By Lisa Rosenlund,
Saint Brendan Parish Manager
Each week, we summarize a specific style, form, or approach to prayer, using the highly-acclaimed book by Robert J. Wicks, Prayer in the Catholic Tradition: A Handbook of Practical Approaches (Franciscan Media 2006). In this article, you’ll learn more about prayer in the Ignatian tradition.
My first encounter with the Ignatian tradition of prayer occurred when my older daughter attended high school at St. Ignatius. Every Friday when I volunteered in the library, a voice came over the P.A. system and everyone stopped what they were doing to pray the Ignatian Examen. That experience led me to join a group of mothers who were following the Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius.
The Examen (short for “Examination of Conscience”), is part of the Spiritual Exercises created by Saint Ignatius of Loyola, a Basque nobleman and soldier born in 1491. While recovering from a battle injury, Ignatius had a profound conversion experience that led him to ultimately found the Jesuit Order (the “Society of Jesus”). The Spiritual Exercises can be summed up by posing three questions: “Because of what Christ has done for me, what have I done? What am I doing? And what will I do?” (304)
The key to practicing the Examen is to take time out for a moment of quiet in the midst of your daily activities. You begin by pausing to recall that wherever you are, you are in the presence of God and God’s creation. You become aware that, as Jesuit Gerard Manley Hopkins put it: “The world is charged with the grandeur of God.”
Once you have centered yourself, you thank God for the good things that have come your way during the course of your day. Next you ask for the help of the Holy Spirit to look upon yourself honestly, yet without condemnation, as you examine how you have been living that day.
Specifically, you look for Christ in the people, circumstances and events you have encountered throughout your day and compare your actions and attitudes to those of Christ. Essentially, you ask yourself, “What would Jesus do?” You
identify areas you could change to become more like Christ. Finally, you express sorrow and ask God’s forgiveness for the failings you discovered during your reflection. You resolve to do better when the next opportunity arises.
To follow the Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius, you imaginatively place yourself in the biblical scenes found in the Scriptures as if you were actually present. Rather than a distant, impersonal figure, Jesus becomes a person you know and love who suffers and is crucified.
Prayer in the Ignatian tradition is a form of spirituality that is easily adapted to everyday life. It is popular with lay people because it is practical and accessible. It is also the perfect type of prayer for Lent, a time of spiritual housecleaning. In fact, my Lenten resolution is to recreate my experience at St. Ignatius by setting an alarm on my phone to pray the Examen every day. Walking with Christ by following the Spiritual Exercises would be an excellent Lenten practice as well.
By Manolito S. Jaldon Jr.,
Director of Evangelization & Faith Formation, St. Brendan Parish
We are now beginning a series of homilies in the Lenten season through which we will delve more deeply into the mysteries of what we celebrate every Sunday in the Mass. Indeed, Lent invites the whole faith community to the theological and liturgical center of our lives, and we can never exhaust the knowledge of the Lord’s hour of glory, in which we lift up our hearts to the Father (Sursum corda).
During Lent, the rubrics of the Mass include special rites, in which the Church prays for those preparing for baptism on the night before Easter Sunday, known as the Easter Vigil. Indeed, Lent anticipates the joy of Easter marked by the baptisms of what the Church calls “catechumens,” those who are seeking new life in Christ.
After their participation in the Rite of Election at the Cathedral on the First Sunday of Lent, they are known as “the elect,” because they have been chosen by God to become his sons and daughters at the Easter Vigil. While they will be joined by other baptized Christians who seek to enter the Catholic Church, the elect are treated with special care.
In the ancient tradition of the Church, the elect were examined regularly. According to a third-century Christian treatise called the Apostolic Tradition, the local bishop would lay hands on the elect daily, followed by exorcisms performed to prove the fruits of these rituals.
As infant baptisms increased, these rites were curtailed into brief ceremonies just before baptism. By the twelfth century, the elect participated in a single exorcism on Saturday morning before the Easter Vigil. By the seventeenth century, this ritual was placed at the beginning of the baptismal rite itself, which is still practiced during infant baptisms today.
The purpose of these rites, known as the “scrutinies,” is to uncover and heal all that is weak due to sin and at the same time strengthen all that is good within the elect. At its root, the scrutinies focus on the abundant and inexhaustible grace of God in Christ, delivering the elect from the power of Satan and building them up in Christ.
The exorcisms are not boxing matches with the devil, but grace-filled encounters with the healing power of the Holy Spirit. These beautiful rites, which are celebrated during Mass on the Third, Fourth, and Fifth Sundays of Lent, invite the elect to reflect and be open to Christ.
Let us accompany the elect this Lent with our fasting and prayers, so that at the Easter Vigil we can stand together holding torches lit from the fire of the Paschal candle, gaze over the living waters of baptisms, and rejoice as the elect become new creations clothed in radiant white. Though they may be different from us in many ways, at that moment we will know them as brothers and sisters in the Lord. Then we will process to the Eucharistic altar and together cry out: “Sursum corda.”
Each week, we summarize a specific style, form, or approach to prayer, using the highly-acclaimed book by Robert J. Wicks, Prayer in the Catholic Tradition: A Handbook of Practical Approaches (Franciscan Media 2006). In this article, you’ll learn more about prayer in the Salesian tradition.
Similar to Saint Francis and Saint Clare in the Franciscan tradition, Saint Frances de Sales and his spiritual friend, Saint Jane de Chantal, were cofounders of the Visitation of Holy Mary, the community which began the Salesian tradition. Francis and Jane viewed the universe as an interconnected world of hearts: human hearts and the heart of God joined together through the heart of Jesus. What a happy coincidence that we are focusing on them during the week of Valentine’s Day!
The Salesians challenged the long-held conviction of many in the Catholic Church (including, some would argue, St. Paul himself) that lay people are less spiritually capable than vowed religious. In the Salesian view, all Christians are called to the devout life. De Sales’ Introduction to the Devout Life was written for ordinary men and women and, until the mid-1950s, was the most frequently read spiritual guide in the Catholic world. Even now, it is often reprinted and adapted for modern-day readers.
Much of the Devout Life is still relevant and expressed in captivating imagery. In the book, Francis gives the reader advice on how to pray. He says that while praying, if a particular reflection elicits a response, the reader should pause – just as bees don’t leave a flower until they have gathered all its honey. Moreover, to ensure that the fruit of prayer does not fade from memory, the reader is advised to choose four or five favorite “flowers” from the “garden” of meditation and gather them into a “spiritual bouquet” so that their “spiritual scent” will linger for the rest of the day.
According to Salesian spirituality, the deepest yearning of all human beings is to achieve an intimate, loving union, an exchange of hearts with the divine lover. Jane de Chantal quoted Francis in her deposition for his canonization: “We must cleave to him alone, long for him ardently and always” (271). The exchange of the heart of the Savior for one’s own heart is what characterizes Salesian prayer.
True love expects nothing in return. It seeks only the good of the other. If our love for God is true, we will pray whether or not we feel that we are receiving “spiritual flowers” back from him. According to Jane, Francis continued to pray “whether it brought comfort or desolation” (271).
Repeated so often that it’s almost a cliché is the conventional wisdom that we must love ourselves before we can love others. Yet, it’s true if “loving ourselves” means loving the God within our souls. As is conveyed to us so beautifully in the Salesian tradition, we must join our hearts first to God, then to each other. This Valentine’s Day, join your heart with God, then “find another soul to love” (from Andrea Bocelli’s “The Prayer”).
As part of our message series, It’s Better in Here, each week a parishioner will describe what Saint Brendan means to him or her personally. This week’s article is by kindergarten parent, Shareen Harvey.
I was raised with the privilege of a Catholic education. I appreciated the Church and God in my own personal way, but it wasn’t until later in life that I realized how much I actually value my upbringing. I strayed from my Catholic roots in early adult life. However, once married with children, I felt a strong desire and need to ensure that God and the Catholic Church and its teachings were a huge part of our lives again.
I remember the first time I saw Saint Brendan Church and School. I thought, “what a majestic, serene and beautiful place.” I was pregnant with my first daughter and wanted my children to attend school and Mass here. I had no idea at the time how wonderfully impactful this journey would be, not only for my children, but also for myself. Being an absent parishioner, this revelation felt a bit off, but, as I would come to find, it was God telling me, through Saint Brendan, to get back to what is truly important in life.
So, what does Saint Brendan’s mean to me?
Unconditional Support. I joined Saint Brendan in 2012, several years before my first daughter entered kindergarten. It wasn’t long before Sister Angela found me. I am forever thankful, because she started my journey back to bringing God to the front row of my life. Her desire for me to become more involved with the parish has been invaluable, as it has granted me unconditional support when I have needed it the most.
Stability. Father Pete has said this several times during the homily, and it rings true every time I start beating up on myself about missing Mass and feeling detached from God and the Church: God loves us unconditionally and forgives us no matter what. I have three children now and stay at home, managing them and the household. I can’t imagine working a full-time job now, as I did for eighteen years. Like God, I know that my community and parish at Saint Brendan’s will always be there for me.
Guidance. While this may sound corny or ridiculous to some, I believe that, through Saint Brendan and the people I have met in this parish, God is guiding me. Whether it is something as subtle as being asked to take on a ministry for the school or church, it’s really God helping to guide me on my journey in life. Even writing this article is an example to me of God’s guidance. He is giving me the opportunity to rethink my purpose with Saint Brendan and the Catholic Church.
For all these reasons and more, It’s (definitely) Better in Here. I credit the Saint Brendan community for always showing God’s plan for me and acceptance of me and am more grateful everyday for the support and guidance I receive here.
By Lisa Rosenlund,
Saint Brendan Parish Manager
Each week, we summarize a specific style, form, or approach to prayer, using the highly-acclaimed book by Robert J. Wicks, Prayer in the Catholic Tradition: A Handbook of Practical Approaches (Franciscan Media 2006). In this article, you’ll learn more about prayer in the Benedictine tradition.
I grew up among German Catholics in the Midwest. Germany was evangelized by the Benedictines, and it was the Benedictines who first came to serve German American immigrants. My teachers were Benedictine nuns, and my impression of the Benedictines has been that they are very strict. Therefore, I was not surprised to read that the Order began when St. Benedict left his hermitage to reform monasteries that he viewed as insufficiently disciplined.
St. Benedict and his twin sister, Scholastica, were born in a small Umbrian town in the Apennine Mountains of central Italy. Scholastica founded the first Benedictine convent and was also made a saint. The siblings only saw each other once a year, when Scholastica went to visit her brother at a place near his abbey.
Benedict based his small group of monasteries on the early monastic traditions of the desert fathers. His Rule of Benedict, which evolved over time, guided the lives of his monks. Benedictine communities have been governed by this Rule for hundreds of years. The Benedictine umbrella includes nuns and monks of the Benedictine, Cistercian, Camaldolese, and Trappist traditions (253-54).
Although Benedict did not write specifically about prayer, he advocated a contemplative way of life. The first word in the Rule of Benedict is “Listen!” Benedict’s monasteries incorporated times and places of silence into the daily lives of the monks so that they would be able to hear God’s voice (253-54).
The Liturgy of the Hours also provided a structure for the monks’ prayer life. Indeed, twelve chapters of the Rule are devoted to it (258). The Liturgy of the Hours is comprised of the psalms of the Old Testament and the canticles of both the Old and the New Testaments (258). When chanting the Liturgy of the Hours, Benedict encouraged his monks to “stand to sing in such a way that our mind is in harmony with our voice” (260).
The practice of lectio devina also formed a significant part of the monks’ prayer life. As with the times devoted to silence, Benedict set up structures in his monastery to ensure that his monks’ commitment to lectio divina would be protected. (261)
Lectio divina has four stages: lectio, meditation, oratio, and contempaltio. In the first stage, lectio, the disciple reads a word or phrase from scripture. Then, in meditation, he goes away to ponder the word or phrase. In the next phase, oratio, the disciple returns to a spiritual elder for “holy conversation” (we now call this “spiritual direction”). In the final stage, contemplatio, the disciple incorporates the discussion with the spiritual elder into his understanding of the word or phrase.
St. Benedict challenges us to disconnect and be with God and our inner selves (255). We can follow his example by establishing and protecting times and places of silence in our homes and in our lives.
As part of our message series, It’s Better in Here, each week a parishioner will describe what Saint Brendan means to him or her personally. This week’s article is by new mom, Ashley Coakley.
“I don’t know if you’ll like it, but I guarantee, you are not having these kinds of conversations anywhere else in your life.” And with that, my brother Alex made a simple, yet effective pitch to get me to come check out the Alpha group at St Brendan’s.
For those, like me, who may not know about Alpha, the concept is simple. One night a week a small group gathers to watch a video talk on some aspect of faith- for example “Who is Jesus?” or “How and why do I pray?” Afterwards, there’s an open-ended discussion, accompanied by a little food and wine.
If I’m being honest, I went to Alpha that first night for a few reasons, none of which had much to do with my desire to examine my faith. In reality, the driving force was my guilt. I hadn’t been going to Church as regularly as I should. To me, Alpha felt like an opportunity to check a box (hey, it’s a church thing!) that could help offset some of that guilt. Second, older brothers are annoyingly convincing. And third, wine!
Thankfully, God has a way of motivating and speaking to each of us in exactly the way we need Him to. The most important thing was that He led me to Alpha, and the experience really has changed my life.
It’s hard to describe, but after the first night, it felt like I had scratched some itch that had unknowingly been bothering me for years. In a small back room of St. Brendan’s rectory, I found a group of incredible people – so different from me – who were willing to share their ideas and genuinely wanted to listen to mine. To me, the beauty of Alpha is that it’s given me space to ask the questions I’ve always wanted to ask, but never did either because I was too nervous, too embarrassed, or felt like after 16 years of Catholic school education I should already know the answers.
With Alpha in my life, I find myself thinking more often and more deeply about things that were not at the forefront of my mind just three months ago: How can my faith have a bigger impact on my everyday life? How I can better express gratitude for everything I’ve been given? Am I giving enough back to people who need it? How can I give our one-year-old son the best path to find God in his own life?
At times, these questions have felt overwhelming. But this past Sunday, I had a clarifying moment during the Children’s Mass. Listening to Father Roger interact with St. Brendan’s first grade class during the homily, it all became obvious. I don’t have to find these answers all on my own, because after 35 years I’ve finally found something even more powerful than answers. I’ve found a community that understands, accepts, and most importantly encourages all of my many questions.
It really, truly is Better in Here.
By Lisa Rosenlund,
Saint Brendan Parish Manager
Each week, we summarize a specific style, form, or approach to prayer, using the highly-acclaimed book by Robert J. Wicks, Prayer in the Catholic Tradition: A Handbook of Practical Approaches (Franciscan Media 2006). In this article, you’ll learn more about prayer in the Carmelite tradition.
I was eager to read this chapter of Wicks’ book because my grandmother was a founding member of a group of lay women that supported Carmelite nuns who arrived in Cleveland in 1923. I never really knew anything about the Carmelite tradition other than that it was a contemplative way of life.
For centuries, one of the main characteristics of the Carmelites has been their focus on prayer. The Carmelite tradition began with a small group of European hermits who traveled to the Holy Land around 1200 A.D. and settled on the side of Mount Carmel, which rises above the city of Haifa, Israel, facing the Mediterranean Sea. They modeled their lives of solitude and prayer after the prophet Elijah.
The early Carmelites asked Albert, the Patriarch of Jerusalem, in whose jurisdiction Mount Carmel lay, to document their pattern of living and praying. The resulting “Rule of Carmel” governed what became the Carmelite Order.
According to the Rule, each Carmelite was to have a “cell,” where he would meditate on Scripture day and night. This way of praying is now known as “lectio divina,” where one seeks God’s guidance by pondering the Word.
Throughout the eight hundred years that the Carmelite tradition has been in existence, many saints have been inspired by it. The Catholic Church has declared three of Carmel’s saints Doctors of the Universal Church: Saint Teresa of Avila, Saint John of the Cross, and Saint Therese of Lisieux.
According to Wicks, Saint Teresa of Avila (1515-1582) understood prayer to be a conversation with a friend, the purpose of which was to align one’s life with God’s will. However, in order to have a conversation, one must first become aware of the friend’s presence.
In her book, The Interior Castle, Teresa imagines her spiritual life as a journey from the outside of a crystal, global castle to the center room where the King lives. Teresa’s journey moves through seven suites of rooms representing the seven stages of the soul’s relationship with God.
Teresa says that “[t]he door of entry to this castle is prayer and reflection.” Wicks interprets her writings to mean that, “rather than having one center in our life, we have many centers, each calling for our attention. The many concerns, the many centers, fragment us. What frees us from our dissipated and fragmented life outside the castle, on the periphery of our life, is prayer.” (214)
The original Carmelite settlement is now in ruins, but to this day Carmelites refer to going back to it in memory and imagination as “entering Carmel.” We can all try to “enter Carmel” by adopting the Carmelite style of prayer. As Wicks says, “With the Rule of Carmel as a foundation and Carmel’s saints as companions, the pilgrim in the land of Carmel is invited into the mystery of God.” (234)
As part of our message series, It’s Better in Here, each week a parishioner will describe what Saint Brendan means to him or her personally. This week’s article is by former school parent, Brit Hahn.
Born in 1960 and raised in San Francisco, I remember first noticing Saint Brendan’s as a kid riding the old 10 Monterey. The bus would stop in front of the school, and I would see the children in their uniforms with red sweaters playing and coming and going.
Although I didn’t know any of them, I remember wondering what it must be like to attend such a fine school. Although I was not Catholic, little did I know that years later, through a series of “coincidences,” I would have all three of my own children at Saint Brendan School.
We were attending the annual May Crowning event when I first felt it: A feeling of total belonging. It was one of those rare moments when I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. I knew at that moment that I needed to stop being a spectator and belong. I followed my wife Dawn, enrolled in RCIA, and was baptized and confirmed the following spring. It wasn’t long before my mother Kathryn had joined and was confirmed as well.
After the kids left the school, I found myself attending Mass less and less frequently, until I was barely going at all. It wasn’t until our youngest was in his senior year of high school that I found myself feeling that something was missing in my life. Right around the same time, I decided to go ahead with a bilateral knee replacement that had been recommended for many years. I was scared. Aside from the obvious ordeal of getting through the surgery and recovery, I was certain that I would have massive complications and would end up in a wheelchair.
Then I remembered the feeling I had that night at May Crowning. I realized exactly what I needed. I was afraid, and the only way I would ever get through this was to strengthen my connection to God and rebuild my faith. I made a commitment to attend weekly Mass.
It happened slowly at first. Many times I would go to Mass and feel awkward and uncomfortable. But I just kept going. Before long my mother started going with me. Every Sunday morning I would pick mom up, and we would go to the 8 a.m. Mass and have breakfast at West Portal afterwards. Soon I had my knees replaced, and I was hobbling back to Mass every Sunday morning with mom.
That feeling of total belonging returned. It didn’t hit me suddenly like it did that night at May Crowning; it happened gradually and grew over time. It’s been over four years and I haven’t missed Sunday Mass once. I have found that, over the last few years, I have developed a strong faith in God that I feel almost all the time. I believe that I am in fit spiritual condition and that I am a calmer, kinder, more loving man as a result.
Mom and I are both Lectors, and you can always catch us at the 8 a.m. Mass.
By Lisa Rosenlund,
Saint Brendan Parish Manager
Each week, we summarize a specific style, form, or approach to prayer, using the highly-acclaimed book by Robert J. Wicks, Prayer in the Catholic Tradition: A Handbook of Practical Approaches (Franciscan Media 2006). In this article, you’ll learn more about prayer in the Dominican tradition.
St. Dominic, founder and namesake of the Dominicans, did not himself prescribe a specific manner of praying, although there is a short book entitled, Nine Ways of Prayer, that was written after his death. The book contains descriptions and pictures of Saint Dominic praying in various ways, such as lying prostrate on the ground, bowing in front of the altar, or genuflecting with his gaze fixed on the crucifix. In fact, previous texts speak of two kinds of prostrations and two kinds of genuflections that were used by Dominican friars. (246, 247)
Noted artist and Dominican monk, Fra Angelico’s frescos in Florence depict some of these bodily postures of prayer and are also part of the Dominican tradition. It is said that Fra Angelico, as he was dubbed (from Fra meaning “brother” and Angelico meaning “angelic”), never began a painting without a prayer.
In addition to its depictions of the saints praying, Dominican art was itself a form of prayer. Similar to praying with icons, the portraits of St. Dominic at prayer in the Nine Ways of Prayer and the different bodily gestures shown were “not only intended to draw what is described but to invite a reflection on the nature of prayer itself.” (248)
Dominican prayer is contemplative but not monastic. It is extroverted not introverted. According to Dominican scholar Thomas Aquinas, one of the mottos of the Dominican order is “contemplari et contemplata a liis tradere” (“to contemplate and to hand on to others the fruits of one’s contemplation.”). (238) Thomas saw the order as a mixture of the contemplative life and a life of ministry, an integration of Martha and Mary. (239)
To contemplate literally means to live in a temple. St. Paul in 1 Corinthians 3:16-17 tells us that we are God’s temple because the Holy Spirit dwells in us. Our body really is our temple! Dominican Saint Catherine of Siena referred to this interior dwelling place of the soul as the “cell of self-knowledge.” It is here at the core of our being that we receive God’s grace, which then pours out into the external space, where we live and engage with the world.
One of St. Dominic’s greatest influences was St. Paul, particularly Paul’s instruction “to pray always” (1 Thessalonians 5:17). (246) Traditional forms of prayer, including the Eucharist, the Liturgy of the Hours, the Rosary and Adoration have always been mainstays of Dominican life. In order to enable us to follow St. Paul’s directive, Dominican prayer is also inclusive of non-traditional ways of deepening one’s contemplative life. In modern times, Dominicans have even incorporated aspects of Eastern religions into their prayer life. (245)
To pray in the Dominican tradition is simply to pray. Unceasingly. Not self-conscious about a right way to pray. (249) Anyone can do it. Using any posture!
As part of our message series, It’s Better in Here, each week a parishioner will describe what Saint Brendan means to him or her personally. This week’s article is by our Director of Music Ministry, Mario Balestrieri.
My work for the last forty-eight years as a church musician has brought me to just about every corner of both the San Francisco Archdiocese and the Oakland Diocese. Early on, my life settled in to a spot that can best be described as feeling familiar, and I came to know very well the many blessings in my life. Along the way, I also came to know a few of my life’s challenges. Like Samuel in last Sunday’s first reading, there have been times when I have been rather slow to recognize God’s attempts to get a message through to me.
In 2014, little did I know that God had begun preparing me for a message that would eventually come two years later in 2016: “Mario, I have a change in store for you.”
I was invited in 2014 to be the musician for the annual priests’ retreat. I declined because the thought of driving to Menlo Park every day for two weeks just wasn’t something I wanted to sign up for. I was invited again in 2015, and then again in 2016. While I hesitated, I did accept the invitation in 2016. It was during that retreat that I had the life-changing good fortune to meet Father Roger Gustafson. He would soon become the pastor of Saint Brendan Parish. The change that God had in store for me was set into motion.
Last weekend, January 14, marked my first anniversary as Director of Music Ministry here at Saint Brendan. It was a year ago that I left many long-time friends, co-workers and acquaintances, and began my work in this parish where I knew almost no one. Initially, even with the most incredibly warm and gracious welcome that was extended to me on that first weekend, I felt like a fish out of water—the new kid on the block and certainly out of my comfort zone.
The people of Saint Brendan took me into their midst, welcomed me, introduced themselves and immediately accepted me as one of the Saint Brendan Family without even knowing me. While there are many names that I still do not know, there are many faces that I recognize, even when out and about beyond the parish. I enjoy the occasions during the week when I meet my new parishioners by chance.
Words fall short in describing the chemistry and interaction among the parish staff, those with whom I work. In spite of the absence of a long history together, the staff members share a genuine and mutual respect for one another. We like and enjoy one another even cooking together in the rectory and on retreat near Santa Cruz. There is a wonderful, refreshing openness and honesty among this young staff that have known each other a year and a half at the most.
Today’s world offers many unfriendly instances. By contrast, small and cozy Saint Brendan offers refreshment for the spirit.
St. Brendan the Navigator
29 Rockaway Ave.
San Francisco CA 94127
In the Archdiocese of San Francisco
Sunday 9:00 am - 2:00 pm
Monday - Thursday 8:30 am - 4:00 pm
The rectory office is closed on Independence Day,
Labor Day, and other official holidays.
Weekday Mass Schedule
Monday-Friday 6:30 am & 8:15 am
Weekend Mass Schedule
Saturday 8:15 am & 5:00 pm Vigil Mass
Sunday 7:00 AM, 8:00 AM, 9:30 AM, 11:30 AM
Holy Days of Obligation and Ash Wednesday
6:30 am, 8:15 am, 6:00 pm
Wednesday 7:15 pm - 7:45 pm
Saturday 4:15 pm - 4:45 pm
By appointment with any priest.
Wednesday 7:00 pm - 8:00 pm
Saturday 4:00 pm - 5:00pm
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