The Beautiful Journey

Holy Week Mission Blog Day 5

Good Friday

St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral, SoHo.  By late morning, the mists of Holy Thursday had passed, ushering in beautiful sunny early spring day in New York City.  Weather means something to street missionaries.  For their own comfort, for sure.  But they know from experience when the weather is good, casual passers-by are more inclined to stop for a chat.  Or maybe I should say, extremely  inclined to stop for a chat.  Our hit rates from earlier in the week of 10 to 1, which by historical standards seemed too good to be true, dropped yesterday to close to 3 to 1.  The missionaries were overwhelmed with souls.  Seeing what was happening, we pulled back everyone to two intersections, so that we’d have sufficient missionaries to handle the flow as their partners became sidelined with a long discussion with a soul about, well, eternity.  God.  Sacrifice.  Confession.  Forgiveness.  And beauty.  Lots of beauty….

Mary’s Fire

St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral, noon.  Our lead missionary has made an appointment with our lead priest for a quick confession before heading to HQ and greeting the missionaries.  This has been his custom for some twenty-odd years, as on Good Friday the forces of light and darkness lock horns, and we encourage all the missionaries, whatever their spiritual state and whenever they’ve last availed themselves of the sacrament (even if earlier in the week), to receive the grace of the sacrament first before heading out. 

“You can’t give what you don’t have,” the missionary in the back of the church often advises.

Well, without getting into details, the confession wasn’t long but the penance was—an entire Chaplet of Divine Mercy.  The priest, who know the type-A missionary particularly well, knew this was a big penance for him; a 30 minute prayer with a roomful of missionaries waiting.  The missionary believes he heard the priest chuckling as he left the confession booth.

As the missionary dutifully sank to his knees and prayed on, he gradually put aside all his “Martha” worries about the time being lost, the souls being missed, the conversations not being had.  Somewhere about the third decade he started finding his tiny little inner Mary.  By the she was his, and by the 5^th he couldn’t peel himself out of the pew.

We don’t know the “opportunity cost” of this little escapade, to use a Wall Street term.  But we do know the effect. When the missionaries did finally hit the streets, a little after 1:00, the neighborhood caught fire.  Mary’s fire.

Alissa Finds Her Soul

Across from the Cupcake Shop, Prince and Mott, SoHo.  We’ve had a lot of missionaries who “Found their soul” this week--  that one individual whose unique traits and characteristics and background seemed to be a perfect match for the missionary in question.  Across from Prince and Mott, a missionary spied another, Alissa, engaged forever in a long joyful discussion with a young with big Faith issues. 

Allissa never gave the missionary many of the details.  But she did mention that about 10 minutes into the conversation, the young man brought up something I had predicted to all the missionaries would eventually come up.

“You know Alissa, I wasn’t that interested in talking with grey-haired man across the street.  Seems like a nice guy but not my type.  But you, you ‘get’ me.  Thank you.”

That’s when Alissa remembered the charge.  That’s when she found her soul.

Elvis the King

Prince and Mott, So Ho.  A joyful young couple coming through Prince and Mott are “not Catholic,” which is a sufficient response for one of the missionaries to ask them their names. 

“Skylar.”

“And Elvis.”

“Ah, Elvis the king!.”

A long discussion ensues.  Elvis and Skylar are Baptists, and big fans of Jesus.  They’re going to Easter services on Sunday at their church in Brooklyn. 

“No, we’ve never been inside a Catholic church.  Never got asked.”

“Well, there’s no time like the present! 

The church is very beautiful inside.  And Jesus is in there.  In the tabernacle on the side altar.  You can visit him and say a prayer.”

In they march, and out they skip…  20 minutes later.

A member the missionary team on the corner, Mary,  suggests we gather for a little sidewalk prayer of thanks.  Elvis leads us.

“Jesus, thank you bringing us together today, Jesus.  Jesus, thank you for the blessing of Easter Jesus.  And Jesus, bless these missionaries, and bless Skylar and I, Jesus.  And Jesus, thank you for saving us..  Amen.”

Francesca Meets the Virgin Annunciate

“All Journeys Have a Beginning”

Prince and Mulberry, So Ho.  A missionary is on his way back from Prince and Mulberry, where the Shore team of RC members, who faithfully arrive to the missions every Good Friday for the last 18 years, are raking in souls through the back of the church.  He immediately bumps into Francesca and Fernando, already “softened up” by the joyful missionaries out on Prince and Mulberry.

“Wait a minute, Francesca.  You look an awlful lot like someone I know!’

The missionary opens his phone to look for the photo.  It’s not the kind of photo Fernando and Francesca are expecting.

It’s a photo of “The Catholic Mona Lisa”, The Virgin Annunciate by Antonello de Messina.

The missionary holds the photo up next to Francesca, and Fernando’s eyes light up.  They almost look like identical twins.

A long discussion about art and beauty and faith ensues.  Mary preparing for this moment in prayer.  Mary protecting her modesty.  Mary’s humility before the angel of God.  Mary’s cautious exploration of the details of the  dangerous mission she is being asked to undertake.  The intent focus of Mary’s eyes as she locks in on the angel’s message.  And, Mary’s “yes” to the Lord.  Those amazing pursed lips, her determined fiat.

 The young couple from Italy is just visiting New York, and had no plans to visit a church today.  But that all changed right there. 

Later, the missionary spied “Mary” with her boyfriend three pews in front of him,  in the packed Good Friday service at the Basilica.  With the plaintive voices of the choir filling the the space, and the sun streaming through the shimmering stained glass windows that make up its walls, the young couple are enveloped in the beauty, and the sorrow, of the service.  Their “yes” was not Mary’s, but it was important all the same.  All journeys have a beginning.

A Beautiful Journey

Prince and Mott, So Ho, 6:00.  Late in the afternoon, Pedro, a former Regnum Christi  missionero from Texas who we met on the streets two years ago and then joined us to help, appears on the corner with three friends from Texas.  A missionary is engaged with an Hispanic couple, and is struggling to get them to understand that they can confess in Spanish.  Pedro immediately jumps in and cheerfully explains to Luis what the missionary is offering.  Off they march to the Basilica.

Pedro then introduces his three friends, all Protestants who are struggling with their faith and, Pedro believes, on a path to becoming Catholics. 

“Oh, great!  How about joining us for an hour or so!  You guys will be great.”

Emma picks up the conversation.  She’s a thin, pretty and  pensive young woman.

“We can’t.  We are on our way to the museum and Pedro just wanted us to say ‘hello’ before we go.”

“What museum?”

“The Met.”

Gulp.

“Really?  That’s awesome!  Their collection is enormous.  You should pick up a book I know of at their book store.  It’s called Pilgrimage to the Museum.  It will help guide you through from a spiritual angle.”

“Do they have any paintings by Van Gogh?”

Gulp. Gulp.

“Well, actually, they have one of his great masterpieces.  Wheatfield with Cypress.  It’s spiritual cousin, the other masterpiece here in New York, is Starry, Starry Night.  That one is at the MOMA. And both are about Van Gogh’s scary relationship with God.  He was also a Protestant, you know.”

“A Protestant minister, actually,”  Emma chimes in.

Emma knows Van Gogh.

Things start going deeper.  Van Gogh’s faith.  His struggle with relationships.  With God.  The beauty of his paintings.  And yes, the fear within them.  The fear that eventually devoured him.

Emma is transfixed.  Her mind is racing.  Something very deep insid her is stirring.

As her friends break in and say they really have to get going, she comes back to the corner for one last word.

“Thank you for being here.  I am sure that just as the Holy Spirit brought Paul to the Gentiles, He brought you to me tonight.  On Good Friday.  I’m on a journey and this was an important fork in the road of that journey.  Thank you.”

A beautiful journey, indeed.

A missionary

April 4, 2026