots
The more I see what I used to be
And the less of you I've got

You are a drawer full of makeup and rinses and things
You keep changing your moods like your earrings and rings
But tonight while we played tag for five minutes in the yard
Just for a moment I caught you off guard
But now you write your secret poems
In a room just for your dreams
You don't find time to talk to me
About the things you mean
And what I mean is--

I have watched you take shape from a jumble of parts
And find the grace and form of a fine work of art
Hey, you, my brand new woman, newly come into your own
Don't you know that you don't need to grow up all alone

 © Harry Chapin

Monday, August 11, 2014



The title of my homily for this feast of St. Clare is, “Regrets.”

What are your thoughts about regrets?

The gist of my homily would be this. I was tempted to make it my title – but it’s much too long:  “Regrets: Forget About Them – But If You Can’t Forget Them, Then Learn To Accept Them.”

Easier – said than done.


Today – August 11th – is the Feast of St. Clare.

Ever since May of 1984 I associate St. Clare with regrets.

Let me explain ….

 I was in Assisi, Italy for one day. I took the train from Rome. After arriving at the train station  I walked up to the gigantic church – the big basilica of St. Francis.

My plan was to walk to the Basilica of St. Clare (Chiara) after seeing and being in the Basilica of St. Francis (Francessca do Assisa.

While at the big basilica for Francis  – I went down to the lower level to get to the crypgt of Francis – and surprise I run into a Mass down there – for a German youth group.

I stayed. It went well over an hour – even though I couldn’t understand a word of German – ooops I also took time to look at all the paintings by Giotta.

After that German Mass I headed out of the upstairs church and then over to the town and up the street to the Basilica of St. Clare.

It was locked. It was siesta time. However, one could see inside the church through the bars of the gate that locked the church.

I stood there – looking in - disappointed. I stood there regretting that  I didn’t get into where Clare’s body or grave was.

I still feel that mistake or choice. I still regret missing out in not visiting Clare’s grave.

 So that’s why I associate the feast of St. Clare with the theme of regrets.


Well, maybe someday I’ll get back there.


Everyone  has them – at least one.

Everyone is hit with original sin – is there something we might call, “One’s Original Regret.”

If you have some time, some space, some quiet, sit and pray and come up with 10 regrets.  Then put them in order of feeling – One being the strongest regret.

To prime the pump….

If you’re married or were married - any regrets?

Children? Any regrets?

The gift of speech? Any regrets.

The use of time: any regrets?

Those who have died: any regrets?

Those who are living: any regrets?

Regrets can be dumb things we did or didn’t do. They could be forgets. They could be sins. They could be missed opportunities.

So what are your regrets?

It’s a good question – because trying to answer questions can force us to face our lives.


At the 10:30 wedding this morning the wife of the man who died in his sleep said, “Good thing we talked to each other that last night because he never woke up. That was one thing I was very grateful for.

That triggers the need to look at blessings – besides the regrets of life.


If we have regrets towards another, if we can express the sorrow we feel, great. At other times, sometimes it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie.

If another is dead, we can talk to the other in prayer.


If we can’t shake a regret, we can become philosophical.

To be human, is to have regrets.

Regrets and angst are part of life.

Regrets are part pf the package, called life.

My dad was very quiet, He did a lot of walking, but very little talking. I have fond memories of going with him  to watch sandlot football games as a kid – but we never talked enough.

In time, I have learned to accept he was a great father – but also a quiet father – definitely – an introvert with a great smile – and now years later – long after his death in 1970 - I’ve wondered what was he thinking – what was he talk


So I regret not getting into St. Clare’s Basilica there in Assisi – but I’ll take what I got so far – and if I get a break – I hope to get to the Grave of St. Clare. Amen.

Poem for Today - August 11, 2014


Girl for whom the job came as a crack in rockface, the sudden
tomb-slip turned all door.
So that when she saw the lily spell itself there, seraphed on the wall
of her father’s house, she knelt
down for the rapture, the rupture, and started to dig. Wall through
          which the dead in those days
were carried for burial, delivered into, they prayed. His secrets
held deeper than dirt.
On the night of the rock loosening beneath her fingers to gravel,
to seconds falling ordinary
an hourglass, the little sands cinch-waisted, Palm Sunday, in Assisi,
in the family house,
1212 A. D.., she listened to the mice scurry and flirt in the hallway,
then to the one dove’s sound
of silken pebbles tumbling in its throat. Turns out later they asked,
for what, the mother and father,
getting up for the scream, running to find her there in rubble, blood
          rivering steep down her arms
by then, instant the wall fell, and first light entered, and she stepped
clean through.


Pimone Triplett, from The Price of Light, Copyright © 2005, page 465 in Language for a New Century, edited by Tina Chang, Nathalie Handal and Ravi Shankar, W.W. Norton Company, New York, London, 2008

Sunday, August 10, 2014



The title of my homily for this 19th Sunday in Ordinary Time (A)  is, “Faithie.”  [Spell it out]  F A I T H I E. “Faithie”.

You’ve heard the word, “selfie” – meaning a picture one takes of oneself – usually at arm’s length - usually with one’s cell phone camera. Then it’s sent around one’s world.

I had a wedding a few months back. For weddings I ask couples to fill out answers to 15 questions. It helps me with the homily for the wedding. Well, this one bride described her guy as a “bestie” - as in best friend.

However,  I thought she wrote “beastie” and I’m using that word “beastie” in my homily – and getting a few laughs - till the bride finally yells across the sanctuary to me – it’s “bestie” as in, you’re being a “jerky”.  Then she elbowed her about-to-be-husband and yelled out, “He’s my bestie.”  She gave the “bestie” sermon.

So I said, “Ooops, I’m sorry. Dumb!” and then added, “Never heard the word ‘bestie’ before.”

Well, upon hearing these two new words, “selfie” and “bestie,” I wondered to myself, “What would be a good word to describe someone who believes – someone with faith?”

How about a “believie” or a “beliefie”?  Do I use the noun or the verb – using “f” or “v” – as in belief or believe.

I checked on line to see if anyone has used those words.  I actually found words like “believie” and “beliefie” – but they weren’t anywhere near  with what I was trying to come up with.

Then I thought: how about a “faithie” – a person with faith? I did find that word on Google – as the familiar name for someone whose first name is “Faith”.

So I decided that the title of my homily is, “Faithie” – a person with faith.

Maybe by using this possible new made up word – I could be the one who gave birth to a new word that  makes its way all around our  world?

Hey you never know….

I’ll put it on my blog and see if I can get it rolling.

I tried to get the wave going at a ball game once. It didn’t take. It didn’t succeed. So I sat down disappointed.  Yet, I tried …. So think about it: a “faithie” is a person with faith – a person who believes. Spread the word.


Ask someone at work this week: “Are you a faithie?”

I assume all of us here at Mass are “faithies.”

Question: Do you identify yourself as a person of faith?

Question: Do people at work or neighbors see you as a person of faith?

How about Catholic - one who practices her or his faith?

And what would that mean for them and for you?  Does having faith – practicing one’s faith – being a Catholic – make a difference in how you act and are in life?

For the sake of transparency, I did notice on line the word, “faithiest” as opposed to “atheist”.

What does it mean to be a faitheist or a “faithie”?


Back in 2005 in Ireland a lady named Marian Mulhall came up with the idea of a “Catholic identity Card.”

I noticed this in John Allen’s book on The Future Church – in a chapter on Evangelical Catholicism. [1]

In that chapter he lines up 3 types of Christians – and he says you can find all 3 in Catholicism: Mainline Liberalism – Evangelicalism and Pentecostalism.  

Those 3 labels might be a bit clumsy or technical and maybe “gick” up or sidetrack my sermon.

Let me say this much about those terms – to flesh out a few ideas a bit – on what it means to be a faithie.

I have seen what John Allen means in parish life. All 3 are found in Catholics – and sometimes it seems each expression of faith can make the other a bit uneasy – as if people have sandpaper skin on that day. We can rub each other the wrong way.

John Allen talks about these 3 attitudes and outlooks  and stresses this way.

In Mainline Liberalism church and culture are a two-way street. Let’s work together to help this world and its peoples work.  The new doesn’t have to clash with the old. This was what we heard loud and clear in late 60’s to the mid-1980’s – after Vatican II.

For those with stress Evangelicalism, the goal is to make a bold proclamation of timeless truths with nerve. The goal is to try to convert the world and what’s happening in it. With John Paul II Catholicism became more evangelical. Modern culture – society - and politics are challenged more than accommodating to it.

In Pentecostalism there is a stress on spiritual experience rather than doctrine. The goal is to  set the world on fire – with the Spirit of Christ.

If you see yourself as a faithie, which of the 3 would be more you?

Margaret Mulhall – whom I mentioned above as someone who is pushing Catholic Identity cards is  described as a communications executive in Ireland. She would  be more evangelical. She’s a Catholic – like most of Ireland – but the numbers are slipping. She figured  her card idea could be a moneymaker as well as a challenge. The card  would  cost $45.  It would be plastic – the size of a credit card – with one’s name on it. It would have a picture of the pope on it – as well as a holographic icon showing a priest’s hands breaking the Eucharistic Bread.  It would state, “I am a Catholic. In the event of an accident or emergency, please contact a priest.”

Please call the other priests here at St. Mary’s. Smile.

If anyone here is as old as I am, you’ll remember we had cardboard calling cards like that years ago – for free – no charge. And I remember the jokes as well – maybe even from George Carlin: “I am a very important Catholic, in case of an accident, please call a monsignor.”

The title of my homily is “Faithie”. It describes someone with faith, someone who believes.

What does having faith mean? 

It would mean one believes in God. If one is a Catholic it would mean one grasps and says the Creed – either the Apostles Creed or the Nicean Creed.

It would mean one tries on a daily basis – and not just on Sunday – to practice the great commandment to love the Lord our God with our whole heart, mind, soul and spirit and to love our neighbor as ourselves.

At weddings and funerals – I often run into people who have dropped out of church – but seeing a priest, they often say, “I’m spiritual.”

I assume telling a priest this – they are saying all sorts of things – like I used to go to church – or I feel guilty right now – being in a church for this wedding or funeral – but I pray at times – or I believe in God – but I sort of slackened off - but I still consider myself sort of a Christian or a faith person.

I feel good when people tell me this – because it means something. I assume they are feeling faithie, churchie, spiritualie, guilty, or something in one of these areas – and the wedding or funeral triggered religious feelings and faith stuff.


Todays 3 readings trigger faith stuff.

The first reading from 1 Kings 19 talks about Elijah – who’s on the run – being hunted down the king and queen -  Ahab and  Jezebel – who want to kill him for challenging them – with God messages.

And Elijah has a God experience on a mountain – standing there near a cave. He experiences God not as a heavy wind, an earthquake or a fire, but as a tiny whispering sound.

Many people have God screams when they are hit with hurricanes, earthquakes, fires. You can hear them saying, “Oh my God. Oh no. Oh my God. Help!”

Some people experience God in faith caves.

Another question: do you have a faith place. You’ve heard of man caves – do you have a “faithie cave”?

I used to see my dad praying quietly down in our cellar. A friend of mine changed his garage into a small chapel – and neighbors used to ask to use it. People come here to the Eucharistic chapel. It’s their “faithie cave”. Down through the years I’ve seen people in many dark churches – quietly praying – and I assume they are hearing what Elijah heard: the tiny whispering sound of God.  I remember a guy who used to come on retreat every year when I was stationed in a retreat house in the Poconos. He had been a professional football player – so I knew who he was.  He once said to me, “I supposed you’ve seen me sitting all alone in the back bench of the chapel.” I said, “No I didn’t.” I lied. Then he said, “I do that because that’s where my mom sat in our parish church. She’d sit in that back bench every afternoon and say a prayer for me – and she prayed me back to church after I was away for twenty years of so.

What are your God experiences? Where are your “faithie” caves?

Today’s second reading from Romans 9: 1-5 begins with conscience questions – and many people experience the need and the inner scream for God in those moments. “Come Holy Spirit! Help me. Help me. Help me.”

That could be deep faith challenges for oneself – or about one’s family or one’s kids – when others drop out of what we believe in very strongly. We’ve worshipped with them. We had them baptized into the covenant – as Paul puts it. We brought or bought Catholic education for them – but – it all but disappeared.

Today’s gospel from Matthew 14: 22-33 - talks about Jesus going to his prayer cave in the mountains – while his disciples are making their way across the lake – and a storm hits them. What now? What next?

The 4 gospels have variations on this scene – and you’ve heard jokes and comments about Jesus walking on the water – you just have to know where the stones are – but it’s not a joke – it’s the church in every age. There are times when we have to make lake crossings and there are times when there are storms – and we need the Lord in our boat – especially in the big storm – going across the waters of life – from this shore – to the other unsure sure – is there life after death.

The obvious message is that we need to scream out at those times like Peter, “Lord save me!” and even if Jesus says to us, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt” – still scream it out. And then say the great act of faith, “Truly, you are the Son of God.”


This is not the “bestie” of my sermons – but it is an attempt at some reflections on what it is to be a “faithie”.



[1] John Allen, The Future Church, How Ten Trends Are Revolutionizing The Catholic Church, Doubleday, 2009.

Here are the 10 Trends and 10 Chapters:

Trend One: A World Church

Trend Two: Evangelical Catholicism

Trend Three: Islam

Trend Four:  The New Demography

Trend Five: Expanding Lay Roles

Trend Six: The Biotech Revolution

Trend Seven: Globilization

Trend Eight: Ecology

Trend Nine: Multipolarism

Trend Ten Pentecostalism

Trends that Aren't Catholicism in the Twenty-First Century