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Thursday, April 9, 2009

The Last Supper with my Cloistered Brothers

My brothers are such a diverse community. When I think of my parish, I see people like myself. We are alike because we chose to live in that parish and we've assimilated the same cultural, environmental, social and political mores.

Not so with my brothers. Whenever I saw the procession with the South-East Asian Community, the Hispanic Community, the Lay Dominicans, the volunteers, and the Charlestown boys, I was amazed that these gangs were sharing the same space.

I saw a murderer help an elderly lady up the stairs. I shook hands with criminals. I was offered Communion by a drug dealer. I saw a priest wash the feet of 12 men. I heard my favorite songs sung in Spanish. I saw wonders. I witnessed grace ricocheting from metal bars onto an altar.

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