Weekly pastor’s post (April 21 – 27)

Phew! Between being gone on vacation to see the eclipse and spending last week with my brother priests in preparation for the next stage of Partners in the Gospel, I am ready to be back to a normal(ish) routine at the parish…. though I’m dreading the inevitable onslaught of deferred messages and tasks. Ah well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

On top of the regular routine of life, preparations for the upcoming transitions at my current and future parish assignments are taking up a LOT of my time. Though I have been able to touch base with my successor here at Saint Mark parish (Father Cody Ross) and my predecessors at the Catholic communities of the Olympic National Parks region (Father Randy Guarino and Father Peter Adoko-Enchill), details & questions abound! Decisions need to be discerned, discussed, and made about living arrangements & Mass schedules – decisions that must be sorted well before July 1st so that they can be communicated and prepared for in advance.

Yesterday I wrote up a brief reflection on priorities and mission in the process of discerning change. I’m reminded of what I call “The Three ‘M’s’ of Madness: Music, Money, and Mass times”. Any priest – heck, any regular Catholic – can testify to how a community will go mad at the prospect of changing (or even discussing, often) one of these parts of parish life! Let us be sure to pray for each other as we discern these and other important changes, inviting the Holy Spirit to guide our deliberations and open our hearts to what the Lord has in store for us.


A photo of three oil stocks on display behind glass
The three holy oils on display – image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

April 21 – Congratulations to our three parishioners who were confirmed this Sunday at the 8:30 am Mass. These parishioners were part of our adult faith formation program but couldn’t join in the celebration at the Easter vigil Mass. Let us pray and praise God for all of those who received the sacraments of initiation over the last few weeks!

A painting of Saint George in the background on a horse attacking a dragon on a hillside by the water, with a woman fleeing in the foreground. From the heavens, the Lord looks down with rays emanating outward

April 23 – Today is the optional memorial of not one but two saints: Saint George & Saint Adalbert. Saint George is perhaps most famous as having confronted a dragon, recounted in The Golden Legend (a collection of hagiographical saints stories). Saint Adalbert was a bishop of Prague who faced great opposition in ministry. Read about both of them at Catholic Culture.

April 24 – Born in Sigmaringen, Germany, Saint Fidelis of Sigmaringen – whose feast day is today – was a lawyer who joined the Capuchin Order. He was such a powerful preacher that after his death, he was proclaimed the patron of the propagation of the faith. Read about him at the Capuchin Franciscan’s website.

A print of a winged lion with a scroll unfurled in front of and around its legs, representing the apostle Mark

April 25 – Today is the feast of Saint Mark, the patron of our parish and author of the Gospel of Mark. The symbol of the lion is taken from the imagery of the prophet Ezekiel, especially because of how the Gospel starts (the voice of John the Baptist – crying out in the wilderness like a lion’s roar. Read more about him at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception.

The Microsoft Office PowerPoint logo from 2000 to 2003

April 26 – From 6:30 to 9 pm, the Young Adults group is hosting a PowerPoint party in Sullivan Hall. If I remember right, the only rules are that presenters limit themselves to 10 minutes or less and offer a presentation on something they’re passionate about! Read about PowerPoint parties at Microsoft’s tech community.


A color line art picture of people gathered around an altar as incense rises above them to heaven before the three Persons of the Trinity, Mary & Joseph, and all the saints & angels.

Priests celebrating their anniversaries this week

Remembering our deceased priests

  • Father Joseph Conway (April 21, 1948)
  • Father Thomas McEnnis (April 21, 2012)
  • Father John McMahon (April 25, 1984)
  • Monsignor Henry Boltz (April 27, 1970)
  • Father Williams Fisser (April 27, 1938)
A black and white line art drawing of Christ the judge enthroned within an arch with angels seated on pillars to His right and left with stars behind him.

Mission-oriented – planning the beginning with our end in mind

As concrete preparations begin for the next phase of Partners in the Gospel, the question of mission takes center stage in discernment and discussion. What I am coming to realize that what appears to be a singular question is in fact multifaceted. To my count, there are actually three questions of mission:

  • What is the mission of a parish?
  • What is the mission of a parish priest?
  • What is the mission of parishioners?
A black and white illustration of two anchors sitting upright, with a chain leading off of one into a coil on the ground
Anchors: good for preventing movement! What are ours?

Anyone who is active in the life of a parish has experienced the implicit answer to these questions: that the mission is to keep what we have. The parish needs to hold fast to its position and practices, as it has always done. Father needs to stretch a little further so that parishioners doesn’t suffer any changes. Parishioners need to give and volunteer more so that the parish stays afloat. Rinse & repeat, ad nauseam. With maintaining the status quo as the highest priority, entire communities get caught in an ever-tightening cycle centered on what is known, familiar, or preferred.

The cost of this inward-looking focus is high: difficulty finding new volunteers, diminishing finances, shaky or even in-crisis ministries, and – most importantly – decreasing numbers of practicing Catholics (laity and clergy) in our archdiocese…. to say nothing of evangelization! We can see for ourselves the truth of Archbishop Etienne’s statement in his July 2023 pastoral letter, “The status quo is no longer an option. The realities of our situation call for a new response — indeed, for a re-envisioning of parish life.”

We know – at least in our minds, if not our hearts – that preaching and reaching heaven is our goal. Saint Paul’s words to the Corinthians remind us that “the world in its present form is passing away1“! But while we are here on earth, our lives are ordered – each according to their proper vocation – towards eternal life with Christ. And this is where the rubber really hits the road. Because if our end is heaven, then we have a starting place to consider what our mission should be here on earth. We’re not looking back at what was or even at what is; we’re looking forward to that which has yet to come!

Christ sits atop a cloud next to Mary, with the sun behind Him. Saints and angels are reclining all around Him, seated on clouds themselves

In my next post – later this week – I am going to talk about changes coming to my new parish family (Parish Family 49) and the decisions needing made before July 1. These decisions are bound to touch on aspects of parish life that are near and dear to everyone. Let us prepare for good discernment by keeping our eyes focused on heaven and our hearts open to the movement of the Holy Spirit as we re-commit ourselves to the mission Jesus lays before us.

  1. 1 Corinthians 7:31 ↩︎

The next step of Partners in the Gospel – priest transitions

Across the archdiocese, announcements are being made at every parish about priest transitions. On one hand – and I’m surely not alone in this! – it is good to finally have priest (re)assignments known publicly. On the other hand, this is another benchmark where things get real: major changes are coming and we can’t pretend otherwise.

Adding to my own mixed feelings is the fact that I am on away with my family in Austin, Texas this week and next – we’re here to see the total solar eclipse, a trip we’ve been planning since my folks saw the last one in 2017. Even two thousand miles away, our hearts & minds (and conversations!) are enmeshed in all that is happening and to come with Partners in the Gospel. Who will our priest(s) be? What will our parish(es) look like? How will our communities change? Even with some of those questions answered this weekend, there is a lot that has yet to be discerned and revealed by the Lord.

It may be providential that we are reflecting on these questions at the tail end of the octave of Easter. Surely the Apostles were wondering these things at Christ’s death, but all the moreso at His resurrection. Though a wholly joyful event, His return must have raised new worries and anxieties. What will happen next? If Jesus is willing to suffer and die for His Father, what might He ask of us? Surely things won’t be the same as before…. but what does that mean going forward?

With the advantage of time & hindsight, we know that everything did change – with great fruitfulness even where sacrifice & suffering was required. But before that was demanded of the Apostles, Jesus made sure to spend personal time with them, to repeatedly console them – “peace be with you” – even when that meant walking through locked doors to find them where they were huddled in fear.

Jesus I trust in you…. mostly ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Despite any unease about what the future might hold, there is great peace to be found, if only we will spend time with the Lord. I know that I have spent – and will spend many more! – hours before the Lord in prayer, sometimes with great serenity, other times with great restlessness. But His message remains the same: “peace be with you”. Though it is hard to accept the ambiguities the future holds, the Holy Spirit is here with us now. As best we can, may we entrust ourselves to the providential care of God, confident that regardless of what comes next, He is actively caring for and guiding us.

Click below to read the letter from Archbishop Etienne as well as my own letter, both shared with my parish at all the weekend Masses:
Archbishop Etienne’s letter announcing the new priests of Parish Family 12
Father Maurer’s parish letter regarding priest transitions
Archdiocesan appointments for Partners in the Gospel

Good Friday of the Passion of the Lord

Of all of the days of the Triduum, Good Friday is the most intense, both figuratively and practically. Practically speaking, I find it to be the most physically taxing of days. In addition to the normal routine at the parish school (drop-off & prayer), we have morning prayer in place of Mass, the school Passion play, the Tre Ore service with confessions between the Seven Last Words & the accompanying brief homilies, Stations of the Cross, and (at last) the Good Friday service of the Passion of the Lord. It is fitting that the day weighs so heavily, though it can not compare with the weight of the cross or that of our sins.

Between the various services and prayers, I was struck by how many people not only came to the church but how many of them stayed. Good Friday is not a holy day of obligation, yet the church was never empty – and for the three hours of largely silent prayer and confessions, the crowd of people only grew. When the Stations of the Cross at 3pm concluded, I had to (gently!) chase people out of the church so that we could close up and prepare for the evening.

But the most affecting moments – from where I sat, at least – were in the Good Friday service of the Passion of the Lord. During communion, the choir sang a haunting arrangement of “O Come and Mourn1, and I know I wasn’t alone in responding in kind. But the height of mourning came while the congregation came forward and the choir sang the Reproaches. I found myself joining in the refrain: “My people, what have I done to you? Or how have I grieved you? Answer me!”

The only answer we have is the one of the Good Thief – begging Christ’s mercy even while accepting that it is our own sins that merit the cross. And so we enter into the long night of His death, awaiting His reply.

  1. I’ve been told that the arrangement sung by our choir was put together by our music director, Greg Teeter! ↩︎

Holy Thursday Mass of Lord’s Supper

Tonight we enter into the three-fold celebration of passion, death, and resurrection of the Lord: the Triduum has begun.

Our Mass tonight had it all: the presentation of the oils, a homily on the three-fold mystery of the Eucharist, the priesthood, and the call to service, the washing of feet, the procession of the Eucharist to the altar of repose, and the stripping of the altar. I was especially touched and grateful to the twelve guys – some of them children (and one baby!) – who said ‘yes’ to my at-the-door-of-the-church request to be among those whose feet were washed. I know that it is no small thing to allow someone else to wash you – especially your feet! – and I was humbled by vulnerability that was entrusted to me at this Mass.

Tonight’s Mass is not without sorrows. This is one of many ‘lasts’ here at Saint Mark and I especially feel that weight as we begin the Triduum together. I can’t help but wonder if this, too, is part of growing close to the Lord and feeling what must He have felt as He looked at His Apostles. He knew each of them intimately, their joys & sorrows, their struggles & triumphs, their virtues & vices. The Last Supper wasn’t just about sacraments and commissioning – it was a kind of goodbye. And this is reflected in our celebration – not just in the context of Partners in the Gospel, with all the changes it brings, but in liturgy itself. Jesus goes forth to die for us and we must let Him, if we are to be made whole.

In the meantime, the tabernacle of our church is empty, the sanctuary cleared of all ornamentations, and the altar laid bare – an icon of the invitation for us to do likewise. May we allow the sacrifice of Christ to work in us, that we may be cleansed and made ready to be filled with the gifts to come.

Tenebrae (Service of Shadows) at Saint Mark

The lone candle remaining lit at the conclusion of Tenebrae

As part of preparing to enter into the Triduum, we gathered tonight at Saint Mark parish for Tenebrae or the Service of Shadows. Over the course of an hour and a half, we chanted fifteen psalms – split into groups of three called nocturnes – with readings from the Lamentations of the prophet Jeremiah, the writings of Saint Augustine, and Paul’s letter to the Hebrews between each nocturne.

As each psalm concluded, an altar server extinguished one of the fifteen candles set before the altar. Though the church was lit from without and within when we started, the shadows deepened as the service drew on and twilight fell.

At the conclusion of the Canticle of Zechariah, the fifteenth and final candle was removed from the sanctuary. Standing together in the darkness, the Christus Factus Est was chanted and the Our Father prayed. In the silence that followed, a loud noise – the strepitus 1– rang out in the church, signifying the closing of the tomb of Christ. The lone candle was returned to the front of the sanctuary and by its light, we left the darkened church.

I was introduced to Tenebrae in 2015, when my friend Thom Ryng (along with some interested parishioners) introduced me to the tradition. A sort of liturgical portmanteau of Matins & Lauds (Office of Readings and Morning Prayer, respectively), this used to be a staple of the Triduum – offered on Spy Wednesday, Holy Thursday, and Good Friday. With the liturgical reforms of Vatican II, Tenebrae fell out of practice – though it has been experiencing a resurgence in many parishes.

Personally, Tenebrae is one of my favorite para-liturgical celebrations of Holy Week. As a pastor, I have been rather blown away by how well received it has been by parishioners – I would never have guessed that a mid-week hour-plus service of chanted psalms would inflame the hearts of so many! And yet, perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised: who among us doesn’t long for a mystical experience of the Lord’s work among us?! Happily, this is not the last but rather the first of such opportunities to enter into the mysteries of Christ’s saving work.

May we continue together in prayer as we contemplate the passion, death, and resurrection of the Lord.

  1. The strepitus, it should be noted, is produced at Saint Mark by an altar server slamming the sacristy door (a solid-core wooden door framed in steel) shut hard. This role is much-sought-after among the servers – and they relish the gasps of those caught off-guard at the noise! Though I was not among those gasping, close observers may have caught sight of the priest flinching ever-so-slightly ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ↩︎

Thanksgiving in Advent

A more appetizing offering than those recently offered around here (image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons)

Happy Advent and, belatedly, happy Thanksgiving! I know it’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted anything in this space – in fact, yesterday’s post was a long-unfinished reflection that I decided to wrap up late in the night. Thanks to a glitch (probably prompted by the flickering lights as Seattle deals with early snowfall!), it got published before this post. Rather than find and fight the gremlins on my computer and in the cloud, I decided to just roll with it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It hasn’t been lost on me that the last couple of things to be put on this website – and that have been front and center for the last six months – have been relatively heavy posts. Not a few of my parishioners expressed some consternation at the rather dour outlook I was presenting. Not only was the financial picture strikingly negative, but a particular point stood out for some:

It is one of my greatest sorrows that such community rarely, if ever, is to be found in the life of the Catholic Church. There are sometimes glimpses of lively and connected Christian community, but so very seldom to be found in a parish. I recall a classmate in seminary who said that we Catholics are sometimes referred to as “the chosen frozen” by other denominations, at least here in the United States. I wish it didn’t ring so true. And yet, I find that when I need meaningful friendships or personal support, the Catholic Church is not somewhere I can find either one.

Though not intended to be a direct statement on the life of my own parish and her people, it prompted at least a few folks to question just that. I couldn’t help but be reminded of a scene in Firefly where Kaylee asks Simon “isn’t there anything about this place you’re glad of?” Unlike Simon at the time, I am quite ready to answer in the affirmative: absolutely, yes!

On that front, I’ve recently made a more conscious effort to take time daily to review what blessings, graces, and joys I experienced recently. With the beginning of Advent this last Sunday, I was particularly struck by some very clear blessings and joys – not just in my own life, but in the life of the parish.

The first is simply the beginning of the Advent season. Here at Saint Mark – a parish that prides itself on taking pains to celebrate the liturgy worthily and well – Advent is an opportunity to really mix things up. Out go the regular flowers in the sanctuary, in comes the wreath! And not just any old wreath, but a four foot by four foot ring of decorated greenery, with beautiful, tall candles, raised up by well-ornamented brass stands (re-purposed candlesticks, I think, but I haven’t looked too closely). It’s quite lovely. And I always get a kick out of the pomp & circumstance of the blessing of the Advent wreath at the first Mass of the weekend.

Accompanying this is the addition of a new pew missal for our congregation: the Source & Summit Missal. I chose this missal specifically for its emphasis on chanting the Mass – it contains the full antiphons for every Sunday Mass: entrance, offertory, and communion. Now every parishioner who so desires may join in chanting the antiphons – as is both their right and duty! We practiced together before Mass and boy, did it pay off. For the first time in a long time, the congregation and choir sung the antiphons together- lifting their voices as they chanted ‘To you I lift up my soul, O God . . . . ‘. The choir helped keep the tones with a few hand bells, used sparingly but to great effect.

Capping off the first Sunday of Advent, we concluded the last Mass and then immediately had a brief indoor Eucharistic procession – exposing the Blessed Sacrament and processing around the inside perimeter of the parish. The pastor had the bright idea of leading a hymn as we processed, but he forgot the second verse (!) – but it was no less beautiful for his lapse in memory. I was heartened to see that easily half of the congregation stayed for the procession, with most of those joining in walking behind the monstrance. As we ended with the Tantum Ergo and benediction, I couldn’t help but again be moved, and grateful to be praying among so many devout and reverent brothers & sisters in Christ.

Why share all of this? In part, because good news seems awfully hard to find lately – despite the pandemic concluding and normalcy being within reach, it sure seems like a lot of us are still struggling to find peace and joy in the world. If you’re a member of my parish, maybe you’ll join me in seeing some of the graces that are peeking out behind the clouds. I’d be interested, by the way, in those that you see and would like to share! And for everyone reading this, regardless of parish, I hope hearing about these things still helps encourage you. It is good to know that we’re not alone in this: not only do we all struggle at some point, but we’re in it together – accompanied and buoyed up by the Lord.

Finally, to that end, check out this rather wonderful folk group I discovered recently. The first song in this playlist (‘Rain Clouds’) has been theme song lately – you’ll notice that some of my writing here is rather shameless inspired by the lyrics. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have. In any case, God bless you this Advent – may it be full of graces & blessings.

Balancing discernment and decision

A week ago, I kicked off a four week in-parish mission at Saint Mark in Shoreline. Prompted by the realization of significant financial and membership challenges, I spoke at length to the parish about our need to turn to the Lord, inviting and allowing Him to call us to more deeply invest in our community. This necessarily involved sharing the realities of our current situation, including a significant drop in giving (170K difference since 2019), reduced membership, and parishioner engagement at an all-time low. Perhaps most alarmingly, I used the c-word: “closure” – not as an announcement of anything currently being considered or discussed, but as one potential future if we don’t sit up and take notice.

Reactions were varied and – at least among those shared with me – muted. I get that: no one is especially excited about an extended conversation with the doctor who just laid out the grim future they face if they don’t start exercising and dieting right away! I know that feeling well and am familiar with the impulse to simply avoid people and things that remind me of difficult realities – so much so that I preached on my some of my recent personal experiences of this last weekend.

Still, folks do talk among themselves, and some of those conversations eventually find their way to the priest. A familiar theme caught my attention: ‘why isn’t he just telling us what he wants?’ – familiar, by the way, because of the variant that we priests hear all the time: ‘Father, if you need anything, just ask!’

Despite good intentions, there is a subtle – but serious – issue hiding within these statements. It is the issue of discernment, or rather, that of not discerning. Though there are times we need to be told what is called for or even what we ought to be doing, it is all too easy to surrender or even abdicate our responsibility to discern God’s call for ourselves.

We’ve all had the experience of being with friends or family and having someone say ‘you decide’ on the choice of food, movie, or a tv show that we’re going to enjoy. Thoughtfully offered, that surrender can be a real expression of vulnerable trust! But imagine if that happened habitually, often, or even all the time. What might have once been a moment of unity becomes a burden to the one being asked or told to decide – and an expression of disengagement by the person saying it. ‘You decide’ starts to sound a lot like ‘I don’t care’.

And what happens if that becomes the norm? It is inevitable that some, maybe many, of the choices will get a negative response – ‘I don’t want to watch that movie’, ‘That show is boring’, ‘why didn’t we have __________ instead?’. That implied message of ‘I don’t care’ will start to feel a lot more like an overt ‘I don’t care for you’. That occasion of surrender or intimacy has the appearance of a demand to be served and pleased – all without investment from the other person.

This strikes me as a pattern into which it would be easy to fall. How many of us have stories of a relationship where one person insists on having the last word on decisions, setting the priorities, and making all the choices! The domineering husband, the shrill wife, the temperamental friend, the authoritarian pastor – there are so many examples of relationships where abdicating discernment or will is not choice, but an expectation. We might even conclude that this is the norm in giving or receiving love.

Building – or rebuilding – the practice of discernment may require us to critically examine our understanding of relationships. What does it mean for me to be a friend – how am I called to be vulnerable not only to the thoughts & desires of another but also to the vulnerability of exploring & expressing my own thoughts & desires? How do I participate in a relationship with another person, with other people?

In addition to looking at our own relationships – especially those that we have found to be most life-giving! – it will be helpful to consider the example of Jesus. His relationship with the Father & the Holy Spirit, wherein He not only surrendered to the Father’s will, but also participated in the choices made. We can see, too, that with His Apostles, He not only invites them to do the Father’s will but empowers them to discern & decide how that might take shape.

The Mass readings of the last week from the Acts of the Apostles show us how they and the early Christians were not only inspired but actively acting in relationship with each other and the Lord. We take the time every Easter season to revisit these accounts as a reminder that the fervor – and fruitfulness! – that they experienced is offered to us as well. The decision to join in that new life is not just the Lord’s, but ours as well – and the first step is to choose to be an active participant in the relationship with Christ and His Church.


For those interested, this is the homily I preached last Sunday – the second homily of our four week in-parish mission. You can listen to it using the player below or download to play on your device by clicking on this link.