EASTER SUNDAY 2021

El Greco, The Resurrection (c. 1597), oil on canvas, Museo Nacional del Prado (Madrid).

Christians, to the Paschal Victim

offer sacrifice and praise.

The sheep are ransomed by the Lamb;

and Christ, the undefiled,

hath sinners to his Father reconciled.

Death with life contended: combat strangely ended!

Life’s own Champion, slain, yet lives to reign.

Tell us, Mary: say

what thou didst see upon the way.

The tomb the Living did enclose;

I saw Christ’s glory as He rose!

The angels there attesting;

shroud with grave-clothes resting.

Christ, my hope, has risen:

He goes before you into Galilee.

That Christ is truly risen

from the dead we know.

Victorious King, Thy mercy show!

Amen. Alleluia.


With Christ on the way to the New World

In addition to attending the liturgical celebration of Easter, one of the best things we could do on resurrection morning is to listen to the New World Symphony, composed by Antonin Dvorak. The author was born in Bohemia, now part of the Czech Republic, in 1841. He became popular in Germany and then in England in the 1880’s. In 1892 he became the Director of the New York National Conservatory. During this time, he wrote his 9th Symphony which he entitled, From the New World. He wrote from America at a time when thousands and thousands of people from Ireland, Italy, Germany, and Poland were migrating from the homes their ancestors lived in for centuries to find a new life and a new world. There was the sea, the language, the search for a place to live, a job in a hostile job market. They were accustomed to receiving respect in their home towns and villages. They were belittled and insulted by many in America.  Still, they endured all. Why? Well, because they wanted a better life for their children and grandchildren. They wanted their children to be able to break out of the silent caste system of Europe. So, they sacrificed their own positions of respect in their community, their own homes, their own countries, their futures, all for the sake of a new world for their children. Jesus the Christ longed for a New World for God’s children. He longed for a world where they would no longer be confined in a mortal prison by hatred, by paganism, by materialism. He grieved over people who were like sheep without a shepherd.  Their lives were pointless.  They wanted meaning but could not find meaning.  In this way their lives were not that much different from the lives of many people of our time.  Modern people spend millions of dollars on self-help books.  They go to gurus. They give themselves over to modern forms of Buddhism, thinking that they can find happiness and peace within themselves.  But they end up with nothing.  They work much harder than they need to in order to make enough money to own everything this old world can produce. And they end with nothing of lasting value. Jesus wants to lead all of God’s children to a New World, a world which would give meaning and happiness to their lives. But the journey to the New World would take sacrifice. A Tremendous Sacrifice from a Tremendous Lover. And so, Jesus allowed the world to do its worse to Him.  The terrible sacrifice took place on the cross on Good Friday. The New World was proclaimed on Easter Sunday. Those who accept Jesus would be given a new life, a spiritual life, an eternal life. The prophecy of Hosea is fulfilled.  It is a prophecy that we seldom hear quoted but it means everything to us: “On the third day he will raise us up that we might live before Him”[1]. Jesus invites us to join Him on the journey to the New World. This journey demands that we also sacrifice. It demands that we reject the old, dead way of life.  The journey demands that we accept being alone in a world full of mockers.  They tell us that we are wasting our time, our money and our energy on religion. They say that fewer and fewer people are believing.  We tell them that we would rather be in a minority with Jesus than in a majority that rejects Him.  We suffer from others.  We also suffer from our own selfishness. We suffer, we sacrifice, even to the point of death with Jesus.  We endure much so we can have a New Life in the New World of the Lord not just for ourselves, but for our children.  For if we do nothing more in our lives than lead our children to the Lord, then our lives have been a total success and have had infinite value. Our lives have meaning, and purpose and beauty because we are not satisfied with the shallow existence of materialism and self-gratification. Jesus has called us out of this darkness and death and given each of us the ability to make His presence real for others.  If we just allow God to work through us, if we just strive to be that unique reflection of His love, He created each of us to be, then we will come out of the tomb of selfishness this world buries us in and live eternally. The tomb is empty, Mary Magdalene, sinner who lived it up and was dead in her sins. She found life by rejecting her sinful life.  The tomb is empty Mary.  But the world is full.  The Savior Lives.  May His life change the world.  May we let His life change the world.  For the world craves His New Life.  And we need a New World • AE


[1] 6:2


Fr. Agustin’s Schedule for Easter Sunday of 2021

Sunday, April 4, 2021

9.00 a.m. English Mass @ St. Peter Prince of the Apostles

11.00 a.m. English Mass @ St. Peter Prince of the Apostles


DOMINGO DE PASCUA DE LA RESURRECCIÓN DEL SEÑOR

La bella flor que en el suelo
plantada se vio marchita
ya torna, ya resucita,
ya su olor inunda el cielo.

De tierra estuvo cubierto,
pero no fructificó
del todo, hasta que quedó
en un árbol seco injerto.
Y, aunque a los ojos del suelo
se puso después marchita,
ya torna, ya resucita,
ya su olor inunda el cielo.

Toda es de flores la fiesta,
flores de finos olores,
más no se irá todo en flores,
porque flor de fruto es ésta.
Y, mientras su Iglesia grita
mendigando algún consuelo,
ya torna, ya resucita,
ya su olor inunda el cielo.

Que nadie se sienta muerto
cuando resucita Dios,
que, si el barco llega al puerto,
llegamos junto con vos.
Hoy la cristiandad se quita
sus vestiduras de duelo.
Ya torna, ya resucita,
ya su olor inunda el cielo •

(Del Oficio de Laudes de la Liturgia de las Horas para el Domingo de Pascua)


Jacopo di Cione, Noli me tangere, óleo sobre madera, The National Gallery (Londres)

Con el evangelio de hoy, la liturgia nos dice qué necesitamos hacer para ver a Jesús como el Hombre Nuevo que es. Es el primer día de la semana, aún de madrugada, casi a oscuras, cuando la fe aún no ha iluminado nuestro día. Estamos, como Magdalena, confusos y llorosos, mirando con miedo el vacío de una tumba. Ese vacío interior que a veces nos invade: cansancio de vivir, acciones sin sentido, rutina. El vacío que se nos produce cuando estamos en crisis y los esquemas antiguos ya no tienen respuesta; cuando sentimos que tal acontecimiento o nueva doctrina nos quita eso seguro a lo que estábamos aferrados. Cuando tomamos conciencia de ello, nos asustamos, creyendo que se derrumba nuestro mundo bien armado. ¿Y Jesús? Nos lo han robado, justamente a nosotros que creíamos tenerlo tan seguro, tan bien conservado. Pensábamos que teníamos a Jesús para siempre, como si el tiempo se hubiera detenido para que nosotros pudiéramos gozar y recrearnos indefinidamente en ese mundo ya hecho y terminado. Pero sobreviene la crisis, cae ese mundo y Cristo desaparece. Y entonces pedimos ayuda, y Pedro y Juan comienzan a correr… ¿Será posible que Jesús no esté allí donde lo habíamos dejado debajo de una pesada piedra para que no escapara? Es la pregunta de la comunidad cristiana, atónita cuando algo nuevo sucede en el mundo o en la Iglesia, y debe recomponer sus esquemas. Pedro y Juan corren. Pedro, lo institucional de la Iglesia. Juan, el amor, el aspecto íntimo. El amor corre más ligero y llega antes, pero deja paso a la autoridad para que investigue y averigüe qué ha pasado. Pedro observa con detenimiento todo, pero no comprende nada, pero Juan, el discípulo a quien Jesús amaba, el que se mantuvo fiel junto a la cruz, el que vio cómo de su corazón salía sangre y agua, el que recibió a María como madre…, el Juan que compartió el dolor de Cristo, vio y creyó[1]. Intuyó lo que había pasado porque el amor lo había abierto más al pensamiento de Jesús. Pedro siempre había resistido a la cruz y al camino de la humillación; el orgullo lo había obcecado y no se decidía a romper sus esquemas galileos. Pocos días después, cuando junto al lago de Genesaret Jesús le pida el triple testimonio de amor -¿Me amas más que éstos?- y le proponga seguirlo por el mismo camino que conduce a la cruz, entonces Pedro sanará, y no solo eso sino que dará testimonio de ese Cristo resucitado que había comido y bebido con él después de la resurrección[2]. La lección del Evangelio es sencilla de comprender: sólo el amor puede hacernos ver a Jesús en su nueva dimensión; sólo quien primero acepta su camino de renuncia y de entrega, puede compartir su vida nueva. Inútil es, como Pedro, investigar, hurgar entre los lienzos, buscar explicaciones. La fe en la Pascua es una experiencia sólo accesible a quienes escuchan el Evangelio del amor y lo llevan a la práctica. El grano de trigo debe morir para dar fruto. Si no amamos, esta Pascua estará vacía, como aquella tumba. Si esta Pascua no nos hace más hermanos, nuestras palabras serán mentirosas. Si ni vivimos y crecemos en el amor, si no pasa «haciendo el bien y curando a los oprimidos[3], ¿cómo daremos testimonio de Cristo? • AE


[1] Cfr. Jn 20,1-9

[2] Cfr. Hech 10,34; 37-43.

[3] Idem.


Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion

Jesus comes in riding on a donkey as the prophet Zechariah had foretold. People lay their cloaks before Him. Men and women cheered.  Children sang.   Jesus remained quiet.  He knew that there would be a radical change in the way that most perceived Him. They were ready for a Messiah to rule them. They were not ready for a Messiah to suffer for them. And so, we come to that huge contrast, the contrast from palms to passion.  We displayed this in our liturgy with the change of music and vestments, from white to red. The events we commemorate during Holy Week often re-occur in our own lives.  One minute we are acclaimed, feted, made to feel altogether good about ourselves. We do have those times when people congratulate us for doing our job well, for getting good grades in school, or for some sport accomplishment, or an accomplishment in dance, music or other areas of fine arts.  And then, suddenly, everything changes.  Suddenly we are no longer that genius in the office, that brilliant student, that wonder on the athletic field. In this “What have you done for me lately?” world, we can find ourselves feted one moment and forgotten the next. Then when things go wrong, we wonder, “Where did the crowd go?” And we feel very much alone, as Jesus felt when only a handful of people were there to support him on the hill of Calvary. Jesus was there on the hill because he was true to Himself.  He lived and died for the Kingdom of God. He lived and died to lead us to the Kingdom of God. Like the Lord, we can and must be true to ourselves.  We have to realize that it is not the opinion of the masses that matter.  What matters is that we are true to ourselves. If that brings us to our own cross, and it will, if that results in the crowd of supporters being reduced to just a handful of our closest friends and immediate family, and it will, so be it.  Standing up for what is right and true, what is moral and just, is never going to be popular. What matters is that we are who we were created to be, reflections of God’s love in the world.  If standing up for what is right and moral results in our being mocked and rejected, if there are times that we feel very alone in proclaiming and living our faith, then we are in good company. We need to be true to ourselves, our inner-selves, our spiritual selves. We need to be true to the image of God we were created to reveal to the world.  We need to embrace our cross as the Lord embraced His Cross.  And when we take those steps of courage, when we leap into a living faith, we need to remember that no matter what is happening around us, no matter whether we are feted or forgotten, the Lord embraces us. We remember the Lord’s Passion this week, uniting our own struggles to His. And we pray for the faith to recognize that the Lord sees us, knows our determination to live for Him, and is present to guide us through the cross to the joy of everlasting life • AE


[1] Cf. John 15:18


Fr. Agustin’s Schedule for Palm Sunday of the Lord´s Passion (2021)

Saturday, March 27, 2021.

4.00 p.m. Sacrament of Confession

5.30 p.m. English Mass @ St. Peter Prince of the Apostles Catholic Church.

Sunday, March 28, 2021.

9.00 a.m. English Mass @ St. Peter Prince of the Apostles Catholic Church.

11.00 a.m. English Mass @ St. Peter Prince of the Apostles Catholic Church.

5.30 p.m. English Mass @ St. Peter Prince of the Apostles Catholic Church.


Domingo de Ramos de la Pasión del Señor (2021)

Si nos fijamos, el burro fue una de las pocas cosas que necesitó Jesús. Mandó a sus discípulos que se lo trajeran, «porque el Señor lo necesita»[1]. Jesús nunca pidió dinero, ni casa, ni comida. Por no pedir, no pidió ni que lo defendieran. Pidió, sí, un par de veces un poco de agua, a la vez que prometía veneros de agua viva. ¡Qué hermosa recompensa tendrán los que sepan ofrecer a los sedientos un vaso de agua fresca! Ahora Jesús necesita un burro. No pide un mulo o un caballo. El burro se adapta mejor, porque es paciente, es manso, es laborioso, es sencillo, es pequeño, es humilde. El burro carga con todo, como Jesús. Hay pinturas que simbolizan a Jesús como un elefante que lleva sobre sus lomos el peso del mundo. El burro vale para todos los trabajos, especialmente los humildes. Jesús se entrega a todo lo que el Padre le pide. El burro se deja conducir fácilmente. También Jesús se deja llevar enteramente de la mano del Padre. El burro no es violento, y aguanta muchos palos. Es lo que hizo Jesús en su pasión: aguantar. El burro no se presenta a concursos, ni se jacta de su trabajo, ni exige recompensas. Tampoco Jesús se presentó de manera gloriosa, sino que se ocultó en el más grande anonimato y se rebajó hasta la muerte de cruz. El burro tiene dos grandes orejas, porque está más dispuesto a escuchar que a rebuznar. Algo que va siempre muy bien con todo discípulo de Cristo. El evangelio nos da dos detalles fascinantes: «En él ningún hombre ha montado»[2]. El mismo dato lo recoge Lucas: «En él ningún hombre ha montado jamás»[3]. Este paseo de Jesús era por lo tanto una primicia, como si el burro estuviera hecho y preparado para esto. No estaba aún manchado por otras monturas y otros caminos. Estaba reservado para el Mesías y para la paz. Su misión era llevar en triunfo al princpe de la paz. Utilizamos con frecuencia la paloma como símbolo de la paz; quizá podíamos utilizar más el burro. Un detalle más. El último. Dice el evangelio, del burro, que «Luego lo devolverá»[4]. El Señor no quiere propiedades, y menos exigidas. Así que, terminada la procesión, los discípulos devolvieron el burro a sus dueños. Seguro que el burro echaría de menos tan buena montura. Hubiera sido maravilloso que en este burro nadie más hubiese montado. O, quizá, que lo montaran todos, todos los que llevaban en el corazón el mensaje de la paz. Recordando el asno, al que alude Jacob en su bendición a Judá[5], la liturgia siríaca hace un simbólico y precioso comentario: «Jacob ató un asno a una cepa de viña y esperó. Vino Zacarías, que lo desató y lo dio a su Señor» ¡Quién fuera como el burro del Domingo de Ramos! • AE


[1] Mc. 11, 3 [2] 11, 2 [3] 19, 3 [4] 11, 3 [5] Gn. 49, 11.



Sacrament of Confession

My fellow Parishioners: I am available to celebrate the Sacrament of Confession at the following places and times:

Monday at Our Lady of Grace from 6.00 a.m. to 6.50 a.m. (@ Eucharistic Chapel)

Tuesday at St. Peter Prince of the 6.00 a.m. to 6.50 a.m. (@ Eucharistic Chapel)

Wednesday at Our Lady of Sorrows from 7.30 a.m. to 8.00 a.m. (@ Confessional) & at St. Peter Prince of the Apostles

from 4.00 p.m. to 5.30 p.m. (@ Confessional)

Friday at Our Lady of Grace from 4.00 pm to 6.00 pm (@ Confessional)

Saturday at Our Lady of Grace from 7.00 a.m. to 7.55 a.m. (@ Confessional)

Saturday at St. Peter Prince of the Apostles from 4.00 p.m. to 5.30 p.m. (@ Confessional)

If none of these spots works well for you, please email me (agusestrada@gmail.com) so we can arrange a convenient

day and time for you. Peace! • Fr. AE


Fifth Sunday of Lent (2021)

The Agony in the Garden with the Donor Louis d’Orléans, Museo Nacional del Prado (Madrid)

In today’s Gospel Jesus announces that the hour is upon him. Today’s Gospel also contains the Johannine equivalent of the Agony in the Garden, during which time Jesus says, “What should I say, ‘Father save me from this hour?’ No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour”[1]. John introduces the Passion of the Lord by saying, “Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father.  Having loved his own in the world, he loved them to the end”[2]. Jesus concludes the Great Discourse of the Last Supper by praying to his Father, “the hour has come, glorify your Son so that your Son may glorify you”[3]. Obviously, when Jesus uses the phrase, hour, he isn’t merely referring to the time of day it might be. No, he is speaking about a central moment of human history. The hour is the moment that the world will be transformed. The hour is the point of human history when spiritual life will be restored. The hour is the moment when death and evil will be defeated by Love. The hour is the moment when the mortal will receive immortality. And Jesus said in today’s Gospel, “When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to myself”[4]. The power of the cross. The power of the love of God. The central moment of human history. The hour. We Christians live in this moment, this hour. Whether we stood at the foot of the cross like Mary and John or whether we were born two thousand years later, the hour is real to us. We are there. We are always before the Lord on the cross. We kneel during the Eucharistic Prayer of the Mass and pray to the Father with the Lord as he offers his Body and Blood for us. Every Mass renews the hour. We exalt when a baby, a child or an adult is baptized because we have witnessed that person being directed into the hour, the hour where spiritual joins physical.  We weep when a loved one dies, but our faith is full of hope for now the hour becomes the physical joining the spiritual. The hour of the Lord is real for us when we feel ourselves united to him on his cross, drawn to him as the Gospel prophesied, and lifted up from the burdens of this life into the realm of the spiritual. When we celebrate a funeral, the priest will often incense the body at the final commendation as a sign of our prayers rising up to God for the deceased and as a sign that the body is holy, because God dwelt there. It is all the hour of the Lord. Through the sacrificial love of Jesus Christ, his hour has become our hour, his death has become our life, our deaths have become his life, his love. In the Paradisio, the third book of Dante’s Divine Comedy the poet speaks about the whirl of love that is heaven as each person unites his or her love to the Love of God, all becoming one in love yet each remaining an individual lover. Death and life are united.  Sacrifice and gift are merged. Love Conquers All! This is why we honor the cross. This is why we wear crosses around our necks. This is why the purpose of our lives is to realize, to make real, the love of Christ in our homes and in our lives. We have to allow Christ’s love to direct our lives.  His hour is our hour.  And his hour is upon us • AE


[1] Cf Jn 12:20-33 [2] Id 13:1 [3] Id 17:1 [4] Cfr. 12:20-33


Fr. Agustin’s Schedule for the Fifth Sunday of Lent (2021)

Saturday, March 20, 2021.

4.00 p.m. Sacrament of Confession

5.30 p.m. English Mass (Third Scrutiny for RCIA)

@ St. Peter Prince of the Apostles Catholic Church.

Sunday, March 21, 2021.

8.30 a.m. English Mass @ Our Lady of Grace Catholic Church (Outdoors mass)

10.30 a.m. English Mass @ Our Lady of Grace Catholic Church (Outdoors mass)

5.30 p.m. English Mass @ St. Peter Prince of the Apostles Catholic Church.


V DOMINGO DE CUARESMA (2021)

En este quinto y último domingo de Cuaresma la liturgia nos pone delante una serie de textos que podrían ayudarnos a entender, entre otras cosas, que con el final de este tiempo penitencial pasamos de la vieja a la nueva alianza. La antigua alianza se había quedado pequeña; pequeña y muerta. Ahogada en los límites estrechos de un solo pueblo, y recargada de normas y ritos que le habían ido quitando la vida. La nueva sería una alianza de amor y de perdón, consumada en el sacrificio, y a esa alianza –lo dice el Señor- no se llega sino por la muerte: «Si el grano de trigo, sembrado en la tierra, no muere, queda infecundo; pero si muere, producirá mucho fruto»[1]. La muerte como prueba suprema de amor es dar la vida por el amigo… y por el enemigo. Y la vida empieza a brotar del centro mismo de esa muerte: como arranca el tallo nuevo, con fuerza inesperada, del interior de la vieja cáscara ya inútil… Pero primero hay que apurar el cáliz hasta el final; hay que tocar fondo. ¡Qué duro de aceptar es esto! Nuestra naturaleza se rebela; pide a gritos no tener que pasar por ahí; no podemos olvidar que él también tuvo miedo: «Padre ¿Por qué me has abandonado?» Es el mismo grito que resuena en tantos hospitales, que sale de la boca de tantos enfermos desahuciados… Es el misterio del dolor. El dolor inevitable. El dolor inexplicable. Es del silencio y de la oración –como las del Señor- de donde empieza a manar un venero de agua vivificante, una fuerza para confiar y para aceptar, de ahí es de donde podríamos tomar fuerzas para decir, con Jesús «No se haga mi voluntad, sino la tuya»[2]. Aun más: «A tus manos encomiendo mi espíritu»[3]. Ciertamente no es una respuesta al misterio del sufrimiento, es apenas un pequeño hilo de luz que apunta, allá lejos, diciéndonos que el largo túnel tiene un final y la pesada noche una aurora. Es algo parecido a la esperanza, que empieza a abrirse paso entre la duda. Es así, y solo así que nuestra cruz, unida a la de Él, tenga también valor redentor • AE


[1] Cfr. Jn 12, 20-33 [2] Cfr. Lc 22, 42. [3] Id 23,46.