Dear beloved parishioners of St. John Paul the Great Parish,

As we celebrate the glorious season of Easter, we are invited to reflect on the profound message of hope and renewal that the Resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ brings to our lives. In the Gospel of John, we encounter the moving story of Mary Magdalene at the empty tomb, a powerful symbol of the victory of life over death, light over darkness.

Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

At the Last Supper, which we commemorated on Holy Thursday, Jesus took bread and wine and instituted the Eucharist, instructing the Apostles to “Do This in Memory of Me.” (1 Cor. 11:24). When we come together for the celebration of Mass., we not only experience our unit as living members of the Body of Christ, but we also receive Him – body and blood, soul and divinity – in the Holy Eucharist. This is so precisely because He is not to be found among the dead but among the living, and that is our Easter joy.

A few months before they married, my twenty-three-year-old sister and her fiancé planned a cross-country road trip to visit his family.

My parents told them that they could only go if they slept in separate hotel rooms, offering to foot the bill. It might sound prudish, but my parents wanted the young couple to understand that their approaching unity was close, but not yet. Patience solidifies love.

A middle-aged woman sat on the couch in my parish office and recounted to me a shocking list of terrible calamities in her life: addictions, terminal illnesses, financial loss, broken relationships, and so on. She smiled as she did so. “Please forgive me,” I asked, “but you seem to be smiling as you share this.” She said, “Father John, I am totally overwhelmed. But I’m smiling because I just can’t wait to see what good things God does with this mess.” She expected God would manifest His glory when she most needed it.

Our national pastime isn’t baseball. It’s what the Bible calls “condemning the world.” We generally enjoy pronouncing curses upon those whom we see as trouble, wrong, or evil. Don’t believe me? Listen to almost any podcast, cable news network, or social media platform to hear it. It will be some version of: “We all agree that if they are eradicated, things will be great.” Condemning is almost always clothed in virtue. It basks in its good intentions. That’s why it is so attractive. Condemning seems like our best path to saving what is good.

One of the greatest golfers of all time — if not the greatest — was Jack Nicklaus. Which is why it is baffling that at the beginning of each season he would return to his childhood coach and re-learn how to grip the golf club. It’s like Shakespeare re-learning the alphabet and grammar. Why would he do that? Because Jack knew that the fundamentals are always relevant. Perfecting and obsessing over his grip allowed him to do everything else in the game well. In sports and life, the best ones love the basics.

As a college student, my prized possession was an after-market car stereo. It was my pride and joy: glorious audio, eye-catching display screen, and multi-disc CD changer. It drained my hard-earned dollars, but it was totally worth it. It drenched me in music everywhere I drove. On Ash Wednesday of my senior year of college, Father Tom, the Jesuit priest at my university said, “Pray for God to tell you what he wants you to sacrifice for Lent.” I did.

When I feel down, I sometimes watch the famous “Double Rainbow” video on YouTube to feel better.

It’s hilarious. A young man camping in Yosemite Park sees two rainbows stretching across the sky. He bursts into a kind of ecstasy. “Double rainbow, all the way! Oh my God!” he announces. Then he starts to weep. He cries out, “What does it mean?”

When I was in high school, we read The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka. It’s a depressing little novella about a man who (spoiler alert!) turns into a cockroach and dies of neglect, his family gradually ceasing to recognize the creature he has become.

“Never underestimate how badly human beings need touch,” our teacher told us. “Without each other, we curl up and die.”

Maybe I’m weird, but I like spending time in doctor’s offices, confession lines in churches, auto repair shops, prison cells, and support groups of various kinds. It’s refreshing to be with people who humbly admit something is wrong and forthrightly set out on a path toward a solution. When we ignore what is off kilter, we become alone and fragile. In places where people are honest and hopeful about brokenness, sturdy if subtle fellowship usually ensues.

I love movies about exorcisms. Apparently, so do many others. The 2023 movie Nefarious features a possibly possessed inmate on death row. Critics were not impressed, but audiences scored it at 97% on the website Rotten Tomatoes. Most people have an appreciation for the demonic realm, even if cultural elites are generally embarrassed about it. As is standard in exorcism movies, the afflicted person (in this case, a man named Edward Brady) thinks and acts like multiple persons. He is someone besides himself. We know what that is like. We feel fake sometimes, not ourselves.

There are some things that always come at the worst time. I’ve never gotten a telemarketing call and thought, “This is a really convenient moment for me to listen to a sales pitch.” I’ve never seen the compulsory software update notice flash on my computer screen when I didn’t have a deadline I was struggling to meet. My kids never come down with the flu unless it’s the weekend and the line at Urgent Care is stretching out the door.

As a priest, I’m amazed how happily married couples remember the tiniest details of their earliest encounters. They effortlessly report things like: “he wore a blue shirt,” “we ordered brussels sprouts,” “her hair was up in a bun,” and “he spilled shrimp cocktail sauce at my family’s open front door when it was ten degrees below zero,” (that one’s courtesy of my mom). We delight in remembering and speaking of when our new life of love began. The little details are glorious reminders that it’s all real.

How strange it is to think that if not for Herod’s directions, the magi would not have known where to find Jesus. They were not Jews, they knew nothing of the old prophecies. It was Herod who convened the scholars. It was Herod who pointed the way — for ulterior motives, certainly, but nonetheless, this is the part he played. It was Herod who made the Epiphany possible.