In a week’s time we will observe the 4th day of July as the day independence was declared from an autocratic sovereign whose only interest in the 13 colonies was how much of its wealth he could extract to fill his private coffers. The tax on tea, a commodity that fueled the emerging economy of the colonies, was more than what the founding fathers of this country could tolerate. Independence from the tyranny that ruled their lives was their goal. On July 4, 1776, an era of unprecedented freedom was inaugurated, a date etched into the tablet firmly held in the arm of Lady Liberty who stands tall in our harbor as a bright beacon of hope to those “yearning to breathe free.” By tradition, in every hamlet, town and city of our nation we commemorate the day of the publication of the Declaration of Independence with its recitation and with parades, fireworks, cook-outs, and the singing of patriotic songs.
If you have not read the Declaration of Independence recently or at all, I suggest you read it this year. Each year for as long as I can remember I have read it to remind myself of the country we aspire to be and my role in it. I have also joined friends in a communal reading of the Declaration of Independence as we gathered in fellowship with hot dogs and beer to celebrate something all too many of us have taken for granted. The words of that document matter, and it is our responsibility to honor them by remaining faithful to the spirit they enshrine. Far too many women and men have died for our country so that we could live in freedom as a nation governed by the rule of law, a country where justice, truth, and integrity matter more than personal enrichment.
It is with a humble sense of pride and thanksgiving that we sing patriotic songs to celebrate the gifts of freedom and liberty and of a verdant land shining from sea to sea. Sadly, as I reflect upon this year’s observance of the 4th day of July, I am reminded of the opening verses of Psalm 137:
By the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept
when we remembered Zion.
There on the poplars we hung our harps,
for there our captors asked us for songs,
our tormentors demanded songs of joy;
they said. “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”
How can we sing the songs of the Lord
while in a foreign land?
If I forget you, Jerusalem,
may my right hand forget its skill.
May my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth
if I do not remember you.
Tragically we live today in a foreign land. We are a divided nation. We are at odds in our understanding of what it means to profess ourselves as the land of the free and the home of the brave. Freedom has become a commodity that is selfishly clutched in the hands of the highest bidder. The pandering of fear has ruptured relationships that heretofore were tranquil and civil, even in the face of disagreement. Truth has been compromised with such guile that we exist in a state of bewilderment. Bombast is seen as a sign of strength, and gilded adornments as greatness. I seriously doubt that the founding fathers envisioned what is occurring in our country as the blossoming of their ideals and principles.
To me, the words of our patriotic songs ring hollow this year. How can we sing the songs of our great nation while living in a foreign land? At another significant moment in history, we were a nation divided. The blood on the fields of Gettysburg, Antietam, and Shiloh is a tragic testament to that reality. The insurrection of January 6, 2021 is all too fresh in our memory. Fractured at times, our democratic nation remains a work in progress. Our strength is in our unity, the same unity that freed the colonists from the madness of King George III and discredited those who sowed the seeds of discord and fear in order to divide our nation and profit from it.
The framers of the Declaration of Independence had an unwavering trust in God, the same trust in God’s providential care that buoyed the spirits of the Israelites as they journeyed back to their homeland, singing once again the songs of Zion. As we approach the 4th day of July this year, may we, as a united nation, recommit ourselves to the values, principles, and ideals of our cherished founding document and place our trust in God alone. Let us also be mindful of the words of God to the Israelites that apply equally to us in the times in which we live: “For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jer 29:11)
May God bless America, a land that we love!
— Dennis J. Yesalonia, S.J., Pastor
June 21, 2026 Essay: Known and LovedJesus said to the Twelve: “Fear no one. Nothing is concealed that will not be revealed, nor secret that will not be known. What I say to you in the darkness, speak in the light; what you hear whispered, proclaim on the housetops. And do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather, be afraid of the one who can destroy both soul and body in Gehenna. Are not two sparrows sold for a small coin? Yet not one of them falls to the ground without your Father’s knowledge. Even all the hairs of your head are counted. So do not be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. Everyone who acknowledges me before others I will acknowledge before my heavenly Father. But whoever denies me before others, I will deny before my heavenly Father.”
At the heart of this Gospel is this: we do not need to live in fear.
Three times Jesus makes a point to tell his disciples not to be afraid. After all, fear has a way of making our lives feel smaller. Fear, too, can keep us from being honest with friends and family. Fear also prevents us from forming authentic relationships. At its worst, fear can even make us doubt our own worth.
Of course, as we know, the disciples had reason to be afraid. Following Jesus would bring a slew of criticism, massive amounts of rejection, and all sorts of misunderstandings. Yet Jesus calls them to live with courage because their lives are rooted in something deeper than the implicit and explicit approval of others. They are rooted in the love of God.
My absolute favorite part of this Gospel is when Jesus points to the sparrows, these tiny creatures of little value. Yet, as Jesus tells us, not a single one of them falls to the ground without God’s notice. How much more, then, does God care for each one of us? It astounds the mind to imagine, but God knows us intimately. Every one of our joys, struggles, hopes, and fears is known and held within God’s loving gaze.
As an LGBTQ Catholic, I find this message especially consoling. Like many in the community, I have experienced moments of feeling unseen, misunderstood, or uncertain about whether I really belong within the life of the church. And that’s why I have found this Gospel message so heartening: it reminds me that my belonging begins not with human acceptance but with God’s unwavering love. Before anyone else knows my story, God knows it. Before anyone else welcomes me, God does so first.
This Gospel also reminds us that God’s knowledge of us is never superficial. God does not love a perfect version of who we are, who our friends think we are, who our family wants us to be. God loves the real person: our strengths, our mistakes, our faith, our doubts, our gifts, our deep hurt, and our hopes. We do not need to earn that love. We need only receive it.
Jesus invites us all to live from that place of quiet confidence and assurance. When we know ourselves to be loved by God, we are freed from the need to hide. We become more capable of honesty, compassion and genuine discipleship. We can walk humbly and proudly by God’s side.
That decision to trust that God’s love is greater than our fears is one we can choose to make everyday. Our experiences in the world often encourages us to conceal our vulnerabilities. But Jesus offers another way. He invites us to stand confidently and humbly with God, knowing that like the little sparrow of the field, we are loved beyond measure.
“Do not be afraid.” It is not only a command, but a promise.
— Conor Reidy, Executive Director of Outreach
Essay: Corpus Christi Catholics in Communion New York City ProcessionJesus was there with us! Not physically, not in the tangible Eucharist, but in each of us who went to Mass and received the Eucharist that morning. We were the body of Christ who dwelled in our hearts and souls.
As we gathered on the steps of the Church of St. Ignatius Loyola, words of welcome were spoken by Jean Santopatre, Pastoral Associate; Mary Beth Powers, President and CEO of CMMB (Catholic Medical Mission Board), and Chairperson for this event, explained what Catholics in Communion represent. Then, Fr. James Martin, S.J., remarked on the meaning of Corpus Christi Sunday, and Fr. Michael Hilbert, S.J., gave a sending blessing and sprinkled the participants with holy water.
Committed volunteers from Catholic Medical Mission Board, (Mary Beth Powers/Holy Name of Mary-Croton), St. Ignatius Loyola (Jean Santopatre, Dolores Quinn), St. Francis de Sales (Christine Vaccari, Sr. Kathleen Kanet, Pat Latona, and Sr. Virginia Dorgan), IVC/JRS/Blessed Sacrament (Mitch Wood), Chi Chi Ampil (Annunciation/Our Lady of Fatima), Metro New York Catholic Climate Movement (Nancy Lorence/Xavier, Terry Michaud/Blessed Sacrament), Sisters of St. Joseph, Brentwood (Cristian Murphy), Carolyn Wright (Fordham Prep), Rita Houlihan (Ascension Church), and Ed Walsh (St. Joseph/Bronxville) spent four months planning this Corpus Christi Procession for the Season of Faithful Witness.
Finally, Sunday, June 7th arrived with sunshine and blue skies. The NYPD 19th precinct escorted us along Park Avenue and 84th Street up to 96th Street and Third Avenue. Students from Cristo Rey School carried a banner and the cross throughout the procession. One of our undaunted leaders, Sr. Kathleen Kanet, RSHM, who is 88 years old, accompanied us via wheelchair!
We turned off Park Avenue toward Third Avenue at 96th Street where the 23rd precinct escorted the walkers to 101st Street, Cherry Park. Speakers, John Gonzalez from Catholic Charities of Brooklyn Parish and Community Outreach, Fr. James Di Luzio, from St. Paul the Apostle and Metro New York Catholic Climate Movement, along with representatives from Pax Christi, Sisters of Charity, the Dorothy Day Guild, and the Cabrini Immigration Center gave testimony for the dignity of humanity.
The sky darkened, the wind kicked up, and rain started to fall upon us. This did not dampen our spirits; it felt as though the Holy Spirit was there with us! The rain stopped, and the sun came out to greet us for the last leg of our walk to St. Francis de Sales.
Two hundred people represented many Catholic Churches in New York City and beyond: St. Ignatius Loyola, St. Francis de Sales, St. Francis Xavier, Blessed Sacrament, Ascension, St. Monica’s, St. Paul the Apostle, and the Sisters of St. Joseph, Brentwood, Holy Name of Mary, Croton, to name a few. We are grateful for all those who came out in solidarity for human dignity as the body of Christ.
The procession culminated at St. Francis de Sales with their hospitality of lunch and fellowship.
— Jean Santopatre, Pastoral Associate
June 14, 2026 Essay: Making a Truly Magnificent Humanity“I address this heartfelt appeal to all the Catholic faithful, to all Christians and to all men and women of goodwill. Let us not be afraid to get our hands dirty on the “construction site” of our time. Like Nehemiah, let us pray, plan wisely and work perseveringly, placing God at the forefront of our actions and the human person at the center of our choices. Thus, the “rejected stones” — the poor, the sick, the migrants and the least among us — will become the cornerstone, and a solid, welcoming common home will emerge on the earth, where love and faithfulness will finally meet, and righteousness and peace will embrace (cf. Ps 85:10). This is the blessing we implore from God; and the task that stands before us is that of being builders of communion, rather than architects of Babel…I ask everyone to abandon the construction of yet another Tower of Babel and to join forces in building up the common good, so that humanity will never lose its beauty, and the world once again will come to recognize the human heart as the place where God desires to dwell.” #16
This beautiful quotation from Pope Leo XIV’s first encyclical, Magnifica Humanitas, offers us a rich reflection on how we, as disciples of Jesus Christ, are called to respond to the revolutionary changes occurring in society today as a result of artificial intelligence.
Who was Nehemiah? When the Israelites returned to their homeland after their long exile in Babylon, they faced the daunting challenge of physically rebuilding all that they had lost. Nehemiah was appointed governor of Judea, in which the once great city of Jerusalem was located. He recognized the urgency of rebuilding Jerusalem, but also the importance of doing so within the framework of his people’s Jewish faith and traditions. Working with the priest, Ezra, he initiated sweeping social and religious reforms in which the poor were lifted up, and the people were called to live in fidelity to God and the ways of God.
In light of the rapid changes occurring as the result of artificial intelligence, Pope Leo is calling for leaders as wise as Nehemiah who recognized that a strong and lasting state could only be built on the foundation of a moral order; an order in which the dignity of all persons was respected and protected. We cannot allow artificial intelligence to develop and assume greater dominance in all aspects of society without ensuring that it is developed within a moral framework and used within a moral framework.
What is critical to a proper moral framework for the development and use of artificial intelligence is the primacy of the human person, and the recognition of the dignity of every human person. Is the primary focus of the development of artificial intelligence the displacement of the human person and the minimization of critical human reasoning? How does society ensure that the human person is not lost in the rapid deployment of artificial intelligence? How do we ensure that those whom society already neglects are not further marginalized by the development and use of artificial intelligence?
Will artificial intelligence become our ‘tower of Babel’? Our ancestors in the bible became enamored of their wisdom. They sought to build a tower into the heavens that would display their mastery of earth and heaven. Instead, it became their downfall as they were scattered across the earth and found themselves divided and in conflict. Is the current trajectory of the development and deployment of artificial intelligence leading us to the same ruin that befell our ancestors? Can we alter that trajectory so that artificial intelligence will serve to unite the human family in the common purpose of creating a world in which every human person can truly flourish? Altering the trajectory of artificial intelligence is our job as persons of faith.
— Rev. Mark Hallinan, S.J., Associate Pastor
June 7, 2026 Essay: We Walk Together as the Body of Christ…Corpus Christi Sunday, the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ, is the feast dedicated to commemorating the presence of Jesus in both the bread and wine of our Eucharistic celebration.
We believe in the doctrine of transubstantiation, when during the consecration of the bread and wine, the bread becomes the body, and the wine becomes the blood of Jesus Christ. Every year the Church celebrates Corpus Christi Sunday to remember the sacrifice of Jesus and how his presence remains with us.
Jesus was love incarnate and gave his life for the salvation of humanity. And so, it is through his teachings on love- to love God and neighbor and to minister to each other- that we are reminded today to follow in Jesus’ footsteps. We are nourished by the presence of Jesus through the bread and wine that transubstantiate into his body and blood. The presence of Jesus is what transforms us every time we receive the Eucharist.
Through God’s grace and love, we are transformed spiritually by receiving the Eucharist, and therefore, we are called to spread God’s love and grace into our world. Together we can create a hope-filled future for humanity. Mother Theresa reminded us to go out and do small things with great love in acts of kindness, and that will foster change. How might you be able to be an ambassador of love and care to your neighbors? How might you respond to the global cry of the earth and the cry of poor? Where do you feel God stretching you?
Not all of us are stretched in the same way. God needs us to be in different places so we can become immersed with the spirit to inflame others in the love and peace of God. The sacrament of the Eucharist is imbedded in layers of meaning beginning with the Jewish Passover, Jesus’ Last Supper with his disciples where he proclaimed the bread and wine to be his body and blood and for them to do the same in remembrance of him, his sacrificial death on a cross, and over 2,000 years of tradition and reflection.
Reflection on the life and teachings of Jesus brings each of us closer to our own spiritual journey of grace and inward transformation. Each time we receive the Eucharist we are transformed to receive the pure essence of Jesus Christ. Jesus walked with the marginalized of society and we also are called to follow where he led us to go. We believe the Lord is present with us in our ordinary, everyday lives. Now, we become the hands and feet of Jesus to go forth into our messy, chaotic world with love and peace to encounter God in every nook and cranny.
In solidarity for human dignity, this Corpus Christi Sunday, June 7, the Archdiocese of New York Catholics in Communion chapter, is hosting a procession. Many churches in our neighborhood have been invited to walk together. Those interested in joining the walk will gather at St. Ignatius Loyola right after 11 AM Solemn and Wallace Hall Masses on Park Avenue. There will be a few words from Fr. James Martin, S.J., and a Blessing/Sending prayer from Fr. Michael Hilbert, S.J., as we gather in front of the church.
The procession will walk north up Park Avenue over to Third Avenue to the Washington Houses in East Harlem at 102nd Street, where the group will pause for a prayer. Then we will walk south over to Lexington Avenue and the procession will conclude at St. Frances de Sales Church on 96 th Street with fellowship and a light lunch.
Please join us in this special Corpus Christi Procession as we Catholics who represent the body of Jesus Christ will stand in solidarity for the dignity of all humanity as we encounter God in every nook and cranny.
– Jean Santopatre, Pastoral Associate
May 31, 2026 Essay: The Trinity & Priesthood: A Furnace of LoveFor centuries, philosophers and theologians have tried to make sense of the Mystery of the Trinity. Pages have been filled, terms have been defined, formulas written, all to try and grasp the Indivisible One, our Triune God. Mystics and poets have grappled with this mystery, too, as they’ve told us of their visions and expressed the Trinity in meter and rhyme, all to try and find some vantage point into the truth of the Divine. Preachers, on the other hand, have often tried to be out of town on Trinity Sunday! It’s hard to make sense of this core of our faith in an 8–10-minute homily—let alone a bulletin essay! So, instead, humor me as I reflect on this first year of priesthood as I approach my anniversary.
Pope Francis writes in Desiderio Desideravi that for a priest, “To preside at Eucharist is to be plunged into the furnace of God’s love.” That has very much been my experience as I’ve presided at Eucharist on weekdays and Sundays, as I’ve baptized babies and young children, and as I’ve married young couples. Sitting in the merciful furnace of God’s love—or “in the box,” as I call it—as I’ve heard confessions has been a tremendous privilege, which I always look forward to. So too, the opportunities to anoint those close to death, and then to care for and console families as they mourn the loss of their loved ones—those moments have been an indescribable gift. And, of course, being present as our children deepened their faith as they received the sacraments of First Holy Communion and Confirmation—a true joy. I’ve been blessed with a front row seat to God’s grace and love at work in your sacramental lives!
When I was ordained in our Church last June 14th, Cardinal Dolan focused his homily on the Sacred Heart of Jesus, pulling from Pope Francis’ encyclical Dilexit Nos, and calling us new priests to have our hearts reordered and conformed to the Lord’s “soul, mind, and heart.” He called us to love and tend and feed those whom the Lord love—his people, you. Or as Pope Francis instructs us, “It is as if [the priest] were placed in the middle between Jesus’ burning heart of love and the heart of each of the faithful, which is the object of the Lord’s love.” What a challenging call! What a grace-filled invitation!
It’s hard to properly verbalize what this year of priesthood has done for my heart. How being placed in the middle of Jesus’ burning heart of love and your hearts has been such an honor and, selfishly, how it has expanded my heart. How your kind and generous words and greetings after Mass have encouraged me, consoled me, and challenged me. How your turning to me for a word of counsel and advice has humbled me deeply. I hope, as imperfect and flawed as it has been, I hope that I have loved you and served you in a way that mirrors the very perfect and complete love that God has for you.
By a stroke of providence, my first Mass last June was on Trinity Sunday. I preached about how my Nonna used to say to us grandchildren, “I love you too much.” That phrase sums up the Trinity, our God who is a communion of love, a furnace of love, and who loves too much, without limit or end! Every time we love—in word and deed, in ways small and large—we share in the Trinity, the communion of love, as our hearts expand and become more like the Sacred Heart of Jesus. At least, that’s what I’ve come to experience in this first year of priesthood.
Sorry to miss you this Sunday—I’m out of town! Happy Trinity Sunday!
— Fr. Jonathan P. Pennacchia, S.J., Pastoral Year Priest
Essay | The Spirit Moves Among Us: A Word of Gratitude for Our Faith Formation FamilyOn the morning of Pentecost, a rushing wind filled the room where the disciples had gathered, and tongues of fire rested upon each of them. The Holy Spirit did not arrive as an idea or a doctrine. It arrived as a presence—warm, personal, and impossible to ignore. Pentecost is often called the birthday of the Church, the moment when a frightened group of believers became a bold, Spirit-filled community sent out into the world with a mission: go, and share what you have received.
This Sunday, as we celebrate that great outpouring, we are reminded that it has never stopped. The same Spirit that breathed courage into the apostles continues to move in our parish; through our community, our sacraments, and with particular grace, through the dedicated men and women who serve as our Faith Formation teachers.
“You were known and loved by God even before you were born.”
Look at what our catechists carry into their classrooms each week. One teacher centers everything on this truth: that God is a loving God who does not abandon us at the door of the church. Faith, she reminds her students, is not something that happens only on Sundays. Divinity is woven into every ordinary moment; every meal, every friendship, every struggle. That is the gift of wisdom, helping young people see the sacred hidden in plain sight.
Another teacher gives the gift of knowledge, opening wide the doors of our rich tradition. Catholicism, she teaches, is not a single narrow path but a vast cathedral with countless rooms—Ignatian reflection, the Rosary, the beauty of confession, and so many more ways to draw close to God. She wants her students to know they are explorers, not simply listeners.
“God is beyond gender. God is love. Do not fear God.”
The gift of counsel lives in the teacher who tells his students simply: you are safe here. There is room for every question. God will always forgive you. In a culture that so often makes young people feel they must be perfect to be worthy; this catechist proclaims the radical mercy at the heart of the Gospel—that nothing separates us from the love of God.
And then there is the teacher whose whole message is the Eucharist. Receiving the body and blood of Christ, she says, is the greatest gift we have ever been given, not a reward for the righteous, but nourishment for the journey. In her teaching lives the gift of piety, a deep and reverent love for the sacramental life of the Church that she hopes will sustain her students long after they have left her classroom.
“True joy comes from acting like Jesus did: being kind, treating each person with dignity, and looking out for those society often ignores.”
Perhaps the most urgent message our teachers bring is also the simplest: be kind. True joy comes not from achievement or approval, but from living as Jesus lived by turning toward the forgotten, honoring the dignity of every person, championing those whom the world too often passes by. This is the gift of fortitude, the courage to love when it costs something.
On Pentecost, the disciples went out. They did not keep the Spirit to themselves. Our Faith Formation teachers do the same, week after week, in classrooms that may not look like upper rooms, but where the fire lands just the same.
To every catechist who has told a child: God is listening when you pray. You are a loved creation. Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life – thank you. You are not merely teaching about the Spirit. You are, in the truest sense, its instrument.
Our parish is profoundly grateful to all the catechists who give so generously through our Interparish Religious Education Program. Students do not only learn from what our teachers say. They learn from who they are.
May the fire of Pentecost continue to burn in all of us—in our IREP community, in our homes, and in everything we do.
With deep gratitude for all who guide our young people in faith—this year and always.
– Kate Noonan, Director of Religious Education
May 17, 2026 Essay: “Lord, Hear Our Prayer”
Are there times when you struggle to believe in the power of prayer? This is certainly true for me—more times than I care to admit. When I’m having the most difficulty with prayer, I find myself at a loss: feelings are indescribable, my words become mere generalizations, and I can become spiritually cold and distant. There are times when my attempts also feel ineffectual, and I find myself just going through the motions. It’s akin to a friend sincerely asking me how I’m doing, and all I can muster in reply is a detached, “I’m fine.” Sometimes the things we need seem too big to understand, let alone articulate in prayer. Does this sound familiar? Is this something that you similarly struggle with?
It’s not always easy to be truthful in our prayer, and not always natural to express our needs and desires directly to God. Even less easy is it to trust that our prayers are always being heard and acknowledged. It might offer a bit of consolation to know that the same held true for so many holy people who have come before us. Thomas Merton, for example, notably began a prayer in the following way:
“My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself,
and the fact the I think I am following your will
does not mean that I am actually doing so…”
In many ways, I think that Jesus knew that we would constantly struggle in this regard, and so the Gospels are full of reiterations and encouragements, reminding us of the Lord’s closeness to us. In the Gospel this Sunday, for instance, Jesus prays to the Father with these words:
“I pray for them[…] because they are yours, and everything of mine is yours and everything of yours is mine, and I have been glorified in them. And now I will no longer be in the world, but they are in the world, while I am coming to you…”
Yes, you heard that correctly: Jesus prays for US! Think of how powerful that is! In all our weaknesses and deficiencies, in all the ways that we might turn away from God and reject goodness, in all the ways we struggle to pray ourselves, Jesus still lifts us up in prayer. More so, through his prayer, Jesus reminds us that he is glorified in us—that as small and powerless as we can feel and seem, Jesus chose to dwell in you and me. What a gift and a grace! We are assured that even if we can’t form the words of our deepest needs and desires into prayer, God already knows them—because we belong to God and God dwells within each of us. It’s too easy to take this for granted or to forget that this is true, but these sentiments are a constant refrain in the readings of Eastertide because they are a reminder of the reason for the Paschal mystery; Jesus died and rose from the dead so that the Spirit of God could be with us always and in all ways, “until the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20).
Next Sunday will bring us to the end of this Easter season as we celebrate Pentecost and rejoice in the fulfillment of Jesus’ promise to send the One who accompanies us, empowers us, and gives us the strength to live out our calling as Christians. With trust in the Holy Spirit, may we pray for the deepest yearnings of our hearts with true conviction. No matter how limited and broken our words and sentiments may seem, let us entrust our prayers to the God who dwells within and knows all our deepest desires. And alongside Thomas Merton and all the Saints, we say:
“My Lord God…
I believe that the desire to please you, does in fact please you.
And I hope that I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this, you will lead me by the right road,
though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore, I will trust you always,
though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear, for you are ever with me,
and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.
Amen.”
— Roxanne De La Torre, Pastoral Associate for Ignatian Spirituality & Faith Formation
Last Sunday, May 3rd, was our Spring Laudato Si’ Earth Day Walk in Central Park with George Rudenauer from the Central Park Conservancy and a parishioner of St. Ignatius Loyola.
Even a fierce wind off the Central Park reservoir did not deter any of the forty St. Ignatius Loyola parishioners and friends from journeying onward to the Conservancy Gardens and eventually to the North Woods otherwise known as the Manhattan Adirondacks.
After walking the bridle path for some ways, and then meandering up through the East Meadow where there can be found a concentration of many various species of beautiful trees, we entered an oasis of nature at its best— or as George said a kaleidoscope of nature’s colors—the Conservancy Gardens. There, George shared with us the stunning English, Italian and French Gardens, with their own distinct elegance, beauty, and charm.
From there, we travelled further north and truly started to escape the chaos of NYC, by experiencing an idyllic woodland oasis with cascading waterfalls, streams, and thriving greenery.
The 40-acre North Woods is a peaceful respite of nature with soaring trees, winding paths and so much more. We could hear the crunch of twigs under our feet, see historic arches, breathe fresh air in these quiet woods, and enjoy the tranquility of Central Park’s nature.
The afternoon was replete with beauty and wonder while enjoying nature and the outdoors with our friends from Church. In the spirit of Laudato Si’, we reverenced the beauty of God’s creation.
— Geraldine Rizzo, Laudato Si’/Care of Creation Ministry
May 10, 2026 Essay: “Be Good” – A Mother’s Day Reflection“Always remember the two words – be good.” This was my great-aunt Elsie’s sign-off at the end of every visit, every phone call, every conversation. Her trademark saying called forth what was best in me, what was most generous, most kind, most honest, most Christ-like. She was one of the many women who graced my life and loved me into the person I am today, who cared for me with nurturing, encouragement, wisdom, and devotion. Recalling her on this Mother’s Day, I am grateful for all the women, though they might not be biological mothers, who envelop us with motherly love.
My aunt Elsie was raised in a Hungarian Catholic family. She considered a vocation to the convent, but her father—my great-grandfather—always skeptical of church authority, would not permit it. My aunt found ways, however, to live out her calling—she adopted simple habits, never married, and dedicated her life to family, friends, and community. She made herself a “safe space,” a nurturing presence, a manifestation of loving kindness, encouraging all of us to develop our gifts.
Aunt Elsie shepherded me toward growth by gently introducing new experiences while providing a safe foundation. I recall, for example, our annual “Black Friday” adventures. The day after Thanksgiving was always a school holiday, so it became a tradition for the two of us to make a public transportation odyssey. We’d catch a bus a block from the house she shared with my grandmother in Milmont Park, Pennsylvania, then transfer to a trolley at 69th St. in Philadelphia for a ride to Media, another Philly suburb, for lunch. For a little boy who attended a private Catholic Academy in Bryn Mawr on the storied “Main Line,” this adventure was wonderfully eye-opening. She took me out of my comfort zone as we rubbed shoulders with people who didn’t look like me and passed through neighborhoods that didn’t feel like mine. I don’t know that it was her intention, but she was quietly instilling in me the confidence to make journeys into the unknown. To this day, when I am in a new city, feeling some anxiety about taking a bus or train via an unfamiliar route to an unfamiliar destination, I think of my aunt and those Friday adventures so many years ago.
Teaching me how to pray was among the greatest gifts she gave me, and I learned by simply watching her. Every morning, she would sit quietly in her “prayer chair” as the day began. Stationing herself by the window to catch the morning light, she thumbed her rosary or silently read from prayer books. Aunt Elsie was tithing time to God, role-modeling for me what it looks like to have a spiritual discipline, a way of showing up with God, day after day, year after year. Inspired by her, I still begin each day with a Hail Mary upon waking as a way of saying “Yes!” to the new day, to God’s call to be fruitful in whatever way I can as the day unfolds.
Aunt Elsie died nearly 20 years ago, and I can only thank her now by the prayers that I send up through the communion of saints. Although she never bore children, Aunt Elsie became a mother in the deepest sense of the word. And so this Mother’s Day, in her honor, I thank all those, whether mothers to children or not, who have loved us into being who we are today, who bring out the best in us, and who continue to sustain us with their love, showing us by the generous way they live their lives what it is to “be good”, as my beloved aunt so often said. Thank you, mothers, may God richly bless you!
— Brian Pinter, Pastoral Associate