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                                               

2nd Sunday of Lent [03-16-25]

There is a friend of mine that regularly attends Mass.  Our birthdays are near one another, though I’ll have to wait awhile before we might ever go out to share a celebratory drink at some local watering hole.  My friend is just a wee bit younger than me.  In fact, although he will only be celebrating his first birthday in June, he’s already made quite the impression at church – especially with the ladies!  Henry’s quite the ladies’ man alright!  He’s also quite the man of Faith…already!  Often attending weekday Mass with his mother, he usually makes his presence known.  He likes to pray out loud using words known but to him and God.  However, no one complains at all and Father often finds himself suppressing a grin.  Henry even often comes to adoration of the Blessed Sacrament.  Receiving a blessing from the Lord, Himself, is truly great.  Receiving a big smile from Henry afterwards makes that Divine Blessing even more divine.  Henry, along with his mother and father, are setting a beautiful example for all of us.  Perhaps, little Henry can help all of us set a tone for our Lenten Journey as well.  First of all, it’s never too early to sow Seeds of Faith (nor is it ever too late, by the way!).  We might consider where we need to sow some Seeds this Lent.  Maybe Seeds might need to be sown within as we participate in some of our Lenten activities or devotions here at Saint Al’s or Saint Gabe’s.  Perhaps some Seeds need to be scattered among our family or friends.  Little Henry at his young age is now already familiar with the sights, sounds, and even the smell of Mass - the singing and the music; the different liturgical colors of altar and tapestries along with the vestments of both priest and deacon; then there’s the smell of Benediction with the aromatic incense that wafts and billows through the air.  It’s rather interesting that even though some might get sleepy during Mass, young Henry is usually wide awake.  I suppose that’s because he’s already familiar with the Rhythm of the Mass.  There’s a Lenten question that each one of us can ask ourselves.  Am I attuned to the Rhythm of the Mass such that my Faith is invigorated as by a beautiful song and I’m prepared to sing the Song of a Sower?  All of us this Lent should strive to go before Our Lord in all childlike innocence – much like Henry, looking forward to the greetings shining forth from all those familiar faces after Mass and in the end looking forward to that True Celebratory Birthday Drink – the One had with Our Lord, Himself together with all the Saints!  Here’s to you, Henry!  Cheers, my friend! 

Peace!

Fr. Wilson

Father Wilson's Pastor's Corner - 8th Sunday in Ordinary Time [03-02-25]

As I write this, Pope Francis remains in the hospital and people throughout the world are praying for him.  One of the things that I will always remember about Pope Francis, aside from his visit to Philadelphia in 2015, is a devotion that he introduced.  Francis undertook some studies for a time in Germany.  While there, he had an opportunity to visit Augsburg.  In one of the churches, he encountered a painting of the Blessed Mother in which she was enveloped by a rope with knots in it.  He learned of a local devotion bringing it to Argentina when he returned there and to the world’s attention when he became Pope.  The Blessed Mother as Our Lady, Undoer of Knots, can and certainly will intercede for us as we make effort to untie the various “knots” that we inevitably experience in our lives.  These can be “knots” of anger or lust or impatience.  One might have “spiritual knots” such as dryness in prayers or a listless Faith.  Perhaps one’s “knots” might be a physical ailment of some sort.  I actually had an opportunity myself to see that painting in Augsburg and the image has always stuck with me.  All of us have our own “knots” and Mary certainly can help us to untie them.  A friend of mine also recently gave insight to undoing knots and helped me to untie one quite literally.  A drawstring on a pair of sweatpants was so tightly knotted that I simply couldn’t undo it.  I tried and I tried, but the darn thing wouldn’t give.  Without the drawstring, my old, comfy sweats would be useless to me since they would fall to the floor from around my waist.  My friend told me to try a hammer.  Huh?  He said that he had seen some YouTube short or Tik-Toc video where impossible knots could be “tamed” and made manageable by giving them a pounding with a hammer.  Are you serious?  He said that he, himself, had never tried it, but hey, it couldn’t hurt.  It might even work.  I set my knotted sweats on the floor and gave a little pounding with my old, trusty hammer.  Well, guess what!  Voila!  It does indeed work!  The slight tapping of a hammer loosened the tightly wound knot and enabled me to undo it!  This had me thinking that this might be a very good tip for our upcoming Season of Lent.  Next time that I’m in Augsburg, I’ll have to take a closer look at that painting of Our Lady, Undoer of Knots.  I’ll have to see if she’s wielding a hammer!  Although we may not see it in her hands, there is a hammer that Our Lady bears.  It is actually the Hammer of her Son – the Hammer of the Cross.  It is this Hammer that ultimately loosens all “knots” enabling them to be undone.  As we soon begin the Season of Lent and seek to untie our various “knots,” remember the devotion proclaimed by the Pope.  Remember to turn to Our Lady Undoer of Knots and take the Hammer of the Cross in hand in order to loosen the “knots” making an “old pair of sweats” like new! 

Peace!

Fr. Wilson

5th Sunday in Ordinary Time [02-09-25]

It seems Punxsutawney Phil was correct.  Don’t put away your winter coats just yet!  I hope that he’s right about his prediction of an Eagles’ win as well!  His cousin, Gus, of Pennsylvania Lottery fame is in total agreement.  The ‘hogs will be tailgating with a couple of close friends while watching the Big Game at Gobbler’s Knob on Phil’s new 75-inch crystal UHD flat screen.  Nice!  An Eagles’ win would certainly give Phil, Gus, and all of us a nice warm and fuzzy feeling on the inside, even if on the outside and outdoors, in particular, the feeling is quite the opposite!  There’s a possibility of snow in the forecast again and that ole Polar Vortex is supposed to be dipping down into the Lower 48 again before we get to the end of the month.  Brrrrr!  Gee whiz!  Spring can’t get here soon enough!  Well, with colder weather come higher costs.  This is true for parishes, schools – and even groundhogs!  Thermostats have to be turned up and the snow outside the den needs to be plowed.  Higher costs have been on my mind of late.  Think of this like a thirty second Super Bowl ad.  Just as the cost of living has gone up for everyone – from groceries to insurance and from healthcare to heating bills – so too have costs gone up for parishes and parish schools.  A parishioner recently said, Father, you have to ask for it…it being $$$.  Perhaps that’s true.  At any rate, parishioners should be aware that costs have risen.  If it’s within your means to make an increase in your parish offering and/or make a contribution to the Annual Fund Appeal for Saint Aloysius School, I ask most humbly that you please consider doing so.  It sure would help in continuing the good work that we do as a Community of Faith!  I remember an uncle of mine who would jokingly refer to me as Father Get-the-Money.  This began right after my ordination which he attended.  I didn’t really like that title then and I still don’t.  I think that it had more to do with his general impression of a priest/pastor as someone who always seemed to be asking for money.  What’s interesting is that my uncle, himself, was a most generous man who responded to parish needs and certainly was most generous in helping and encouraging a newly ordained priest.  I suppose that I’d rather be known not as Father Get-the-Money, but as Father Got-the-Money because he inspired a generosity of spirit in the parishioners that he shepherded and to whom he ministered.  Thank you in advance for all that you do and contribute to our parish communities and school!  Bundle up!  Stay warm!  Keep on scratchin’!  And please be generous together with our groundhog friends in cheering our Philadelphia Eagles on to victory!   

Peace!

Fr. Wilson

Presentation of the Lord Sunday {02-02-25]

Good Morning and Happy Catholic Schools Week!  Crickets!  So again…Good Morning and Happy CSW!  There followed a somewhat lame and subdued response.  Man, oh man!  I kinda thought that my eight hundred or so teenager friends would be more responsive at Mass.  I mean, c’mon!  They were getting out of class and would have shortened classes the rest of the day.  The response at the beginning of Mass should have been:  Good Morning, Father and thank you!  Right?  But alas, I had a large number of tired, moody, and mopey teenagers in front of me.  My homiletic endeavor was strained.  References to the Eagles, Elgses, or Iggles…however we spell or pronounce our beloved team name now…got me nowhere.  Father was bombing.  Throw him a lifeline!  Even my creative redefining of a parable being akin to the Philly Tush-Push or Brotherly Shove** got perhaps merely a chuckle or two with most of those teen eyes staring blankly off into space.  What gives?  As Mass continued, the Lord gave answer.  It was, in fact, the Philly Tush-Push of the previous evening and the Brotherly Shove still lacking on that particular morning that were to blame.  They were tired.  They were all tired – including faculty and administration.  Everyone had watched the big game.  The Birds are goin’ to the Super Bowl baby!  The teens probably had mom or dad dragging them out of bed in the morning and many probably hadn’t eaten yet.  Lunch was still two or three periods away.  Ag…o…ny!   After Mass, as I spoke with and called out various students for being dead-to-the-world at Mass, they confessed their dire straits.  I discovered that they were actually listening at Mass, but that they simply weren’t responding.  One student actually recounted something that I said that struck him.  Wow!  Miracles do happen!  I told him that he made my day, especially after he informed me that he and his girlfriend like to talk about things they read in Scripture.  My goodness gracious!  Maybe this whole Catholic Education thing actually does work!  Our Lord certainly had similar experiences – as do all good Christians working diligently and creatively to proclaim the Faith.  If I recall correctly, Jesus, for the most part, bombed on the “stage” of His own hometown when He returned there and there was another time when some folks were ready to throw Him off the “stage” of a cliff!  Such things can sometimes happen to us with family or friends or maybe even on a high school stage before some early Monday morning zombified students.  Such times became part and parcel of the story of Our Lord.  Such times became a part of the Proclamation.  As was true for Our Lord, so is true for us.  The key is to stay in the game, keep the ball in play, and never give up.  That’s when we rally the team on the goal line giving a grace-filled Brotherly Shove breaking the plane, scoring the touchdown, and winning the really big game of bringing others to the Faith.  See you at the tailgate party!    

Peace!

Fr. Wilson

**The Divine Tush-Push or Brotherly Shove of a parable is a story told meant to make one think and get over the “goal line” of a deeper Faith

3rd Sunday in Ordinary Time [01-26-25]

He has aged a bit.  I guess the Big Apple will do that to you.  And he was definitely thinner.  I don’t think that it was just a forgiving camera angle.  Monday’s inauguration was certainly most interesting.  Presidential inaugurations always are with all the speeches and all the politicos and political wannabe’s in the limelight.  The individual that caught my attention at the ceremony’s start at noon wasn’t any president current, outgoing, or former, but rather a man of the cloth.  It was the Archbishop of New York that delivered the initial opening invocation.  He was followed immediately by Reverend Franklin Graham, son of the famous preacher.  Timothy Dolan has been the Cardinal Archbishop of New York since 2009.  I remember sitting with him and our former Archbishop, Charles Chaput, when the Cardinal was the guest speaker at our priest convocation about ten years ago or so.  I remember Cardinal Dolan as a big man both in size and personality.  He shared with us all how he simply liked to eat and loved a good meal.  He, himself, would joke about his size and never having to shop for clothes in the “petite” section.  He is the type of man who causes all heads to turn when he walks into a room.  I recall how we spoke at the table that day about a movie that was out at the time.  Both archbishops had seen it and Archbishop Chaput remarked that it was one of the best movies that he had seen in its portrayal of priesthood.  The Cardinal agreed.  If you’ve never seen the movie, Calvary, I recommend it – though it’s not for children.  At the convocation, I don’t remember the Cardinal’s words spoken to us in his talks, but I do remember his presence, his demeanor, and his friendly greeting to me when I passed him several times in the hallway those couple of days away.  At the inauguration, Cardinal Dolan confidently strode up to the podium and began his prayer.  Quoting scripture, he said, Be still and know that I am God!  Then, he referenced Washington, Lincoln, Patton, and MLK in their own prayers – that need be ours.  I noticed that the Cardinal Archbishop kept looking skyward.  He wasn’t looking at the Capitol dome, he was looking beyond it.  He was looking up to the Almighty Himself.  I know at times during the celebration of Mass, I look skyward also and look not at the church ceiling, but beyond.  I believe that all of us need to be able to look beyond at times; to look to the heavens and to look into Heaven, Itself.  I can picture the Lord, Himself, looking heavenward and looking homeward when He so often went off by Himself to pray.  Take time today and everyday to look to Heaven.  Prayerfully look towards our Home and begin to see God, Himself, inaugurating a new time of Hope!                    

Peace!

          Fr. Wilson

2nd Sunday in Ordinary Time [01-19-25]

One cannot underestimate the power of “no.”  This is the power we have to make a choice.  On the one hand, it is rather very simple, yet on the other hand, it can be oh so difficult in the face of some temptation, habit, or addiction.  Perhaps there is a need to pray more for the power of “no.”  Such has been, at times, the advice that I’ve given concerning the discipline of saying “no.” Upon further reflection however, I have discovered that indeed there need be something more; that there must be something more than simply “no.”  Before one can say “no” in the face of some temptation, it is necessary and essential that one say “yes.”  Before one can truly say “no” to the Evil One, one must truly say “yes” to Our Lord.  Otherwise that “no” will be senseless and will wind up being just a matter of suppressing and jamming thoughts and feelings into a steam pipe within.  That steam pipe will likely at least leak a bit at times, or if tightly sealed, will one day burst spectacularly with unfortunate effect.  A daily “yes” transforms us along with thoughts and feelings such that nothing need be suppressed; such that nothing can be.  Our daily “yes” must consist of grasping the Cross and looking upon Our Lord – Suffering, Risen, and All-Powerful.  Our “yes” must consist of a daily invitation inviting Him into our lives, our hopes, and our dreams.  It must consist of a daily invitation into our everyday activities, routines, studies, and work.  Though we have now once again entered into Ordinary Time, there is nothing ordinary about being a Christian.  Before any of us can say “no” to that which we want to change about ourselves or rid ourselves of, we must say “yes” daily to that most extraordinary vocation to which we are called – being Christian.      

Peace!

Fr. Wilson

Baptism of the Lord Sunday [01/12/25]

Hey guys!  I suppose that it kinda began this way.  One day, one guy simply spoke to another guy.  The first guy had an idea and thought that the second guy might be interested.  The guys’ conversation probably went something like this:  Hey guy!  Would you be interested in starting a business?  Hey, that’s a great idea, guy!  Count me in!  How about we, guys, open a variety store?  It’d sort of be like a supersize “five and ten.”  Of course, the gals would be invited too.  Cool guy!  What will we call the store, guy?  Thus, began Two Guys variety store.  If you’re old enough, you might remember Two Guys.  The store existed in the days well before Target and Walmart.  Amazon and online shopping wasn’t even a thought in anyone’s head.  Two Guys was actually founded in the NYC metro area in 1946 and years later would expand reaching over into PA.  I can remember making pilgrimage there as a youngster.  My mother certainly liked to shop, but she didn’t drive.  That task fell to my father.  Dutiful and loving husband that he was, our shopping excursions often happened on Saturdays.  The closest Two Guys to us was in the Horsham-Warminster-Willow Grove area.  If I recall, it was located about the area where 611 crosses the Turnpike.  Our northern journey on 611 seemed like it was  a hundred miles from home for a little guy.  After we arrived, whoever had “serious” shopping to do, left me in the charge of the other.  While my mother shopped for house wares, I was with my father.  When he was in need of a new shirt, I was with my mother.  For some reason, I always seemed to get lost and distracted in the toy section of the store.  Of course, the sporting goods section also held my attention.  That’s where I usually spent time with my father when he had charge of me.  The return trip home was always great because I always had something new (toy, shirt, jacket, ball, or perhaps some candy) and we’d stop for lunch on the drive home.  Those were great times; simpler times.  It was wonderful family time for a little guy at Two Guys.  Of course, times change and Two Guys has gone the way of so many other stores that once were, but no longer are.  I suppose that in some ways the Church is like a variety store.  There is oh so much available if one considers languages, customs, cultures, Traditions, and Her various Rites.  It is well worth the “drive” to get there!  We can “shop” with a limitless credit card on which the “bill” has already been paid.  In a certain sense, I wonder if our Church founded by Christ, could be said to have been started by two guys.  Just as the two guys of Two Guys, didn’t found “variety stores,” so the two guys in our Church didn’t found “Church.”  In both situations though, two guys did expand and expound on that which had already been founded.  But unlike Herbert and Sidney Hubschman of Two Guys, whose store went out of business, Ss. Peter and Paul have a “store” whose doors are guaranteed to never shutter.  The weekend is here.  It’s time for a little family time and time for a little excursion.  The Church founded by Christ and started by two guys is open for business.  See you there!  And hey guy, look for me in the toy aisle!        

Peace!

Fr. Wilson

Epiphany of the Lord [01/05/25]

My father’s step-father was a huckster.  I have a very vague recollection of him, since I was so young when he died.  I most certainly remember the truck though.  You know boys and trucks!  My dad had responsibility for it briefly prior to its being sold.  It was a drab green old Chevy panel van circa 1955 or so.  It had, in this little guy’s opinion, a really huge shift lever!  It was literally a long stick with a black knob atop it.  Even my father, who drove and commanded a tank in the army, seemed to have trouble shifting this old van from one gear to another.  My step-grandfather needed this van to do his huckstering.  Oftentimes when we think of hucksters today, we think of those infomercials and the guy selling that new, must-have, versatile, never-before-seen kitchen gadget that will make your life so, so, so much easier.  It may even foster world peace.  So, buy two!  Pop-pop George’s huckstering was of a different sort.  He sold fresh fruits and vegetables at a very modest and attractive price with the convenience of coming right to you in your neighborhood.  Sales were good.  I believe that my father thought briefly about continuing the business, but it simply wasn’t his calling.  George’s customers were sad at his loss and the loss of their locally delivered farm fresh fare.  Hucksters generally get a bad rap, but that was not the case for Pop-pop who was simply an honest man making an honest living while providing a good and needed service honestly.  Perhaps, it could be said that Jesus, Himself, was simply a very honest and honorable huckster providing a much-needed service to say the least.  Wow!  Jesus, the Huckster!  Talk about an Epiphany!  All He and His motley crew of twelve would have needed was an old beat-up, Chevy panel van circa 1955.  And I’m rather certain that Jesus would have been able to drive the old manual stick-shift with ease.  One big difference though is that Jesus wasn’t selling His fine fare even at a discount.  He was giving it away.  He still is.  All that’s required on our part is that we bring a large brown bag – just like the ones in which the Magi brought their gifts – and go out to meet this Happy Huckster when He comes to our neighborhood.  He’ll fill your bag and mine with all kinds of wonderful and nutritious fare beyond imagining and if you’re lucky, He may even give you a spin around the block in His truck!  Listen.  I think I hear His truck outside now.  It’s time to meet, greet, and get to know this Happy and Heavenly Huckster, Who doesn’t sell anything at all, but rather gives it all away!  

Peace!

Fr.. Wilson