Image: Theodore Phyffers / St Thomas doubts Christ / Brass altar relief / late 1800s / Farm Street Church, Mayfair

Brothers,

Every year, there’s something quietly powerful about Opening Day. The grass is cut just right, the lines are fresh, the stands are hopeful, and the scoreboard reads the same for every team: 0–0.

No matter what happened last season; wins, losses, errors, it’s a new beginning.

During my years working one of the best off-duty jobs a cop could have, as an MLB Authenticator for the Colorado Rockies, I had a front-row seat to moments that would be marked, verified, and remembered; game-used balls, milestone hits, pieces of history. But what always struck me wasn’t just the big moments. It was the quiet reset of Opening Day. Every player steps onto the field with the same opportunity: begin again.

That’s what we’re living right now in the Easter season.

The Resurrection is not just an event we celebrate, it’s a reality we’re invited into. Christ doesn’t just rise; He restores. He doesn’t just conquer death; He reopens the field of play for us.

And on Divine Mercy Sunday, we see how personal that renewal really is.

The Apostles, like players coming off a disastrous game, are behind locked doors, fearful, ashamed, uncertain. They had struck out when it mattered most. And yet, Jesus doesn’t bench them. He doesn’t replay their failures.

He steps into the room and says, “Peace be with you - Shalom.”

Then He does something remarkable, He entrusts them with mercy. The very men who failed are now sent to reconcile.

That’s our lane, brothers.

As Deacons, we live at that intersection, between human failure and divine mercy. We carry both. We’ve known our own “off-season moments,” and yet we’re called to step onto the field again, not perfect, but renewed.

The early Church in Acts reminds us what that looks like: steady in teaching, rooted in communion, faithful in the breaking of the bread, and constant in prayer. No shortcuts. The whole life.

So maybe this Easter season is less about doing more, and more about returning. Returning to the basics. Returning to the sacraments. Returning to prayer. Returning to that quiet confidence that the score has been reset.

Because in Christ, it always is.

And maybe that’s the deepest truth of Divine Mercy:

Not just that we are forgiven, but that we are sent back onto the field, again and again, with purpose.  Shalom.

In Christ the Servant + Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam
Receive + Believe + Teach + Practice