Winter came on fast this year, flattening electric poles and toppling cell phone towers. I was on retreat in a remote cabin with no heat or electricity...

A recent issue of the Diocesan Historical Society featured an article about a remarkable priest name Fr. Ladislau Wolko. To my surprise, we once served in the same small town, at a parish called Sacred Heart. Fr. Wolko came from Poland and was ordained shortly after WWII. Prior to his ordination, Fr. Wolko endured five years of torture in a Nazi concentration camp...

Emulating men with backs that bend has been an indispensable part of my journey. As a priest, however, it is easy to hide behind a public persona of self-denial. The challenge, as always, lies within one’s private life. This is why I pray at night...

It was a Friday night rehearsal. The wedding coordinator lined up the bridal party: “Slick, you and Amanda follow Josh and Jean...

The view out the window never varies: wheat fields and football fields; warehouses and apartment houses; truck terminals and transmission lines. Who wants to live in a place like this? Well, I do!

Moses crouched low, loosened a strap and removed the sandal. The sand, warmed by sacred fire, seared his sole like embers fallen from an altar...

The older I become, the more penance I crave. I never expected this evolution in my spiritual maturation...