A lynching took place in Maysville, Kentucky in 1889. Over a thousand people traveled to witness the murder of a man condemned without a trial...

I am helping a parishioner pour a concrete driveway. He points to the wooden form at the edge of the dugout pad. “I paid eight bucks for that 8-foot 2x4.” He shakes his head, “Last year, the same size board cost two bucks..."

I envy pilots, bronc riders and quarter-backs. Their jobs require grit and fortitude and they earn the respect they receive. Some professions, by their nature, elicit admiration and high regard. These days, priesthood is not one of them...

A short story by Tim O’Brien, “The Things They Carried,” centers on items that soldiers in Viet Nam stuffed into their pockets while on patrol: Bibles, cigarettes, tooth picks, letters from home. Sometimes, something as simple as a pack of Planters Peanuts helped those grunts remember where they came from and who they were...

I shoveled a path to the church doors this morning with a wind chill of -16. I felt alive...

The morning drive to my mission church is treacherous. The snow-packed road points a narrow path up a steep hill. I chide myself for not cancelling Mass. Nevertheless, my truck crunches ice beneath its wheels like a dog gnawing a bone...

As a priest, celibacy is nothing less than a lifelong Search and Rescue mission. With no family at home, there is nothing to hold me back. So, I give my all...

I gas up my truck on weekends. That’s because I carry a Toot-N-Totum card that awards ten cents off a gallon on Sundays, which is twice the weekday discount. Filling up on the Lord’s Day also re-enforces the fact that truck stops are holy places, at least according to St. Catherine of Siena...