It was an evening filled with commitment, perseverance, gratitude, trust, passion, and love—for both our earth and one another. In other words, the evening celebrated Laudato Si’—care for our common home in Action.
On Thursday evening, April 30th, St. Ignatius Loyola Laudato Si’/Care of Creation Ministry hosted Sr. Karen Burke, CSJ, and ecologists Christine Massi and Nico Carl from the Congregation of the Sisters of St. Joseph, Brentwood, Long Island. They shared with us their remarkable efforts in establishing their 212-acre land as an enclave of sustainability, ecology, and spirituality.
This year, the Brentwood property won the Sustainability and Environmental 14th Annual Long Island Imagine Awards, recognizing their longstanding commitment to ecological stewardship and care for creation. Jeanmarie Santopatre, Pastoral Associate, welcomed the nearly seventy SIL parishioners, including 15 Boy Scouts, who were fully engaged with the presentation and asked some fabulous questions to our distinguished panel of speakers—Christine Massi, Ecologist; Nico Carl, Ecologist; Sr. Karen Burke, CSJ, EdD, Director of Sustainability; and our very own Fr. Mark Hallinan, S.J.
Christine and Nico presented the tireless efforts of this extraordinary initiative, explaining everything from organic regenerative farming, forest extensions, woodlands conservation, storm water management, solar arrays, to Kelp Farming on Shinnecock Bay, in which the Sisters have partnered with the sovereign Shinnecock Indian Nation to protect the bay and surrounding area from encroaching development. It was a wonderful primer of how conservationism and spirituality can coexist beautifully and peacefully in the real world today. For those in the audience with a green thumb, they even provided tips on achieving a more sustainable lawn and how to begin.
Following the, introduction, Sr. Burke and Fr. Hallinan had a wonderfully robust and insightful discussion on the roots of the program, underscoring Sr. Burke’s journey in making this her labor of love. When Fr. Hallinan asked Sr. Burke what she sees as the legacy of this endeavor, she paused for a moment, and then responded brilliantly with the following sentiment (paraphrased): “We have been given a gift from God and we need to hold this land in sacred trust. It is our responsibility, in particular, for our young people. In order for the youth to protect the earth we first need them to love the earth!” May we all take Sr. Burke’s wisdom to heart and start loving the earth, God’s gift to us, with greater passion.
For more information, visit https://brentwoodcsj.org/about/.
— Geraldine Rizzo, Laudato Si’/Care of Creation Ministry
May 3, 2026 Essay: Notes From Our New CatholicsWe at St. Ignatius are grateful that twenty-nine adults were received into the Catholic Church at the April 4 Easter Vigil. Here are a few highlights of their journeys to the Catholic faith.
My path to becoming Catholic started with my older brother, Thomas. His guidance first introduced me to the beauty of the faith. After graduating from college, I found myself looking for ways to confront the troubles and brokenness of the world. When I first came into St. Ignatius, I immediately knew it was the place for me. The beauty of the church and the warmth of the community resonated with me deeply and aligned perfectly with what I was seeking. During difficult times, the OCIA program provided a constant source of strength and support. It has deepened my spirituality and given me a lasting sense of belonging and peace. — Charles Dewey
Many assume I became Catholic because I am marrying one, but my call to conversion was shaped most profoundly by losing one. In my grief, I found my greatest comfort in God. Through Mass and scripture, I came to know more deeply the unconditional love of God, a true light and consolation. What began as sorrow became, through faith, a source of peace: the assurance that those we love are with Christ, and that we will see them again in the life of the world to come. Through love and grace, God drew me to His Church, and I am blessed to keep growing closer to Christ at St. Ignatius Loyola. — Cierra Taylor
I was drawn to the Catholic faith over many years, especially through my experience working in a Jesuit school, where I first encountered the depth and beauty of Catholic life. Over time, I felt a growing call to enter more fully into the faith and to continue my vocation in Catholic education.
At the Easter Vigil, I was grateful to receive the sacraments of Baptism, Confirmation, and First Holy Communion, taking the name Sophie, inspired by Saint Madeleine Sophie Barat and her dedication to education and love for Christ. I am deeply thankful to have found a parish community at St. Ignatius Loyola, where I feel truly welcomed and at home. This journey has been filled with grace, and I look forward to continuing to grow in faith. — Qiuhui
I married my husband 25 years ago this July. So I have been part of a Catholic family but felt a little separated because I was not Catholic. When I heard God calling to me last year, I chose the Catholic Church because it is a beautiful religion. I also hoped my husband would be brought closer to God as my sponsor. God answered my prayers in abundance. The OCIA and St Ignatius Church guided me on a path that not only brought God’s light to shine on us individually and as a couple, but it also brought me a community for which I never realized I was searching. Thank you all for illuminating my journey back to God! — Shannon Molina
My journey toward the Catholic faith has been shaped by powerful witnesses and a longing to grow closer to Jesus Christ. My Aunt Elaine, who became a nun in Jamaica, inspired me deeply — her dedication challenged me to take my own faith further. In fall 2024, I attempted OCIA, but a difficult season of depression caused me to step back. Through that time, my Parish sponsor Sabrina and Jenn from IYA never stopped encouraging me. I feel blessed to have friends who called me back to Christ. I found St. Ignatius online, and though the travel distance from my home gave me pause, I brought the decision to the Lord in prayer and received a peaceful affirmation to move forward. — Onika (Nikki) Palmer
Despite being baptized a Catholic, my faith dimmed after high school. Last year something felt missing. I brought my questions to St. Ignatius because of Jesuit erudition. On December 7, I gave Father Yesalonia my answer at the altar: “To see the light of the Word.” As a candidate, I realized that seeing is not enough. Faith is lived. I witnessed that faith in the OCIA staff, fellow catechumens and candidates, and this parish. At the Easter Vigil, I shielded my candle flame against the St. Ignatius drafts until the lights came on. My return to the altar for Confirmation felt like a homecoming. As I live the faith as a fully initiated Catholic, I hope to be St. Paul’s armor of light. —Anonymous
The OCIA journey has been deeply spiritually moving and enlightening for me, in a profound manner beyond what I imagined. Even though I was raised in a Catholic family, I was never fully initiated into the Catholic Church. The feeling of immense spiritual joy I felt at the moments of my Confirmation and First Communion and the deep alignment of my faith with the Church, my family, and my larger community felt like a true homecoming. — Isabella Ferreira
My journey to becoming Catholic has been deeply personal and transformative. Although I was introduced to the faith as a child, I was not able to complete my First Communion and struggled to attend classes at that age. As an adult, I now understand the importance of faith in a way I could not before. Through life experiences, challenges, and reflection, I felt called to seek a closer relationship with God. Joining this parish has strengthened my connection to Christ and brought me peace, purpose, and comfort in knowing I am never alone. This journey has deepened my faith and helped me become more grounded, intentional, and hopeful. — Cory Rodriguez
Growing up in England, I was baptized into the Anglican Church, but faith was not a central part of my family life. Years later, I married in the Catholic Church and became a regular parishioner, though I never entered into full communion. Our child began attending Catholic school, I personally felt a growing call to deepen my faith. Discovering OCIA and attending the sessions strengthened that desire. Hearing the journeys of other OCIA participants has been truly inspiring. Through the guidance of the team and the priests, and the warmth of the parish community, I felt welcomed. While I still have much to learn, I feel energized by this experience and excited for the future in my spiritual journey. — Paul Gardner
My life has always been guided by an inner compass that I came to recognize as a way my Christian self is manifested. I have experienced my inner self as being called to prayer and reflection.
However, unlike most Christians, I had not desired to share in the waters of baptism, which is a cornerstone of being Christian. So, Baptism for me, is not a “quest” so much as a “recognition” of a sense of wholeness: the private self, connected with something infinitely greater: Jesus Christ and community.
I feel a strong resonance in this tradition and spiritual life lived by the grandparents of my grandparents and their grandparents and so on. — Anonymous
My first week of college, heady on the myriad experiences and wired on dining hall M&Ms, the quiet guy upstairs handed me a copy of the Catechism, a “take home” after a raucous game of cards and a conversational digestif on “what more lay behind these walls”. I didn’t find it forceful, nor an attempt to proselytize, but more of a declaration of beliefs.
I spent my college experience and the years thereafter seeing God and exploring Catholicism through the people He brought into my life – my friends in college, my best friend at work (now my Godmother), and the people in my community.
It was only a matter of time before I would become a Catholic too. OCIA was a means of formalizing a decades-long process and yet the beginning to the rest of my life. — Anonymous
April 26, 2026 Essay: Through the Gate to an Abundant Life
During my theology studies in Boston, once a month, I would drive out to Weston to meet with my spiritual director, a senior Jesuit. On the way, I would turn off the radio and reflect on the past month. As I took the exit off the Mass Pike and drove through the countryside, I became more aware of my surroundings and noticed the New England stone walls winding along the road.
We see similar stone walls as we drive north into Westchester and Connecticut. Call one of them to mind and consider the different types of stones that make up that wall. On their own, none of the stones is particularly polished, pretty, or perfectly sized, but each one fits together. Each stone has a purpose. A good builder will only pick up a stone once and then put it in place.
I bet sometimes we feel like rocks—rough around the edges, gathering moss, hardened, and after a long winter, a bit heavy. But the Lord sees us like the builder of a New England stone wall. None of us is rejected. Each of us fits. Together we form something with character. That is how Jesus sees us.
One thing I learned when I was in New England is that if you want to build a more durable stone wall, you build a dry one, with no mortar between the rocks.
With a dry stone wall, sheep can lean against it and use it as shelter from the elements. The small gaps allow air to pass through and dry them off after the rain. In a similar way, the Holy Spirit fills and smooths the weak parts of our lives, if we lean in.
This weekend, the Church celebrates the World Day of Prayer for Vocations. While encouraging all vocations, the Church gives special attention on this Good Shepherd Sunday to the priesthood, the diaconate, and religious life.
Today’s Gospel from John lends itself to this prayer. Jesus says, “I am the gate for the sheep.”
May we see God’s handiwork in our lives, recognizing the gifts we have received in his love. We acknowledge our weaknesses and ask the Holy Spirit to move through the cracks. We can be confident that Jesus sees something in each of us, like a good builder who knows his stone, like a shepherd who knows his own.
Secure in the Father’s love, Jesus is able to lie down at the gate to keep out wolves and threats. A good shepherd lays down worldly ambition to be of service to the flock.
Pope Leo XIV writes in his message for the 63rd World Day of Prayer for Vocations about how crucial a faith community is to fostering religious vocations:
“I invite everyone…to commit themselves more fully to creating conditions that allow this gift to be embraced, nourished, protected and accompanied, so that it may bear abundant fruit. Only when our surroundings are illumined by living faith, sustained by constant prayer and enriched by fraternal accompaniment can God’s call blossom and mature.”
I know my own vocation was nourished by the shepherds and shepherdesses of the St. Ignatius Loyola parish community, as was the vocation of Jake Braithwaite, SJ, who will be ordained a priest this June. Perhaps a gentle invitation, or an intentional practice of prayer, can open us up to the Good Shepherd to use us as the gate, inviting many more shepherds and shepherdesses to embrace a religious vocation, which Pope Leo calls “an adventure of love and happiness.”
— Rev. Patrick C. Nolan, SJ, Provincial Assistant and Director of Vocations, USA East Province of the Society of Jesus
Religious BigotryWe should all be alarmed and galvanized into action by the rise in antisemitism and a concurrent outpouring of hatred directed toward Muslims. There can be no tolerance for any expression of antisemitism or expressions of hatred or disdain for Muslims.
Sixty years ago, the Second Vatican Council issued a document, Nostra Aetate, in which the Church broke new ground in its understanding of our relationship to other faith traditions. This document reflects the definitive teaching of our Church as evident in the fact that Pope Leo XIV offered a catechesis on this document on the occasion of its sixtieth anniversary in 2025. Pope Leo reminded us of what that document taught us: “…the Church, ‘mindful of the patrimony she shares with the Jews and not moved by political reasons but by the Gospel’s spiritual love, decries hatred, persecutions, displays of antisemitism, directed against Jews at any time and by anyone.’” Pope Leo went on to declare: “…All my predecessors have condemned antisemitism with clear words. And so I too confirm that the Church does not tolerate antisemitism and fights against it, on the basis of the Gospel itself.”
There is no disputing the rise of antisemitism in the United States. In January of this year, Beth Israel Synagogue in Jackson, Mississippi, was firebombed. The library and administrative offices were destroyed along with five torahs—the sacred texts of the Jewish people. In March, a man drove his truck into Temple Israel in Bloomfield, Michigan. The temple has a school that was in session at the time of the attack. Only the presence of armed guards prevented a catastrophe. The NYPD reports that in 2025 there were 330 antisemitic incidents out of a total of 576 suspected hate crimes—a suspected anti-Jewish incident every 26 hours.
What does our Church teach us with regard to the Muslim people? Return to Nostra Aetate: “The Church has a high regard for the Muslims. They worship God, who is one, living and subsistent, merciful and almighty, the Creator of Heaven and earth…They strive to submit themselves without reserve to the hidden decrees of God…Although not acknowledging him as God, they venerate Jesus as a prophet, his Virgin Mother they also honor, and even at times devoutly invoke. Further, they await the day of judgment and the reward of God following the resurrection of the dead. For this reason they highly esteem an upright life and worship God, especially by way of prayer, almsgiving, and fasting.”
Unfortunately, it has become advantageous politically to target Muslims for the vilest attacks imaginable. Rep Randy Ogles, Republican of Tennessee, has stated: “Islam is a religion of violence, abuse of women and ruthless conquest. Its laws and practices have no place in American society.” He represents a district with a sizeable Muslim population that includes membership in an Islamic center that was destroyed because of a hate crime in 2008. In Texas, state and federal campaigns are striving to outdo themselves in their anti-Islamic rhetoric. One candidate launched her campaign with the burning of a Quran while declaring: “your daughters will be raped and your sons beheaded, unless we stop Islam once and for all.” Remember that Sid Rosenberg recently referred to Mayor Mamdani as a “Radical Islam cockroach” and a “jihadist, America-hating mayor.” This is the ugly reality of American discourse today.
Returning for a final time to Nostra Aetate, hear this clear, unequivocal teaching of our Church: “…the Church reproves, as foreign to the mind of Christ, any discrimination against people or any harassment of them on the basis of their race, color, condition in life or religion.” Always remember that silence is complicity. We must speak out when we hear any derogatory words, or see any acts of hatred, directed toward others because of their religion. Bigotry should find no home in our hearts or in our society.
– Fr. Mark Hallinan, S.J., Associate Pastor
April 12, 2026 Essay: Pope Francis and His Jesuit Plan for the ChurchJesuits seem to attract conspiracy theories. One factor, from the earliest days of the Society, is probably our occasional proximity to power: How is that confessor manipulating that king? Another is the quality of our international organization and coordination, with frequent letters between St. Ignatius Loyola in Rome and Jesuits all over the world, making it easy to imagine us plotting something that required careful coordination. Over the centuries that followed, elaborate tales of nefarious Jesuits scheming behind the scenes became a stock element of anti-Catholic propaganda. (Other related tropes about Jesuits as too-clever-by-half moralists who could find an excuse for anything, as in the case of Blaise Pascal, fed into intra-Catholic propaganda as well.)
These days, Jesuits often treat these attacks, tongue-in-cheek, as badges of honor. When I was in theology studies in Boston, our house had a framed facsimile copy of a colonial-era law which banned Jesuits from the Massachusetts Bay Colony because, in its words, of the “secret underminings, and solicitations of those of the Jesuitical Order” which had so disrupted European peace.
Most Jesuits, I think, enjoy our reputation for such skullduggery largely because it is so absurd. When I am asked directly about Jesuit conspiracy theories, my standard response is to point out that most Jesuit communities struggle to agree on how many different kinds of breakfast cereal to buy.
No matter how outlandish they might be, Pope Francis’ election in 2013 as the first Jesuit pope fanned such conspiracist tropes into flame again. Rather than plotting to control governments, however, the speculation was about plans to change the church.
Almost everyone, it seemed, had some church teaching or issue that they were either passionately hoping or fearfully dreading that Pope Francis would change. His moves and comments, especially around the Synod on Synodality, were often parsed to figure out what he was assumed to be orchestrating.
While this approach to understanding Pope Francis is perhaps less absurd than 17th-century Jesuit conspiracy theories, it still obscures significant lessons to be learned from understanding Pope Francis as a Jesuit, because his most important Jesuit characteristic is not how he strategized to do things according to his own plan, but how he tried to cooperate with what God was already doing.
I think the single greatest misunderstanding about Pope Francis is the idea that he was playing, or even attempting to play, some complicated game of three-dimensional chess with the church. Instead, I will stand by something I wrote for The Jesuit Post during the week after his election, that rather than focusing on changing the teaching of the church, Pope Francis, “who believe[d] profoundly in the power of the Gospel to change lives and to make possible a new kind of freedom, a freedom for an encounter with Christ,” was far more interested in how we would be changed ourselves.
Many people who analyzed Pope Francis expecting to decode his grand strategy were frustrated and in that frustration, some came to criticize him as being “confusing.” But looking at Pope Francis as a Jesuit, I saw something different going on: Francis was “discerning the spirits,” as we Jesuits say, with a deep trust that God was already at work in the church and in the world, in the lives of believers and seekers.
In the 15th annotation of the Spiritual Exercises, St. Ignatius counsels that the one giving the Exercises ought to be cautious about trying to orchestrate what the retreatant will experience or decide, but instead should “allow the Creator to deal immediately with the creature and the creature with its Creator and Lord.”
Pope Francis was at his most Jesuit, I believe, in the fact that he did not have a grand plan. What he had instead was the faith and courage to cooperate with how God is dealing with us, trusting that will be better than any plan we could make on our own.
— Fr. Sam Sawyer, S.J., Editor-in-Chief, America Magazine
April 5, 2026 Essay: A Darkened, Empty TombIn the pre-dawn hours, when the deepest darkness of the night shrouded what would have been familiar and where the silence echoed an eerie stillness, the women who wanted to anoint the bloodied body of Jesus summoned within themselves the courage to walk to his tomb. Undoubtedly filled with fear, their gait was nonetheless deliberate and their destination sure. Each footfall was surely accompanied by a quickening heartbeat. What would they find at the end of their short journey to the hillside overlooking Calvary? Resolute and brave, they arrived at the tomb and entered it with only a moment’s hesitation. Within that dark and empty tomb, they discovered a bright world of hope and experienced the thrill of being touched by the hand of an angel. As the dawn of a new day was revealing its vibrant hues, how could they not but run with joy in their hearts to tell the others? They no longer had any reason to fear the darkness and silence of the night.
As I reflected on the experience of those who entered the tomb of Jesus, these words of Helen Keller came to mind:
Once I knew only darkness and stillness…my life was without past or future…
but a little word from the fingers of another fell into my hand that clutched
at emptiness, and my heart leaped to the rapture of living.
For Helen Keller, the fingers of Anne Sullivan, her tutor, opened for her a world that was surely beyond her imagination. Throughout her childhood she lived in the void of a darkened, empty tomb, but did not allow that to define her. Her tenacity and courage had to have been rooted in her belief that God had something more in mind for her. Unafraid of the dark, she was touched by an angel and was born anew into a world of limitless possibilities. Hope did not fail her, rather it invited her to leap to the rapture of living.
Interestingly, we celebrate the Resurrection of Jesus Christ on Easter Sunday with accounts from the Gospels of those who entered his tomb. They were not simply passive witnesses. They were active participants in the unfolding events surrounding his Resurrection. Their stories had to be told. What they did undergirds our faith and belief in Jesus Christ. These intrepid disciples are also models for us in our time of darkness.
Anchored in the belief that Jesus was truly the Son of God, these disciples placed their trust in the words of Jesus Christ that he would rise from the dead and be with them again. Peering into the open tomb, they did not run from it. Rather, they confronted the darkness and exposed its powerlessness. In that moment, they were touched by the hand of an angel and were born anew into a world of rapture as they realized what had occurred in the early hours of that morning. Hope did not fail them. They emerged from the tomb and experienced the radiant brilliance of a new day as they encountered the Risen Jesus.
On this Easter Sunday, let the story be told that we entered that empty void of indifference of today’s troubled world, grasped the hands of those living in darkness, and led them into the light of hope. Let us be as giddy with excitement as were those fearless disciples and joyfully leap into the world to proclaim the message that Our Savior lives, that darkness has been shattered and death itself defeated.
May your celebration of Easter this year be filled with every blessing and the radiant light of God’s love. Happy Easter!
— Dennis J. Yesalonia, S.J., Pastor
March 22, 2026 Essay: Anchored in Love and FaithIn this week’s readings, once again, we meet Martha and Mary in the Gospel of John. John highlights actions of love and faith through Martha and Mary’s feelings toward their brother, Lazarus, and their dear friend, Jesus. He also reveals both the human and divine action of love from Jesus towards Lazarus, Martha, and Mary.
When Jesus hears of the death of Lazarus, he waits two days and then sets out on the road. Although we may wonder why Jesus did not leave straight away, he needed to wait for things to settle down in Judea. There was upheaval by the Jews towards Jesus, and he needed to make a safe passage with his disciples. I see this as a Kairos moment-in God’s time- he will know when to leave and arrive safely to Martha, Mary, and Lazarus.
He said to the disciples, “This illness is not to end in death, but is for the glory of God, that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” Through death and resurrection, Lazarus was the one who would show them that through his actions, Jesus was the Son of God. Jesus affirms that he is the Messiah who will suffer, who will die, and who will be resurrected on the third day.
When Martha meets Jesus on the road, she is overcome with emotions. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you.” The fullness of Martha’s love and faith in Jesus and God is palpable. She is a true believer and therefore reminds us that we also can turn to Jesus to comfort us when a beloved family member or friend passes from this life. Martha is anchored in love and faith in Jesus. She is the extrovert who goes to meet Jesus while Mary, the introvert, is waiting at home weeping and waiting for the Lord to arrive. She weeps at Jesus’ feet and is anchored in love and faith for the one she knows is the Lord. Martha and Mary express different ways on how one might grieve the loss of someone who is beloved. They portray the both/and of human emotions. One way is not better than the other, both are merciful in the eyes of Jesus.
The story of Lazarus reminds us that through miracles, Jesus revealed who he is.
In his humanity, he wept with Martha and Mary upon the death of his friend, Lazarus. In his divinity, when the stone is rolled away, Jesus beckons Lazarus to come out of the tomb. Lazarus escapes death and Martha and Mary are overwhelmed with the love of Jesus for Lazarus. Jesus also made an impact on the Jews who came with Mary to the tomb and began to believe Jesus must be the Messiah.
The Lord still works miracles every day, not only with humankind, but also in Creation. Plants, flowers, trees, and bushes “die” in the fall only to bloom again, or come to life, in the spring. And vice versa. God resurrects the Earth every year in the cycle of our seasons. Now more than ever we are called to care for each other and our common home. As Catholics, it is our love for God’s creation that we are charged to be good stewards of the Earth.
As we actively engage in our Lenten prayers, may we be reminded of Lazarus coming out of the tomb and tend to the beauty of humanity and creation that God has bestowed upon us.
— Jean Santopatre, Pastoral Associate
March 8, 2026 Essay: A Brother’s GriefWe are not born whole cloth. The fabric of who we are, of who we aspire to be, and who we become is woven over the course of our lives. What may appear to be seamless is stitched together through relationships, most especially with the threads of love shared from birth between a sister and a brother – lifetime companions on a journey of exploration, from youthful whimsy to the challenges of aging. It is a bond that can never be broken. Whether in life or after the passing of one, the threads of mutual affection are so tightly stitched into who they have become that even death cannot unravel the tapestries of their individual lives.
On Thursday of this past week, I presided at the Funeral Mass of my sister, Betty Ann, in the same church where both she and I were baptized sixteen months apart. After three weeks in the hospital, knowing that her heart was irreparably failing and she was dying, she wanted to go home, to die in the house she had lived in most of her life, first with our parents, and then with her two daughters. My sister quite clearly and repeatedly told us that she wanted to leave the hospital and go home. A woman of extraordinary religious faith, given the circumstances of her life, I believe she was telling us that she wanted to go to the one place where she would be at peace. It was so fitting that her Funeral Mass was celebrated in the same church of her baptism where her faith life began. It was her spiritual home that foreshadowed the home she so longed for at the end of her life.
I acknowledge the fact that every brother can be effusive in his comments about his sister in significant moments, such as death. With all due respect to all siblings, my sister was the real thing. She loved her family, and she loved me more than I deserved. She regularly wrote to me about how proud she was of me because of my accomplishments and that she loved me as her brother. I regret now that I failed to return the sentiments on an equally regular basis. A woman who shied away from public speaking, she was eloquent beyond words in the way in which she lived her life, cared for her family and friends, and prayed with a devotion that was inspirational. On occasions too numerous to count, she would call or text me to request prayers for someone who she believed needed them. She had an elegantly beautiful heart that shone brightly in everything she said and did. Her heart was full of goodness for so many, family, friends, and strangers. In the end, she surrendered her heart to the one who she knew would greet her warmly at the moment of her death and welcome her home.
At my sister’s Funeral Mass, I chose the gospel passage about the visit of Jesus to the home of Martha and Mary—Martha, the hard worker, and Mary, the sister who sat at the foot of Jesus. Both were attentive to Jesus, but in different ways. My sister combined both these qualities. However, unlike the story in the gospel, my sister never complained about being a diligent worker, and for that matter, never, ever, said an unkind word about anyone.
As I write this essay, I am reminded of another gospel story of Martha and Mary. It is the account of the raising of their brother, Lazarus, from his death. When Jesus asked Martha whether she believed that that he was “the resurrection and the life” and that her brother lives, Martha answered, “Yes, Lord. I have come to believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world.” At the end of her life, my sister revealed how much she was like Martha. She believed that her death was the beginning of a new life. Her resurrection was assured because of her deep and abiding love for Jesus and his Blessed Mother. It is that reality that we celebrated at her funeral.
As we continue our Lenten journey, we are guided by our belief that Jesus lives. He truly is the resurrection and the life. And for those of us who have or have had a sibling, let us give thanks to God for the one person who assuredly walks as a companion with us, whether in life or in death, and who one day, and in God’s time, will accompany us home.
— Fr. Dennis J. Yesalonia, S.J., Pastor
March 1, 2026 Essay: An Issue We Cannot IgnoreAddressing our nation’s response to the immigrants among us, our Catholic Church has been clear in holding to two truths. A nation has the right to secure its borders in the furtherance of the common good. At the same time, every person who has entered this country has an inherent dignity that must be respected and protected. These are the twin truths that must guide our response to the current crisis of immigration enforcement.
Targeted apprehension of those who have violated the welcome they have received, through the commission of violent crimes, is necessary and appropriate. Affording them proper due process, such individuals are appropriate subjects for deportation. What is happening currently, however, is a policy of apprehension and detention of any and all persons who are not currently United States citizens. These apprehensions and detentions are being fueled by arbitrary quotas which, in turn, have led to aggressive tactics by federal agents whose use of force has been highly criticized. The aim is the mass deportation of millions of people without regard to the contribution they have made to our society. Pope Leo and the United States bishops have forcefully denounced efforts at indiscriminate mass deportations.
The detention of all who have been apprehended is part of this policy. In the past, individuals apprehended for being in the United States without status would often result in persons being released on bond while their case was adjudicated so long as there was no history of criminal activity. Detaining all those who have been apprehended is intended to force persons to choose self-deportation over the uncertainty of detention for an indeterminate period. The result has been the rapid opening of detention centers whose conditions have been routinely criticized for failing to provide adequate food, appropriate medical care, and failing to protect the safety of those detained. At least 30 people died in detention last year—the highest number in two decades. There have been at least four deaths so far in 2026. A Cuban immigrant’s death in an El Paso detention center in January was ruled a homicide by the county medical examiner.
We need to put a human face on what our government is doing in our name.
Alberto Castaneda Mondragon was pulled from a friend’s car in Minneapolis in January. He was a roofer without legal status in this country. He was taken to a local hospital after federal agents alleged that he “purposefully ran headfirst into a brick wall.” He had suffered eight fractures in his skull that the medical team determined were not consistent with running into a brick wall. At least one ICE officer later told staff at the medical center that Mondragon “got his (expletive) rocked.” Released from custody, he continues to suffer the consequences of a traumatic brain injury.
An 18-month-old baby, Amalia, was held with her parents at a south Texas detention facility. Amalia became sick and her condition rapidly deteriorated. Taken to a San Antonio hospital, she was treated for pneumonia, COVID-19, RSV, and severe respiratory distress. Despite warnings from medical experts that the toddler remained medically vulnerable and at risk of reinfection, immigration officers returned Amalia and her mother to the detention center. There she was denied prescribed medication and nutrition supplements doctors provided. Aggressive efforts by Elora Mukherjee of Columbia Law School’s Immigrants Rights Clinic eventually secured the families’ release from detention.
“Solving our immigration problems will have to include controlling our borders and deporting undocumented individuals who have committed violent crimes. But solutions rooted in the order of grace cannot countenance the vilification of the undocumented or the indiscriminate deportation of millions of undocumented men and women…who have lived productively and peacefully in our land for decades and who contribute to our society so many of the values that we are desperately in need of.” Cardinal Robert McElroy, Archbishop of Washington, D.C.
— Fr. Mark Hallinan, S.J., Associate Pastor
February 22, 2026 Essay: Hearing God’s Call[On this First Sunday of Lent, our parish celebrates two Rites for 31 adults: the Rite of Sending for our catechumens (preparing for baptism) and the Call to Continuing Conversion (for our already baptized candidates). This afternoon at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Archbishop Ronald Hicks welcomes the catechumens, accepting their desire to be baptized into the Catholic Church at the Easter Vigil. This essay is written by Jennifer Gunsberger, who was baptized and received into the Church in 2025.]
Becoming Catholic was not a sudden decision but rather a fifty-year journey. God was always a presence in my life. My mother is Catholic, my father is Protestant. We all attended Catholic Church as I grew up. In our community, our friends were Catholic or Jewish, so these were the religions that most influenced me. I was born in California in the 1970s and my parents encouraged me to choose my own religious path if I felt drawn to one.
From a young age, I maintained a private relationship with God. After my mother put me to bed, I would kneel and pray, “Dear God, if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take, Amen.” Then I would speak with God about my troubles. I continued to feel God’s presence, though I knew little about Catholic faith. I remember feeling embarrassed attending church with my parents: I did not know the Our Father, though both my parents did. I longed to learn this prayer and be part of that experience.
As I matured, I explored other religions, including Buddhism and Judaism; none of these paths resonated deeply with me. Despite these explorations, I continued maintaining a quiet conversation with God.
It was not until after I married, and faced a challenging five-year fertility journey that my faith deepened. I entrusted God with my hope for a child, praying day and night. I chose Saint Elizabeth as my Baptismal Name because I identified with her story—struggling with infertility later in life. After suffering through seven miscarriages, our eighth pregnancy brought us our son Charlie. The pregnancy was difficult, and each day I prayed that God would safely bring our child into the world.
On December 31, 2018, our miracle baby was born. From the moment I met my son, I felt there was something special about him. Even as a young child, he showed deep empathy for others, comforting friends who were upset and bringing smiles to strangers. His kindness and warmth seemed to draw people in wherever we went.
My journey with faith continued; ultimately, it was our son who led me closer to God. My husband and I began exploring faith-based schools because we were concerned about the environment in public schools. Although my husband is Jewish and I did not identify with any particular faith, we looked into Catholic schools. In April 2024, our son was accepted into Saint Ignatius Loyola School for kindergarten. As we considered his acceptance and what would be best for our family, a Catholic friend pointed out that this was a clear sign of God calling me to the Catholic Church. I realized she was right—God had been calling me for a long time, but now, through my son, I was brought to His doorstep.
I joined the OCIA process, studied the Bible, attended church, and learned about Christ as my son began his own religious education. Since becoming Catholic, I’ve experienced many blessings. Now, as members of Saint Ignatius Loyola in NYC and St. Patrick’s in Bedford, we attend church together, pray, and support each other. When my son faces challenges, I encourage him to consider Jesus’s example. I trust God has an important plan for him, and I am grateful to raise him in the Catholic faith. After fifty years, I have finally made my choice.
Jennifer Gunsberger, St. Ignatius Loyola Parishioner