When I was a young, single professional living in Washington, I harbored a secret judgment against churches that had cry rooms. In my naivete, I considered parishes that built these spaces to be intolerant of young children.

When I was a boy, there was a revolution in Hungary against the communist government. The Soviet Union put it down brutally. Several hundred thousand Hungarians fled the country, some for the United States.

One of the great miracles of the Gospels is that the deepest wisdom is contained within the most straightforward kind of storytelling.

This Lent will be a little different from previous ones for me. Personal responsibilities will make it difficult to make “big plans,” such as setting aside significant times of fasting, major volunteer activities or going on retreat.

Sometimes it takes an outsider to help you to see the beauty and depth of something you have never fully appreciated. I suspect this is true for many of us, myself no exception, regarding the celebration of the Eucharist in our churches.

The early years of my adulthood and priesthood were spent teaching theology at Newman Theological College in Edmonton, Canada. I was young, full of energy, loved teaching and was discovering the joys of ministry. For the most part, these were good years.

During my senior year of high school, I had an experience that struck me (even at the time) as worthy of reflection.