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Our Lady of Good Counsel-St. Thomas More Parish, New York, NY (2026)

04/29/2026

Fifth Sunday of Easter May 03 2026
MASSES: MASSES: St. Thomas More: Sunday : 8:30am ● 10:00am ● 12:00pm ● 5:45pm
Our Lady of Good Counsel: Saturday 5:30pm ● Sunday 9:00am ● 10:15am Spanish ●11:30am

MASS PROGRAM AND MUSIC Fifth Sunday of Easter, May 03 2026
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1PuVsuYJ_MVpYbEhmwVDlS74y5kr9yF2h/view?usp=sharing

Bulletin – Our Lady of Good Counsel Bulletin – Our Lady of Good Counsel
https://olgcstm.org/bulletin-olgc

Bulletin – St. Thomas More
https://olgcstm.org/bulletin-st-thomas-more

Archdiocese of New York Monthly Compass:
https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/ /FMfcgzQXJszvCpZVVHPJrPJMjwcVtcpr?projector=1

LIVE STREAMED MASS FROM ARCHDIOCESE OF NY
https://saintpatrickscathedral.org/live
https://www.catholicfaithnetwork.org/masses

Fifth Sunday of Easter May 03 2026
Alleluia, alleluia.
Gospel
John 14: 1-12
Jesus said to his disciples:
"Do not let your hearts be troubled.
You have faith in God; have faith also in me.
In my Father's house there are many dwelling places.
If there were not,
would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you?
And if I go and prepare a place for you,
I will come back again and take you to myself,
so that where I am you also may be.
Where I am going you know the way."
Thomas said to him,
"Master, we do not know where you are going;
how can we know the way?"
Jesus said to him, I am the way and the truth and the life.
No one comes to the Father except through me.
If you know me, then you will also know my Father.
From now on you do know him and have seen him."
Philip said to him,
"Master, show us the Father, and that will be enough for us."
Jesus said to him, "Have I been with you for so long a time
and you still do not know me, Philip?
Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.
How can you say, 'Show us the Father'?
Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me?
The words that I speak to you I do not speak on my own.
The Father who dwells in me is doing his works.
Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me,
or else, believe because of the works themselves.
Amen, amen, I say to you,
whoever believes in me will do the works that I do,
and will do greater ones than these,
because I am going to the Father."

Art: Philippe de Champaigne Saint Augustine C. 1645

04/27/2026

HOMILY
Rev. Kevin V. Madigan
Church of St. Thomas More, NYC
April 26, 2026; 8:30.10:00 a.m.
Easter 4th Sunday of Year A John 10:1-10

In a world full of noise, the hardest thing is not hearing voices; it is knowing which voices to trust. We live surrounded by constant messaging: news alerts, phones, opinions, fears, advertisements, and the pressure to keep reacting. Our attention, our ability simply to concentrate on some topic, is our most important resource. That is why so many businesses, interest groups, advertisers are trying to capture our attention. We live in a world of fragmented attention. Increasingly our brains are wired for distraction, trained by algorithms that know exactly how to steal our focus. That creates a sort of attention deficit that can leave us exhausted, rootless and spiritually thin. Today’s Gospel reminds us that not every voice deserves our attention, that some voices lead away from life rather than toward it.

Yet into this very noise Jesus speaks and says something rather astonishing: His sheep hear His voice. And not only do they hear it—they know it, they follow, and in following it they find life “more abundantly.” The sheep know the shepherd’s voice because they have learned it over time. So, hearing Jesus is not about one dramatic moment. It is about a relationship formed through prayer. Reading the Scriptures, receiving the Eucharist and daily faithfulness. The more we stay near Him, the more familiar His voice becomes, and the easier it is to recognize what comes from Him. We hear the Shepherd when we make room for silence, because Jesus is not found in the clamor but in the quiet. We hear Him when read the Gospel slowly, when we pause before speaking in anger, when we choose conscience over crowd pressure, and when we follow the path of kindness, even when it is costly. In short, we hear Him when we become attentive people—people who are willing to stop, listen and respond, rather than simply react from the reptilian part of our brain.

One practice that many have found helpful in attuning themselves to the voice of the Shepherd is the “lectio divina” or divine reading.” It is a simple four-step way of reading the Scriptures that actually works with short attention spans. It looks at the Scriptures not as a textbook, but as the living voice of the Shepherd. The first step is to read a short passage from one of the Gospels or one of the Psalms, maybe just three or four lines, read them slowly and thoughtfully. Listen for a word or phrase that jumps out to you, that sparks your curiosity or captures your attention. The second step is to reflect on that word or phrase, allowing it to sink into your heart or mind. Consider how it speaks to your life today. The third step is to turn your reflection into a prayerful conversation with God. This can be a prayer of praise, confession. petition or thanksgiving based upon the passage. The fourth step is to rest silently in God’s presence. Let go of thoughts, agendas and words to simply enjoy being in that state of mind, that state of awareness. This practice can take up only five or ten minutes of your time, but can provide a focus for the whole day.

As we become more attuned to the Shepherd’s voice, we are more equipped to filter out the other voices that assail us. In today’s Gospel Jesus speaks of the thieves who climb over the sheepfold to get at the sheep. The thief’s agenda is always the same: steal, kill, destroy. The thief steals your peace with anxiety, kills your joy with comparison, destroys your hope with despair. The Shepherd’s agenda is always the same: life to the full. So, when a voice—whether from social media, a friend, or your own racing thoughts—leaves you more anxious, more cynical, more self-absorbed, more exhausted, that is not the Shepherd’s voice. The true Shepherd’s voice may challenge, but it always leaves with the “peace that passes understanding “(Philippians 4:7). Learn to ask, “Does this sound like the One who laid down His life for his sheep?”

Way back in the third century, an early Christian writer penned these words. St. Irenaeus wrote, “The glory of God is the human being who was fully alive.” This is the central message of Jesus. He has come not to condemn or judge, but to save us–perhaps, at times, to save us from ourselves, but always to save us, not to indict us. Let us pray that we can hear His voice more clearly, so that we can allow His example of a generous, accepting, unconditional love to become more real in our lives–where it can touch our relationships, our dealings with people, even our attitudes towards ourselves, particularly those parts of ourselves we prefer not to have to look at. Then, may all that is good within us come to life, so that we may know and feel His presence even in the dark valley, so that His goodness and kindness may follow us all the days of our lives, and that we make come to dwell in the house the Lord for years to come.

Art: Eugène Joseph Verboeckhoven Flock of Sheep Being
Overtaken by a Storm c.1870

04/22/2026

HOMILY
Rev. Kevin V. Madigan
Church of St. Thomas More, NYC
April 19, 2026; noon, 5:45 p.m.
Easter 3rd Sunday of Year A Luke 24: 13-35

Life is often spoken of as a journey. We incorporate new experiences all along the way, shaping the kind of persons we are today. It has been said, “Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forward” (Soren Kierkegaard). Hindsight, of course, provides 20/20 vision. In today’s gospel, we see two of Jesus’ disciples being led backwards in order to move forward in their lives. They are doing on their journey what we do in life, as well. They are trying to make sense of the terrible events that had recently taken place–the tragic death of the One whom they had hoped would set Israel free. The passage says they are having a debate” as they are headed to Emmaus, roughly the distance from Times Square to Washington Heights. The word “debate” doesn’t catch the full impact of their discussion. Literally they are going “ballistic” at each other. What could have aroused such passion and intensity? Each seems to have a very different reaction to Jesus’ death and the vague reports of His being alive. Both have seen all their hopes and dreams shattered. They are thoroughly demoralized. One might be saying, “It was a mistake ever to have followed Him. We should have stayed with the traditions of our ancestors.” And the other might be saying, “I don’t understand any of this, but all that He said and did has moved me more than anything else I have ever heard or seen. before” What they are debating so vehemently is whether they will try to make sense of things through the teachings of Moses or the teachings of Jesus. Through which lens will they view their lives.

Likewise, as we journey through life, we try to make sense of the absurdities, the seeming quirks of fate, the randomness of events that assail us. And, how do we do that? Very early on in life we were presented with, or later on we may have developed on our own, what might be called our script, i.e., a view of reality with which we began to negotiate the terrain ahead of us. These scripts, constructed under the influence of parents, teachers, religious figures, have taught us what we could expect from life; what we should be wary of; what are the terms on which the “game of life” is played; what counts as loss and what as success; can people be trusted, or will they always let us down; is the world a safe place, or so full of dangers that I must constantly be looking over my shoulder? With the help of those scripts, we construct a world for ourselves where we hope we can be protected, safe and secure.

Returning now to today’s Gospel, we see Jesus gently insinuate Himself into their conversation. He begins the process of having these two disciples reflect on their scripts–on how they have used their religious tradition to make sense of life, how all their hopes had been set on how this Jesus would liberate their nation from the yoke of Roman oppression. Now those hopes have been dashed with His ex*****on. Their script, their view of reality, the way they thought the world was supposed to work, seems to have failed them. Now this Stranger provides them with another script, “Beginning with Moses and the prophets, Jesus interprets for them every passage of Scripture which referred to Him.” In other words, in helping the disciples remember what the Scriptures were actually saying, Jesus helps them recover a truer sense of the past, and thereby a truer sense of the present. With a revised script, Jesus enables them to plot a new course in life. This revised script will be large enough and accurate enough to embrace the unexpected tragedy of His crucifixion and resurrection. He helps them put together the shattered pieces of their lives by helping them see how their story can be enlarged, by their individual story becoming part of His story.

What Jesus was doing with His despairing disciples was to reconnect the pieces of their past in a new and different way. For us, too, it is our relationship to the past, the ways in which we remember our past, that determines who we are today. For, in the very act of remembering, we are trying to impose some kind of coherent narrative, our script, upon those scattered events of long ago. We go forward by going backward, establishing a new relationship with the past, so that the past is never fully abandoned or left behind, but still with us, only now viewed in a different way. What may have appeared as a trivial event in the past, now appears significant. Perhaps past sorrows are diminished in intensity; previous successes and achievements appear a bit hollow. It dawns on us, “Oh yeah, that’s what was going on back then.” When we re-engage the past, we are creating a new sense of ourselves, a new identity, a new definition of who we are. We go back in memory, so that we can go forward in life. We are then able to embark on new paths, brave old demons and appreciate simple pleasures.

Luke writes that the disciples’ “hearts were burning within [them] as [Jesus] talked to them on the road and explained the Scriptures to [them].” For them there was the thrill of discovery in seeing the once familiar from an entirely different vantage point. At the dinner table, when the Stranger breaks bread with them, they remember the many times before that Jesus had done this very same thing with them, and now their understanding is complete. The risen Jesus bestows on them the mercy, the compassion, the peace that had been emptied from their lives by His crucifixion. This is the triumph of Easter. Now they are quite different people, too. They return to Jerusalem, previously the scene of despair and disillusion that they had fled, which has now become the scene of triumph.

We might ask ourselves, how well has the script we were given early on in life served us? Just as the risen Jesus came to His disciples in the midst of their confusion and panic, gently reinterpreting what they thought that had all figured out, that same Jesus comes to us every Sunday in the Scriptures and in the “breaking of the bread,” in the Eucharist, to provide us with a better script to expand our horizons, to strengthen us for the journey. He invites us to see how compassion, courage and caring are the antidotes for indifference, ignorance and isolation. He wants us to accept the cross as the path to resurrection, and to recognize that even in the worst of tragedies, there can still be some small blessing. Finally, He wants us to see how, as with the disciples in today’s gospel, He has been with us all along the way, even if we did not recognize His presence. He invites us to continue walking along the road with Him. The question is will we accept the invitation.

Art: Jacopo Carucci “Pontormo” Supper At Emmaus c. 1525

04/16/2026

Third Sunday of Easter April 19 2026
MASSES: MASSES: St. Thomas More: Sunday : 8:30am ● 10:00am ● 12:00pm ● 5:45pm
Our Lady of Good Counsel: Saturday 5:30pm ● Sunday 9:00am ● 10:15am Spanish ●11:30am

MASS PROGRAM AND MUSIC Third Sunday of Easter, April 19 2026
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Ms5XigBGIAb3bf3KlmeQLXoYJTrJdIVe/view?usp=sharing

Bulletin – Our Lady of Good Counsel Bulletin – Our Lady of Good Counsel
https://olgcstm.org/bulletin-olgc

Bulletin – St. Thomas More
https://olgcstm.org/bulletin-st-thomas-more

Archdiocese of New York Monthly Compass:
https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/ /FMfcgzQXJszvCpZVVHPJrPJMjwcVtcpr?projector=1

LIVE STREAMED MASS FROM ARCHDIOCESE OF NY
https://saintpatrickscathedral.org/live
https://www.catholicfaithnetwork.org/masses

Third Sunday of Easter April 19 2026
Alleluia, alleluia.
Gospel
Luke 24:13-35
That very day, the first day of the week,
two of Jesus' disciples were going
to a village seven miles from Jerusalem called Emmaus,
and they were conversing about all the things that had occurred.
And it happened that while they were conversing and debating,
Jesus himself drew near and walked with them,
but their eyes were prevented from recognizing him.
He asked them,
"What are you discussing as you walk along?"
They stopped, looking downcast.
One of them, named Cleopas, said to him in reply,
"Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem
who does not know of the things
that have taken place there in these days?"
And he replied to them, "What sort of things?"
They said to him,
"The things that happened to Jesus the Nazarene,
who was a prophet mighty in deed and word
before God and all the people,
how our chief priests and rulers both handed him over
to a sentence of death and crucified him.
But we were hoping that he would be the one to redeem Israel;
and besides all this,
it is now the third day since this took place.
Some women from our group, however, have astounded us:
they were at the tomb early in the morning
and did not find his body;
they came back and reported
that they had indeed seen a vision of angels
who announced that he was alive.
Then some of those with us went to the tomb
and found things just as the women had described,
but him they did not see."
And he said to them, "Oh, how foolish you are!
How slow of heart to believe all that the prophets spoke!
Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things
and enter into his glory?"
Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets,
he interpreted to them what referred to him
in all the Scriptures.
As they approached the village to which they were going,
he gave the impression that he was going on farther.
But they urged him, "Stay with us,
for it is nearly evening and the day is almost over."
So he went in to stay with them.
And it happened that, while he was with them at table,
he took bread, said the blessing,
broke it, and gave it to them.
With that their eyes were opened and they recognized him,
but he vanished from their sight.
Then they said to each other,
"Were not our hearts burning within us
while he spoke to us on the way and opened the Scriptures to us?"
So they set out at once and returned to Jerusalem
where they found gathered together
the eleven and those with them who were saying,
"The Lord has truly been raised and has appeared to Simon!"
Then the two recounted
what had taken place on the way
and how he was made known to them in the breaking of bread.

Art: Altobello Melone The Road to Emmaus 1516-517

04/13/2026

HOMILY
Rev. Kevin V. Madigan
Church of Our Lady of Good Counsel, NYC
April 12, 2026; 9:00, 11:30 a.m. Easter Second Sunday 2018 John 22:19-31

This morning's Gospel presents us with the familiar story of “Doubting Thomas.” Thomas, the apostle, skeptical, somewhat cynical, yet still searching, stands as a sort of patron saint for so many today. Life today is so much more complicated; the choices we have to make are so much more ambiguous; the pressures so much more severe; the options so much more varied. We know so much more about so many different things that the certainties of the past seem shaken to the foundation.

As Christians, we have no monopoly on the truth, but neither do we have to succumb to the relativism of our age, wherein everybody is right and nobody is wrong. In faith, we begin with the message of Jesus Christ as the search-light that we employ to illuminate the shadows of our lives, the touchstone that will separate illusion from reality. We undertake the journey not with the self-congratulatory arrogance of those who believe they have all the answers even before setting out, nor with the refusal to be enlightened by those walking a different path to the same eventual destination. In short, we continue on the journey of faith to strike a balance between conviction and openness, between surety and discovery.

Because that journey has never been easy, the first generation of Christians, when putting the Gospels together, wrote down for us their own struggle in coming to faith, and especially the hesitancy, the skepticism of Thomas, the apostle. We, like Thomas, can run into the same kinds of difficulties if we let our intellects become the sole criterion of truth---if everything must be clear and distinct according to the categories we are accustomed to use in the affairs of everyday life; if everything has to fit into the boxes and pigeonholes of our limited imagination; if we demand that paradox be banished, mystery eliminated, and ambiguity dismissed. For the paradoxes of faith are no more obscure than the paradoxes of science, of nature, of life itself, and certainly as teeming with possibility and meaning.

Always there will be questions, there will be doubts and uncertainties about one's faith. Yet it is precisely the questions we raise and the doubts we have which may become the opportunity for our faith to grow, to lead us to new areas of life. For the “god” we have been accustomed to worship, and have difficulty believing in, may be a “god” who is too small, a “god” too neatly tailored to the dimensions of our own imagination, an imagination that cannot, or will not, handle all the ambiguities of life. So, if we feel that God has failed us, it may not be the true and living God---who still waits to be discovered---who has failed us, but only the caricature of God that we have pieced together, perhaps from our experiences of the God–like people in our childhood: parents, teachers, clergy, etc.

The honest, genuine questions that we raise in regard to faith are not to be dismissed, and can bring us closer to recognizing how the living God is working in our lives. The American philosopher, George Santayana, once quipped that “Skepticism is the chastity of the mind.” We all need a healthy dose of skepticism lest we rest too comfortably in our beliefs, and are unwilling to see where faith may be leading us. It was after all the skepticism of Thomas that led to the clearest affirmation of faith in the Gospels, when after his doubts Thomas was finally able to say, “My Lord and my God.” So, let us be chaste, at least in mind, that we not, to use Biblical imagery, “lust after false gods,” those comfortable caricatures we employ to compensate for and shield us from the realities of life.

Let me say one more word about faith and the lack of faith, and the benefit that faith can provide. We often hear it said that “Some things have to be seen in order to be believed”. That seems to express the attitude of the hard-nosed realist–-prove it to me. But the opposite can be equally true, and perhaps for the things that matter most in life, it can be even truer, i.e., “Some things have to be believed in order to be seen.” Unless we are open to the possibility of something’s existence, we may very well fail to recognize the signs that indicate its presence when it does appear.

Again “some things have to be believed in order to be seen.” If we have a closed mind, if we dismiss at the outset the very possibility of something’s existence, then we will inevitably fail to recognize it as it appears before our eyes. That could be true for God, for other people, and for ourselves. If one denies the possibility of God's existence, then he or she will be inclined to write off any signs of transcendence, any indications that there is something more to life than what can be measured or calculated. If one denies the possibility that a person can ever change, then one may miss the signs of real growth in that person’s character. If we sell ourselves short, saying I could never possibly accomplish this or that---if I do not believe in myself---then when challenges appear, I may simply walk away, rather than recognizing I do indeed have the inner resources to meet them. It is faith, whether in God or in other people, or in one’s self, that always comes first. Faith enables us to see what may be right before our eyes, but which a lack of faith would dismiss as inconsequential.

A constant theme of the Gospels is that faith is a kind of “vision;” faith enables us to see what is really they are. So, with the “eyes of faith,” let us go forth to behold all that God sets before us–to appreciate it, to develop it, to share it, to preserve it--but never to write it off or to dismiss it, never to deny what may be staring us in the face.

Art: Andrea del Verrocchio Doubting Thomas between 14

04/10/2026

HOMILY
Rev. Kevin V. Madigan
Church of Our Lady of Good Counsel, NYC
April 5, 2026, 9:00 a.m.
Church of St. Thomas More, NYC
April 5, 2026, noon

Easter Vigil 2026 Matthew 28:1-10

Some of you may be familiar with the name of Jimmy Breslin. Before his death, some 10 years ago, he was a columnist for various tabloids here in New York City, assuming the persona of a “man of the people/” One of his lines that I have always remembered was this, “For many, life is just a mad dash from high school graduation to the funeral parlor.” That sums up all the hassles we have to endure just in getting through the grind, the seeming futility, at times, of everyday life. Shakespeare said something pretty much the same, but, of course, much more poetically in Macbeth. “Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow/ creeps in this petty pace from day to day/ to the last syllable of recorded time;/ and all our yesterdays have lighted fools/ the way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle!/ Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player/ who struts and frets his hour upon the stage/ and then is heard no more. It is a tale/ told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,/ signifying nothing.” Those words express a despair that is total—for Macbeth, it was hearing of the death of his wife and seeing his whole world collapse. It might also have expressed the feelings of Jesus’ disciples on Good Friday, when all their hopes that Jesus was the Messiah, the Promised One for Israel, seemed dashed irretrievably.

The link between Good Friday and Easter Sunday invites us to reflect on how we view the passing of time in our own lives. The ancient Greeks had two words for time—one was “chronos,” from which we have the word chronology” and the other was “chairos.” “Chronos” is the ticking of the clock that we measure with watches, calendars, schedules and deadlines. It can be boring, it can be distracting, it can be stressful, it can even be pleasurable, but still we are always aware that even our greatest achievements will one day be taken from us. You may be familiar with Francesco de Goya’s painting of the Greek god, Saturn, (Chronos) devouring his son. Chronos” is time that drags on relentlessly, indifferent to human hopes or suffering. Time (Chronos) gobbles us up, one and all.

Kairos,” on the other hand, is the time marked by unique, privileged moments, moments pregnant with possibility, which if we seize and use well can open our lives to whole new dimensions of life. A “Kairos” moment occurs when one catches a deeper sense of what is going on in one’s life. It could be a breakthrough after months of frustration, joy at the birth of one’s child, a crisis that becomes a turning point in one’s life, the moment that divides one’s life into “before” and “after.” “Kairos” has been compared to that split second, with two trapeze artists hurtling through the air just about to catch each other, just before they grasp hands. Will they make it, or not? “Kairos” is a risk taken at precisely the right moment. It is a moment of decision, pregnant with possibility, committing to another in a relationship, undertaking a new career, saying yes to an opportunity that may never be offered again.

Easter is the moment when “Kairos” crashes into “Chronos,” causing shockwaves that have given a new direction to human history, providing a hope beyond all expectations. When God raises Jesus from the dead, it is eternity breaking into the very ordinariness of our lives, offering a vision and a renewed sense of purpose for one’s life. In the words of the poet, ‘William Butller Yeats, “All is changed, changed utterly and a terrible beauty is born.” This is the moment when sorrow gives way to joy, when the Church proclaims with one voice: Christ is risen! This is a day of hope—hope that does not disappoint, hope that rises from an empty tomb, hope that carries from the ashes of despair into the eternal light of God’s love. Today, we dare to believe that no darkness is final, no wound is beyond healing, no death is the end. Christ is risen, and in Him, hope is alive. This is the spark of hope that no darkness can extinguish, a promise that God is always at work, bringing life where we are accustomed to see only death.

In the Gospel, we stand with the women at the tomb, their hearts heavy with grief, expecting only death. But the stone had been rolled away, the tomb is empty, and the angel’s words shattered their despair, “Do not be afraid! I know that you are seeking Jesus, the crucified. He is not here, for He has been raised, just as He said.” This is the promise of the Resurrection, the cornerstone of our faith. Christ’s victory over death is God’s loudest “Yes” to humanity—a yes that echoes in every moment of loss, every tear, every fear, saying “I am with you, and I will raise you up.”

The world may tell us that hope is fragile and that dreams fade, but today God says otherwise. Living as a people of hope means refusing to let despair have the last word. In a world shadowed by war, poverty, and division, hope dares to act—to forgive when resentment feels more tempting, to serve when selfishness calls, to love when fear surrounds us. Hope is not wishful thinking; it is the courage to believe that God is still creating, still liberating, still renewing. When we visit the sick, feed the hungry, welcome he stranger or stand with the broken, we embody the hope of Easter. Hope is not blind optimism. It does not ignore the Cross. Yet, it promises that every Good Friday leads to an Easter morning, that every darkness carries the seeds of dawn.

As we approach the Eucharist, the risen Christ comes to us, not as a memory, but as a living presence. In this sacred meal, we taste the promise of life eternal, the pledge that God will never abandon us. As we welcome Him, let us ask for the grace that we become what we eat: vessels of hope, apostles of the Resurrection, sent to proclaim that Christ is alive. Let us live as Easter people, unafraid of the darkness, unshaken by the storms of life, because we know the truth: the tomb is empty, death is defeated and Christ is risen. Let hope be our song, our strength, our mission, until we see the risen Christ face to face in the glory of the eternal Easter.

Art: Annibale Carracci -Holy Women at Christ's Tomb c 1600

Our Lady of Good Counsel-St. Thomas More Parish

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