10-19-25 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time

The inauguration of the Second Vatican Council took place on October 11, 1962 under Pope John XXIII.  October 11th is now the Feast Day of Pope Saint John XXIII.  The following was his address to the Council that day some 63 years ago.  I find it rather profound and ever insightful for our 21st century world today.  

“Mother Church rejoices that, by a singular gift of Divine Providence, the most longed-for day has now dawned when, under the patronage of the Virgin Mother of God, whose maternal dignity is commemorated on this feast, the Second Vatican Ecumenical Council solemnly begins here at the tomb of blessed Peter.

Truly, the very serious issues and questions that the human race needs to resolve have not changed after almost twenty centuries. Indeed, Christ Jesus always holds the central place in history and life. People either adhere to him and his Church, and so enjoy the goods of light, sweetness, right order and peace; or else they live without him or act against him and deliberately remain outside the Church. And so they cause confusion among themselves, bitterness in human relationships, and the imminent danger of bloody wars.

At the inauguration of the Second Vatican Ecumenical Council, it is evident, as always, that the truth of the Lord will remain forever. Indeed, as one age gives way to another, we see that uncertain human opinions take over one from another; and often errors vanish as soon as they are born, like mist dispersed by the sun.

The Church has never failed to oppose these errors, and has even condemned them often, indeed with the greatest severity. But at the present time the Spouse of Christ is pleased to apply the medicine of mercy, rather than take up the weapons of severity. She judges it prudent to meet the needs of today by demonstrating more amply the power of her teaching, rather than by condemning. It is not that there is any lack of false doctrines, opinions, and dangers to be guarded against and eliminated; but these are all so openly in conflict with the right principles of honesty and have produced such deadly fruits, that today people seem to have begun to condemn them on their own account, even by naming those ways of living which despise God and his laws or place too much confidence in technological progress and a well-being based solely on the comforts of life. They understand more and more the dignity of the human person and that the need to perfect it is a matter of great importance and very difficult to accomplish. And what is most important, they have at last learned by experience that force exerted on others, the power of arms and political domination are of no use at all in finding a happy resolution to the grave issues which afflict them.

In these circumstances, the Catholic Church, as she raises the torch of religious truth through this Ecumenical Council, wishes to show herself a most loving mother of all, benign, patient, and moved with mercy and goodness towards the children separated from her. To the human race, laboring under so many difficulties, she says, as Peter once said to the poor man who had asked him for alms, I do not have silver and gold, but what I have I give you: in the name of Jesus Christ the Nazorean, arise and walk. That is to say, the Church does not offer to the people of our time riches that perish, nor does she promise them mere earthly happiness, but she imparts the goods of heavenly grace, which, since they raise people to the dignity of the children of God, are powerful safeguards and aids to making their life more human. She opens the springs of her life-giving doctrine, by which people, illumined by the light of Christ, can understand in the depths of their heart what they really are, how excellent is the dignity they possess, and what end they should pursue. Finally, through her children, she extends everywhere the bounds of Christian charity: nothing is more suited to eliminating the seeds of discord, nothing is more effective in promoting harmony, a just peace, and the fraternal unity of all.”

Peace!

Fr. Wilson

10-12-25 - 28th Sunday in Ordinary Time

It so happened that one day in my youth, I happily strolled into the kitchen of our house where my older cousin and my mother were at table talking about something or other.  I sat down on the little stool that was in the corner by the cabinets and interrupted them as I proudly announced that I had invented a brand new word!  They continued their chatter and so I announced once again that I had invented a brand new word!  They laughed a bit as they looked at each other and then began, well what is your new w...?  $%&#@, I blurted out.  WHAT???  $%&#@, I said again louder than before – and with great pride, I might add.  My mother almost spit out the coffee of which she had just taken a sip.  My cousin said, you can’t say that!  My flabbergasted mother demanded, where did you hear that word?  I made it up, I said.  Again, my mother demanded to know where I heard that word.  Who taught you that word, she said with a look of anger as she began to reach for the big wooden spoon which served to enforce discipline and get the attention of distracted, horse-playing sons.  You can’t say that, my cousin screeched again.  I heard you already, I said testily!  You can’t say that!  Now, my mother was chiming in.  It’s a bad word that you can never say.  I wanted to know why.  It seemed like such a nice word.  And I really, really did make it up!  Honest, Mom!  I mean it rhymed with duck and ducks are so funny when they go quack, quack.  It also rhymed with truck and I loved playing with my toy trucks after school.  I thought that good, old Sister Rita would be so proud of me, but I’m glad that I didn’t share my new word with her just yet.  Sister was teaching me so well!  I was really into learning my phonics!  Gosh!  Now, I could rhyme words and even make-up new ones!  Maybe one day I’ll be a poet, I thought!  After my mother calmed down a bit, she simply said that you can never say that word.  My cousin again giddily reiterated, yeah you can never say it!  Shut up, I said!  Stop now!  My mother had the last word.  I never did find out that day why I couldn’t say my wonderful new word.  Eventually, some years later, I would find out as another kid got his mouth washed out with soap.  Literally!  Prior to the soap suds, he was caught in the schoolyard explaining to some of us exactly what $%$#@ meant.  Of course, I never shared that that was my word.  My mother got her point well across to me that fateful day of remonstration regarding my fledgling phonetic, poetic endeavors.  Maybe Faith is something like this – in reverse, if you will.  Faith is not a four letter word, but five.  And it is certainly not something foul, but rather quite beautiful!  When we first learn it, we really don’t know what it means.  I heard it often on the lips of Sister at school and I knew that it was the reason why folks were at Mass on Sundays.  Actually, I’m still learning its meaning, but I know that it’s not something to be whispered in childish schoolyard ramblings, but spoken of proudly much like when I first entered the kitchen that day.  Faith actually rhymes with Life, because with it life itself becomes a most beautiful poem sung.  It needs to be discovered anew each day for every one of us.  What will your new Word of Faith be this day?  And rest assured, please share it with the rest of us – Sister Rita and my mother included!

Peace!

Fr. Wilson

10-05-25 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Three is a magic number.  I learned that rather early in life – on Saturday mornings to be precise.  A bit later, I would learn that three isn’t just magic – it’s much more.  Three is a sacred number!  Schoolhouse Rock was an animated musical short that appeared between children’s programming on the ABC network beginning in the early 70’s.  Three is a Magic Number was actually the first of these three minute (coincidental??) segments produced.  The idea originated with an advertising executive that had a young child having difficulties learning his multiplication tables – though the kid had no trouble remembering pop song lyrics of the day.  The “mystic trinity” is actually mentioned in the lyrics, as is “faith, hope, and charity”.  Family life is also mentioned with reference to a man and a woman having a baby…making for three in the family.  Wow!  It was a lesson that stuck with me and resonated with me, because my family was one of three…mom, dad, and me!  We were a trinity of three!  Maybe this was my first true lesson in theology eons before I was in the seminary!  Well, as much as three is a magic number - a Sacred Number referencing the Most Holy Trinity, the Sacred Triduum, and my mom, dad, and me…maybe four is even better!  Three is a magic number also, because that is the number of young men that are our parishioners and are studying for the priesthood – or so I thought.  More recently, Father Wesly sang me some new Schoolhouse Rock.  It involves the number four, which for us, is even more magic.  We not only have one; not only two; not only three – but four young parishioners studying for priesthood!  Praise God!  As I’ve said before – this reflects upon all of you!  How wonderful that we have a parish (Saint Aloysius – and by extension, Saint Gabriel) with parishioners whose Faith is bearing fruit in vocations!  Dennis Morales and Ricky Gomes-Garcia have begun studies for diocesan priesthood this year at our own Saint Charles Borromeo Seminary.  They are in their Pre-Theology Propaedeutic (preparatory instruction) Year at a location in Conshohocken.  Jose Muñoz and Adrian Muñoz (I don’t believe they are related) are in studies with Redemptoris Mater Seminary of Philadelphia (seminary for the Neocatechumenal Way) in Yeadon, Delaware County.  Jose recently spoke at Saint Aloysius and I’m told that Adrian (who had a summer assignment at St. Al’s in 2023), is on a pastoral year at the moment in Cyprus.  I’m not aware that there is another parish in the archdiocese that can make a claim of four seminarians!  Again, this reflects upon all parishioners and should instill a healthy pride in everyone!  Please keep these young men in your prayers!  Fr. Wesly and I are now working on our next Schoolhouse Rock song.  It’s called Ready or Not, Here I Come.  It has to do with the number five and makes reference to a game of “hide and seek”.  In fact, it has to do with multiples of five – five, ten, fifteen, twenty, etc.  Won’t you help us to sing as we seek and pray for religious vocations to priesthood, diaconate, and religious life from our parish?  Three is a magic number; four is more for sure, but why stop there? Continue to pray for vocations!  And know that your prayers are having great effect!     

Peace!

Fr. Wilson

9-28-25 - 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Mary Untier of Knots
Feast day, September 28

Let us pray for all having difficulty

with the knots of their lives.

Mary, Untier of Knots, pray for us:
With all struggling families, we pray;
With all beset by financial struggles, we pray;
With all seeking employment, we pray;
With all suffering from mental and physical illness, we pray;
With all bound by political ideologies, we pray;
With all the homeless and the destitute, we pray
With all burdened with loneliness, fears, or worries, we pray;
With all living with addictions, we pray;
With all estranged from the church, we pray;
With all whom the church has abused, we pray;
With all enduring religious or ethnic persecution, we pray;
With all overwhelmed by shame or despair, we pray;
With all traumatized by violence or neglect, we pray;
With all targeted by racism or discrimination, we pray;
With all struggling to let go of grudges, we pray;
With all working to protect our planet, we pray;
With all the suffering in the aftermath of natural disasters;
With all seeking to make peace, we pray;

With confidence in God, let us pray.

 Holy Mary, full of grace, during your life, you accepted with great humility the holy will of the Father and the legacy of your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ. You were never entangled with confusion. As you did for the young couple at the wedding feast of Cana, you intercede for us in all of our difficulties. With simplicity and patience, you have given us an example of how to untangle the knots in our complicated lives. By being our mother forever, you arrange and clear the path that unites us to Our Lord.

PRAYER

Holy Mary, Mother of God and our Mother, untie the knots that beset our lives.  Receive us into your hands, as well as those for whom we pray.

Blessed Virgin Mary, through your grace,
your intercession, and by your example,
deliver us from evil,
and untie the knots that keep us from being united to God
so that free of all that binds us,
we may find Him in all things,
keep Him in our hearts,
serving Him always in our brothers and sisters.
Amen.

9-21-25 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time

The First Reading at Mass today was from Saint Paul’s 1st Letter to Timothy.  It started out this way:  Beloved:  I am writing you.  I decided that I should write too.  It’s been more difficult with all of my “running around” – the end of summer, the start of school, etc.  I thought that I would share some good news; some unusual news.  It concerns something brand new.  It concerns what may seem a whole new concept, but really is not.  It is simply a concept that needs reintroduction in our world today – a world filled sadly with so much bad news and negative news; news that is grating and degrading.  Last night, I attended the dedication and blessing of the new Business Institute at Pope John Paul II High School.  It is a refurbished room that looks like a real office setting with conference area, rows of Bloomberg computer terminals, a stock ticker on the wall (NVDA was down, but AAPL was up), and of course, numerous HD 4K flat screens on the walls.  It is high-tech indeed – a little Wall Street right off of 422!  In my role as chaplain, I simply wanted to be present.  It was Bishop Keith Chylinski, the Regional Bishop for Montgomery County that led the blessing assisted by Deacon Joseph Hosack who is on faculty at the school.  My own business prowess is rather limited.  I did have a finance course in college.  I didn’t exactly get a spectacular grade in that course.  Originally, I had thoughts of pursuing the field of International Business.  However, I discovered that I wasn’t overly interested in the “business” aspect so much as the “international” aspect of that field:  language, cultures, and peoples.  I would ultimately wind-up pursuing a business venture of a different sort.  One in which, I wouldn’t have the title of CEO, but REV.  Our Faith is a “business venture” of a different sort.  That occurred to me anew with the Business Institute blessing at PJP.  The business world with its economy and the Church world with Her theology are not opposed.  They need go hand-in-hand.  The document Gaudium et Spes of the Second Vatican Council touches upon this.  This is the point that the bishop made last night and that needs to be emphasized once again from Washington to Harrisburg and from Wall Street to Main Street.  PJP’s Business Institute with Bloomberg terminals is the first in our state.  The goal is not just to educate well future business leaders, but to educate well future Catholic business leaders such that the values of the Catholic Church are brought to fruition in all of their enterprises and endeavors throughout their lives.  Bishop Chylinski certainly got it right as he noted the large statue of Mary outside the door with the stock ticker on the wall just behind her.  He was hoping that from her pedestal in Royersford, she would make it, one day, all the way to Wall Street itself!  Here’s hoping and praying that through our young future business leaders of today – that tomorrow she will…as together all of us engage in our most important business – that of our Faith!

                                                            Peace!

                                                            Fr. Wilson

9/07/25 - Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Sanity vs. insanity is like a boxing bout that we witness every single day sitting ringside and often enough times we’ll join right in playing tag team with one side or the other.  There are varying definitions of sanity and insanity.  One definition of insanity that I have heard is the doing of the same thing, but expecting a different result.  Perhaps, it would be like saying that now, suddenly, two plus two equals five.  Hmmm…I think that I read something about some academician making such a claim. The author, Frank Sheed, defined sanity this way:  Sanity, remember, does not mean living in the same world as everyone else; it means living in the real world. But some of the most important elements in the real world can be known only by the revelation of God, which it is theology's business to study. Lacking this knowledge, the mind must live a half-blind life, trying to cope with a reality most of which it does not know is there. This is a wretched state for an immortal spirit, and pretty certain to lead to disaster. There is a good deal of disaster around at this moment.  This quote is from his book, “Theology and Sanity,” which is certainly a good read on Catholic Theology.  Sanity vs. insanity has everything to do with our Faith or our lack thereof.  I look at it this way:  philosophy raises questions that are answered ultimately in theology.  If there is no theology (Faith), then there is no answer and all that remains are endless questions and confusion and chaos: life without meaning (which, by the way, is an inherent contradiction).  Okay, let me bring things down a few notches.  We live in a world with insanity all around us and, at times, within us.  We see it in the headlines and news reports.  There are protests, wars, death, and division.  People are at each other’s throats, at times, literally.  Sanity might seem lost.  One of the ways that I view sanity or its lack is with music.  One might call it a “Harmony of Faith.”  Music is something uniquely human.  We say that birds sing, but in reality, they don’t.  Human beings encounter their melodious chirping and identify it with music.  Having a sense of music and the ability to enjoy music speaks to one’s sanity I would say.  One need not be a pianist or heavy metal drummer either.  Whether Mozart or Metallica, one need only listen, experience enjoyment and be raised beyond the mere earthly.  In our seemingly, deeply divided world, maybe it is the sanity and humanity of music, that might serve ultimately to foster unity and harmony once again.  I fantasize about a gathering where people of different ages and backgrounds gather and listen to music of different types and genres while dancing and enjoying and striking insanity with an upper cut taking him down for the count.  Jesus, Himself, listened to music.  I understand that he was dancing at a wedding, in fact.  At the Wedding Feast at Cana, maybe, just maybe, Jesus was presenting us with something more than the important and beautiful nuptial imagery along with the great miracle of changing water into wine.  Maybe in His dancing to the beat that day and His enjoyment of it, He was showing us a path to sanity in a very crazy world.  

Peace!

Fr. Wilson

07-20-25 - 16th Sunday in OT - Father Wilson's Pastor's Corner

Johann Nepomuk Neumann was the fourth bishop of Philadelphia, at a time when the city was not yet an archdiocese and encompassed an unbelievably vast amount of territory.  The diocese then consisted of the entire state of Pennsylvania as well as the state of Delaware.  It’s quite difficult to imagine.  There were no interstate highways at the time and travel was on horseback.  The responsibility must have been overwhelming.  Yet, Bishop Neumann was determined to use his every minute to fulfill his responsibilities for which he, himself, often felt unsuited.  It’s seems almost as if he worked himself to death.  Or perhaps, it is simply a matter of God wanting him to continue his hard work from above.  The hard-working bishop collapsed on the stoop of a Philadelphia house while running errands on January 5, 1860.  He died shortly thereafter at only 48 years old.  Although earthly endeavors ended, an eternal work began.  His episcopacy saw him found churches (such as Saint Aloysius, where he celebrated the first Confirmation) and schools as well.  He is credited with beginning the Catholic School system in the United States.  It seems to me that he was canonized not so much for his most difficult work so well accomplished, not to mention his frequent horseback travel, but rather for his determination of Faith and most especially for his humility.  This humble bishop so short in stature (he was only about 5’2”) really sought only to be a country priest ministering to recent immigrants whose language he spoke, especially German and Italian.  Might it be said that our dear archdiocesan patron, in fact, always remained that humble country priest, while at the same time, through God’s grace, fulfilling his many responsibilities as bishop as best he could and truly in a most outstanding way?  I believe so.  His canonization on June 19, 1977 would certainly suggest it.  Oh, that you and I might share in just a small portion of that determination of Faith and humility that Saint John Neumann had!  This weekend, I have an opportunity to make a spiritual visit with him in a special way.  In 1980, a small chapel was erected honoring him.  It is located atop a beautiful peak in the Bavarian Forest near the town of Prachatitz, where he was born.  I first became aware of the chapel when hiking in the area with a friend a number of years ago.  I thought that it might be wonderful to celebrate Mass there one day.  Plans were originally made for a Mass to be celebrated in 2020, but the pandemic changed all that.  Now, five years later plans again are in place.  This weekend, I’ll gather there with some friends and celebrate Sunday Mass.  As I reflect on twenty-five years of priesthood and invoke the intercession of our beloved patron saint, know that I’ll have with me all of your intentions as well!  Please keep me in your prayers today and pray for some nice weather on the mountain!  Saint John Neumann, patron of the Archdiocese of Philadelphia, pray for us!         

Peace!

Fr. Wilson

07-13-25 Father Wilson's Pastor's Corner

We had a dog in my family.  He used to wag his tail – a lot!  This was usually whenever I walked through the front door of our house.  He was happy to see me.  I was happy to see him, too.  Alas, I had no tail to wag.  Evolution took care of that.  Although my dog would frequently wag his tail, I never saw the tail wagging the dog…but, times change.  Now, it would seem that tails regularly wag dogs.  Wag the dog is a somewhat unusual phrase in English and it appears that it may be particular to American English.  Although a version of the phrase dates back to a play only towards the end of the nineteenth century according to Merriam-Webster, in its current usage the phrase is linked to a movie by that same name.  The film, Wag the Dog, was released in 1997.  The movie, which I’ve never seen, has to do with a fictional war started in order to distract from an executive office scandal occurring less than two weeks before an election.  The phrase, wag the dog, has to do with stories told and narratives created.  When observing current events in the age of the World Wide Web and a 24/7 news cycle, perhaps the question to always ask is “is it news or is it narrative?”  Our world of today seems to be less news and ever more narrative.  Contrasting news headlines today seem to give evidence of this.  The widget that is ever so popular today such that every household should have one, in a mere twenty-four hours is found to cause physical and mental illness – maybe even death itself and all those widget-teers promoting and profiting from this late latest “thing” should be arrested, jailed, and maybe even executed.  Join me in protest at the town square where I was selling widgets yesterday.  Hmmm. Another example would be this.  Of course, you’ve heard of moon cheese, right?  Recently, a news agency reported that an anonymous source leaked an unsigned document from one of our country’s intelligence agencies.  It stated unequivocally that, astoundingly, the moon is, in fact, made out of cheese.  The potential harvesting of moon cheese stands to create a whole new industry worth billions.  Countless new jobs would be created.  Furthermore, the document indicates that because of ideal temperatures and the lunar exosphere, the galactic Gouda would be of a far greater quality than that which could ever be produced on earth.  Although the health benefits of cheese harvested from the moon have yet to be fully studied, the document suggested that consuming a small amount of moon cheese on a regular basis may even extend human life.  News of the content of the leaked report has dairy farmers and producers of earthly cheeses incensed.  They are demanding inquiries and answers.  Stocks in the cheese industry have already been hit hard as Wall Street is already taking a rocket to the moon.  Two days later there was a minor correction in a footnote to the story.  The original story omitted the word, if, from the document…as in if the moon were made out of cheese.  But, it was too little too late.  The tail was already wagging the dog.  Is it any wonder why the Son of Man entered into our history when He did?  One can only imagine the wagging of the dog that would take place today in connection with a Christ Crucified.  Sometimes it still does.  Christians as disciples are learners.  That is what disciple means.  A student that is learning is curious and questions.  He or she seeks the Truth in a world filled with all sorts of narratives and lots of news every day.  That is what the original Disciples did and this is what you and I are called to do – especially in our world today of constantly changing narratives, twenty-four-hour news cycles, and a wild World Wide Web.  For now, might I suggest that you pass on the galactic Gouda; enjoy some nice earthly brie instead – and especially, when it comes to our Faith, don’t let the tail wag you!   

Peace!

Fr. Wilson

06-29-25 Saint Peter and Paul, Apostles Sunday

I don’t think that I’m going totally crazy…not yet anyway!  Sometimes it seems like that because life can be so overwhelming at times.  You know what I mean…so much to do and only twenty-four hours in a day.  But, such days only remind me of just how dependent I am upon Our Lord and that He’s the One really in charge.  Those twenty-four hours ultimately belong to Him.  Anyway, in the midst of such days, I find myself not only realizing once again my dependence upon Our Lord and talking with Him – but, also talking with Mother.  Now, I love Our Lord’s mother and frequently make intercession of her, too – but, I’m referring to my own mother.  You know, the one that gave birth to me – and she’s long with God, Himself!  Usually, I’m just crying out to her as I so often did as a kid.  Mommmmm!  Maaaaaaa!  Or just, Hey Ma!  One fact of life is that mother’s always respond to their crying children.  This is true of our birth mothers and of Our Blessed Mother as well.  It’s what mother’s do.  As I call out to mom (when I’m alone in the rectory or in my car when you’re not around lest you think that I really am ready for Happy Acres Rest Home), I think of my childhood and the comfort that my mother so, so often gave.  Whether kissing and binding a crying child’s wound, feeding a hungry boy’s growling tummy, or inviting a tired tike to rest his little head on her lap – my mother was always ready to comfort and calm.  Again, it’s what mother’s do.  Now, in the midst of all of life’s craziness even during these weeks of summer, I was reminded of childhood motherly moments recently.  It was a warm evening.  I was outside sitting on the patio by the pool at my friends’ house.  Ahhhh, a little downtime!  That’s when I took particular notice of little Axel.  The little guy of pre-school age is a happy-go-lucky little kid…most of the time anyway…so his parents tell me.  He absolutely loves, loves, loves the outdoors.  I can picture him having his own very successful lawn care or outdoor construction business in the future.  This particular moment found him in his happy place.  He was outside and sitting on a little toy truck – the kind that a kid rides while pushing along using one’s feet.  He would push along for a bit and then stop pressing one of the many buttons on the truck which would then play a short bit of music.  Think of a neighborhood ice cream truck making its rounds.  With each stop and push of a button, Axel would laugh and gyrate – doing a little dance to the music!  It was so cute!  He wasn’t “performing” to be seen as kids can sometimes do.  He was simply in his own content little world.  It was where I wanted to be too.  All of us watching did.  His own mother and the rest of us watching simply laughed too!  It brought us all back to our own childhoods and times of simple, happy contentment when everything was just right and there was no thought whatsoever of how many hours were in a day.  During these weeks of summer that so quickly pass by, seek a bit of contentment, rest, and refreshment.  Get outside, ride your “toy,” listen to some music and “gyrate” a bit!  You may even find yourself crying out happily to your mom and doing a little dance with her, while remembering that what time we do have on any given day is, in the end, not yours, mine, or mom’s – but, belongs to the One, Who created all time to begin with!  Enjoy all of your times this summer! 

Peace!

                                                                      Fr. Wilson

06-21-25 Corpus Christi Sunday

Well, I suppose that I did things a little different (grammatical pun intended).  When I was accepted to begin studies at the seminary for the second time – the first delayed by the applicant due to a theological condition known as “cold feet” – my proud pastor wanted to share the good news with the entire parish.  I asked him to delay – for one week.  Uh oh!  Lingering “cold feet,” he probably thought.  No, it wasn’t that.  I was simply nervous.  I didn’t want to be around for all the attention and whoop-de-doo.  I mean, what would people think?  I wasn’t any kind of saint…nice guy perhaps, but no Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes.  I simply thought that, yes, God might be calling me to be a priest and it was a thought that would not go away.  I had a lack of peace and serenity in my life.  I wanted to know if this was really what the “Big Guy” wanted and I wanted to regain what I lacked.  Why one week, my pastor wanted to know.  The whole parish (that knew nothing of my vocational quest) will want to know and will be so happy for you.  Just give me a week.  Father agreed.  The following weekend it was announced at church – but, I was nowhere to be found.  I made plans to be away that weekend.  Physically, I was miles away, but light-years mentally….and this in a world where cell phones were not yet a thing.  I returned home to a telephone answering machine that was full, cards in the mailbox, and all kinds of notes stuffed in the front door of the house.  My father told me that everyone was looking for me.  Gosh, even my next door neighbor told me everyone was looking for me, then offered congratulations as a volley of questions were hurled my way.  I was overwhelmed in the best possible sense by the response of the parish.  My pastor beamed.  They love you!  They will pray for you and support you!  Your journey is now their journey too – and this is just the beginning!  Father was spot on.  Wow!  And what a wonderful journey it has been these last thirty-one years, twenty-five of which has been spent in Persona Christi.  Dennis Morales and now, Ricky Gomes-Garcia have taken a different approach.  They have been very open about their discernment, as many of you know.  With both of them now having been officially accepted to Saint Charles Borromeo Seminary to begin studies for priesthood, a beaming pastor’s pride is the same as it was for me back in the day.  Their journey is now yours as well.  On this Corpus Christi weekend, we celebrate the ordained ministry in conjunction with the Feast Day of Saint Aloysius.  From seminarians in formation, to diaconate, and priesthood – it is a celebration for all…Saint Al’s as well as Saint Gabe’s.  Catholic communities that foster vocations are fruitful communities and parishes.  Pray for vocations!  Pray for those discerning God’s call!  Pray for Fr. Wesly, Deacon George, and Deacon Ray!  Pray for me, as well!  Pray that we might be faithful and fruitful in our vocations!  And pray for Dennis and Ricky as they begin a most wonderful journey – one that is now yours as well!

Peace!

                                                                        Fr. Wilson

06-15-25 [The Most Holy Trinity Sunday/Father's Day]

Call it inspiration – a father’s inspiration.  Under my father’s tutelage, I learned to play golf.  In fact, I didn’t just play golf – I studied it!  And this was in the days long before Tiger Woods.  As golfers back in the day, my father and I didn’t belong to a country club, but we did belong to an exclusive club.  As a kid growing up in a city row house, while my friends were trying to get an orange colored ball through a fairly large hoop, I was trying to get a tiny white ball into a little hole far away.  In school, I read books and wrote reports on the legends: Jack Nicklaus, Johnny Miller, Lee Trevino, and of course, Arnold Palmer.  Palmer, a Latrobe, Pennsylvania native, was a hero to my father, who was a loyal member of “Arnie’s Army.”  I would enjoy watching tournaments televised, such as the Masters or US Open (concluding this weekend at Oakmont out by Pittsburgh), with my father on weekend afternoons.  I was entertained by Chi-Chi Rodriquez’ playful “matador routine” staged on the green when he dropped a putt and familiar with Gary Player’s trademark, black, clerical-like attire.  Hmmm, maybe “Father” Gary had a heretofore unknown influence upon me too.  Student of golf that I was, I learned about its history and the development of clubs from wooden shafts to steel and later graphite.  There were soft-cover balls such as those sold by Titleist and hard-cover balls marketed by Top Flite.  I quickly learned the meaning of “fore,” but really never quite the meaning of “hole-in-one” – which I’m still trying to understand.  It was either a father’s great pride in his son or else, I missed my true calling – in my father’s desire that I play golf professionally – as in PGA (Professional Golf Association).  I couldn’t picture myself in Arnie’s combat boots or having a little shtick like Chi-Chi.  I suppose that I would have then eventually gone to a school like Coastal Carolina University honing my course skills while studying “professional golf management.” My father wasn’t upset that I didn’t pursue a PGA career.  He readily and fully understood that it was not his life to live, but mine.  You have to be your own man, he would remind me. He was a bit perplexed at first though, with what I did choose.  It was a “game” of sorts that he didn’t quite get – except for the Gary Player part.  But that would change.  The “hole-in-one” of meeting a pope and future saint helped.  As a retired member of Arnie’s Army, he now swore loyalty to the one that I was in.  On this Father’s Day, remember to thank your dad!  Thank him for his love and help; his guidance and direction in a life that he knows is ultimately yours to live.  Then consider: where will a father’s inspiration lead you?  Wherever it is, I hope that you too get a “hole-in-one!”  Thanks, Dad!  And Happy Father’s Day!    

Peace!

  Fr. Wilson

06-08-25 [Pentecost Sunday]

It was a glorious feeling.  Drenching us was the bright, warm, sunshine of a clear, blue-sky day.  Collared shirts of light blue were unbuttoned and un-tucked.  Ties were nowhere to be seen, either crammed into near empty book bags or jammed into the pockets of our requisite navy blue pants.  I can still smell the flowers and the freshly cut grass as some of folks in the neighborhood, whom I didn’t even know, manned their mowers - and smiled and waved and wished us all the best.  That neighborhood which I was passing through was much like that of Stowe or the outskirts of Pottstown, though I lived in a row house within the city limits.  Normally, I would ride the school bus home, but that day was special – very special.  That day, I would walk home together with the guys.  A good bit of horseplay ensued along the way as our shirts were flapping in the warm, gentle breeze.  Every neighbor just seemed to know:  it was the last day of school: summer was here!  Alleluia!  It would last an eternity (or, at least, so a young mind thought).  Oh, to have this feeling everyday!  The energy we bore that day was boundless, electric, and contagious.  There was so much to do; so much to accomplish.  Oh, where to begin?  We were ready to run and to ride; to skip and to jump; to swim and to swing.  We were ready to hide and to seek and to find well into the night.  There were bikes to be ridden; ballgames to play; ghosts in graveyards to be found; creeks to be crossed; lightning bugs to capture.  Then there was much exploring to do with trails in the mountains waiting to be traversed while sands by the sea were awaiting the soles of our feet.  During these days the Good Humor man always seemed apprehensive as he came down our little one-way street and was quickly swarmed by his youthful customers so eager for his ice cold and creamy treats.  The glorious feeling of that last school day was, indeed, just a beginning.  A different sort of school was now in session.  There would be a different type of curriculum and method of teaching – a summer school of a different sort.  Much would be learned in those summer months of youth concerning family and friends; fun and freedom.  That last day was just the beginning.  I loved those days of summer.  I still do.  They were glorious.  They still are – and they are meant to last forever.  I believe the Day of Pentecost was much like that last day of school.  It is the First Day of an Eternal Summer.  The feeling is glorious; the energy boundless and contagious.   There is just so much to do; so much to accomplish.  All the neighbors seem to be aware.  There is awe.  There is wonder.  Sheep have now become Shepherds.  Disciples have now become Apostles and these Apostles, filled with the Holy Spirit, now know as well.  They know exactly what to do.  They know exactly what to say.  Locked doors and Upper Rooms, classrooms of a sort, are left behind and they now go forth to preach and proclaim a whole new curriculum.  They go forth to play in the Spirit.  Pentecost is here!  It is the Last Day of School as an Eternal Summer begins.  Energized anew by the Spirit, we, too, are called to go forth to preach and proclaim; to play in the Spirit while embraced by the eternal warmth of the Son.  It is a glorious feeling, indeed - one that will last all summer.                                

Peace!

  Fr. Wilson

05-11-25 [Fourth Sunday of Easter/Mother's Day]

Mother’s Day and meals go together.  It seems that, that is what all mothers really want.  It is a day quite busy for restaurants with reservations made.  Oh, don’t get me wrong.  Mothers certainly love cards, flowers, or gifts.  Homemade cards from children are especially dear.  That was a ritual for me in grade school.  Such cards were proudly displayed by my mother – held by a magnet on the refrigerator door.  One year, there was a classroom project to make a Mother’s Day plate.  That plate, held by a special clasp, hung on the kitchen wall above the doorway for many, many years thereafter.  In fact, it remained there long after my mother was called home by God.  Cards and gifts are wonderful, but it is the meal that truly stands out.  It is the meal where memories are made and it is the meal where the true meaning of motherhood is underscored.  It is not the food had at the meal or the location.  The meal might be surf & turf or a simple, but tasty salad.  It might be had at a fancy, five-star restaurant or a local chain eatery.  But, it is the gathering with family that makes the day special – and makes the meaning of motherhood clear.  All mothers desire to gather with their children.  This is true of the Blessed Mother as well.  Although we may not always be able to be physically present with mom (say if she’s enjoying the sunny beaches of Florida) – technology today can help us to bridge the gap when we make a video call.  Ultimately, it is our Faith that helps us to bridge the gap and with it we can be eternally present to mom and one another.  I share a meal with my mother not just on Mother’s Day, but every Sunday.  She’s there at the altar with me.  You may not see her – but, I do.  In fact, the Blessed Mother’s there too!  Enjoy your Mother’s Day and enjoy your meal!  And don’t forget to tell mom how much you love her!  Love you, Ma!  Happy Mother’s Day! 

Peace!

Fr. Wilson

3rd Sunday of Easter [05-04-25]

What is the enduring legacy of Pope Francis?  For me, perhaps it all comes down to a puppet.  During this time of interregnum, there is much speculation as to who will be the next pope.  It is also a time of reflection on the reign of Pope Francis.  It should also be a time of much prayer – that the Holy Spirit might truly guide the Cardinal Electors of the Conclave in their discussions and in their vote.  The direction of the Church under the next pope certainly hinges upon that of the last.  While papabili names have been bantered about along with profiles of these pope potentials, already much has been written concerning our dear Pope Francis.  Opinions have been diverse as one might expect – and respectful…for the most part.  There is no doubt that Francis left his mark upon the Church.  His unique choice of name speaks greatly to his legacy as does his country of birth in the Southern Hemisphere.  For me, the impact and historical import of his papacy could be said to come down very simply to a doll.  In 1994, Saint Pope John Paul II proclaimed a “Year of the Family” and instituted the “World Meeting of Families.”  It is now organized by the Pontifical Council for the Family every three years in order to strengthen sacred familial bonds all over the world.  In 2015, the event took place in Philadelphia.  Pope Francis would be there.  So would I.  I forget where I first saw it.  Was it an ad on TV?  I really think that it was a news report.  Reporters covered all kinds of aspects of the Pope’s visit – before, during, and after.  Many priests, bishops, and laity were interviewed again, and again, and again.  I believe that it was one such interview that showed a street vendor and the interviewer with Pope in hand.  He was holding a Pope Francis doll, which the vendor was selling.  “Hmmm...that’s cool,” I thought!  I must have related this to someone in the parish, because the next thing I know – voila – now I too, had Pope Francis in hand!  Maybe it was just me, but never before had I ever seen or heard of a pope being caricatured in a plush toy.  Perhaps it was just the Spirit of American Consumerism at work, along with some good-ole, red, white, and blue chutzpah…but, I saw it as speaking to Francis, himself, and his papacy.  People were so comfortable with Pope Francis and felt that he was so down to earth, that it was almost natural to produce a doll in his likeness.  Dolls comfort us.  They are held close and children carry them into bed with them hoping for sweet dreams.  Thus, dolls can be a reminder of childlike innocence.  They can be “action figures” like GI Joe for boys (which I had when I was a kid) or “Hollywood models” like Barbie for girls.  Dolls can speak to a sense of humor (a “pope doll” – really?!?) or dolls can become collectibles fetching quite a price (think original unboxed Cabbage Patch Kid).  So yes, for me it is a doll that speaks to the legacy of Pope Francis.  He was seen as a “Pope for the People” and he was comfortable among those same people.  A pope doll in the past would have been seen as disrespectful – to the pope, the papacy, and to the Church, Herself!  Anathema sit!  Besides, no one would ever want to “cuddle-up” with a pope!  That all changed under Francis.  So now, I’m going to have a nice cup of “sleepy-time” tea and “cuddle-up” with Francis as I pray for the conclaving Cardinals and the pope yet to be whose image, hopefully, will be caricatured in a plush doll!

Peace!

Fr. Wilson

STATEMENT OF ARCHBISHOP NELSON J. PÉREZ REGARDING THE DEATH OF POPE FRANCIS

STATEMENT OF

ARCHBISHOP NELSON J. PÉREZ
REGARDING THE DEATH OF POPE FRANCIS

Along with the people of the Church of Philadelphia and the entire Universal Church, I was deeply saddened to learn of the death of Pope Francis today.

In the midst of great sorrow, we also reflect on the gifts of the Holy Father’s life and ministry with deep gratitude. He tirelessly served the Church for 56 years with great fidelity and zeal. As a Jesuit priest, university professor, local provincial superior, Archbishop of Buenos Aires, a member of the College of Cardinals, and Supreme Pontiff he exhibited selfless dedication on behalf of the souls entrusted to his care.

A man of prayer and intellect with a strong devotion to the Blessed Mother, Pope Francis entrusted the faithful to the mercy of Almighty God. He encouraged everyone to be an instrument of Christ’s compassionate love by extending a kind and merciful hand to the marginalized and those most in need. 

He challenged the Catholic Church throughout the world to respond to increasingly troubled times through genuine Christian encounter with the spirit of Missionary Discipleship. As a proponent of the synodal process, Pope Francis urged all Catholics to walk with one another on their faith journey with minds and hearts open to the movement of the Holy Spirit. His rich pastoral legacy is a blessing that leaves an indelible and profoundly positive mark on the life of the Church around the world.

Pope Francis will always hold a special place in the heart of the Philadelphia region. His visit to our city almost a decade ago for the World Meeting of Families—Philadelphia 2015 brought us immeasurable joy. That moment in time remains a precious gift that will not be forgotten. 

From his many apostolic visits around the globe to be among his flock, to his inspiring teachings, to his consistent call for peace and social justice, Pope Francis invited all people to encounter the person of Jesus Christ fully and to serve their brothers and sisters with love and humility as instruments of grace. The life and Petrine Ministry of Pope Francis was a true blessing to the world. May his example bring us to embrace God’s plan for each of us to serve Christ’s Church on earth as Missionary Disciples.

I ask the people of the Archdiocese of Philadelphia to join me in offering prayers for the happy repose of Pope Francis’ soul. May God grant him the gift of eternal life and bring comfort to a Church in mourning.

Easter Sunday [04-20-25]

The Easter Vigil was well under way that year.  Everyone had “settled-in” for the beautiful, retreat-like, and (as every Catholic knows) longer-than-usual “Mother of all Vigils.”  The Easter Fire had been ignited and blessed.  This Transformative Flame scatters the Darkness of Evil as it burns and brightens.  The new Paschal Candle was now bearing this Light as it pierced the darkness of the church.  Taper candles were lighted.  Although all of us, now, literally held the New Easter Fire in our hands, it was hearts that burned.  The Exsultet was sung dramatically.  Tapers were then extinguished as the Mass continued with the Readings and the Psalms; the Gloria and the Gospel; the bells that were rung and the Baptisms that were taking place that year.  Finally, the time came for all present – including my Aunt Rita – to renew one’s own Baptismal Promises.  Taper candles were carefully re-ignited by young Altar Servers and then, the Easter Fire, once again, burned and spread.  It was quite the sight to behold.  Caught up in the moment, suddenly there was a shuffle and scuffle.  Something was amiss.  A gasp!  A shout!  Heads turning!  In that moment, a quick thinking and fast acting young resident priest sprang from the Altar grabbing a basin containing some of the Newly Blessed Baptismal Water that was to be used for sprinkling all present and running down the aisle, the priest now turned fireman, doused Aunt Rita, her burning missalette, and a few of the terrified Faithful who had the misfortune of being positioned near-by.  The Pastor, meanwhile, barely broke stride.  Obviously, he was a seasoned priest and a veteran pastor.  There’s a phrase for it in Pastoral Theology:  Stuff happens.  Keep going.  He was well aware that priests might be seen wearing very traditional birettas, very modern baseball caps, or yes, even firefighter helmets.  I have a whole assortment of hats and caps in my closet.  Aunt Rita, for her part, was mortified, yet relieved that neither she, nor anyone else, had to be taken to the emergency room!  Father Pastor was just glad that he didn’t have to take out his insurance adjustor cap and he permanently placed good Aunt Rita on the “taper-ban” list.  She humbly complied.  Though Aunt Rita never held the Easter Fire again in her hands, it was already long burning in her heart and it was this Flame that would continue to spread.  Missalettes were no longer set ablaze, but people standing nearby were still in “danger.”  I know one young man who stood too close, too often.  He got “burned” and that Flame would change him forever.  He would go on to spread that same Flame setting Fires anew – a pyromaniac of sorts of the clerical order.  If nothing else this Easter, pray that hearts might be set aflame:  yours, mine, and those around you.   Pray that the Easter Fire; the Fire of Faith spread anew in a world so flooded and drowning in Darkness.  Jesus died and rose from the dead for you, for me, and for Aunt Rita.  He comes anew each day in the Burning Flames of Easter and He wants us to set the whole world ablaze!  Just spare the missalettes!  Happy Easter!

Peace!

Fr. Wilson

Palm Sunday [04-13-25]

I’m not sure if it was the silence.  Perhaps, it was simply the stillness.  It was a Holy Spirit moment for sure.  There is a memory that stands out for me particularly this week.  It was an event that affected me and would ultimately change me.  If the word holy can be taken to mean different or set-apart, then this week certainly is Holy.  All the liturgies, especially those of the Sacred Triduum are different.  From the Washing of Feet to the Veneration of the Cross, they unfold unlike “ordinary” liturgical celebrations, though I would argue that no liturgical celebration is ever “ordinary.”  Bread and wine transformed; God made present is anything but “ordinary.”  It was a Good Friday Service that so affected me many years ago.  That affect still remains with me – every year.  On one particular Good Friday, when I was much younger and well before I was ordained, I was in attendance at my parish.  I was seated on the end or near the end of the pew, because on this day I had a clear vision of the sanctuary.  There was no big person blocking my view.  There were three priests that lived at the parish at the time and all three priests were present.  Mass, of course, would usually begin with singing or announcements – not that day.  In fact, it would not even be a Mass celebrated, but simply a “service.”  The three priests processed down the aisle in utter silence.  And there was silence.  In that moment no babies were crying and there were no children ornery.  I could actually hear the vestments as the priests walked by and felt a breeze as they did so.  Eyes were fixed upon the silent priests clothed in red.  Then it happened.  All three prostrated themselves in the sanctuary – before the tabernacle; before the altar; before the crucifix on the wall; before all the people gathered – in utter silence.  It was an act of submission and obedience and humility.  To me at that time so long ago, this act of prostration seemed rather long.  The silence was deafening during this pregnant pause and as the priests lay there a thought entered my mind.  Perhaps, it was more of a feeling.  I wanted to lie there with them.  I wonder if Dennis ever had this feeling.  I’ll have to ask him.  Or maybe you can too.  Dennis Morales is a young man and an active member of Saint Aloysius Parish.  He might be seen working in the sacristy or serving as an extraordinary minister of Holy Communion.  As we now enter this most “different” week of our Church Year, it is with much pride and great pleasure that I can announce that Dennis has been officially accepted as a seminarian at Saint Charles Borromeo Seminary to begin study for priesthood for the Archdiocese.  Way to go, Dennis!!  I’m so proud of you and happy for you as is Fr. Wesly!  I’m rather certain that my pride and happiness will be shared by all of our parishioners at Saint Al’s and our friends at Saint Gabe’s as well!  I look forward to celebrating with you and supporting you as you begin a most wonderful journey as, I’m sure, do all of our parishioners and friends at both parishes.  Know that you are in our prayers!  I also very much look forward to that day when – God willing – you too, humbly lie prostrate in the sanctuary before the altar in an utter and profound silence as one of His priests!  Congratulations! 

Peace!

Fr. Wilson      

5th Sunday of Lent [04-06-25]

Maybe, for just one day, I would like to be a bus driver.  In particular, I think that I might like to be a tour bus driver.  Noah is now behind us. The bus was filled with happy travelers off to see its performance on the stage at Sight & Sound Theatre in Amish Country.  The story of Noah is known…the story of the bus drivers not so much.  I had the opportunity to speak with two of them for a bit.  One was from Virginia, he was preparing for his three and a half hour journey back with his group of Japanese tourists.  He was looking forward to his dinner stop and praising ever delicious Amish style chicken while licking his lips.  Our own bus driver, Kerwin, was a nice fellow and thoughtful enough to take the back roads on a most beautiful, sunny day.  The Amish and Mennonite folks were out and about with their horses and buggies as well as their “scooter” bikes.  Passing by a school at recess, we saw some boys playing while donned in their black garb and wearing straw hats.  The lay of the land just looks different when looking down upon it from a tour bus.  What a quaint little town, I thought as we made our way back to home and church.  Then, there is the tour bus, itself.  It was new – less than a year old.  The ten year-old boy in me was excited.  I was impressed by its size, but even more so, at the driver’s compartment.  It looked like an airplane cockpit with all kinds of buttons and screens.  Could there have been a monitor for altitude as well?  How cool to be a bus driver!  Traveling highways and back roads; going distances long and short; meeting all kinds of folks from all over the country and the world!  As we begin to round out our Lenten Journey this year, perhaps it’s true to say that we’re all like bus drivers – and it’s all about the Journey.  Who have you met along the way?  And did you notice the beautiful countryside?  It not, well, the trip’s not quite over!  There’s still time!  It is all about the Journey – and all of us are on it!  The return home will be that much more joyful when we’ve relished the road trip along the way noticing the beauty of the countryside of our Church and our Faith while taking the time to banter with our fellow travelers and bus drivers too, all the while looking forward to that most delicious Banquet Dinner to come and licking our lips in anticipation!  Noah was great!  The Journey was even better!  Enjoy your Trip!

                                                                        Peace!

                                                                        Fr. Wilson       

4th Sunday of Lent [03/30/25]

It was late and this little guy was already in bed when his father awakened him.  “What?”  “Huh?”  I had been fast asleep.  “I want you to see this,” he said.  He plopped me down on the bed in front of the little black and white TV in my parent’s bedroom.  My mother was there too, in her night robe.  “Here, look at this,” my father said.  “This is history.”  All I know is that I was tired, but my dad wouldn’t let me sleep.  “This is history,” he repeated pointing at the TV.  “Remember this.”  On the screen was a grainy picture of a little space ship.  Soon, a suited spaceman emerged and a voice scratchy, distant, and somewhat hard to understand was heard:  “This is one small step for man and one giant leap for mankind.”  My father’s eyes were red as were mine, but his red eyes weren’t from being tired.  My father was always fascinated with space and space travel.  As a boy, he must have fallen asleep dreaming about it influenced by the likes of Flash Gordon, Buck Rogers, Jules Verne, and H.G. Wells.  My father was right.  It was a historic moment and I would forever remember.  We have now become somewhat more accustomed to space exploration, since that summer of 1969.   There followed other Apollo missions, Skylab, the Space Shuttle era, the International Space Station, and any number of various space probes.  My father was always keenly interested.  Although we have already seen images of the planet of Mars and its surface, each new mission brings with it new information and increases our experience.  The goal is a manned mission to Mars, perhaps as soon as 2030.  Astronauts are already beginning to train.  A man named Musk has certainly expressed interest.  The exhibit on prepping for manned Martian flights that I saw a number of years ago at the Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral was quite interesting.  The film, The Martian, with Matt Damon was well done and portrays much of the technology that will be needed to reach the Red Planet.  Space exploration has been in the mind of man since time immemorial.  It might be likened to our annual Lenten “exploration.”  As space exploration has taken place incrementally with our first having had to imagine it with the help of Flash and Buck, so too perhaps, concerning the vast recesses of Lent.  For many of us, it is as if we are still looking through our telescope with comic book in hand.  Our goal needs to be great and grand.  It might very well seem impossible and for those who say that it can’t be done - it is impossible! However, the word, “impossible” has no place in Christianity.  How wonderful it will be witnessing a man or woman set foot on the Red Planet for the first time as we watch history unfold in color on our HD, 4K, or Hologram TVs of the future.  It will be far more wonderful still, when after having explored the vast recesses of Lent little by little over the years our epic journey arrives finally at a place called Resurrection!  Let the countdown to liftoff begin…

Peace!

Fr. Wilson      

3rd Sunday of Lent [03-23-25]

I really enjoyed First Grade – for exactly one day.  Then, I decided:  Enough of that!  Though my stomach ailment was actually a ruse, my mother bought it for one day (Good!).  On day two, she became suspicious (Uh, oh!).  On day three, my father went into work late (Oh, no!).  Backed into a corner and cowering behind a large chair, he stood over me and barked “YOU ARE GOING TO SCHOOL!”  Clearly I had no choice.  The battle was lost, but far from it the war.  In defeat, I cried out, “I surrender, I surrender!”  And I really did surrender – and have ever since.  The First Grade dungeon door swung open and there stood Sr. Rita Bernard in the full, black, SSJ regalia of the time.  She seemed to me a cross between the Wicked Witch and Dracula.  With her steely, reptilian eyes in her “nunish” voice and with the most rigid face this side of a Szondi Test, she said, “Good Morning, Eugene!”  (Oooo, I just got a chill.)  Then, she glared at my father and said without ever moving her lips, “I’ll take him from here.”  Her claws latched into my shoulder blade and tore me away from my father’s grip.  Years later my father told me that he felt so sorry for me (Gee whiz, thanks Dad!).  Into the lair I went and though a little boy was defeated that day, his spirit was not.  I somehow knew already in First Grade that it was all about conformity.  Learn the rules.  Learn reading.  Learn writing.  Learn arithmetic.  Be a productive member of society.  Grow-up, find a job, find a suitable partner, reproduce, and finally, after wrapping it up on the back nine, turn out the lights and call it a day.  I wanted none of it!  I wanted to be free - to play all day; explore ant hills; play with my Hot Wheels and Tonka Trucks, and tear up and down the block on my Big Wheel!  I wanted that freedom then, and I still do!  Though not a basketball player, I became good at hoops - and jumping through them.  And I was good – a good boy; a good student, and a “good egg” one might say.  It was all a rebel ruse, because within lay an insurrectionist awaiting his moment.  Little did I know at the time, that my First Grade teacher, Sr. Dracula, was schooling me not in the conformity of simply learning the rules, but in the rebellion that foments when one begins to question why we have rules to begin with!  What I didn’t know at the time was that Sister was a rebel, herself – and I was her star pupil!  She was schooling me in the Art of Rebellion, which begins with knowing the rules and the reasons for the rules and then, turning them all upside down!  I mean what else would lead a young woman to give up family and friends and having her own children in order to wear a full black regalia on a warm day in September in a stuffy basement classroom full of 42 or so, six year old urchins?  Sr. Rita was a rebel.  She was nurturing the rebel in me and I didn’t even know it at the time.  How cool is that?  In my school of non-conformity, I learned about Jesus.  I learned about His turning everything on its head.  I learned about His being accused of insurrection and rebellion.  I learned about His rejecting the world and its rules for a Rule far greater.  I learned that Jesus was a rebel – and I couldn’t resist His rebel yell.  If you listen closely and perceptively, maybe you’ll hear it too.  Many years later, as I prepared for my own revolutionary moment of entering the seminary, I received a most beautiful letter in the mail.  It was from Sr. Rita Bernard – the Rebel.  She was so pleased and happy!  She assured me of her prayers as the fight for the Rebel Cause would continue.  Yes, I am a rebel at heart – as was Sr. Rita, because Jesus, Himself, is.  What about you?  Join the Good Fight!  Rebel!

In Memoriam – Sister Mary Catherine Walton, SSJ. (aka Sister Rita Bernard)

May 11, 1937-March 10, 2025

Peace! 

Fr. Wilson