The Mercy of the Wounded Word: Touching Christ through the Saints~The Rev Frank Bellino,OPI

On this Second Sunday of Easter, the Octave Day of the Resurrection, we stand in a sanctuary illuminated by a singular, breathtaking reality: the victory of Divine Mercy. Today, our celebration carries a unique weight and beauty as we have just blessed the new images of four giants of our faith—Mary Magdalene, Dominic, Catherine, and Rose. These are not merely artistic additions to our walls; they are windows into the very Heart of Christ that we see in the Divine Mercy image itself. To look upon these saints is to see the diverse ways the Mercy of God breaks through the locked doors of the human heart, transforming fear into fortitude and doubt into a “Preaching of Truth.”

In the Gospel today, we find the Apostles huddled in fear behind barred doors. They were men paralyzed by their own failures, by the memory of their desertion in the Garden, and by the terrifying silence of the tomb. Yet, the Risen Christ does not enter that room with a word of condemnation; He enters with the word of Peace ($Shalom$). He shows them His wounds—the indelible marks of His suffering that have now become the fountains of His Mercy. This is the first movement of our Dominican charism: to recognize that Mercy is the only force capable of walking through the walls we build around ourselves. We see this most clearly in St. Mary Magdalene, the first of our new images. She was the one who stood weeping at the tomb, the one from whom seven demons had been cast out, and yet she was the first to hear her name spoken by the Risen Lord. Her life proves that no past is too dark for the light of Easter morning. As a laywoman, she became the “Apostle to the Apostles,” reminding us that the mission of Mercy begins the moment we allow Christ to call us by name.

As we move from the garden of the Resurrection to the mission of the Church, we look to St. Dominic, our holy Father and the clerical heart of our Order. Dominic’s mercy was a “Mercy of the Word.” He looked upon a world wounded by error and confusion, and his heart was moved to pity. He knew that to love someone is to give them the Truth. Like the Apostles in the Upper Room who received the Holy Spirit to forgive sins, Dominic sought to “forgive” the debt of ignorance by preaching the Light of Christ. He reminds us that mercy is not a vague sentiment; it is a rigorous, intellectual, and spiritual commitment to the salvation of souls. In this Parish of St. Michael’s, we follow his lead by being vigilant in our study and joyful in our proclamation, ensuring that the “Bread of the Word” is broken for all who hunger.

But the fire of Dominic’s preaching found its most vibrant expression in the lives of the laity, exemplified by St. Catherine of Siena and St. Rose of Lima. These two women, as Dominican Tertiaries, took the Mercy of the Upper Room into the streets and the hospitals. Catherine stood before popes and kings, a laywoman with the “fire of love” in her soul, demanding that the Church return to its wounded Spouse. Rose, the first flower of the Americas, found Christ in the wounds of the poor and the marginalized, turning her life into a perpetual sacrifice of praise. They show us that Mercy is tangible—it has hands that heal and a voice that speaks for the voiceless. They represent the “Order of Penance,” a life where the red and white rays of Divine Mercy flow through the ordinary actions of a lay life lived in extraordinary union with God.

Therefore, as we gaze upon the Divine Mercy image today—with the pale ray of Water and the red ray of Blood—let us see the lives of these four saints reflected there. The Water of Truth that Dominic preached; the Blood of Sacrifice that Catherine and Rose offered; and the Joy of the Resurrection that Mary Magdalene announced. Like St. Thomas, we are invited today to touch the wounds of Christ—not just in the bread and wine upon this altar, but in the wounds of our neighbors here in San Antonio. We are sent forth from this Mass not merely as observers of Mercy, but as its conduits. “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” Let us go forth, then, with the courage of Magdalene and the zeal of Dominic, to be the living images of Divine Mercy in a world that so desperately needs to hear: “My Lord and my God!”

In Vigilance and Joy.

Easter Sunday: The Audacity of Love and the Mandate of the Empty Tomb~The Rev Frank Bellino,OPI

Brothers and Sisters, today we do not gaze upon a sanitized or plastic version of the Resurrection. To truly grasp the blinding light of this morning, we must first acknowledge the absolute, “no-shit” brutality of Friday. Our faith is not built on a comfortable fairy tale; it is forged in the grit of a reality where hammers met nails and the air was thick with the scent of blood, sweat, and Calvary’s dust. Divine love did not offer platitudes from a safe distance; it got its hands dirty. It took the hit. Christ did not endure the cross for an abstract concept of “humanity”—He went there for you, specifically, with all your scars, your quiet regrets, and the shames you hope no one ever sees. That is the devastating weight of the love that fueled the Passion, a love that refuses to leave us where it found us.

But here is where the narrative shifts from an earthly tragedy to a cosmic revolution. Sunday morning was not merely a “comeback” or a symbolic gesture; it was the ultimate, divine “mic drop” on the power of death itself. When Christ walked out of that tomb, He didn’t just leave behind linen cloths; He left behind the authority of sin to define your identity. This is the essence of our redemption: your past is no longer a life sentence. The Resurrection proves that the darkest Friday of your life cannot hold a candle to the Sunday morning light of God’s grace. As a people of the Resurrection, we stand on the conviction that nothing—not even the grave—is final when the Creator of Life is involved. The stone was not moved to let Jesus out, but to let us in to see that the debt is paid.

Now, as your Priest, I must strike the hammer down on what this means for us today. What are we actually doing with this miracle? If you walk out of this Mass, enjoy a ham dinner, and return to the same person you were yesterday, you have bypassed the power of the empty tomb. The Dominican charism—to Praise, to Bless, and to Preach—demands that our very lives become the sermon. We must stop playing small. If death is defeated, why do we live in fear? We are called to be the hands and feet of a radical, inconvenient love that seeks out the marginalized and offers mercy to the underserving. Christ did not just “feel” love for us; He acted it out.

Our mandate is not simply to “be good” or to follow a set of rules; our mandate is to be transformed. We are called to be the people who bring an infectious hope into rooms where there is none, refusing to give up on others because Christ refused to give up on us. As we celebrate this Eucharist, let the reality of the Risen Lord burn away your complacency. Do not just look at the empty tomb—become a living witness to it. The stone is rolled away, death has been exposed as a liar, and Love has won the day. Now, let us get to work and live like we actually believe it.

Happy Easter. Alleluia, He is Risen!

Holy Saturday~The Rev Frank Bellino,OPI


Sandwiched between the stark drama of Good Friday and the radiant glory of the Easter Vigil, Holy Saturday is often in danger of being skipped over. For many of us, it is a day of practicalities—perhaps a typical Saturday, or one hectic with preparations for the Vigil. It can feel like a brief gap where we return to “normality” in the heart of the Triduum.

​But as Dominicans, we know that silence is never empty. Holy Saturday is not a gap; it is a profound state of being.

​In our Charism, we are called Laudare, Benedicere, Praedicare (To Praise, To Bless, To Preach). Yet, on this day, the Preacher is silent. The Word that was in the beginning is now silent in the tomb. I love Holy Saturday because it allows us to identify with a specific part of the human condition often overlooked in our haste for the “Alleluia.” It is the part of being human that is about quietly suffering—when you are all cried out, when the energy for resisting or complaining is exhausted, and the pain simply becomes part of the quiet, everyday life.

​Every one of us has experienced something that felt un-liveable—where trauma was so acute you survived on pure adrenaline. Then, you went home, closed the door, and the world went quiet. You had to face the grief. The “event” was over, but the internal suffering was only just beginning.

​I imagine this is exactly how the disciples and Mary felt the day after the Crucifixion. Numb, reeling, the pain rising like a bruise. Holy Saturday invites us to descend into the depths of our own humanity, just as Christ descended into the depths of the earth.

​It is vital to our faith to acknowledge the starkness of this day: God was dead. Christ did not merely faint or fall into a coma. To believe that would be to negate the power of the Resurrection. He was truly dead. In our Dominican study (Studium), we contemplate this “harrowing of hell”—the moment where the Light enters the absolute darkness.

​We all face “Holy Saturdays” in our lives—some born from dramatic tragedy, others from the slow-burning ache of daily existence. These are times when there seems to be no resolution, when we wonder if the “point” of our suffering will ever be revealed.

​Our Lady, the Seat of Wisdom, is our key to navigating these shadows. She trusted God so implicitly that while she did not understand why her Son had to die, she knew He was held in the Father’s hands. This trust didn’t numb her agony; it gave her the strength to lock eyes with Him on the way to Calvary, to stand at the foot of the Cross, and to cradle His broken body. She accepted what she could not fully comprehend.

​So, on this Holy Saturday, I invite you to wait with Our Lady. As Dominicans, we sit in the silence not as those who are lost, but as those who are observant. She knew the story could not end on Friday. She knew that Holy Saturday, though heavy, would not last forever. After the tomb comes the Resurrection.

​Let us not be too hasty to skip to the glory of tomorrow’s celebration; that joy will have its time. Instead, find a moment of stillness today. Accompany Our Lady in her quiet vigil. In doing so, you will find that she is already accompanying you in the Holy Saturdays of your own life.

Love Poured Out: Good Friday~The Very Rev Lady Sherwood,OPI

The world often feels heavy, fractured by our own shortcomings and the weight of collective suffering. Today, we pause to look at the cross—a stark, uncomfortable symbol of ultimate sacrifice. It stands as a reminder that love, in its purest form, is not merely a sentiment but an action that gives everything, even when met with hostility.

​As we sit in the quiet tension of this day, we are forced to confront the darkness within ourselves and the systems we build. The cross exposes our human tendency to choose power over vulnerability and convenience over compassion. Yet, in that same space, it offers a profound, unyielding hope that darkness never gets the final word.

​Let this be a time of deep reflection and active remembrance. Moving forward, let the gravity of this day transform how we interact with the world, pushing us to live with greater empathy and to stand with the broken.

​A Prayer for Good Friday:

​Merciful Creator, we stand before the cross today humbled by the depth of Your sacrificial love. In a world marked by pain and division, remind us of the ultimate price paid for our peace. Forgive our moments of apathy, our failures to love, and the ways we contribute to the brokenness around us.

​As we remember the darkness that fell over the earth, comfort those who are currently walking through their own seasons of suffering, grief, and despair. May the reality of this day anchor our souls, teaching us to lay down our pride and take up the call of grace. Transform our hearts so that we may become instruments of Your healing and reconciliation in a weary world.

​Amen.

He Washed Feet~The Rt Rev Michael Beckett,OPI

Y’all…..Ever fallen down a rabbit hole on the Internet?  For whatever reason t’other day, I did just that.  The question was asked on Reddit, “What would you do today if you knew you’d die tomorrow?”  The answers were as many and varied as the folks who answered that question.  Some of them were pretty tragic, some of them hysterical, and some were just odd.  But funny thing though, as we are in the midst of Holy Week, Jesus Himself answered that question, without submitting an answer to Reddit.  See, today is Maundy Thursday, the day before Good Friday.  Jesus knew that he would be crucified the next day, and reckon wonder what did he do?

He washed feet.

In the gospel we read that Jesus had gone to Jerusalem for Passover and gathered his twelve disciples at the dinner table.  He knew that by the end of the night one of them would betray Him to the authorities, one of them would deny Him three times, and all of them would leave him alone in his hour of greatest pain.  And yet there He was breaking the bread and pouring the cup, eating with them, and blessing them.  And he washed their feet.

Ya see, way back in Biblical times, especially in dusty, and hot regions like the Middle East, walking in sandals made foot washing necessary.  This was done as a courtesy shown to guests upon arrival to wash away dirt and refresh them.  It was what the proper host offered right off the bat when someone came to their house.  It was the proper thing to do.  Now, of course the host didn’t do the actual washing.  Nope.  It wasn’t socially acceptable, ya know.  Washing feet was generally handled by servants, or the lowest ranked person in the household. It was considered such a menial, demeaning job that it was sometimes deemed inappropriate for even a Jewish slave to do it.

But Jesus had some points to make, so he washed feet.

The disciples must have been stunned at this act of humility—that Jesus, their Lord and Master, should wash the feet of His disciples. Washing feet was  probably more properly their work, but no one had volunteered for the job, so Jesus kinda taught them a lesson.  We often forget that Jesus came to earth not as King and Conqueror but as the suffering Servant of Isaiah 53. As He revealed in Matthew 20:28, He came “not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” The humility expressed by Jesus’ s act with a towel and basin foreshadowed His ultimate act of humility and love on the cross.

See, He knew that He was not about to be thanked or praised, but killed, and mocked, and tortured. Why? Because in the end, the goodness, the kindness, and the compassion He had brought were more of a threat to the Roman authorities and clergy of his day than any weapon or army.  (Sound familiar?) Jesus so radically upset the status quo that they decided to get rid of him so that things might return to the way they had been before Him, when there were no “radicals,” no “troublemakers,” no “problem children,” and most certainly none of that “woke nonsense.”

Jesus wanted the ones who knew who He was, what He had done, those  who would be his witnesses to His life and teachings after He was gone, to know how to tell others to keep moving forward after He was  gone.

He washed feet.

He gave a demonstration and a commandment.  And this is where the word “Maundy” comes from.   A little research reveals that the word Maundy comes from the Latin for mandatum, or “mandate” in our current English.  Jesus said, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Now, here we are a couple thousand years later, still Jesus’s disciples, and still under the mandate that he issued. His commandment, His mandate; Love one another as I have loved you. This is the only way we can separate ourselves from the modern day Romans. We must continue to be Jesus’s disciples, continue to practice what he preached, and to love each other even when anger might be expected of us. 

This is a message all Christians need to be reminded of, over and over again. 

Now, this doesn’t mean that we just randomly wash folks’ feet.  In today’s society, that would be considered odd at best.  However, we  do need to let others know that this is how Christ said other people would know us: by how we love one another. Following Christ’s teachings and mandate’s makes us Christians. That’s what Christ wants us to be known for.

So how do we wash feet today?  House the homeless.  Feed the hungry.  Comfort the sick.  Love the least, the lost, and the forgotten.  Work for peace.  Work for truth.  Love the unlovable.  Stand up for the downtrodden, the poor, welcome the stranger.

Again, “maundy” means mandate.  Mandate means “this is something you gotta do, period, you ain’t got no choice.”   Love one another.  Regardless of sex.  Regardless of gender.  Regardless of politics.  Regardless of anything else that might separate us.  There is no one on this planet who God doesn’t love.  There is no one on this planet who Jesus didn’t die for.  Period.  Love.  One.  Another.

Loving God, Who continues opens the door, Who meets us at every table, Who breaks bread and drinks wine alongside us, Who came not to have his feet washed, But to wash our feet, How often do we focus on the smallest parts of your teaching?

We hear your directions to us, But we only follow you to the degree that suits us.  You call us to wash one another’s feet, But how far does your instruction go? 

Are we to humble ourselves before our families?  Our friends?  Our pew mates?  Our fellow congregation members?  That seems reasonable.

What about the man who lives on the street?  What about the woman who cleans our house?  What about the person whose political beliefs offend us?  That causes us to hesitate. 

Are we like Peter, Begging to have not only our feet, But our hands and head washed? When we can wash the feet of a stranger,  Will we be willing to follow you then?  Like Peter, will we deny you? 

Teach us to love others as Christ loves us.  Embolden and empower us by your love to live out these mandates of our faith:  To wash the feet of others.  To serve rather than be served.  To give without needing to receive.  Give us grace when we fall short.  Make us ready, In our hearts and our minds, To follow your son, Jesus Christ, In word and action, In love and service.

Help us to see and feel your presence alongside us As we imperfectly seek to follow Jesus in all we do, Give us courage to begin anew when we inevitably stray.

Through Jesus Christ our Lord, who first taught us the way, Amen.
The Rev Savannah Demuynck

The Looming Shadows~The Very Rev Lady Sherwood,OPI

As we move deeper into Holy Week, the atmosphere shifts. On this Holy Wednesday, the Gospels set a sobering scene. Jesus, sitting with His closest friends, reveals a heavy truth: one of them will betray Him, and another will deny Him. The cozy intimacy of the table is pierced by the reality of human weakness and the approaching cross. 

​It is easy to look at Judas or Peter and distance ourselves from their failures. Yet, this day invites us to examine our own hearts. How often do we profess love for Christ only to let convenience or fear dictate our actions? Holy Tuesday asks us to sit in the tension of our own frailty and rely entirely on His grace.

​Let us pause in the quiet of this day to reflect, realign, and pray.

​Lord Jesus, We see the shadow of the cross growing longer today. We recognize the times we have turned away from You in our thoughts, words, and actions. Forgive our betrayals and our silent denials. As we walk through this sacred week, anchor our hearts in Your unwavering love. Give us the courage to stand by You, even when the night grows dark. Amen.

The Humble Triumph~The Very Rev Lady Sherwood,OPI

My dearest Brothers and sisters in Christ,

​As we stand at the threshold of Holy Week in 2026, the image of Jesus entering Jerusalem on a donkey remains a radical subversion of power. While the crowds expected a conqueror draped in the traditional finery of a Roman triumph, they were met with the “Prince of Peace” riding a beast of burden. This deliberate choice reminds us that the Kingdom of God does not operate on the currency of worldly status or military might, but through the transformative power of humility and sacrificial love.

​The palm branches laid on the dusty road were symbols of victory, yet the victory Christ sought was not over a political regime, but over the internal darkness of the human heart. We often find ourselves caught in the same “Hosannas,” cheering for the divine when it aligns with our desires, only to grow silent when the path leads toward the cross. Palm Sunday challenges us to look beyond the momentary excitement and ask if we are prepared to follow the Lord into the quiet, difficult spaces of service and surrender that define the days to follow.

​As we carry our own palms today, let them be more than decorative keepsakes. Let them be signs of a renewed commitment to walk the Way of the Cross with integrity. In a world often obsessed with loud proclamations and fleeting fame, the silent dignity of Christ’s entry calls us to a deeper, more enduring faithfulness. May we have the courage to welcome Him not just as a king of history, but as the living Lord of our present lives.

As we transition from the shouts of “Hosanna” to the quiet of the Garden, let us bring our petitions before the Lord.

​For the Universal Church: That we may follow Christ with courage, laying down our pride as he laid down his life.

​For Global Leaders: That they may seek the peace of the Heavenly Kingdom rather than the power of earthly ones.

​For the Marginalized: That those stripped of dignity may find strength in the One who was stripped for our sake.

​For This Congregation: That this Holy Week may not be a mere memory, but a transformative journey of faith.

​ Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

​Almighty and ever-living God,

We thank You for the witness of Your Son, Jesus Christ, who entered the holy city with humility to fulfill Your will. Grant us the grace to follow His example of patient suffering and selfless love. As we hold these branches, may our hearts be open to His reign, and may our lives reflect the peace He brings. Strengthen us for the journey ahead, that we may remain steadfast at the foot of the cross and rejoice in the glory of the resurrection.

Amen.

Truth in the Tomb~The Rev Frank Bellino,OPI

How many times have we heard the story of Lazarus? For many of us, the number is likely in the hundreds. We know the characters: the grieving sisters, the confused disciples, and the Jesus who weeps before he works. But if we treat this as a 2,000-year-old “magic trick,” we lose the Veritas—the Truth—that this Gospel is trying to breathe into us today. If it is just a miracle from the past, it’s a museum piece. If it’s just a “fortune-telling” of the Resurrection, it’s a trailer for a movie we’ve already seen. Through Dominican eyes, we must ask: What is the Truth of this story for a man or woman living in 2026?

Let’s look at this through a lens we rarely consider: the perspective of Lazarus himself. We often think of this as a “happily ever after” for him but think about that for a moment. Lazarus was on the doorstep of the Kingdom. He had passed through the veil; he was at rest. And yet, he is called back. He is made to “turn around” and re-enter a world of dust, pain, and eventually, a second death.

Why? Because the Truth is that our life is not our own. Lazarus was not raised for his own comfort; he was raised for the Mission. He became a living, breathing sermon—a walking protest against the finality of death. His very existence from that day forward forced everyone who looked at him to confront a reality they weren’t prepared for: that the stones we roll in front of our hearts are not permanent. Sometimes, God calls us back into difficult situations—into “stinky” circumstances—not to punish us, but because our presence there is the only way others will believe that light can penetrate the darkness.

Martha warns Jesus, “Lord, by now there will be a stench.” This is perhaps the most honest line in the New Testament. It acknowledges that some situations have gone on too long to be fixed by human hands. We all have “stinky” parts of our lives—addictions we can’t shake, bitterness we’ve nursed for decades, or a paralyzing fear of the future. The world tells us to leave those things behind the stone. The world tells us that once something starts to decay, it’s over.

But Christ stands at the mouth of our personal tombs and demands that the stone be rolled away. He isn’t afraid of the stench. The Dominican Truth is that God meets us exactly where we are “rotting.” He does not wait for us to get cleaned up before He calls us out. He calls us while we are still bound.

Perhaps the most profound Truth for us as a parish and an Order is what happens after the miracle. Jesus says the words that give life, but then He turns to the community and gives a command: “Untie him and let him go.” Notice that Jesus did not wave a hand and make the burial cloths vanish. He required the community to get their hands dirty. This is the mandate for St. Michael’s Catholic Parish/Unified Old Catholic Church. Christ provides the life-giving grace, but we are the ones called to the “Ministry of Unbinding.”

There are people sitting in these pews, or living in our neighborhoods, who have been “raised”—they have heard the call of God—but they are still walking around in burial cloths. They are bound by the labels the world has put on them, bound by the shame of their past, or bound by a lack of hope. As Dominicans and as followers of Christ, our job is to reach out and help peel back those bandages. We are called to be the hands that untie the knots of despair so that our brothers and sisters can truly walk in freedom.

As we move into Passiontide, we realize that the raising of Lazarus was the final catalyst for the death of Jesus. By giving Lazarus life, Jesus sealed His own earthly end. He traded His life for ours.

Today, let us ask ourselves: What stone are we keeping firmly in place? What “tomb” are we hiding in? The Voice that called Lazarus is calling you today. Not just to “live,” but to join the mission. To be a witness to the Truth that in Christ, nothing is ever truly “over.”

The Feast of St Joseph, Spouse of the Virgin Mary~The Very Rev Lady Sherwood, OPI

My dearest Brothers and sisters in Christ,

Today, we come together as the Church to commemorate St. Joseph, the Spouse of The Blessed Virgin Mary, and the foster Father of our Lord and Saviour,Jesus, when he became one of us here upon the Earth.

In the same way in which God, our Heavenly Father, who gives each of us as his children, unconditional love, care, stability and who sets us the standard with which we should strive to live our lives with his holy word in the scriptures, a true Father to each and every single one of us, who only ever wants the very best for all his children.  St. Joseph follows our Father’s example, as both husband and foster father.  He gives us examples which men should follow in their lives. Joseph cared for and provided for the Holy Household. There are many qualities that Joseph had which we could use to be the role model for Christian husbands and fathers. Joseph was a very compassionate man.  We can see an example of this when he suspected his wife of infidelity; he planned to divorce her quietly rather than denounce her publicly and expose her to public shame and penalty.

Joseph was always obedient to God and did what he knew was God’s will without thought or hesitation.  Examples of this are that he kept Mary as his wife; he protected and provided for his family when they had to flee to foreign lands to protect them from danger.

Joseph led a life of deep prayer and was in communion with God, and would always seek out that which was God’s will. God often told Joseph his will using dreams.

Joseph was a provider of care, When Jesus’s life was threatened, Joseph would take them out of danger. He took his family to Egypt and only returned when it was safe to do so, and when Jesus went missing at aged twelve, Joseph went searching for him because obviously, both parents were obviously extremely worried about Jesus’s safety.

Joseph also brought much more to Jesus’s life, he taught him his trade which Jesus worked in for about twenty years, he gave Jesus the love and stability he as any child needs, and was his earthly male role model, which was and still is vitally important for a good father to give any child.

He was a man with a firm faith in God coupled with a resilient personality, who did not complain and was not appalled nor distressed in the midst of trials and tribulations, St. Joseph knew how to face, carry and solve the burden of his vocation, of life’s difficulties and responsibilities with serenity, with complete faith and love, entrusting himself totally and unconditionally to God’s plans.

Sadly not all children are brought up in such a way today, but husbands and fathers truly should seek to follow this sincere man of God in the way they run their lives. Are you married? Do you give all the love, trust and respect to your spouse? Or with stresses and strains do you always argue or not truly make time for each other? If you have children, do you know where they are and if they are safe, or who they might be talking to online? Do you give emotional stability, patience and unconditional love? Do your children see you as the role model they need in a Father?  We should always strive to be as our heavenly Father is to each of us, whether that be to our spouses, to our children, and in fact to all as our brothers and sisters.

While the Gospels do not shed much light on St. Joseph’s life, it is believed that he died before Jesus’ public ministry.

St. Joseph is the patron of fathers, spouses, priests and seminarians. But also, St. Joseph teaches  us so much by his silent example of his life, and just how we should love God faithfully and obediently.

Let us pray:

Blessed St. Joseph, husband of Mary,

be with us this day.

You protected and cherished the Virgin;

loving the Child Jesus as your Son,

you rescued Him from the danger of death.

Defend the Church,

the household of God,

purchased by the Blood of Christ.

Guardian of the Holy Family,

be with us in our trials.

May your prayers obtain for us

the strength to flee from error

and wrestle with the powers of corruption

so that in life we may grow in holiness

and in death rejoice in the crown of victory.

Amen.