Holy Land 2018
Less than two days to go and we are so excited. Meeting up with some of the Young Adults from The Diocese of NJ to say farewell for now. Be sure to follow me along the way. Blessings to all.
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“Ashes and Alleluia”
By the fire of justice and the breath of hope I stood in the marrow of midnight,in the echo of drums made of broken bones,beneath a sky that forgot how to pray.And I saw Americanot as she paints herself in glory,but naked in the mirror of the Most High.She wore a crown of corporationsand drank…
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“Tending the Weary Flock”
Ezekiel 34:17–31” Originally published: June 6, 2025 There are moments in scripture when God’s voice breaks through not only as a call but as a cry. Ezekiel 34 is one such moment. First, God grieves the failure of shepherds, the leaders who were meant to guide and guard the people. But then, in verses 17–31,…
Finding Family in Faith: Navigating the Holidays with Grace and Boundaries
In the summer of 2020, as our nation erupted in protests over the killing of George Floyd, I found myself watching the news with a mixture of heartbreak and righteous anger. It wasn’t just the images of tear gas and fractured communities that cut me deeply; it was the unannounced visit of then-President Donald Trump…
Will We Rise? Holding Space for Grief, Truth, and the Fight for Justice
There are days when the weight of the world settles so deeply into my bones that I can barely move beneath it. My nervous system is frayed, stretched between urgency and exhaustion, between the call to speak and the desperate need to withdraw. I don’t say this lightly—I feel the fractures in our nation, the…
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Even Here, There is Glory
(Originally published: April 16,2025)A Holy Week Reflection on John 13:21–32 Today, I am tired.Not the kind of tired a nap can fix, but the kind that settles in your bones when you’ve been holding too much for too long. The kind that comes from standing at the intersection of grief and hope for too many…
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You Come Down from the Stars: A Christmas Eve Remembrance
Growing up on Christmas Eve, my family did what so many Italian families do—what generations before us had done, what the old country had taught us to do without ever needing to write it down or explain it in words that could be forgotten. Yes, there was fish, always fish. Baccalà soaking in its milky…
