​Weeks ago, when it became clear that Pope Francis’ health was failing, I thought I had come to terms with the possibility of him passing away. When I woke up to the news that he had died, however, I realized I wasn’t prepared at all. Yes, we knew he was elderly and battling double pneumonia. […]

What the “Stabat Mater” conveys, the sorrows of Mary witnessing the crucifixion of her son, is worth pondering.

The road to Emmaus reminds us that Christ goes with us everywhere, walking and talking among us: in our conversations and debates, in ordinary meals and sacred liturgies, in journeys near and far. Our hearts burn within us, too, whenever we realize he has been right next to us all along.

As we leave the 40 days of Lent behind us and once again boldly shout “Alleluia!” in the joy of Christ’s Resurrection, may we make a conscious effort this Easter season to set aside our childish literal-mindedness and search for the symbols in our lives that allow us a glimpse beyond the veil of this material world to the kingdom that is both yet to come and, in Christ, already here.

Holy Saturday is one of those days when the church, though liturgically silent, speaks volumes through signs.

Blessed Carlo Acutis had a PlayStation. He made awkward videos with his friends. His favorite cartoon was “Pokémon.” And on April 27, he will be canonized a Catholic saint.

As any parent will understand, praying well at Mass with three children is not easy — or sometimes, even possible.

We should keep in mind that the church sees the process of Christian initiation as a spiritual journey, not as an academic year with a deadline for “graduation.”

It’s difficult to think of laughter when you see the suffering of the men who languish, none of them having access to due process, in a brutal foreign prison. But as Christians we are called to hope, even in the midst of night.

The miracle of Easter shows that anything and everything is possible for God, and that even death does not have the final word.