When is a Friday not a Friday? →

We had pasties for dinner tonight. For those unfamiliar with this gourmet treat from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, a pasty is a mixture of chopped or ground beef, potatoes, onions, and (in its original form) rutabagas, baked inside a flaky half-moon crust. Pasties have their origin in Cornwall, England, which is why they are sometimes referred to as Cornish pasties, and they came to the U.P. along with Cornish miners during the copper rush of the 1840’s.

The best pasties, though, are made (in my humble opinion) by the descendants of Finnish miners, and the recipe Amy uses is from Lehto’s, a little pasty stand seven miles outside of St. Ignace, just across the Mackinac Bridge on the eastern end of da U.P.

By now you’re probably wondering what my point could possibly be.

This is the feast →

Here in northeastern Indiana, it’s rather gray and windy for Easter Monday, but we won’t let the weather dampen our spirits. Easter isn’t past — it’s present, and we will be celebrating especially during the octave, which ends with Divine Mercy Sunday, but also all the way through Ascension Thursday to Pentecost Sunday, when the 50 days of Easter finally draw to a close.

Yesterday, as on every Easter Sunday, I reread St. John Chrysostom’s Easter homily. When your spirits need a lift during this Easter season, it’s better than another Cadbury Creme Egg. I’ve always found it comforting during those years when my Lenten observance was frustrated (or frustrating), and this year — for many of us, perhaps the most frustrating Lent of our lives — is no exception.

The Prayer of St. Ephrem the Syrian →

Over 25 years ago, when Amy and I were attending Epiphany of Our Lord Byzantine Catholic Church in Annandale, Virginia, I first encountered the Prayer of St. Ephrem the Syrian.

St. Ephrem, a fourth-century deacon, in fact wrote many prayers and hymns, which is why he was declared a Doctor of the Church in 1920. But over the centuries, this single prayer has become so integral to the Lenten observance of Eastern Christians, both Catholic and Orthodox, that it has gained the singular title of the Prayer of St. Ephrem.

We are an Easter people →

Growing up in Michigan, just a mile or so inland from the shore of Lake Michigan, Easter, even when it came early, was always heralded by signs of spring. Here in Huntington, Indiana, on the Monday of Holy Week in April 2020, the crocuses have come and (mostly) gone, the grape hyacinths are up, and the daffodils are in full bloom.

But what I really look forward to seeing are the forsythia.