What Erodes Our Humanity
Fr. David Barnes • June 25, 2025
Dear Friends in Christ,
Some years ago in a previous parish, I moved a crucifix that had hung for a century on a piece of beautiful fabric in the church sacristy. When I took down the crucifix, I was surprised to see the real color of the fabric. Decades of sunlight, heat, and incense had caused the surrounding fabric to fade, but behind the crucifix, the real rich color had been preserved.
Sometimes when we go about our life we do not realize just how significantly we are affected by the culture around us. Like the fabric in that sacristy, the change is not always immediately perceptible. It is gradual.
We live at a time when the culture around us has changed dramatically. Things that would have been universally condemned sixty (or even ten) years ago, are now widely accepted. Things that would have been universally acknowledged as good sixty (or even ten) years ago, might now be looked upon with suspicion or derision. (I should add that there are many wonderful things about the present culture that we should rejoice in, but today I am focused upon those things that erode our own humanity.)
The disintegration of the family, the ubiquity of pornography, the presumption of cohabitation before marriage, the acceptance and promotion of abortion, and a host of other factors have left their mark on our culture. Similarly, the culture of, what I might call, harshness has become the new normal. Social media often makes people forget the humanity of others. People are told that they should be perpetually angry about everything. It affects the way that people communicate with one another. This harshness dehumanizes the person on the other end of the phone or on the receiving end of an email.
In the midst of all of this, the Church remains steadfast in its defense of the human person. In our present moment, governments are opting to allow the killing of the sick. The Church stands in absolute opposition to this because Jesus tells us to visit and care for the sick, not eliminate them. It is a grotesque distortion to call the killing of the sick a form of mercy.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church reminds us that:
“Scripture specifies the prohibition contained in the fifth commandment: ‘Do not slay the innocent and the righteous.’ The deliberate murder of an innocent person is gravely contrary to the dignity of the human being, to the golden rule, and to the holiness of the Creator. The law forbidding it is universally valid: it obliges each and everyone, always and everywhere.”
In a culture where it is becoming increasingly acceptable to think that suicide and euthanasia are legitimate options, it is good for us to remember that the Fifth Commandment absolutely prohibits them. Those who suffer from physical ailments, old age, or from mental anguish must never be encouraged to think “it would be better for everyone else if I’m not here.” As Christians, we cherish human life and do not determine for ourselves which lives are worth living.
Another topic I want to mention (and yes, I know it is a political third rail these days) is the issue of the treatment of people present in our country whose legal status is questionable. Every country has a right to establish and enforce laws that regulate immigration. Reasonable people may disagree on what those laws should entail and how they should be enforced. My purpose in writing here is not to impose on anyone else my opinions on how the immigration situation should be resolved in its specifics. Rather, I want simply to mention that in our culture, there can be a tendency to dehumanize immigrants. Many people who entered the country unlawfully did so to escape violence and poverty, and to make a better life for their families. I cannot help but think how terrifying it must be for a man or a woman who is raising a family to wonder if they will be suddenly arrested one day.
In a culture that tends to demonize people and dehumanize them, Christians are called to love them and to promote their human dignity. When we are at Mass, none of us looks around and thinks, “I will love that family over there once I know their immigration status.” In the same way that none of us looks around and thinks, “I will love that family over there once I know if they’ve been completely honest each time they’ve filed their taxes.” We love them because they are made in the image and likeness of God and are our brothers and sisters in Christ.
A Christian culture–when it saw human suffering–built orphanages, hospitals, adoption agencies, soup kitchens, mutual aid societies, St. Vincent dePaul Societies, homeless shelters and so on. In a culture where Christianity is fading, so is the dignity afforded to human life. We live at a moment when the unborn, the poor, the infirm, the immigrant etc. are often viewed as problems to be eradicated rather than human beings to be loved and protected.
What can we do? We can live in the midst of our culture as disciples of Jesus Christ. We can place ourselves firmly in the shadow of His Cross. We can live as a sign of contradiction. In the midst of a culture that increasingly devalues human life and dignity, we can be true disciples of the Lord who radiate His love to all, especially to the vulnerable and the suffering.
Decades of intense light, dirt, and heat eroded the brilliance of that piece of fabric, but behind the image of the Crucified Christ, its glory was preserved. At the moment, cultural forces can cause the brilliant dignity of human life to become less apparent. Without Christ, the world tends to become gray, cold, and harsh. It is only in Christ that the full dignity and beauty of life is truly discovered. The more we live in Christ and follow Him, the more we become in a faded world a sign of contradiction and a witness to hope.
Your Brother in Christ,
Fr. David Barnes
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Pastor's Notes
Hopefully you’ve all heard my news by now, but in case not, I’ll be concluding my ministry at St. Patrick’s on October 5. Archbishop Henning has appointed me pastor of St. André Bassette Parish, which encompasses the two churches of Amesbury and Salisbury. While I knew that my time at St. Patrick’s would not be long, I was neither expecting nor seeking a transfer at this specific time. Therefore, I am naturally sad to be leaving this community which I grew to love so quickly. At the same time, I am excited for this new opportunity, as St. André Parish seems like just the right place for me to be a first-time pastor. I’ll be present following all the Masses on October 4-5 to give my final goodbyes. If you’re able to join me, I will celebrate the noon Mass on October 5 and there will be a gathering in the hall afterward. I will offer further reflections on my time here in my bulletin letter that weekend. Over the past few weeks, we’ve found ourselves mourning the loss of innocent life amid several acts of violence, and trying to grapple with the meaning of it all. I wouldn’t dare try to offer a complete diagnosis of the problem or presume to have a simple solution. Plenty could be debated about mental health issues, social media, the glorification of violence, the accessibility of weapons, and the role of ideology in capturing young minds. But as a priest, my role is not to propose specific policies or tell you how to vote. Rather, it is to identify the invisible, spiritual wounds that lie beneath the surface – both within the perpetrators of violence and in the wider culture – to propose a path of healing and redemption found only in Christ, and to discern what Christ is asking of us as members of His Body. One theme that sticks out to me is the isolation experienced in the perpetrators. Isolation is one of the great obstacles of healing and is the antithesis of communion. Isolation exacerbates the shame we all experience from sin, elicits feelings of discouragement and despair, kindles resentment and anger, and leads to further sin. And we live in a culture that tends toward isolation. One could argue that this began with suburbanization in the 1950s; many of us are no longer forced to interact with our neighbors on a daily basis, let alone rely on them for our safety and well-being. But that’s a far cry from the isolation many young people today experience through the world of social media, through a secular culture that tells them they need to construct our own personal identity without reference to past traditions and institutions, and a culture that sees ideological opponents as personal enemies. But as the late Pope Benedict XVI continually reminded us in his writings, we as Christians and as human persons are called to communion. Communion is the sharing of our very selves – our personal and spiritual goods – with one another and with God. It is the fruit of divine charity. Heaven, according to Benedict, “is a stranger to isolation.” And so, if heaven is our destiny, and if heaven is foreshadowed in our participation in the Mass and reception of the sacraments, then communion must be something we strive to cultivate in our daily human experiences. And so, I see these recent tragedies as an urgent reminder of our call to communion. It begins and ends in Christ, and in-between lies all our daily, often complicated, human interactions. I challenge everyone to reflect on these questions. Am I a source of communion to others? What do I hide from God and others that is in need of healing? Do I seek authentic human connection and friendship with all those around me? Do I present the Good News of salvation and redemption to my neighbors? Do I contribute toward making St. Patrick Parish a place of communion, a true home where anyone can discover his/her deepest identity in Christ? As I wrap up my time at St. Patrick’s, this call to communion has been a guiding light for my ministry. Fr. Barnes has said this before, and I will reiterate, that one of our great joys as parish priests is bringing people together and fostering new friendships. Because the full “joy of the Gospel” (as Pope Francis wrote) is only experienced alongside others. Sin and shame isolate us and distort our identities; grace and holy friendship draw us out of ourselves and toward becoming the saints God is calling us to be. Yours in Christ, Fr. Patrick
This week I’d like to use this column in the bulletin to address an important aspect of our life together. For most, these reminders will seem unnecessary, but experience shows that regular reminders about these matters are indeed necessary. I know mistakes about these matters are not usually the result of ill-will or obstinate refusal, but simply because no one has ever taken the time to teach about them. I offer these reflections not to scold anyone or to make anyone feel badly, but rather to help us all to give proper reverence to the Most Blessed Sacrament. Like I said, many of these things will sound obvious to most, but experience shows that it is necessary to raise these issues. Who can receive the Eucharist? You must be Catholic to receive the Eucharist. Holy Communion not only builds communion in the life of the Church, but it also presumes communion. You must examine your conscience and confess all serious sin and receive absolution before receiving the Eucharist. You must fast for one hour before receiving the Eucharist. When you receive the Eucharist at Mass, do not snatch it from the priest, deacon, or extraordinary minister of Holy Communion. If you receive on the tongue, this is not an issue. If you receive in the hand, allow the minister to place the host on the palm of your hand. Please hold your hand in such a way that the Host will not slide off of it. It must be flat. Then, you take the hand underneath and place the host in your mouth. Do not grab it from the minister or fumble with it. Do not break the Host, walk away with the Host, bless yourself with the Host, or do anything with the Host other than consume it. Please, if you receive in the hand, step to the side and immediately consume the Host so that the minister sees you consume it. (Many times at funerals and weddings, we see people take the Host away and not consume it. It puts the priest or minister in an awkward position because we have to go and ask the person to either consume it or we have to take the Host back. It is embarrassing not only for the person, but also for the priest. None of us enjoys doing that. The same thing holds true at Sunday Mass, so please consume the Host in the sight of the priest or minister.) No one is permitted to break the Host in order to bring a piece of it to someone back in the pew or at home. Children who have not received First Holy Communion cannot receive the Host and no one should break a piece of the Sacred Host and give it to them. No one is permitted to take the Host that has been received in order to bring it to someone else. These things are absolutely forbidden. If you have not been instituted as an Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion at St. Patrick Parish, please do not approach the priest, deacon, or Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion at Mass with a pyx asking for Hosts. As guardians of the Blessed Sacrament, we need to have certitude that all proper care is being taken with the Eucharist. Those who have been instituted to administer the Eucharist to the homebound must be properly trained and follow the proper ritual. If you desire to be instituted as an Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion, then you should contact the parish office. Those who are instituted to administer the Eucharist to the homebound must go immediately from Mass to the person receiving the Eucharist. You cannot carry the Host with you while you run errands etc. The Eucharist is never to be kept overnight in someone’s home. It is to be brought to the sick and consumed by them immediately. No one may reserve the Eucharist in their own home. I know that sometimes “tone” does not always come across accurately in a letter, so let me assure you that the tone which I intend when I write this is one of trying to be helpful (but clear). It is not my intention to sound like I am scolding anyone. We do, however, want to make sure that the Most August Sacrament of the Altar is treated with the absolute reverence and honor to which it is due. Sometimes laxity and bad habits slip in. Some folks may never have even learned this to begin with, so this is all meant to be helpful. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes
I spent five days last week on my annual retreat. Five glorious days of complete silence. Phone off, email off, no TV, radio, or another human voice. I know for some people, that sounds like a kind of punishment, but it was so great. I admit that I don’t think I’d want to do that kind of retreat in the winter when I couldn’t sit outside for hours, but this time of year, it was perfect. I stayed in this little wooden hermitage–a cabin–on the property of a monastery of nuns. It had a little porch on it (I love porches), a bed, a desk, a nook to eat meals, and an oratory for prayer. It was in that little oratory–made of all wood with a small altar and three icons on the wall–that I had Mass each morning. The rest of the day was spent walking, praying, and reading. Almost every time I go on retreat, I expect some life-changing revelation, but that rarely happens. Instead, almost every time I go on retreat, I am simply reminded of the basics of living a Christian life and the life of a priest. It is a little humbling actually. Retreats, more often than not, are for me, a reminder that I should pray, read, love God, love my neighbor, be humble, trust in Divine Providence, embrace the Cross, abhor sin, and hope in the Lord. Basic stuff, but I seem to require a yearly reminding of it. Each day during the retreat, I read several chapters of a spiritual book about those (and other) topics. Almost every chapter, I would think, “Well, this is kind of basic stuff.” Then I’d think, “So, if it is so basic, you probably should be a lot more advanced in it than you are!” I also finished a wonderful novel. It was one of those books that I didn’t want to end. Written by Singred Undset, the book is entitled, “Olav Audunsson.” It is filled with such deep humanity. There were times in the novel when I would have to put the book down because the author’s capacity for describing the interior life of the characters–their pain, their love, their hatred, their fears, their desire for redemption–was so vivid that I couldn’t bear the reality! I think that the novel is so brilliant because, as you read it, you recognize yourself in its pages. Speaking of recognizing ourselves . . . . This week Pope Leo XIV canonized two new saints, Pier Giorgio Frassati and Carlo Acutis. St. Carlo is the first millennial saint added to the Church’s canon of saints. Both were young men who lived extraordinary lives of holiness and virtue. They are pictured on the front of the bulletin this week. The saints help us not only by praying for us, but they assist us by their example. They remind us that people just like us can become saints. They remind us that ordinary people can become extraordinary saints. Every assignment I’ve ever had as a priest has either been a school or had a parish school attached, so while January is the beginning of the Calendar Year, and Advent is the beginning of the Liturgical Year, it’s really September when everything seems actually to begin. So, these days everything is beginning. As we begin another year together, let’s remember to take some time each day to read, to pray, and to reflect. Taking a little time each day to do these things can help us all to live the other hours of the day with greater meaning. Setting aside time every day for a little bit of prayer, a little bit of reading, and a little bit of reflecting can help to remind us of those basic things that we tend to forget. Those little moments each day can remind us that there is a God who loves us, who desires for us to be close to Him, who wants to save us, who can save us, who wants to forgive us, heal us, and give us graces to help us to love Him, to love others, to overcome sin, and to become more like His Son. A little bit of solitude each day can save us from forgetting what is most important, the basics. And remembering and living these basics is how ordinary men and women become extraordinary saints. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes
As I mentioned last week, from August 27th-September 1st I will be making my annual retreat at a monastery in New York. You can be certain that I am praying for you and for your intentions during these days. As these days also coincide with the second anniversary of Fr. Mario’s death, I will also pray for him, his mother, family, and in thanksgiving for all the good the Lord accomplished through Fr. Mario’s priestly ministry. Let him rest from his labors, for his good deeds go with him. As you heard last week, Fr. Patrick has been appointed Pastor of St. André Bessette Parish in Amesbury and Salisbury. We know that their parish is blessed by this appointment. We, of course, will greatly miss Fr. Patrick’s ministry and presence. He has been an incredibly hard-working, organized, and charitable presence in our parish during these past sixteen months. He was always present at St. Patrick School and was dedicated to building up various communities within the parish (Men’s Group, Young Adults, Youth Ministry, Confirmation Program), and he provided formation to various leaders for those groups. As dedicated as he has been to priestly ministry in the parish, he has also been a wonderful presence in the rectory. I was grateful to have his presence in the rectory chapel each morning during prayer time and at the rectory dinner table most evenings for dinner. I will miss his fraternity. (I will also miss all the beautiful vestments he brought with him when he came to the parish!) Fr. Patrick’s last weekend here will be on October 5. After the Noon Mass on that day, we will have a reception and an opportunity to bid farewell. Please consider yourself invited. At this point, I do not have any certainty whether we will receive another priest. Many of the great things we were able to do during the past year (added Masses in Lent, extended confession availability, Men’s Group, Young Adults Group, Youth Ministry etc.) were, in part, thanks to Fr. Patrick’s particular gifts, but also simply because we had one more priest to be available. Let’s pray that the Lord’s will be done. Priest availability is one issue, but even if a priest is available, a parish must also be in the financial position to cover the cost of having that priest. As I’ve mentioned to you already, there is a long list of repairs, improvements, and maintenance issues that confront us. Just three examples: 1. We just signed a contract to repair the front steps of the church at a cost of $117,000. 2. We just replaced one of the HVAC units for a cost of $50,000. 3. The system controls for the heat and air conditioning is being replaced at a cost of $107,000. Everything costs money! While we must keep on top of all of the facilities, I also want to maintain a robust parish life, focused on sacraments, evangelization, formation, and charitable works. All of that requires personnel, volunteers, and yes, money. Could I also gently apply some pressure on you? The parish needs parishioners who are all involved in building up the parish. We are a big place and we need you to step up. For example, one of our adult servers for funerals recently moved away. Could some of you volunteer to serve at funerals? Maybe it can only be once a week or once every two weeks. Maybe you’re only available to do it on a particular day of the week. We just need help. I’m asking you to help. As I always mention to you, I am very grateful for your generosity and for your kindness. All of the good that we are able to do as a parish is because of you. I’ve recently met new families who are coming to our parish. Their presence here is because the Lord is doing something, but the Lord is doing that work through all of you. You are actively engaged in building up this parish and, in doing so, you are providing a place for others to encounter Christ. Give yourselves a big pat on the back. I promise I am praying for all of you during my retreat. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes
A few months ago, Pope Leo XIV walked out onto the loggia of St. Peter’s Basilica as our new Pope. People were shocked because it has long been said that an American would never become pope. Although he is the first American to assume the Petrine Ministry, let’s recall that America is only a couple of hundred years old. In Church time, that is just the blink of an eye. Perhaps more a cause for wonder is another aspect of Leo’s background. In the mid to late Fourth Century, a Catholic woman from Africa named Monica wept and agonized that her son lived a dissolute life and refused to be baptized. She prayed, cried, and offered sacrifices all in the hope of what appeared impossible; namely, the conversion of her son. Eventually, her son was converted and was baptized. He then became one of the greatest bishops and theologians the Catholic Church has ever known. He, of course, is St. Augustine. Augustine’s autobiography, entitled, “The Confessions,” is one of the most read books in history and has helped many others to be converted to Christ. Some 1600 years or so after Augustine lived, a young man entered a religious order named for St. Augustine; the Augustinians. That man, unknown to most of us a few months ago, is Pope Leo XIV. He is, in Church lingo, a son of St. Augustine. This week the Church’s calendar has many great feasts. Among them appear a mother and her son. On August 27th, we celebrate the Feast of St. Monica and on August 28th, we celebrate the Feast of St. Augustine. These dual feasts are a source of hope. Little did the Fourth Century woman named Monica know when she begged for her son’s conversion that, not only would he convert, but that he would become a bishop, a doctor of the Church, and one of the greatest and most well-known Catholics ever. Could she ever have imagined that people all over the world for centuries would read her son’s homilies, books, and conversion story? Could she have imagined that the Pope one day would be a member of an order of priests named after her son? When people we know and love are far away from the Lord, unconverted, immersed in sin, and far from the Eucharist, it breaks our hearts. This week’s feasts remind us that our broken hearts need not be discouraged hearts. St. Monica’s prayers for her son were effective beyond her wildest imaginations. She remained steadfast in her prayers. Augustine, Leo, and all of us owe a lot to the prayers of St. Monica. Are there people in your life whom you love who have given themselves over to serious sin? Are there people in your life who are living as though God does not matter? Are there people in your life whose hearts are hardened, who refuse to go to Mass, who seem completely and hopelessly lost? Take heart! This week we will celebrate St. Augustine who seemed hopelessly lost, but the prayers and sacrifices of his mother won his conversion. Take courage and pray for those in our lives who seem beyond help. And, let us not all forget that each of us needs a greater conversion in our life. Are we ourselves struggling, becoming lackluster in our Faith, lukewarm in our spiritual lives, resigned to be merely mediocre in our Catholic life? This week’s feasts remind us that we can, by God’s grace, become great saints. On the Feast of Sts. Monica and Augustine, I will be on my yearly retreat. (Priests are required to make a retreat each year). I will be in a hermitage on the grounds of a monastery of nuns in the Catskills. During those days, I will pray for all of you. I will pray for all of those seemingly hopeless people in your own lives, that through the intercession of St. Monica and her son, St. Augustine, God might do miraculous things. I also ask you to pray for me, that I experience a deeper conversion to the Lord and that I become, like Augustine, a more faithful and holy shepherd. Lastly, to all of you who agonize for your own children and their conversion, offer your prayers, your sacrifices, and your broken hearts to the Lord, but no discouragement! You have a friend in St. Monica! Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes
This past week, a few priest friends and I spent a few days together in the White Mountains. One of their parishioners let us use their home for a few days. In fact, I’m writing this while sitting on a porch surrounded by mountains. This morning, we all woke up, made brief acknowledgement of one another’s existence, and then spent the next hour or so, quietly praying. In a little while, we will have Mass together. Our silence in each other’s presence does not isolate us from each other. In fact, during the whole time we were silently praying, I felt a greater bond with them. We often fear silence. We are afraid to think too deeply about our life, about our own heart, and about the meaning of our existence. We fill our life with noise. Even when we are not actively listening or watching something, the TV or the radio is droning along in the background. Podcasts, messages, and alerts punctuate our every moment. They fill our life with constant distraction. Much of this, I think, is because we fear hearing what our heart has to say. We also fear hearing what the Lord has to say. Silence, however, trains us how to really listen. It trains us to listen to our own heart and to know ourselves. This is no small matter. The human heart—our heart—is worth listening to. Silence also trains us to listen to the world around us. The scriptures remind us that the whole creation proclaims the greatness of God. Imagine, the whole earth is telling us about God. Do we hear it? Silence allows us to hear the chorus of creation and directs our glance to God. In a short while, my friends and I will offer Mass together, eat together, and go for a walk. I will be able to appreciate and enter into those moments with greater attention and with greater joy because of the silence we have already shared together. Silence prepares us to receive reality more completely. Silence is not an escape from reality. When we have silence in our life, we are drawn closer to what is real. Silence, draws us closer to our own heart, to the creation, to the people around us, and to the Lord. My own heart this morning is filled with much gratitude for the opportunity to spend a few days with friends, for the chance to be surrounded by the beauty of creation, and for the gift of silence. As I write these words before my friends and I offer Mass together, the silence brings to my mind all of you. In silence, I imagine you in your usual seats at Mass. The silence deepens my affection for you and my appreciation for you. It also helps me to pray for you and for your petitions. St. Ambrose says, “The devil loves noise. Christ looks for silence.” If our life is filled with noise and distraction, we become shallow and isolated. If we learn to have some silence in our life, we experience a deepening of our humanity and a deeper communion. Let’s all try to spend time in silence each day. In doing so, our life will become richer and deeper. The Devil loves noise. Christ looks for silence. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes
