By Nicholas O'Brien August 1, 2026
Why We Keep Coming Back
By Nicholas O'Brien July 30, 2026
Have you ever noticed that sometimes the hardest place for Jesus to be recognized was His own hometown? The people of Nazareth knew Him—or at least they thought they did. They had watched Him grow up. They knew His family. So when they heard Him teaching with such wisdom, instead of asking, “Could this really be the Messiah?” they said, “Isn't this the carpenter's son?” They thought they knew Him, and because they thought they knew Him, they missed who He really was. I think that can happen to us as well. We've heard the Gospel many times. We come to Mass week after week. We know the prayers. We know what comes next. And if we're not careful, we can stop listening—not because God has stopped speaking, but because we think we've already heard everything He has to say. That is really what happened in the first reading. Jeremiah was faithfully speaking God's word, but the people did not want to hear it. Rather than listening, they wanted to silence him. Today the Church gives us St. Ignatius of Loyola as an example of someone who never stopped listening. He began life as a soldier, dreaming of fame and military success. But after being seriously wounded in battle, he spent months recovering. During that time he read the life of Christ and the lives of the saints. Those books changed him. He realized that God was calling him to something much greater. St. Ignatius eventually founded the Society of Jesus—the Jesuits—and wrote what we know as the Spiritual Exercises, helping countless people learn how to listen for God's voice and discover His will in their daily lives.  Perhaps that is the lesson for us today. Every morning, before we begin our day, we can simply ask, “Lord, what are You trying to teach me today?” Not yesterday. Today. If we keep asking that question, we will never become like the people of Nazareth, who thought they already knew Jesus. Instead, we will continue to grow in our relationship with Him for the rest of our lives.
By Nicholas O'Brien July 29, 2026
An Understanding Heart and the Greatest Treasure
  • Why Catholic Cemeteries Exist

    Why Catholic Cemeteries Exist - A History Rooted in Hope


    The instinct to honor our loved ones in death is woven into the heart of every Catholic family, but the reason we do so in sacred, consecrated places stretches back to the very beginning of our faith.


    From the earliest days of Christianity, believers treated the bodies of the faithful departed with profound reverence. They gathered in catacombs not only to bury their dead, but to pray, celebrate the Eucharist, and profess their belief in the Resurrection. They buried martyrs in places that later became the foundations of churches and holy sites. To be laid to rest among other believers was considered a sign of unity in Christ, an expression of the Communion of Saints that transcends time and death.


    For centuries, this sacred tradition continued. Catholic cemeteries grew beside parish churches, monasteries, and mission grounds. They were not merely places of interment, but places of prayer, remembrance, and community identity. Burial in consecrated ground became a visible sign of faith: a final proclamation that we belong to God and to one another, even in death.


    Today, this same faith continues to shape Catholic cemeteries in every place where the Church is present, including here in the Diocese of Orlando and within our own parish community.


    Long before the Diocese established diocesan cemeteries, many parish cemeteries were already serving the faithful. These sacred places—some small, some historic, some nestled beside early mission churches—formed the first local expressions of our Catholic tradition of burying the dead in consecrated ground. They continue to stand as quiet reminders of the generations who built our parishes, lived their faith, and entrusted their final rest to the care of the Church.


    As the Catholic population in Central Florida grew, so did the pastoral need for larger, dedicated cemeteries that could provide consistent ministry, long-term stewardship, and care for families across the region. This vision led to the establishment of diocesan cemeteries such as Queen of Angels Catholic Cemetery, opened on All Souls Day in 2020, and the future Our Lady of the Holy Rosary Catholic Cemetery, currently under development.


    At the same time, this mission is also unfolding in a more local and personal way within our own parish. Our cemetery, Mary Queen of All Saints, is still in its early stages of development. While we look forward to the day when full-body burial will be available, we are already blessed to offer a sacred place of rest through our columbarium, where the cremated remains of our loved ones are reverently inurned.


    Even in its infancy, Mary Queen of All Saints reflects the same faith and hope that has shaped Catholic burial for centuries. It is a place set apart, a place where families can come to pray, remember, and remain connected to those who have gone before us marked with the sign of faith. As it continues to grow, it will stand as a lasting expression of our parish’s commitment to accompany one another not only in life, but also in death.


    Catholic cemeteries are not simply places where we lay our loved ones to rest. They are sacred spaces that witness to what we profess in the Nicene Creed:

    “I look forward to the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.”


    They are places where families gather to pray, where parishes remember those who came before them, and where the Church continues her ancient work of burying the dead—a corporal work of mercy rooted in love.


    As we explore these themes in future articles—our theology of burial, how Catholic cemeteries differ from secular ones, and the spiritual benefits for families—we begin here, with the story of why Catholic cemeteries exist at all. They are born from faith. They are shaped by tradition. They remain a profound sign of hope.


    And here in our own parish, that hope is already taking root—and continues to grow.