<![CDATA[Catholic Apostolate Center

<![CDATA[Catholic Apostolate Center - Blog]]>Thu, 16 Apr 2026 00:28:06 -0400Weebly<![CDATA[Keep Going!]]>Thu, 16 Apr 2026 04:00:00 GMThttps://www.catholicapostolatecenter.org/blog/keep-going

It’s the middle of April, and Easter Sunday has come and gone; we are officially in the “Easter slump.” That’s right, no more candy and dyed eggs, decorations have disappeared, laundry and chores are piling up, and kids are back at school - or even on spring break! Don’t forget though, Easter is a 50-day season leading us to Pentecost. So how do we keep up that holiday spirit all season long? Lucky for us, God knows exactly how quickly our bubbly happiness goes away after a big holiday on the calendar and wants us to realize that Easter joy lasts much longer than a day. Easter is a daily discipline that can be lived in the ordinary moments of our lives.

Easter is for the tired and busy. Easter is for the overworked and underpaid. Easter is for the grieving and sick. Easter is not just one happy day when things go well. Here are some practical things to tweak during these 50 days to help keep the true joy going:

We have Sundays - our weekly reminder of rest and Eucharistic celebration. One way we can help make Sunday feel more special is to really lean into doing the heavy-lifting chores and errands on Saturday, so Sunday feels more like a day of rest or family time, choosing quality time and people over tasks and errands.

Keep a gratitude list. Joy is stronger than a happy feeling. It can come through a grateful heart, by caring for someone, in kind actions, and through thanking God for our many blessings.

For kids, parents, and families: Keep the Alleluias coming! Light candles for prayer time or family mealtime. Set a family calendar full of small, springtime, intentional moments of joy like planting seeds, singing, picnicking in a park, or anything else!

Say a quick prayer to the risen Lord. Something like: “Jesus, thank you for rising from the dead. Help me rise today and live with a generous heart. Amen.”

Find God in all things…Especially our work. Did you ask a coworker to join you for lunch? Did a student randomly thank and hug you? Did you take a lunch walk without your phone to enjoy God’s world without distraction? Did you set a positive intention for the day and focus on it at times of stress?

In addition to these ideas, our soul craves God’s love and forgiveness. If you haven’t been recently, Adoration and Confession, either paired together or done separately, can be a beautiful balm for a busy person. Adoration is simply sitting with Christ and praying. Something that pushes through our human frailties and swirling lists of to-dos in our minds and centers us in a moment, silent with only our presence and the Lord. Confession on the other hand, cleanses so deeply that most times I cry and let out all my fears, sins, and stressors to feel lighter and closer to Christ by the time I’ve made my penance. God’s love is eternal, and this Easter season can be strengthened through this and so much more as soon as we live out this hope in our daily lives. Mary reminds us of this, and in the Regina Caeli, we are reminded of our Alleluia!

Queen of heaven, rejoice, alleluia.
The Son whom you merited to bear, alleluia,
has risen as he said, alleluia.
Pray for us to God, alleluia.
V. Rejoice and be glad, O Virgin Mary, alleluia.
R. For the Lord has truly risen, alleluia.
Let us pray.
O God, who have been pleased to gladden the world
by the Resurrection of your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ,
grant, we pray,
that through his Mother, the Virgin Mary,
we may receive the joys of everlasting life.
Through Christ our Lord.
Amen.

So keep going! I urge you to be intentional about your joy and consider one or more of these ways to remain celebrating all the way to Pentecost - and beyond! We are able to live out the hope of the risen Lord, so how will you rejoice this season?

Author

Krissy Pierno is a Catholic parent and early-childhood educator in Washington, DC.

]]><![CDATA[Jesus, I Trust in You]]>Thu, 09 Apr 2026 04:00:00 GMThttps://www.catholicapostolatecenter.org/blog/jesus-i-trust-in-you2614252

In October, my husband and I welcomed a little boy. Our son is a master napper—and his favorite place to nap is most definitely in his parents’ arms. He has a way of passing out with his mouth wide open (a trait of my side of the family) and arms sort of flailed. Since he was born, and more recently, our 6-month-old has been teaching me about trust.

When Benjamin is passed out in my arms and begins to stir in his sleep, he opens his mouth in a quivering “O” manner, as if to say, “Put my pacifier back in my mouth, please.” He does not open his eyes. He does not make a noise. It is a simple gesture. He has a desire for his pacifier to be back in his mouth, and trusts that I will, in fact, return the fallen pacifier. He trusts that he is loved, that he is provided for. He does not even need to wake up—he stays in a state of rest despite his request.
This image of my son, asking to be cared for and trusting that I will fulfill his needs, makes me think of the prayer at the bottom of the Divine Mercy Image: Jesus I Trust in You. The message of Divine Mercy was given to St. Faustina, a Polish nun. Through revelation and prayer, Jesus communicated to St. Faustina the need for the whole world to understand His love and goodness as evidenced by one of his greatest attributes: mercy. This understanding begs us to trust that His mercies are bigger than our sin, and ultimately, that we are summoned to trust in the love and mercy that the Lord has for us. Jesus says to Faustina and she records in her diary, “‘I am love and Mercy Itself…The soul that trusts in My mercy is most fortunate, because I Myself take care of it.’” (1273)

Benjamin’s trust in my love is the personification of belief in Divine Mercy. We are called to radically trust in Our Lord’s mercy and love in the same childlike way that Benjamin trusts me without any sign of doubt. The Divine Mercy message, to which the Church calls the faithful, is to accept our role as children—to have the faith that He will give us what we need. We too must trust in the goodness of Our Father to give us what we need.

Is my trust as radical as my son’s? Am I able to completely rest knowing that our Lord desires to shower His grace and mercy upon me? Do I ask for His graces, trusting that He wants my good?

On this Divine Mercy Sunday, ask yourself if you believe in the goodness of the Father. Ask for His grace for more trust in His mercy. Ask for more mercy! Reflect on the trust of children as they live in trust, knowing their parents will fulfill their every need.

This Easter season, how can we become more childlike and embrace the message of Divine Mercy?

Eternal God, in whom mercy is endless and the treasury of compassion — inexhaustible, look kindly upon us and increase Your mercy in us, that in difficult moments we might not despair nor become despondent, but with great confidence submit ourselves to Your holy will, which is Love and Mercy itself. -Closing prayer of the Divine Mercy Chaplet

*This blog is reposted and was originally published April 25, 2019.*

Author

Elizabeth Bigelow received her Master's in Leadership for the New Evangelization at the Augustine Institute in Denver, Colorado.

]]><![CDATA[Springtime Spirituality]]>Tue, 07 Apr 2026 04:00:00 GMThttps://www.catholicapostolatecenter.org/blog/springtime-spirituality

A few weeks ago, DC had one of its first truly warm days of the year. I knew the weather was just a glimpse of the warmth of spring that was yet to settle in, which perhaps motivated my desire to soak up every ounce of sun that I could. I wore shorts and went for a long walk. I set up my hammock and read in the park. I reveled in the warmth and the joy it brought me after the darker, colder days of winter.

Some signs of spring, like these warm, sunny days, will still ebb and flow until winter is fully behind us. But one of the surest, and one of my favorite, signs that spring is really on the way, is the flowers that begin to bloom. A few minutes into my walk on the warm day, something caught my eye. I gasped, shook my boyfriend’s arm, and pointed, excitedly exclaiming, “Crocuses!!” There is something that just delights me about seeing the flowers begin to pop up each spring.

It seems that once I’ve noticed one small patch of flowers, new blooms are continually catching my eye. On my drive to work a few weeks ago, I noticed a patch of daffodils on the side of the road. And in that moment, an even deeper revelation came to me: “That’s how it should be with God’s work in our lives.” Once we begin to attune ourselves to God’s presence, to the big and small works He does in our lives, we often begin to notice Him more and more. This could be in big acts, but it can also be in the subtlest of ways. The flowers of spring remind me to keep an eye out for God and the ways He delights me every day.

Even though we know that spring will return year after year, the long days of winter can sometimes feel unending. The bleakness of winter can make us want to hunker down and cozy up, and for some of us, may be a source of even deeper sadness or despair. In the midst of this, the blooms of springtime can be a symbol of hope, not just in creation, but in our own lives, too. A quote from the book, Hinds Feet on High Places (1955) by Hannah Hurnard, which follows a young shepherdess journeying to the “High Places,” captures this well. After a long traverse through the desert, she finally enters a verdant forest:

She walked through the wood almost forgetting for a little that Sorrow and her sister [Sadness] also walked with her. Everywhere she looked it seemed that the unfurling green on the trees and the nesting birds and the leaping squirrels and the blossoming flowers were all saying the same thing, greeting one another in their own special language with a sort of ecstasy and calling cheerfully, 'You see, the winter has gone at last. The delay was not unto death but for the glory of God. Never was there a fairer spring than this. All things have become new. The old things have passed away.'

I also can’t help but love the way that spring (at least in the Eastern Hemisphere) aligns with Easter time. We begin Lent with the trees still barren and the sun rising late in the morning. As Easter approaches, spring begins to put out her own decorations. These exterior signs carry their own meanings. In a similar way, I think about how the Church uses physical signs and symbols to draw us into worship and direct our attention to the changes of the seasons. In Lent, the priests wear purple and the church sanctuary may be sparsely decorated. When Easter comes, the altars are adorned with countless spring flowers. The liturgies are marked by joyous, triumphant music and the return of the Gloria and Alleluia. In a similar way, in my own little apartment, I try not to set up my Easter decorations until Holy Saturday. I know that not everyone makes this choice, but I like the small exterior reminders of Lent's call to simplicity and Easter’s joyful extravagance.

As Christians, a necessary part of our spiritual lives is to embrace both joy and sorrow, peace and struggle, along with countless other juxtapositions. Our lives will have days of winter and days of spring. We know that Jesus rises on Easter morning, that he remains triumphant, and yet we still must journey through the forty days of Lent. As we enter into spring and the joyful 50 days of Easter, I pray that you will be able to notice and delight in God’s work, allowing each symbol of his love to draw you closer to him.

Author

Erin Donn is a campus minister at an all-girls Catholic high school and lives in Washington, DC.

]]><![CDATA[Hope is Never Lost, Journeying Through Holy Week]]>Wed, 01 Apr 2026 04:00:00 GMThttps://www.catholicapostolatecenter.org/blog/hope-is-never-lost-journeying-through-holy-week

Holy Week is one of the most meaningful times in the Catholic liturgical year. It invites us to slow down, reflect, and walk step by step through the final days of Jesus’ life. Even if you’re not deeply familiar with every reading, the rhythm of this week tells a powerful story. A story that moves from celebration to sorrow, and ultimately to hope.

The week begins with Palm Sunday, which holds a bit of a paradox. At Mass, we hear about Jesus entering Jerusalem to cheers and praise. People wave palm branches and welcome Him as a king. It feels joyful, almost triumphant. But in the same liturgy, we also hear the Passion narrative - the story of His suffering and death. That shift can feel abrupt, but it’s intentional. It reminds us how quickly things can change, and it sets the tone for everything that follows.

As the week continues, the daily readings become more intimate and reflective. We hear about betrayal, misunderstanding, and quiet moments between Jesus and His disciples. One theme that stands out is how “human” the people around Jesus are. Judas struggles with his choices. Peter insists he will be faithful but later denies even knowing Jesus. The other disciples are confused and afraid. It’s not hard to see ourselves in them. These readings gently invite us to reflect on our own moments of weakness, doubt, or hesitation. Even the apostles were human and made mistakes!

Holy Thursday marks a turning point. The readings focus on the Last Supper, where Jesus shares a final meal with His disciples. This is where we see the institution of the Eucharist, which is central to our Catholic life. But just as important is the act of service that happens during this meal. Jesus washes the feet of His disciples, taking on the role of a servant. It’s a simple but powerful reminder that love is meant to be lived out in humility and action, not just words.

Then comes Good Friday, the most solemn day of the week. The readings recount the Passion in full detail. There’s no attempt to soften the story, it’s raw and heavy. Jesus is betrayed, abandoned, mocked, and ultimately crucified. It can be difficult to sit with, especially in a world where we often try to avoid discomfort. But Good Friday invites us to stay present in that sorrow. It’s a moment to reflect on sacrifice, injustice, and the depth of love that chooses to endure suffering for others. What’s striking about Good Friday is the silence that surrounds it. There’s no Mass celebrated that day. The Church feels still, almost suspended in time. That quiet can be uncomfortable, but it also creates space. Space to think, to pray, or simply to sit with the reality of what the day represents.

Holy Saturday continues that sense of waiting. The readings often recall the long history of salvation, reminding us that God has been at work across generations, even when it wasn’t obvious. It’s a day that doesn’t get as much attention, but it carries an important message: not every moment of faith is dramatic or clear. Sometimes, it’s about waiting in trust, even when we don’t yet see the outcome.

Then, finally, we reach the Easter Vigil and Easter Sunday. The tone shifts completely. The readings proclaim that the tomb is empty and that death does not have the final word. After everything we’ve walked through during the week - the praise, the betrayal, the suffering–this moment feels earned. It’s not just a return to joy, but a deeper, more grounded kind of hope.

What makes Holy Week so powerful isn’t just the events themselves, but how they mirror real life. There are moments of celebration, moments of failure, times of deep sorrow, and periods of waiting. But woven through all of it is the reminder that hope is never lost, even when it feels distant. You don’t have to be a biblical scholar to enter Holy Week. Simply paying attention to the readings, even in a small way, can open up new insights. Maybe it’s noticing a detail you hadn’t before or recognizing a part of yourself in one of the readings. Or maybe it’s just allowing yourself to sit with the emotions each day brings.

At its heart, Holy Week is an invitation to reflect, to be honest, and to remember that even in the most difficult moments, there is the promise of renewal. That is a message that goes beyond any single week, offering something we can carry with us long after it ends.

Author

Sarah Harrigan Scalfaro is the Director of Administration for the Catholic Apostolate Center where she coordinates the promotions and logistics of various groups and visitors coming to our Green Hill facility. She also assists with the day-to-day operations of Green Hill and other administrative duties and is responsible for the creation and publication of our Center newsletter.

]]><![CDATA[You May Not Have Heard of These Five Holy Week Traditions]]>Tue, 31 Mar 2026 04:00:00 GMThttps://www.catholicapostolatecenter.org/blog/you-may-not-have-heard-of-these-five-holy-week-traditions

As Holy Week approaches, and billions of Christians worldwide prepare to unite themselves with Christ in his suffering and resurrection, we are reminded that, despite cultural differences, Christians are more alike than different under the same roof of God’s great Church.

Holy Week stands as a reminder of God’s divine mercy, His power over death, and His great sacrifice for all mankind. In this article, I hope to introduce you to five customs from around the world that celebrate our Lord in ways you may not have heard of before!

#1 Red Eggs
Our first custom brings us to the source of dying easter eggs, a town in modern-day Mesopotamia, Taybeh of Palestine.

The easter egg has been largely secularized by western culture, with its religious origins rendered almost completely obsolete, but in Taybeh, the meaning of the dyed egg is still alive and well. While the true origin of the egg is disputed, legends vary. One story holds that when Mary Magdalene proclaimed that Christ had risen to the Roman Emperor Tiberius, he replied that no one could rise from the dead any more than the egg in her hand could turn red. Miraculously, the egg turned red before their eyes. Other tales suggest Mary Magdalene was simply bringing a basket of eggs to the tomb for the women mourning there, and when she witnessed the risen Christ, the eggs turned red.

Palestinian Christians still color eggs in remembrance of the passion and resurrection, though their palette has expanded to include various colors as dye became widely available. This year, when you partake in the tradition of dying eggs with your family, think of your brothers and sisters in Taybeh, performing the same ritual thousands of miles away.

#2 Pussy Willow Branches
Our next tradition brings us to Ukraine, where, due to a lack of palm branches in early spring, Christians used pussy willow branches on Palm Sunday, or Willow Sunday, as they call it.

On this day leading up to Holy Week, pussy willow trees are blooming in Ukraine, a perfect replacement for the palm branch. During Mass, these soft branches are blessed and distributed amongst the congregation. After mass, they are kept in the home, usually pinned up behind icons to offer spiritual protection in the home all year round. Other branches are burned as fuel to bake paska, a traditional Easter dessert in Ukraine.

Salix discolor—pussy willow—can be found all across Canada and the midwest United States. If you’re celebrating in the area, you may be able to locate some branches to join Ukraine in its old tradition, or even try your hand at baking paska.

#3 Lord of Tremors
Every Holy Monday, an enormous procession passes through the city of Cusco, Peru. The image of the crucified Black Christ is hoisted above the crowd as onlookers toss red petals, symbolic of His blood. The procession, attended by thousands of Christians every year, memorializes a devastating earthquake that took place nearly four-hundred years ago, on March 31st in 1650. The legend claims that, as a dangerous earthquake shook Cusco, only exposing a forgotten effigy of Christ in the doorway of the Cusco Cathedral was said to stop the tremors. Similar signs occurred over the next few centuries, the most recent earthquake in 1985. These incredible miracles led the statue to be dubbed Lord of Tremors.

Ñucchu, vibrant red flowers previously used to venerate the pagan deity Wiracocha, are now used to decorate the statue of the Lord of Tremors.

Every year, tourists flock to Cusco to witness the procession. If you don’t know where you’re celebrating Easter yet, it’s not too late to plan a trip!

#4 Funeral for a Fish
Perhaps the most bizarre lenten tradition was celebrated in villages all across Ireland. As the season for fasting and abstinence comes to a close on Holy Saturday, butchers that suffered from a lack of customers initiated the ‘funeral for a fish,’ in which a dead herring was dangled from a long pole and marched out of town. In some marches, the dead herring was beaten on the ground with its remains then eagerly tossed into the river. Other instances observed a ceremonious approach, with the tradition taking place after Easter mass. A joyful procession would march the herring to be thrown in the river, all the way accompanied by music and laughter.

Customs surrounding the ‘funeral’ varied from town to town, but the moral was always the same: Christians were more than happy to be finished with their lenten diet. If you share the same dislike for fish as the Irish used to, perhaps this is a tradition you’d like to reintroduce to your local parish!

#5 Penitensya
In a disturbing yet beautiful display of devotion, Filipino Christians take to the streets on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday practicing self-flagellation as they march through the neighborhoods. Cloth blindfolds cover the penitents’ faces, maintaining their anonymity as they make their public sacrifice before hundreds of spectators. By the end of the ritual, visible skin is vibrant with blood, clothes stained bright red. The ritual is undertaken as a penance for sins, as well as a sacrifice to unite oneself with Christ in His long walk to Golgotha, for others as a display of gratitude for answered prayers.

While Catholic bishops in the Philippines have warned against extreme sacrifice, instead urging the faithful to place an emphasis on prayer, the practice continues, drawing tourists from all over the world to witness the incredible acts of sacrifice.

Whether Christians are out in the town beating dead fish, or searching for the eggs a rabbit hid, Holy Week unites our people and their beautiful (and sometimes unusual) traditions under one roof. What a blessing it is to see our Lord celebrated across the world.

About the Author

Kyrien Keeton is a student at The Catholic University of America and the Section Editor for news at the independent student newspaper “The Tower.”

]]><![CDATA[The Annunciation and the Radiant Holiness of Our Ordinary Lives]]>Tue, 24 Mar 2026 04:00:00 GMThttps://www.catholicapostolatecenter.org/blog/the-annunciation-and-the-radiant-holiness-of-our-ordinary-lives

The Annunciation is one of the most significant events in the history of salvation. It is the moment when God came to dwell in "the fullness of time, the time of the fulfillment of God's promises and preparations” (CCC484). In this simple yet profound event, Mary accepted God’s invitation to bear Christ into the world, and He was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Throughout the centuries, artists have endeavored to depict this event. In many paintings of the Annunciation, Mary is shown quite similarly. She is dressed in beautiful, flowing robes. She may be in a high ceilinged, ornately decorated room or outdoors in a garden with ornamental columns. These paintings are beautiful and impressive works of art, rich in symbolism, and while they aren’t meant to be historically accurate, when I look at them, I don’t feel very connected to the event of the Annunciation.

The paintings that have struck me more are those that capture Mary’s humility and evoke a kind of simplicity. The famous painting by Henry Ossawa Tanner, an African American from the turn of the 20th century, depicts Mary in a simple, dimly-lit room; there are cracks and stains on the wall, the carpet is ruffled, and Mary sits on a simple, blanket-covered bed. In another by American painter George Hitchcock from the same time period, Mary is depicted as a Dutch peasant girl in a simple blue dress walking amongst a field of lilies. Besides her halo and her beauty, there is nothing grand about the scene.

However, whether Mary is depicted as a simple peasant or in a fanciful Italian villa, a commonality is that she seems to be in the midst of ordinary tasks: she is sitting in her room, she is walking outside, she is carrying a jug of water. While we have no way to know what activity she was in the midst of doing when the angel Gabriel appeared to her, it is striking to think of her doing these everyday things when one of the most significant aspects of our salvation occurred.

This juxtaposition of simplicity and grandeur is one of the most distinctive characteristics of Mary. Lumen Gentium describes this as the “radiance of [her] entirely unique holiness” (53). In Mary so much grace was contained in a woman made of the same stuff as each of us. While Mary is set apart in creation, we also each receive and radiate grace and holiness in ways wonderfully particular to each of us. God also meets each of us in the midst of our ordinary.

The angel Gabriel greeted Mary with the words, “Hail, favored one! The Lord is with you,” and as God’s beloved, he also greets us with these words. Mary pondered how these words could be spoken to her in the same way many of us may question the plans God has for us: could he really be using the material and tasks of my daily life for his glory?

Like with Mary in the Annunciation, God asks each of us to welcome him into our lives. Mary physically bore Christ into the world, and we are also obliged to bring Christ into our little corner of the world. Whether we see ourselves more in the Mary of the Italian villa, the field of lilies, the small bedroom, or some yet un-painted scene, God wants to announce his presence in and through our lives too. Our lives and the activities that fill them may appear simple to us, but through God’s personal presence they achieve a radiance and grandeur too.

Author

Erin Donn is a campus minister at an all-girls Catholic high school and lives in Washington, DC.

]]><![CDATA[The Silent Missionary]]>Thu, 19 Mar 2026 04:00:00 GMThttps://www.catholicapostolatecenter.org/blog/the-silent-missionary1404941

It is rare to find a moment of silence in a household with a two-year-old. Last week, unusually, provided many quiet moments as my normally energetic daughter had a high fever and spent the day on the couch or sleeping only while being held. My wife and I took turns silently holding her to help her get much needed rest. Sitting in silence—without a phone or other distraction--was agitating at first. As the time went on, the simple time spent in silence holding a sleeping child became nourishing and awakened in me a hunger for silence that I often spend time avoiding.

This past Lent, I co-led an online small group for newly married men in DC. As we reflected on how the life of St. Joseph relates to us as men, we returned almost weekly to the challenge of finding silence amid phones and families. St. Joseph was not a character that most of us had taken seriously before being married or becoming a father. Yet in marriage and fatherhood, Joseph is the silent role model we need. Someone who understands us and who inspires us.

St. Joseph was not a loud or flashy saint. In the children’s books of saints we have for our daughter, the life of silent St. Joseph is hardly mentioned. How can he compete with traveling missionaries, miracle workers, religious founders, and the stories of martyrs losing their heads, eyes, and more? Though his life was not extroverted or bloody, it was no less meaningful. The life of Joseph was a life of daily martyrdoms and silent missions. Without having to leave his home or his workshop, he set out each day as a missionary to offer his life for Jesus and Mary.

This is reassuring to me as a husband and father of a toddler, who has been stuck at home during the last 12 months during the COVID pandemic. It is tempting to think that the only way to be holy is to be on the move or to be noticed, like the many Catholic social media influencers or popular Catholic priests or bishops. St. Joseph reminds us of a quieter, ordinary path to holiness that will earn us no new likes or followers. He shows us a hidden, silent example that we need in the noise of daily life.

Joseph’s silence teaches us to rediscover the silent mission work found in our own kitchens and living rooms. The artist and Oblate Brother Mickey McGrath has a beautiful image of “St. Thérèse Doing the Dishes.” In the painting, Thérèse is at the kitchen sink elevating a plate as the priest elevates the Eucharist at the altar. This image makes plain our mission as lay men and women to unite our daily work and sacrifices to the great sacrifice of Jesus on the cross which we commemorate at each Eucharistic celebration.

Perhaps this image of St. Thérèse doing dishes stands out today because our dishwasher broke this week and my mission field has been researching dishwasher pumps and motor assemblies and spending extra time in soapy water. The image reminds me that God has called me to this mission, regardless of whether it is my preference or how qualified I feel for the task. Joseph must have felt the same way in the ordinary tasks of his workshop and home. St. Joseph is a role model for how we are called to integrate our lives, finding God in every moment of our day—whether doing dishes, praying the Rosary, updating spreadsheets, or building a table.

In the life of Joseph, daily work “is a kind of prayer, a way of finding God, a means of salvation…Joseph gave to his carts and yokes the same care he would have given to a tabernacle, since he understood perfectly that a word done in love goes straight to God” (Michel Gasnier, Joseph the Silent, 29). Pope Francis reminds us that, “working persons, whatever their job may be, are cooperating with God himself, and in some way become creators of the world around us” (Patris Corde, 6).

St. Joseph is well known for not having a single word recorded in Scripture, but we cannot confuse his silence with a lack of mission. Joseph was a silent missionary who invites us in this Year of St. Joseph to join him in the quiet work. The silent mission of holding a sick child who has fallen asleep, of holding our tongue from an uncharitable word with a family member or colleague, of doing the dishes, or of going about our work with love. Silently. Without recognition. Like St. Joseph.

*This blog is reposted and was originally published May 18, 2021.*

Author

Jonathan Lewis was the Assistant Secretary for Pastoral Ministry and Social Concerns for the Archdiocese of Washington.

]]><![CDATA[Walking in Mission this Lent]]>Wed, 18 Mar 2026 04:00:00 GMThttps://www.catholicapostolatecenter.org/blog/walking-in-mission-this-lent

Walking the Way or Stations of the Cross is a long-standing Lenten tradition that many also do throughout the year. This journey joins us to the final earthly road of Jesus as he accomplishes the mission given to him by the Father, to give us the opportunity for salvation through his death on the Cross.

Of course, we all know that the Cross is not the end, but the challenging and painful way of the Cross is something that is part of being on mission, not only during Lent, but throughout our lives as Christians. If we are united in the mission of Christ through Baptism, then we are united with his Cross as the way to the hope of the Resurrection. We live in this hope, but with the understanding that life in Christ will mean, at times, rejection by others.

We do not walk this way alone, though. We go forth on mission with others. Christ is with us. Pope Leo offers us this consideration in his Lenten Message for this year.
“The Lenten journey is a welcome opportunity to heed the voice of the Lord and renew our commitment to following Christ, accompanying him on the road to Jerusalem, where the mystery of his passion, death and resurrection will be fulfilled.”

As we come closer to the time of fulfillment of our hope at Easter, may we deepen our life of discipleship, following Christ more fully and being always in solidarity with him.

May the charity of Christ urge us on!

In God, the Infinite Love,
Fr. Frank

Author

Fr. Frank S. Donio, S.A.C., D.Min. is Founding Director of the Catholic Apostolate Center and a member of the Society of the Catholic Apostolate (Pallottine Fathers and Brothers). He is also concurrently Provincial Rector of the Pallottines of the Immaculate Conception Province and the Executive Director of the Conference of Major Superiors of Men of the United States (CMSM). His academic background, teaching, presenting, pastoral and administrative work are focused primarily around evangelization, spiritual formation, and pastoral practice that fosters greater co-responsibility and collaboration among all the baptized.

]]><![CDATA[Why Should Catholics Celebrate St. Patrick's Day?]]>Tue, 17 Mar 2026 04:00:00 GMThttps://www.catholicapostolatecenter.org/blog/why-should-catholics-celebrate-st-patricks-day

Each year on March 17, the world seems to turn green, particularly in the United States. Parades, festive meals, and Irish music are everywhere. For Catholics, however, St. Patrick’s Day is first and foremost the feast day of a saint. It is a time to remember a missionary whose life still speaks to the Church today, even for this Italian American.

St. Patrick is of course closely connected with Ireland, but his witness is meaningful for all Catholics regardless of background. His life reminds us of the call to forgiveness, evangelization, and trust in God’s divine providence. These are lessons that go far beyond culture or nationality.

Patrick’s journey to becoming a missionary began with hardship. As a teenager living in Roman Britain, he was kidnapped and taken to Ireland as a slave. During those difficult years, he turned to God in prayer and his faith grew strong. After eventually escaping and returning home, Patrick later felt called by God to return to Ireland. This time he would go back as a missionary to preach the Gospel.

This decision reflects the teaching of our Lord to “...love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:44). Patrick could have remained bitter about his captivity. Instead, he returned to the very place where he had suffered so that others could come to know Christ.

The life of St. Patrick reminds us that the Church is missionary by its nature. Before ascending into heaven, Jesus told his disciples: “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations.” (Matthew 28:19)

Patrick took those words seriously. He traveled throughout Ireland preaching, baptizing, and helping to build Christian communities. The faith that grew in Ireland later spread to other parts of Europe, and eventually the world, through Irish missionaries.

Patrick’s example reminds us that sharing the faith is not only the responsibility of priests, religious, or even missionaries. All the baptized are called to witness to Christ in their daily lives.

Over the centuries, many stories have grown around St. Patrick. Some of the most well-known are the legend that he drove the snakes out of Ireland and the story of how he used a shamrock to explain the Trinity.

While historians note that Ireland likely never had snakes after the Ice Age, the story of Patrick driving them away has often been understood symbolically. It represents his role in helping to drive out pagan practices and bring the light of the Gospel to Ireland.

The shamrock legend has also endured because it expresses something central to Christian belief. According to tradition, Patrick used the three leaves of the shamrock to explain how God is one God in three Persons: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. In a simple and memorable way, he helped people understand one of the great mysteries of the faith.

Whether historical or symbolic, these stories point to the same truth: Patrick helped people come to know Christ.

A Saint for the Whole Church
Some people think of St. Patrick’s Day as a celebration only for those who are Irish. In reality, we know that saints belong to the entire Church. Catholics honor saints from every part of the world because their lives show us how to follow Christ.

St. Paul reminds us of this unity when he writes, “There is neither Jew nor Greek… for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28). The witness of St. Patrick belongs to all Catholics, no matter their background.

The food, music, and gatherings associated with St. Patrick’s Day can be joyful traditions. At the same time, the day is also an opportunity to remember the faith that inspired Patrick’s life. Attending Mass, learning more about Patrick’s story, or praying for missionaries are simple ways to celebrate the feast.

St. Patrick’s life shows us how God can work through even the most difficult moments. His courage and faith continue to encourage us today.

One of the prayers most closely associated with St. Patrick expresses this trust in God’s presence in every moment of life. Often called St. Patrick’s Breastplate, the prayer reminds us that Christ surrounds us in all that we do.
Christ with me,
Christ before me,
Christ behind me,
Christ in me,
Christ beneath me,
Christ above me,
Christ on my right,
Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down,
Christ when I sit down,
Christ when I arise.

St. Patrick, Apostle of Ireland, pray for us.

Author

With the Center since 2011, Chris Pierno is the Catholic Apostolate Center's Manager of Marketing & Consulting. In this role, he oversees the Center's marketing program and coordination of consulting services. He also supports the staff in areas of graphic design, advancement, public relations, administration, and strategic planning for the Center. Chris also is a co-host for the Center's premier podcast, OnMission.

]]><![CDATA[Thirsting for Truth: Lessons from the Well]]>Thu, 12 Mar 2026 04:00:00 GMThttps://www.catholicapostolatecenter.org/blog/thirsting-for-truth-lessons-from-the-well

As we near the middle of Lent, our initial enthusiasm may start waning and some “spiritual dehydration” may be settling in for some of us. The intentions we had for a Lent of deep penance may feel dry and barren right now, like being in the desert in search of water at the hottest part of the day. Yet, just as Jesus met the Samaritan woman in her deepest need and shame, he also meets us in our Lenten desert to offer "Living Water” that alone can satisfy.

Thirst is a human reality, not a moral failure. We find ourselves thirsty for refreshment for many things in life, whether that be in our jobs, in relationships that may need some nourishment, or in our desire to rid ourselves of distractions that keep us feeling thirsty. Like the woman coming to the well at midday to avoid judgement from her neighbors and acquaintances, how do we also hide our “thirst” or even shame during Lent? What if this week, we tried to figure out our own “jars” that we use to manage our daily thirst. Are these jars truly nourishing us, or are we just muddling through with enough water to get by each day? What are the jars in our lives that we bring to our well?

Jesus began a conversation with the woman by saying, “Give me a drink” to share with her a human need that she could relate to. By doing this, he showed God’s mercy was limitless. When he speaks to her, he is crossing societal, ethnic, and religious lines to really reach her heart and meet her in that moment. In this encounter, Jesus asks for our longings and sins, and therefore offers a promise of love and eternal life in return.

Jesus speaks to her about her past, gently leading her to truth because he knows her heart. Lent provides us a chance as Catholics to move past the pieces of ourselves we are not proud of or areas that make us feel shameful, and to look toward a personal relationship with the Father through Grace and Truth. Where can we find this Grace and Truth? Through the “Living Water” of Baptism and the healing we find in the Sacrament of Reconciliation of course!

When she is finished speaking with Jesus at the well, does she take or leave her jar? The jar for water is left behind, she has found a new life and is ready to move forward. Afterwards, she couldn’t wait to share the news and invited the town, saying, “Come and see the man that told me everything I have done. Could he possibly be the Christ?” Like the Samaritan woman, are there joys of our own Lenten journey that we could share with at least one person this week? Our own personal growth can become outward action in discipleship if we allow it to be.

Remember, Jesus is sitting by the well, waiting to meet us exactly where we are in life. In what ways will we allow ourselves to embrace Christ’s Living Water this week?

Author

Krissy Pierno is a Catholic parent and early-childhood educator in Washington, DC.

]]><![CDATA[Learning About St. Perpetua and St. Felicity]]>Thu, 05 Mar 2026 05:00:00 GMThttps://www.catholicapostolatecenter.org/blog/learning-about-st-perpetua-and-st-felicity2809872

Once I learned about the tradition of picking a Confirmation saint, I was instantly interested in the life of St. Felicity. She was the Confirmation saint of my older cousin, with whom I am very close. I always heard the story that when the bishop heard that she chose St. Felicity as her saint, he had a big smile on his face. When it became my turn to be confirmed, this same cousin was my sponsor, so I thought it would be fitting that I also choose Felicity to be my saint. But I didn’t know a ton about St. Felicity, besides the fact that she had a very pretty name, was a martyr, and had her name read out in the Litany of Saints at the Easter Vigil Mass. As I have begun to research more about her life and martyrdom, I have only become more and more interested in learning about her.

The first thing that I noticed about St. Felicity is that she is most commonly associated with St. Perpetua; you usually see them styled as “Sts. Perpetua and Felicity”. This is because the two women were imprisoned and martyred together in the early days of the Church, but that is just about the only similarity between the two women. St. Perpetua was a young noblewoman who had just become a mother at the time of her death, while St. Felicity was an enslaved woman who was imprisoned and pregnant at the time of her death. I couldn’t help but wonder how the two women became to be martyred together while on very different paths in their life.

Perpetua’s father, who was pagan, pleaded with her to denounce her Christian faith, which she refused to do. This led to her imprisonment in Carthage, North Africa, at the age of twenty-two. As for Felicity, the only information we know is that she too was imprisoned for the refusal to deny her faith. There is actually a first-hand account of Perpetua’s imprisonment from a diary that she wrote, and in it, she details the horrors of her confinement. She writes, “After a few days we were taken into prison, and I was much afraid because I had never known such darkness. O bitter day! There was a great heat because of the press, there was cruel handling of the soldiers.” I can only imagine the rollercoaster of emotions that Perpetua was feeling during her imprisonment. She was taken away from her child and suffered violence from the soldiers, all for refusing to go against her faith.
Sts. Perpetua and Felicity and their companions were soon martyred. They had all accepted their fate for their belief in God and lived out their final days in prayer. Prior to her death, St. Felicity gave birth to a baby girl, who was raised by a Christian woman in Carthage.

I find it to be very fitting that the feast of Sts. Perpetua and Felicity happens to fall during Lent, a time in which we are meant to reflect on the suffering that Jesus faced during his Death and Resurrection. We can look back on the martyrdom of Sts. Perpetua and Felicity as another example that bears witness to extreme fortitude, similar to that of Jesus. Over the years, I have really enjoyed learning more about the life of St. Felicity, and I feel proud to have chosen her as my Confirmation saint after seeing the strength she showed during the suffering she faced at the end of her life.

Author

]]><![CDATA[A Theology of the Back Pew]]>Tue, 03 Mar 2026 05:00:00 GMThttps://www.catholicapostolatecenter.org/blog/a-theology-of-the-back-pew

In addition to some ushers wandering about, in my church’s back pews at a Sunday Mass I see – The unruly toddler or restless baby. Those individuals whose mobility is impaired. That one person who dresses differently from everyone else in the Church. Or the person with the crossed arms who looks like they don’t want to be here.

Why are so many people in the back pew when there’s plenty of room up front? Or even in the middle pews? In my younger days, I was once an enthusiastic usher who joyfully invited some of these individuals to come forward and enjoy a seat closer to the altar, only to have my invitations turned down, time and time again.

Now, as a mother of two toddlers and a baby, I frequently go past the last row of seats along the back wall of the main sanctuary. Taking care of my little ones has given me the opportunity to meet the folks in the back pew, and every once in a while observe their participation in the Mass.

Humility
Embarrassingly, it took me years to notice something about some of the people in the back pew. There's something admirable about their hesitancy to go further into the sanctuary – like the tax collector in Jesus’ parable in Luke 18:9-14 who “stood off at a distance and would not even raise his eyes to heaven but beat his breast and prayed, ‘O God, be merciful to me a sinner.’” (Luke 18:13). What if these followers of Christ in the back pews are aware, more than the rest of us, of what is truly occurring in this holy space. What if – in all sincere humility, the individuals in the back pew recognize the greatness of God and by contrast, every human’s smallness, every person’s sinfulness, by comparison. Maybe, just maybe, without words or without even being conscious of it, they can sense the sacredness of what is about to happen here, and as a result, we find them sheepishly congregating in the farthest space from the altar, but still in the sanctuary.

Presence
And there’s another miracle taking place in the back pew - they came! Maybe the person who sits in the back doesn’t feel like they fit in with the parish’s majority demographic, or maybe they notice that they aren’t dressed in the same way as everyone else. Whatever the reason a person might choose to sit in the back of the Church - that person decided Mass was worth coming to anyway. It was worth driving to the Church. It was worth potentially feeling uncomfortable or out of place.

Now, on any given Sunday, I cannot say that all those in the back pew are without their own vices or shortcomings, and certainly not everyone in the back pews of a Church has a meritorious reason for choosing that space. Let’s be honest - there’s probably someone in the back pew that simply wants to beat the post-Mass exodus to the parking lot. Nonetheless, let this be your invitation to see Jesus present in the folks in the back few pews at Mass next weekend - regardless of their reasons. Afterall, seeing the best in others is a Christ-like practice worth acquiring.

Author

Meg Kanatzar Ferguson, D.Min. is the Curriculum Coordinator at the Catholic Apostolate Center. She helps develop online course materials and curriculums and assists with the development of Catholic Apostolate Center publications.

]]><![CDATA[Giving Thanks is Our Duty, Always and Everywhere]]>Thu, 26 Feb 2026 05:00:00 GMThttps://www.catholicapostolatecenter.org/blog/giving-thanks-is-our-duty-always-and-everywhere

I’ll be the first to admit that, some Sundays, my mind wanders. Whatever was on my mind before entering the Church building does not magically disappear when I enter the pew, and, sometimes, the worries of the day prevent my full and active participation in the Mass. Other Sundays, I bring my strongest enthusiasm and energy to give my all at Mass, and the three little saints under the age of 6 that I bring with me to Mass have normal childhood needs that supersede my best intentions. Yet, every once in a while, despite all the distractions and my human frailty, the Holy Spirit still figures out a way to speak to me through the Mass.

On one of these spiritually enriching Sunday Masses, I was able to hear the words of the Eucharistic Prayer with new ears. A phrase caught my attention in a whole new way. In fact, I haven’t been able to shake the weight of the priest’s words that day and every Sunday since then.

At the beginning of the Eucharistic Prayer, called the Preface, before the Consecration occurs, the priest begins …

Priest: The Lord be with you.
People: And with your spirit.

Priest: Lift up your hearts.
People: We lift them up to the Lord.

Priest: Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.
People: It is right and just.

And then, the priest says something particularly amazing …

The priest says, “It is truly right and just, our duty and salvation, always and everywhere to give you thanks...”

Giving Unending Thanks to God is ‘Our Duty and Salvation’
It is our basic duty as human beings to give thanks to God. Afterall, what could be more natural than to be grateful and appreciative to the God who created us, sustains us, and is the source of all good things? Albeit facetious, if we were to find a job description or instruction manual for how to be a good human on one of the many job search websites out there, being grateful to the Creator who made us, sustains us, and loves us more than we can possibly imagine has to make the top of the list of duties.

And the importance of our thanksgiving does not end there. Not only is giving thanks and glory to God one of our chief responsibilities, but we should “always and everywhere … give God thanks” because it is part of working out our salvation! How well (or how poorly) do we respond to God’s gracious gifts, love, and mercy? Do we give thanks and glory to God by loving God and our neighbor? Christ has opened the gates of heaven for us; how will we respond to His offer of salvation?

Dr. John Cavadini at the University of Notre Dame stressed the importance of thanksgiving in this way: ‘If the only prayer we ever said was ‘Thank you!’ and we meant it a little more and more each time we prayed, that would be enough.’ It’s been over ten years since I took a theology course with Dr. Cavadini, yet his words on thanksgiving are still committed to my memory today.

The Eucharist - Our Thanksgiving
If the importance of our grateful prayers and actions weren’t enough, our efforts to give thanks to God should bring us right back to where we started - the Eucharist. Our catechism explains, “the Eucharist is a sacrifice of thanksgiving to the Father, a blessing by which the Church expresses her gratitude to God for all his benefits, for all that he has accomplished through creation, redemption, and sanctification. Eucharist means first of all ‘thanksgiving’” (CCC 1360). It is “through Christ, the Church can offer the sacrifice of praise in thanksgiving for all that God has made good, beautiful, and just in creation and in humanity” (CCC 1359). May we all grow in gratitude for the gifts God has bestowed upon us and humbly approach the sacrificial altar with grateful hearts!

Author

]]><![CDATA[The Promise in the Desert]]>Tue, 24 Feb 2026 05:00:00 GMThttps://www.catholicapostolatecenter.org/blog/the-promise-in-the-desert9821857

As I have gotten older, my favorite part about Lent has become the fact that we have the privilege of willingly walking into the desert - into these 40 days - with our Lord. I think there are a lot of times in our lives when we suddenly find ourselves in the desert - desperate for water, nourishment, or companionship. It is in the desert where we not only grow in intimacy with the Lord, but are also able to be strengthened through real repentance.

What is true for us in the deserts of our lives is the same thing that was true for the Prodigal Son in this Sunday’s Gospel: we receive the promise of a Father who receives our repentance with mercy.

The story of the Prodigal Son is an important one for us to reflect upon as we continue on our Lenten journeys - it is through repentance that the very son who squandered his inheritance is welcomed back with open arms into the mercy of his father. And the story doesn’t end there: not only does the father embrace and welcome his son back, he rejoices and celebrates his return for those around him to see.

It is through our repentance that we experience the mercy of God; it is through our repentance that we receive the promise of the desert of these 40 days. This is so beautifully echoed in all the readings that the Church gives us during this season: God the Father rejoices when we are brought back to life again (Luke 15:32).

We as Catholics have the unique privilege of receiving this mercy every time we hear the words of the priest absolving us in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Our moments of feeling desperate in the desert can be alleviated by honest repentance. After one particularly frustrating time in my life, I remember feeling like the Prodigal Son: convicted that I needed to repent and return to God, but also feeling shame over all the ways that I had squandered what the Lord had given me. And in that moment a priest reminded me that confession is always a place of victory. Like the prodigal son who acknowledged his failures and was welcomed back with mercy and celebration, we too find an outpouring of mercy and grace when we reconcile ourselves to God.

As we journey towards Calvary, we do so knowing that our repentance leads to an encounter of mercy and ultimately to victory.

Questions for Reflection: What are some moments in your life when you’ve encountered the mercy of God and others? How did these moments affect you?

For more resources to accompany you in your Lenten journey, please click here.

*This blog is reposted and was originally published March 28, 2019.*

Author

Lauren Scharmer is the director of a multi-parish youth ministry program in the Archdiocese of St. Louis.

]]><![CDATA[Turning Our Hearts Toward Christ This Lent]]>Wed, 18 Feb 2026 05:00:00 GMThttps://www.catholicapostolatecenter.org/blog/turning-our-hearts-toward-christ-this-lent

What does it look like to turn our hearts toward Christ this Lent? Pope Leo offers us an important consideration in his Lenten Message:

“I would like to invite you to a very practical and frequently unappreciated form of abstinence: that of refraining from words that offend and hurt our neighbor. Let us begin by disarming our language, avoiding harsh words and rash judgement, refraining from slander and speaking ill of those who are not present and cannot defend themselves. Instead, let us strive to measure our words and cultivate kindness and respect in our families, among our friends, at work, on social media, in political debates, in the media and in Christian communities. In this way, words of hatred will give way to words of hope and peace” (2026 Lenten Message).

Turning our hearts and minds toward Christ is reflected not simply in the practices that we think are directed toward God, but even more so the ones that are directed toward our brothers and sisters in humanity. Our love of God needs to be reflected in our love of neighbor.

Recently, the Holy Father went to the Pallottine church in Ostia near Rome, Santa Maria Regina Pacis (St. Mary, Queen of Peace) where he visited the parishioners and celebrated Mass. It is a place with much drug abuse and crime, and yet, there is a vibrant, faith-filled community that works together with other Christians and people of good will to assist the needs of others, particularly children and young people.

In his homily, Pope Leo talked about the need to look into our own hearts:
“When it happens to us to judge others and to despise them, let us remember that the evil we see in the world has its roots right there, where the heart becomes cold, hard and poor in mercy” (Homily in Ostia, February 15, 2026)

Lent is the perfect opportunity through prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, to turn our hearts to Christ through love of God and love of neighbor.

May the charity of Christ urge us on!

In God, the Infinite Love,
Fr. Frank

Author

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