Old St. Pat's Podcast

When you’re on a long road trip, there’s a certain comfort in the signs along the highway. You know the ones — a sign a few miles out letting you know a rest stop is ahead… and then another right before the exit. One to alert you, and one to remind you. That’s usually all you need to trust it’s there. But imagine if, instead, there were one hundred signs between you and that exit. At some point, it wouldn’t feel reassuring — it would feel unnecessary… maybe even a little ridiculous. And yet, in our spiritual lives, we often want many signs from God to reassure us. We tell ourselves, “If I just saw something more, I would believe.”

But the real issue isn’t the absence of signs. It’s our struggle to recognize and trust what’s already been revealed — what’s right in front of us.

Because faith doesn’t come from endlessly receiving more proof. It comes from responding to the signs we’ve already been given.

At some point, the question shifts from: “Will God show me more?” to: “Will I trust what I’ve already seen?”

So today, Father Pat McGrath challenges us — when we find ourselves asking God for a sign — to stop and wonder if He already has.

The Lord Is My Shepherd

I Lift My Soul

Be Thou My Vision

What are you giving up for Lent?

Or maybe a better question is: what have you started doing this Lent to become a better person? Are you praying more, fasting, trying to get your spiritual life in order as we prepare for Easter?

All of those things are good. In fact, they’re part of the beauty of the season.

But sometimes, if we’re not careful, they can subtly reinforce a deeper assumption — the idea that we need to improve ourselves first… that we need to become worthy before we can really encounter God.

We often think the spiritual life is about getting our act together, becoming disciplined enough, holy enough, or good enough to finally approach God.

But the Gospel tells a very different story.

We have a God who goes looking.

A God who approaches us first.

A God who seeks us out and wants a relationship with us as we are today — not someday when we’ve perfected ourselves in the eyes of our own inner critic, or in the eyes of our family, our workplace, or the culture around us.

The surprising message of the Gospel is this: we are already enough. Today, Father Michael Rossmann reflects on this beautiful truth — that the real joy of the spiritual life isn’t that we finally reach God, but that God never stops searching for us

Happy St. Patrick's Day! We hope you'll enjoy this special St. Patrick's Day 2026 collection of Irish music.

Have you ever noticed how the most memorable characters in movies are the ones hiding behind a mask — performing a version of themselves they think the world expects? In The Lion King, Simba runs away after his father’s death and hides behind the carefree philosophy of “Hakuna Matata.” It sounds fun and freeing, but it becomes a mask — a way to avoid guilt, responsibility, and the truth about who he really is. In The Wizard of Oz, the great and powerful wizard turns out to be something very different — just an ordinary, frightened man hiding behind a curtain. And Shrek hides behind the mask of the grumpy ogre to avoid rejection, convincing himself he doesn’t need anyone… until the truth breaks through.

These stories resonate with us because we recognize something of ourselves in them. Like those characters, many of us spend part of our lives wearing a mask, too. We wear a mask and perform for protection. To hide our fears, doubts, or insecurities. To appear more confident, successful, or worthy than we sometimes feel. But while the mask may help us temporarily fit in, it often leaves us feeling unseen. It promises protection, but it can create exhaustion and distance. Authenticity can feel risky at first. But it’s also where freedom and real connection begin. Many of us spend years constructing versions of ourselves we hope the world will accept. Today, Father Pat McGrath invites us to take off the mask, live authentically, and become the person God created us to be.

What are the top moments in your life that changed you forever?

Was it the day you met your spouse? The moment you held your child for the first time? The day you graduated — or the day you took a risk that scared you but opened a new door?

Throughout our lives, there are moments we never go back from. Some are deeply personal — marriage, parenthood, a new beginning. Others are collective. You remember where you were when you heard the news. The assassination of John F. Kennedy. September 11th. Covid. The first time you realized how much the smartphone would change everything — and now, how artificial intelligence is reshaping our world.

When history shifts, something in us shifts too. Disruptive events — can stir fear, uncertainty, even a sense that the ground beneath us isn’t as steady as we thought.

And what do faithful people do when something consequential happens? We gather. We pray. We lean into the mystery rather than run from it.

Because faith is not escape from reality; it is courage to enter it. When something happens, we do not respond with fear alone — we go deeper into the mystery of God at work in the world. We remember that God invites us not just to observe history, but to shape it — to become instruments of peace.

Today, Father Jack Wall reminds us that we are called to incarnate God’s love, mercy, peace, and hope right in the middle of a changing world. To be peacemakers. To courageously and creatively build communion in one human family.

Eye Has Not Seen

Rejoice in Love

Love Divine, All Love Excelling

There is a delicate line in the spiritual life — so subtle we often cross it without noticing. It is the line between wanting to be like God… and wanting to be God. The first is holy. The second is destructive.

What makes it dangerous is how thin that line can be. We may begin with pure intentions — wanting to love, to help, to stand for what is right. But somewhere along the way, the ego slips in. We start believing we are righteous simply because we started with good motives. And before we know it, we are no longer reflecting God — we are acting like a god. Our actions drift from humility into control, from service into self-importance, and the result is hurt, division, and destruction.

We act like we are a god when we condemn rather than discern… when we try to control everything… when we redefine truth to suit our comfort… withhold mercy… seek glory over service… assume we know the whole story… equate retaliation with righteousness… or allow pride to quietly convince us that everything revolves around us.

But there is another way — not to be a god, but to be like God.

To be like God is to be merciful. To trust. To forgive. To be generous. To heal and to serve. It looks like humility, mercy, kinship, justice without vengeance, and truth spoken with love. We get to choose which path we take. And Lent becomes the perfect time to reflect on our choices. Today, Father Ed Foley invites us to decern how we can be more like God — not by replacing Him, but by reflecting Him.

Strike a pose. Curate the image. Build the brand.

But forgiveness, generosity, and kindness? Those don’t always photograph well.

You can’t filter them. You can’t stage it. You can’t hashtag “letting go of resentment” and expect applause. In fact, forgiveness can often looks weak. It can even look like losing. And kindness looks naïve.

And yet — Jesus says it’s the way.

Living the Gospel often requires us to do things the world doesn’t understand. Things that won’t land us on a magazine cover. Things that may not even make sense in the moment.

Like holding your tongue when you want to fire off a cutting remark.

Like accepting an apology you didn’t want to receive.

Like forgiving someone who will never ask for it.

This isn’t about striking a pose.

It’s about striking at the root of pride.

It’s about loosening the grip of resentment.

It’s about choosing love when the ego wants revenge.

So while forgiveness may not be in fashion, it is at the very heart of the Gospel.

Today, Fr. Michael Simone reminds us that when we dare to forgive, we step off the cover… and into communion with the God who loves us.