Catholic Schools Week

Firstly, let me share with you something that I found very consoling. I recently received a note from an 84 year old parishioner who said that she is praying for all of the new pastoral initiatives in the parish aimed at young people. Even though she is not directly involved in those things, she recognizes how important it is to evangelize, form, and build community among Catholic youth and young people. Her prayers, I have no doubt, are a source of great fruitfulness in those endeavors. Last week’s “Theology on Tap” hosted by the young adults of Stoneham and Reading had over fifty young adults join together for fellowship, prayer, and formation. Nobody was expecting such a large number, so they were all crammed into a very tight space. Thanks to all of those who helped organize it and attended it. Thanks also to Fr. Patrick who gave the talk. Last Sunday our Confirmation class had a retreat day led by Nicholas and Sarah Antonacci. Nick is the Assistant Principal at St. Patrick School. 130 or so young people prayed, listened to wonderful talks, shared in small groups, went to confession, and attended Mass. The day was the culmination of a lot of work by our confirmation team of parish staff and volunteers. These persons made a lot of personal sacrifices to commit to our young people during this whole year. In your name, I thank them. This brings me to a concern of mine. Every Sunday, approximately 1300 people attend Mass at St. Patrick. We have hundreds of Baptisms each year, over one hundred First Communions and Confirmations. Between our school and our religious education program, there are 650 children and young people. If all of those children and their parents were coming to Mass each Sunday, our Mass attendance would be at least 1950. And that would only be just them. Not all the other parishioners. When a parish has big numbers, it can be easy to be deluded into thinking that everything is great or, at least, safe. Those occasional “big blip” numbers–like First Communions and Confirmations–are not really an indication of the health of our spiritual life as a parish. In fact, they may be telling us of a serious problem. The real indication of spiritual health among our young people and their families is whether they are coming to Mass on Sundays and intentionally growing in their life of discipleship. A child who isn’t raised intentionally and actively in the Faith (especially by attending Mass every Sunday) is not, in twenty years, going to have his or her own children baptized. Those children will likely be devoid of any connection to the Faith that their grandparents once practiced with devotion, sacrifice, and fidelity. As I continue to reflect upon the situation our young people confront, I recognize that something urgently needs to be done. Do I know exactly what that is yet? Not entirely, but I think a shift needs to occur in our expectations and in our methods. I think we need to once again return to the expectation that parents are the first teachers of their children in the Faith. What volunteers, parish staff members, and teachers do is supplement and help parents in that responsibility, but we cannot–and should not–replace the parents in this obligation. What will this look like? I wish I knew! I think it means a pretty big paradigm shift in our thinking and approach. It will likely start small, but will be focused on helping those parents who really want to raise their children in the Faith. The problem is daunting. I am, however, reminded of the words of our Lord to his apostles, “Put out into the deep waters and lower your nets for a catch.” I sense that we have to leave the safety of what we have known and done in the past and trust that we have to go deeper. I have lots more to say on the matter, but no room to say it! Please keep this intention in your prayers. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes

Even though the Christmas Season is over, today’s Feast of the Presentation of the Lord is, in some sense, the very, very end of Christmas. In some cultures, the Christmas decorations stay up until today. (I think sometimes in my family, the Christmas decorations stayed up until St. Patrick’s Day, but that was more out of procrastination than for any theological reasons.) Today’s Feast is always celebrated on February 2nd, so it is not often celebrated on a Sunday. It is a beautiful feast and has wonderful imagery. At all of the Masses, we will bless candles that will be used on our altars throughout the year. (Ever wonder why candles are used to bless throats? It is because the Feast of St. Blaise is on February 3rd, the day after all the candles are blessed.) On the front cover of the bulletin this week is a reproduction of Rembrandt’s depiction of the Presentation of the Lord. You will notice the contrast between light and darkness. Simeon, holding the forty-day-old Christ Child, says, “My own eyes have seen the salvation which you have prepared in the sight of every people, a light to reveal you to the Nations and the glory of your people, Israel.” Rembrandt artistically depicts this by showing most of the people in the painting as standing in the shadows. The Christ-Child, however, is not merely in the light. He is the Light. It is He who is shining on those nearest to Him, illuminating their lives, and his light is gradually conquering the surrounding darkness. The world can often be dark, cold, and cruel. Sin and its sinister seduction also draws us into the clutches of darkness. Even after we recognize its emptiness, we sometimes are deluded to think that going deeper into the abyss will eventually provide some satisfactory answer to our desire for meaning and our desire for fulfillment. To cast our lot in with the world and its power or to give ourselves over to sin is always the path to nowhere. It is the path to emptiness. Similarly, to base our life on power, pleasure, or possessions is to grasp at nothing. Simeon lived as a man who longed for the appearance of Christ. He must have known–perhaps more than most–the depth of the darkness that weighed upon the world. He was a man who hoped in the promise that he would see the Messiah. He waited patiently for the Lord. I am reminded of a piece of music that was often sung at funerals at a previous parish of mine. It is from Felix Mendelssohn’s Elijah, entitled, “O Rest in the Lord.” It is a very consoling and beautiful piece which repeats the phrases, “O rest in the lord, wait patiently for him. He shall give thee thy heart’s desires.” It also reminds the listener, “And fret not thyself because of evildoers.” Just rest in the Lord and wait patiently for Him. (Look the piece of music up! It’s beautiful!) I look at that Rembrandt depiction of Simeon, and it makes me think how good it is to just rest in the Lord and wait patiently for Him. In that moment, all of Simeon’s hopes and desires were far-surpassed. And the light embraced by Simeon gradually begins to affect those who are still in darkness. Each of us experiences the weight of the darkness of sin and the corruption of the world. We can easily grow discouraged by the evil-doing of others and by our own sinfulness. There can be a temptation to capitulate to a worldly mentality or to yield to the easy escape of sin. We can easily become trapped by the memories of our own past sins, ensnared by present sins, and hopeless about future freedom. We can easily lash out against our enemies and live with resentments. Difficult situations confront us–family problems, illnesses, addictions, loneliness, alienation from loved ones. We can also be deluded into thinking that we can, by sheer force of will, create the better world for which we long and then be frustrated when such a world eludes us. Are you suffering, discouraged, feeling weak, anxious, afraid, trapped in sin, feeling like you’re too far into the abyss to get out? Do you experience some darkness in your life and wonder if there is any relief? Simeon’s illumined face shows us the way: “O rest in the Lord, wait patiently for him. He shall give thee thy heart’s desires. Wait patiently for him.” Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes

A couple of weeks ago, a man called the parish emergency line to have his Dad anointed. Unfortunately, there was a glitch with how our emergency line works and the man’s message was never received. Thankfully, the man called back a couple of days later and his Dad was anointed hours before his death. Both when I called the man and when I arrived at his house, I apologized profusely for the error. I felt terrible. The man looked almost confused and kept saying, “Father, I totally understand. Don’t even worry about it. I’m just glad you’re here now.” The reason that encounter has stayed with me during the past days is because that man’s disposition stands in such refreshing contrast to the current cultural climate of perpetual and dehumanizing anger. The man didn’t presume that there was some sinister plot to ignore his call or a callous disregard for his urgent request. He just called back, pleasantly spoke with someone in the parish office, and treated everyone with kindness. And, in the end, he expressed nothing but gratitude. What further amazed me is that the man’s mother and father were both dying, one at home and one in a care facility. As I was anointing the Dad, another priest was anointing his Mother. Both died within hours of each other. It would be totally understandable if that man had expressed anger, but instead, he was peaceful, kind, and grateful. On the cover of our weekly bulletin are the words, “Beauty, Goodness, Truth, and Friendship in Christ.” This, to me, is what a Catholic parish should be. When we encounter Beauty, Goodness, Truth, and Christian Friendship, we encounter Christ. Each of these things opens up our lives and transforms them. Encountering that man’s goodness was like encountering an oasis in the midst of a world that seems to breathe on the poisonous air of anger. Encountering goodness does something to us. It awakens something in us. It also has the power to transform us. It increases our own hunger for goodness and makes us want to live in goodness. Last Sunday at the Noon, I saw two couples speaking after Mass. One couple’s baby was born a few months ago. The other couple had a baby just six days old! They were talking and conversing with one another and the first couple said, “We’d like to drop some food off at your home this week to help you guys out with the new baby.” There it is. Just pure, beautiful, life-giving, transformative goodness and friendship in Christ. Witnessing that encounter left me thinking, “That’s what a Catholic Parish is.” At that moment, I knew I had encountered Christ. That encounter with the Goodness of Christ and of Friendship with Christ continues to nourish and refresh me long after I witnessed it. I saw that and had this deep-down sense, “That is true! That is what is real. That is what my heart desires.” What we encounter here each week is intended to transform us so that we can, in turn, bring transformative beauty, goodness, and truth to the world and draw others into friendship with Christ. We are supposed to become what we receive. In the Mass we receive the One who is beautiful, good, and true. And, we are drawn more deeply into His Friendship. This encounter is intended to transform us into Christ so that, through us, others may encounter beauty, goodness, truth, and friendship in Christ. The culture is starving for these things. Parish life, it is true, involves buildings, heat, (or lack thereof sometimes!), phones, computers, shoveling, finances, logistics, maintenance, parking, scheduling conflicts, and human error. All just part of life. But, at the heart of parish life is the encounter with Christ. When I look out at you each week at Mass, I encounter the beauty, goodness, and truth of Christ and I experience through you His abiding friendship. Those words on the front of the bulletin are not merely aspirational. They are also a recognition of a reality that is already present among us. Or, put better, they are a recognition of the Presence of Christ who–in all of his beauty, goodness, and truth–already dwells among us and is drawing us together into His saving Friendship. I am so grateful for that. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes

Today, on the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord, the Christmas Season draws to its conclusion. I write this letter to you on December 26th. Happily, it is a very quiet day and I am sort of basking in the glow of Christmas. When the shepherds went to Bethlehem and recounted the announcement that was made known to them by the angel, the Gospel tells us that Mary “kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.” The Blessed Virgin Mary teaches us to keep, to guard, and to reflect on what is true, good, and beautiful. The Christmas Mystery is not something we possess and know all at once. It is something that is revealed to us in a gradual way. The more we keep the Mystery of Christmas in our heart, reflecting upon it, the more it shapes and transforms us from the inside out. On this day after Christmas, I am trying to absorb, to keep, and to reflect upon the Mystery of Christmas as it revealed itself to me this year in and through so many signs and announcements. No, I did not see an angel or hear one, nor was I sent a star. But, I was given other signs. Firstly, I cannot tell you how beautiful and moving it was to see so many parishioners come to receive the Sacrament of Confession in the days before Christmas. Your faith, your humility, and your love for the Lord was for me an announcement that Christ, the Savior, is indeed born among us. Secondly, the extraordinary generosity that so many of you–often in very hidden ways–showed toward the poor, the sick, and the lonely was better than any star! Your charity towards others is for me an absolute assurance that Christ, the Savior, is born among us. The crowds on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day can sometimes–not in a bad way–be overwhelming for priests. It can be difficult to absorb it all and to interpret it. This year–on the day after Christmas–I am keeping that experience and reflecting upon it in my heart. As I do so, what strikes me is how much love is present in this parish. First and foremost, the experience of encountering those huge crowds makes me overwhelmed by the profound love that Christ has for each one of those persons and for all of us together. And, this year, more than just feeling like a lot of people were just hanging on to the family tradition of Christmas Mass even though they don’t come at any other time, I had a real strong sense that the crowds really were looking for Jesus. They desire Him. And He desires them. Christ, the Savior is born. Dear Friends, the Blessed Virgin Mary teaches us to make our hearts a treasury in which to ponder Christ. What we keep in our hearts shapes us, for good or for bad. Like Ebenezer Scrooge, we all are capable of making our hearts storehouses of horrible things. Pride, arrogance, anger, bitterness, resentments, lusts, envy, gossip, lies, detractions, cruelty, greed, and so many other vices can rot the human heart from within. But, Christmas invites us instead to keep Christ in our heart; to ponder His love, forgiveness, joy, humility, purity, truthfulness, charity, kindness, and faithfulness. To keep Christ in heart and to reflect upon Him transforms us. I thank you for helping me to think about Christ today and for being like a sign to me of Christ’s Presence. During these days, you have provided many things for me to keep in my heart and to reflect upon. You reminded me, once again, to sweep out from my own heart all that is not Christ, and to keep only Christ there. In doing so, you have been an assurance to me that Christ, the Savior is born. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes PS: During these weeks, so many cards, baked goods, and sweets were handed to us, delivered to us, or simply appeared to us! Please know that we are grateful for your outpouring of kindness and love. Your prayers, words of encouragement, and kindness mean more than you know. PPS: From September 15-26th, 2025, Fr. Bobby LeBlanc (a good friend of mine and the pastor of Christ the King in Reading) and I will be leading a pilgrimage to many of the shrines of France. I am really looking forward to it. It should be a time of great beauty, great prayer, and friendship. I hope you will consider joining us.

Although you are reading this on the Feast of the Epiphany, early bulletin deadlines have me writing it on December 17th! I suspect that those of you who have me for Mass this weekend will have to suffer through these thoughts again in my homily. The Feast of the Epiphany is one of my favorite feasts of the Church’s year. This year, what strikes me most about the Feast is the humility of the Magi. Firstly, they were men who looked out from themselves to discover the truth. They were looking up, searching the skies for answers. The search for truth is itself an act of humility. It says, “I do not have all the answers.” It was in their looking beyond themselves that the star became visible. They saw it because they humbly sought the truth. Their second act of humility was in following the star. They were not merely curious. We live in an age of “quick clicks” where we read a headline or a meme, watch a ten second video clip, or quickly scan someone’s social media page, and then we move on to the next thing that catches our eye. The Magi saw something and they set out with their whole life to discover where it was leading. Once again, true following requires humility. It requires that one allow himself or herself to be led. Herod, on the other hand, considers himself to be the master of his domain. He thinks that he can twist reality to conform to his own understanding. Over his head was the same star that the Magi were following, but Herod could not look up. He could only look down at his own petty kingdom. When the Magi discover the Christ Child, they fall down in adoration and open their treasures. They fall down and adore Truth itself. They open themselves to the transformative power of Truth. To kneel before Christ–to kneel before the Truth–takes nothing away from our humanity. Kneeling before the Truth makes us more fully human. It elevates us and opens our hearts to a new world of Divine Friendship. It breaks us free from the prison of pettiness and passing things and sets our hearts on what lasts forever. It breaks us free from the deadly error of thinking that we are the ultimate arbitrator of what is true and good, and instead puts us in intimate friendship with the One who is True and Good. In the days that I am writing this to you, the other priests and I have been hearing so many confessions as all of you prepare for Christmas. It occurs to me sometimes while hearing confessions that on one side of the confessional grille is a person who may be thinking, “The priest must think I’m awful.” On the other side of the grille sits a priest whose heart is bursting with love and admiration for the courage and humility of the penitent. We are thinking, “I really hope this person knows how much the Lord loves them.” In the confessional, we Catholics come and kneel before Truth Himself. We kneel before God and open our treasures before Him. We open our hearts to the Lord and allow the Lord’s merciful gaze to illuminate the darkness of our hearts. The temptation of Herod to control our own life and to twist reality to suit our whims is always present. But, the Magi teach us to leave this kind of world behind and to seek the Truth in Christ; to judge our life by His Gospel and to experience within ourselves the peace that only He can bring. Over these past weeks, so many of you lived the Mystery of the Epiphany already. You looked out and saw the Lord leading you to Confession. When you arrived there, you humbled yourself and opened the darkest parts of your heart to Him. These sins were your treasures. You held them tightly because of fear, guilt, and shame. But, in an amazing act of total humility and trust, you opened them to Christ. And in exchange, He gave you mercy, forgiveness, light, and grace. God is so good (and your humility is inspiring). Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes