We all know people who “drain us,” as we say. Not only the tedious. Those we’re happy to serve (like children or spouses) also need us to pour ourselves out for them, and in that sense, “drain us.” But there are also those from whom we can drink – those who “fill us up.” These are the people we sometimes refer to as, “life-giving.”

The natural world is made up of patterns and laws, which make all of the sciences possible. There is intelligibility and consistency written into the very fabric of creation. This is why we can plan trips to the moon, and even to Mars, and why it is not unreasonable to fly in an airplane.

I don’t like to talk about the devil - not with friends, not with family, and not even with you here. It’s not that I intentionally ignore his tricks or pretend they don’t exist. I simply don’t enjoy giving my attention to what is evil.

The word “choose” appears three times in the First Reading in the form of an an invitation to us, that we would choose to follow the Commandments and stretch forth our hand, not to what is evil, but to what is good. The word, “choice,” however, is used by the world very often these days to promote the idea that the human person is ultimately self-defining choice; that life is not a gift from God. Maybe that’s why the devil goes after the word, since choosing to love is a profound way of becoming more like the God who chose to create us, and then chose to call us, and now chooses to bless us.

Robby, you’re never going to be happy until you’re giving.” Monsignor McDonald spoke those words to me while I was visiting with him in his office at Saint Matthew’s in Dix Hills. As you know, he had been my pastor while I was growing up in the Moriches. I came to love him during those years, so I would always visit him wherever he was assigned. He was the priest who kept me rooted in the Church well before I knew much about the history and splendor of our Catholic Faith.

I’m not sure if other priests have done this here, but I built a fire in the fireplace this week. My sister’s always got a fire going in her house when I visit. A few weeks back I resolved to make one myself. So I called a chimney sweep to give me the all-clear, then asked Tony Biancardi for some firewood to kicks things off — and what a lovely thing. I poured myself a drink, sat back with a book, and enjoyed one of life’s most ancient pleasures.

As Jesus was walking by the Sea of Galilee, He saw Peter and his brother Andrew casting a net into the sea, then said to them, “Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men.” It’s one of my favorite passages, and it happens to be one that inspired me to use the title petersboat for this column and other things. Here’s another passage:

The death of Tony Zummo this past week moves me to write about the demographics of the Church. Those of you who don’t recognize Tony’s name would still likely recognize his face. He was the embodiment of those parishioners that are sometimes described as “the previous” generation (an unfair title, given their presence in the parish, but one that nevertheless brings a smile even to their own faces when one of their own is called a “Mayfair Catholic”). But while there are unique characteristics about the generations filling our pews these days, it is still, I believe, commonality that holds us together.