My son and I were hurrying to an appointment, and the parking garage was packed. We snagged a spot on the top level of the garage and walked over to the elevator. I don’t always have much faith in elevators, and I would prefer to take the stairs, but we were in a rush, and […]

It can be easy for Catholics to lose sight of the forest for the trees. Sometimes we can lose sight of the bigger global picture, get distracted from what matters most for humanity, even give into the temptation to zero in too much on internal ecclesial life. In more recent years, the Church has also been burdened by internal debates and feuds which distract us from the mission Christ entrusted to us.

In many ways, Father Michael J. McGivney was just one more of that band of hardworking Irish-American priests who spent themselves building up the church in America in the latter years of the 19th century. But in one truly extraordinary respect, he was unique: Before he was 30, Father  McGivney had founded what was to become the largest Catholic men’s organization in the world: the Knights of Columbus.

Every procession on Corpus Christi says, in its own public and beautiful way, that we are made for more than what this world can offer. We are pilgrims, and this sacrament is food for the journey. What we receive under sacramental signs now, we hope one day to behold unveiled.

Coming in at 42,000 words, Pope Leo XIV’s first encyclical, “Magnifica Humanitas,” is massive. It’s huge. It is clear-eyed and comprehensive and so chock-full of good stuff that it must be consumed bit-by-bit, like a many-coursed Roman feast — best to go at it slowly, savoring small bites, perhaps even taking a little break between morsels if you hope to make it to the caffe and cannoli.

When Jesus comes again to judge us all, how public will this be? As in, will everyone know each other’s sins when this happens?

Pope Leo XIV’s new encyclical “Magnifica Humanitas” arrives at a defining moment in human history. Artificial intelligence and digital technologies are reshaping every dimension of modern life: communication, labor, economics, medicine, education and even our relationships. “Never has humanity had so much power over itself,” the pope writes.

Many have heard that this new technology threatens to displace all sorts of workers, but such a threat, as real and profound as it is, is by no means the only one.

Flannery O’Connor was not an evangelist. She was an artist, one of the most gifted American fiction writers of the 20th century. But a profoundly Catholic theological vision informs her art, giving her stories resonance and depth that sound deep — and sometimes deeply disturbing — spiritual chords.

Sometimes you feel like you’re faced with a problem with no apparent solution. That’s when we can turn to St. Rita.