St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral, Holy Wednesday. Cold, blustery afternoon and evening in SoHo. A small band of joyful missionaries braving the cold. Few willing to stop; most in a hurry to escape the blustery wind. Still, despite all of this, the Holy Spirit brought a few souls to us who were willing to pause a moment on the chilly corner for a brief chat about the coming holy days and how best to prepare for them. Several ended up heading into the church, at least to light a candle and say a prayer. And there the missionary in the back of the church, and the Holy Spirit, did the rest.
At two minutes to 7, the few missionaries we had out on the street hurried into Old St. Pat’s for a bit of warmth and yes, for the Mass. A young 30 something man was engaged in a long, quiet discussion in one of the open confessionals with Fr. Josef. The discussion lasted all through the Mass, and then some. As we were finishing putting away the candles and prayer cards, at about 7:45, his confession ended, John rose ebullient, and looked for the missionary in the back of the church. He thanked her and hugged her tearfully, then floated outside into the twilight.
“That was our one soul tonight Steve,” Evelyn whispered. “He had not been to confession ever since his baptism 30 years ago. But tonight was the time.”
