The Communion of Saints

As I often mention, on the cover of our bulletin each week are the words, “Beauty, Goodness, Truth, and Friendship in Christ.” These words arise from both experience and from aspiration. They are something that is already present for the follower of Christ and they remain something for which we continuously long to encounter with greater intensity. The Christian people become a sign of these realities and help one another to enter into the mysteries in a deeper way. The Funeral Mass last week for my Dad was such a profound consolation to me and to my family. In that Mass, I experienced beauty, goodness, truth, and friendship in Christ. For Christians, funerals are not intended to explain away grief, to provide quick and meaningless resolutions, or to offer platitudes. Instead, I think the Funeral Mass affords us the opportunity to enter into the mystery of life and death in a more profound way. When we try to skip over the mystery in order to get to a “solution,” it deprives us of something essential. During these past weeks, what has sustained and strengthened me was encountering so much beauty, goodness, truth, and friendship in Christ. The palpable presence of these realities did not explain away death and sorrow, but surrounded it in love and made clear that love is stronger than death. I am profoundly grateful to the clergy and staff of St. Patrick Parish whose goodness and charity made these weeks so much easier. I am also very grateful to those parishioners who, through word and deed, have expressed such beautiful charity towards my family and me. In the days leading up to the Funeral Mass, I wondered if it would all be a blur to me. I wondered if I would be anxious or too emotional. Instead, the Lord gave me such a beautiful gift. I was completely at peace. Others attended to all of the details so that I could simply focus on offering the Mass and preaching. The surprising presence of people from throughout my life was so enormously consoling. So many of them were there because over the course of years, together we had encountered beauty, goodness, and truth, and had lived together in friendship in Christ. Many who attended the funeral told me how beautiful it was to see so many priests (and Cardinal Sean) in attendance. The presence of my brother priests at that moment will be something I will never forget. I was so surprised that so many priests came to pray for my Dad and support my family and me. It fills me with profound gratitude. At the very center of my Dad’s funeral was not my Dad. At the very center of it was Jesus Christ. In the beauty, goodness, truth, and friendship that I meet in the life of the Church, Christ makes himself known to me and this is what brings consolation. As I continue to absorb all that has occurred in the past month or so, I continuously feel deep gratitude. Thank you to all of you for your kind expressions of sympathy, your presence at the funeral, and your promises of prayers. They all assure me of the truth of the Resurrection and of the presence of Christ. In these days, in the midst of sorrow, I have encountered beauty, goodness, truth, and friendship in Christ and my heart is filled with gratitude. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes

During the past few weeks I have spent as much time as my responsibilities permitted by the deathbed of my Dad. In his alert moments his humor and capacity as a great storyteller shone through. More importantly, his humble faith shone through. What a privilege it was for me to hear him renew his baptismal promises in those last days of his life, anointing him, granting him the Apostolic Pardon, commending his soul to the mercy of God, chanting the Litany of Saints, imploring the Blessed Virgin, the angels and the saints to intercede for him, and praying the Rosary and Divine Mercy Chaplet by his side. Most importantly, giving him the Eucharist each day during his final agony not only was a tremendous grace for him, but was a great source of consolation for me. The very last conscious act he made was receiving the Eucharist. This particular time of the liturgical year always reminds me how thin is the veil that separates heaven and earth. In these weeks we celebrate the feasts of Padre Pio, the archangels, guardian angels, Therese of Lisieux, Francis of Assisi, Bruno, Bartolo Longo, Faustina, the Holy Rosary, John Henry Newman, John XXIII, Carlo Acutis, Teresa of Avila, Margaret Mary, Luke, John Paul II, and many others. As we pass into the first days of November we celebrate All Saints and All Souls. I always have a sense in these days that heaven is not very far away at all. As I chanted the Litany of Saints at my Dad’s bedside, although deeply sorrowed that his earthly life was coming to its end, I knew that I was placing him in good company. I trust that what the Lord began in my Dad on the day of his baptism, he will bring to fulfillment now. We will place his body into the earth with faith in the Resurrection. Last Saturday before visiting my Dad, I celebrated a Nuptial Mass here. I still need to absorb the whole thing. Simultaneously, my heart was broken from sorrow for my Dad and filled with joy at the beauty of the Sacrament of Marriage and for that couple as they begin married life. After the Mass, I went to the hospital and, as I was crossing the street in Boston, this couple stopped me. “Father, are you busy?” Admittedly, I felt kind of annoyed because I wanted to get in to see my father. I smiled and said, “No.” Then they asked, “Could you bless our twins?” In their carriage were these beautiful one-month old infants, a brother and sister. It was the boy’s first time out of the NICU. I blessed them with a lot of joy. The couple explained to me that they were not married, but were trying to figure things out and to be a family. They said that they had been going to Mass recently and wanted to stay on track. Blessed be God. I thought of how 89 years ago this month, my Dad was an infant like that with his whole life ahead of him. Now, he was at the end of his life and here are these two beautiful little infants beginning their life. Their parents chose to give them life and are now trying to find a way to be a family and provide a Catholic life for them. I will pray for them. Some day, please God, those little infants will be old and will be preparing to depart from this life. I hope that they do so having lived a life of faith, nourished by the Sacraments. One of the privileges of priesthood, I believe, is that the Lord permits us at times to share in a unique way in his own Heart. This privilege is both beautiful and heart-piercing. It sometimes feels as though the Lord were putting one hundred gallons into a one gallon container! It is to feel intensely the Lord’s love for the good thief, his weeping at the grave of Lazarus, his joy at the repentant sinner, his joy for the little children, and his ardent desire that all might be saved. And quite often, the Lord does not share these things one at a time, but all at once. These days, I am feeling things intensely. I am grateful to the Lord for that privilege. Lastly, a word of thanks to all of you for your prayers and to the priests and staff of the parish whose goodness, kindness, and generosity have allowed me the privilege to be a son and a priest to my father. I am very grateful. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes

October 3rd, 2026, marked the 800th anniversary of what is called, “the Transitus” of St. Francis of Assisi. It is the date upon which one of the greatest loved saints passed over from this world to the next at the age of forty-four. Francis, as depicted on the cover of this week’s bulletin, asked that his clothes be removed and that he be placed upon the floor. He wanted to depart from this world with no material possessions whatsoever. A brother then lent him a tunic so that he would not be completely uncovered. The image reminds us that all of us leave this world with no earthly possession. I remember when I was a kid, one of the priests in our parish would often say, “I have celebrated many funeral Masses as a priest. I want you to know that not one single time was the Wells Fargo Wagon following the hearse to the cemetery.” St. Francis’ life and death invites us to examine ourselves and ask, “To what am I unduly attached? To what do I cling to in such a way that it hinders me from giving myself completely to the Lord?” Is it my pride, my success, my resentments, my bitterness, my pleasures, my possessions, my desire to be esteemed or honored, my free time, my money, my bodily health, my appearance? Sometimes when we go to a wake or a funeral, we see images of the person from when they were much younger and healthier. Those images can be both joyful and sobering. They are joyful because they remind us of better and happier days. They are sobering because we are confronted with how the things of this world pass away. St. Francis asked to be placed naked and upon the floor not because he was miserable, but because he knew that all of us ultimately leave this world possessing nothing. He joyfully embraced his poverty because he knew that all of us–no matter how much we possess–are, in fact, poor. He did not store up earthly treasures because he knew that his true treasure is in heaven. Last Sunday as I was looking out my kitchen window, I saw a young couple and their two little ones coming into church in the pouring rain. They didn’t know I saw them, but their simple little witness of faithful Catholic family life really touched me. They were like God calling down from heaven and saying to me, “Be faithful in your own vocation and in your own duties.” When St. Francis lay dying 800 years ago in a place few had ever heard of, he probably could not have imagined that 800 years later, his example would still be inspiring others to follow Christ and that he would be so loved. He was just faithful to what Christ was asking of him. That is true for all of us. We just never know how our obedience to what Christ calls us to will be used by the Lord for the building up of His Kingdom. St. Francis calls all of us to fidelity. If I may add one little plug! There is still time to sign up for the Pilgrimage to the Shrines of Italy this coming April. Among other places, we will go and be with St. Francis and St. Clare in Assisi (and also St. Carlo Acutis). It is such a deeply moving and transformative place. To all of you, who in varied ways live out your faithful witness, I want to say thank you. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes

A few weeks ago, before Mass, a young man in his twenties approached me and asked, “Can I sit anywhere?” The unusual question confused me for a moment, and then he added, “This is my first time here.” After Mass, he explained that he was baptized but was never raised in the Faith. Now, he was searching for a relationship with God. His story is not an isolated one. Last year at the Easter Vigil, we baptized and welcomed into the Church many men and women who were longing for closeness with the Lord. Already this year, we are preparing a whole new group of men and women–so many of them in their late teens, twenties, and thirties–to receive the Sacraments at Easter. It is incredibly exciting to witness the Holy Spirit at work in the life of our parish community. One of the great things I have come to appreciate about St. Patrick Parish is that the people here actually want new people! Sometimes parishes settle into a “We always did it this way” mentality that wants only to keep the status quo and is never looking to grow and welcome others. I see a true missionary spirit in the people here. There are so many opportunities in this parish for parishioners to deepen their Faith, but also for those who are perhaps on the peripheries of Faith to test the waters. The people here have a genuine desire to help others to experience the joy that only comes from closeness to the Lord. It brings me such great joy to see not only all of the things that are happening in this parish, but also to see how many people are responding to them. We are really blessed as a parish. If you look at the weekly parish bulletin, you will see that we have abundant opportunities to encounter the Lord and to be part of a true faith community. As a parish priest, it is really a source of deep joy to see the Lord at work and to be surprised by what He is doing. It is also my responsibility, along with the Parish Finance Council, to oversee the financial health of the parish. We are a big parish. Our buildings and grounds are in constant need of repairs, improvements, and replacements. In addition to the urgent need to replace most of our HVAC units, we still need to address ongoing issues with the frames of our stained-glass windows and do extensive work on the steeple and facade of the church’s old main entrance. Together, these projects will likely cost well over $1,000,000. All of this must be done while we continue our regular parish operations, including salaries and benefits, regular maintenance, utilities, and all our ministries. Without the added expenses of those major ticket items, our operating budget is around $ 1.5 million. We can do a lot as a parish because our parishioners are not consumers or spectators. You don’t sit back and expect others to provide for the parish's needs. You are generous with both your financial support and your time. People who are searching for a new relationship or a deeper relationship with the Lord are able to come here and be spiritually fed because of your generosity. While the parish facilities will always require our attention, I hope our focus will increasingly shift toward providing an even more robust missionary outreach to those who are not here. Jesus wants us to preach the Gospel to everyone. That is our mission. A major portion of our income arises from the Grand Annual Collection. I ask that all of you please make a generous commitment to this collection. It would be great if every registered family, if they can afford it, could donate $500 toward the Grand Annual Collection. If you can give more, all the better. If you cannot afford that much, any gift is needed and is absolutely appreciated. I have already made my contribution, so I am not asking you to do anything that I have not done myself! The Lord is doing something beautiful in this parish. Let us all do our part! Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes

Many years ago while living in San Diego for a happy summer of Navy Reserve duty, I attended several boot camp graduations of Sailors and Marines. Those ceremonies were filled with fanfare, exactness, and solemnity. What struck me about them in a particular way is that each week, they were exactly the same. They didn’t ask the recruits to come up with their own ceremonies. Instead, the recruits were inserted into a long, unbroken tradition experienced by every other Sailor and Marine. The greatness of the event, in a sense, was that they were being inserted into something greater than themselves. The ceremony was not the self-expression of numerous individuals. Even if you were on the sidelines watching, you nonetheless sensed that you were part of something bigger. One of the beautiful things about a Catholic Funeral Mass is that basically everybody gets the same funeral. Whether you are the pope or a pauper matters not. In that moment, you are a son or daughter of the Church and the Church is entrusting you to the mercy of God. Each of us needs the mercy of God. I think in recent years an unfortunate shift has happened to funerals. I’m not exactly sure what to call it, but for lack of a better term, it has become “individualized.” Now, of course, we are mourning and grieving over the death of a particular individual and the people who are mourning are a particular and individual family. In this way, there is something deeply personal that cannot (and should not) be dismissed. But my mind goes back to those boot camp graduations. The greatness of the moment was that the individual was now part of something greater than himself. Each graduate wore the same uniform, marched in the same direction, and performed the same rituals as all of those who preceded them and those who would follow them. The Funeral Mass is not about canonizing the deceased and declaring that they are now in Heaven. (That’s the pope’s job, not ours!) We are certainly there to thank the Lord for the life of this individual, to thank God for all the good that He worked in that individual, and to build up our Christian Hope. What exactly gives us hope in eternal life? It is that this person was inserted into something bigger than himself or herself. Their hope (and ours) is that when they were baptized, they were baptized into the death and resurrection of Christ. It is because Christ died and rose from the dead that we have any hope of eternal life. None of us can give ourselves eternal life. We depend entirely upon Christ. At the Funeral Mass, we are there primarily to pray for the one who has died. We pray–as members of Christ’s Body–that the Lord will show his mercy on the one who has died. When we lose sight of this, we are reduced to empty platitudes. Our prayers at a Funeral Mass actually do something. They assist the one who has died and, by the power of the Mass, they purify that person so as to help them on their way to the beatific vision. I mention all of this because I am struck by how secularized funerals have become. Sadly, many Catholics forgo Funeral Masses now. When faith in the absolute necessity of Christ’s Death and Resurrection dwindles, so too does faith in the power of the Mass. And of course, if a funeral is merely a “celebration of life,” why not have it at the funeral home, the reserved room at a restaurant, or the beach? What makes the Catholic Funeral so magnificent is that it is transcendent. It lifts us up beyond mere sentimentality and inserts us (and the one who has died) into the saving event of Christ’s Passion and Resurrection. On my list of things to do is to find a way to help us as a parish to plan Funeral Masses better. At present, we basically have people fill out a sheet where twenty songs are presented and they pick four or five and check off the readings they want. It’s not a good process. I think there is a better way and I hope to work toward finding it and shaping the process. On a related note, I am beyond happy that during the past couple of years there have been so many adults entering the Church through our parish. Both last year and again this year, we have had great-sized groups seeking to become Catholic, receive Baptism, Confirmation, and First Eucharist. I keep praying to the Lord asking for more! How are these related? It is through the Sacraments that we are inserted into the new life that ONLY Christ can give. When we die, the Church doesn’t tell God in its prayers for the deceased, “Hey Lord, Charlie was such a great guy.” Instead, the Church basically says, “Father, look upon your son (daughter) who because of baptism was united to your Only-Begotten Son and became a member of His body. Grant that this person, by virtue of his (her) union with Christ, may have his (her) sins cleansed, may enter into Heaven, and may share one day in the resurrection.” I guess a good thing for all of us to think about, not only when it comes time to plan a funeral, but also all the time, is the absolute centrality of the Death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ. It is our participation in that event that makes us Christians. It–and it alone–is what saves us and is our only hope. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes