 “He said to them: ‘… you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.’ After he said this, he was taken up before their very eyes, and a cloud hid him from their sight. They were looking intently up into the sky as he was going, when suddenly two men dressed in white stood beside them. ‘Men of Galilee,’ they said, ‘why do you stand here looking into the sky? This same Jesus, who has been taken from you into heaven, will come back in the same way you have seen him go into heaven’” (Acts 1:7-11). Forty days ago, we celebrated the miraculous Resurrection of Jesus from the dead and joyful the start of the Easter season. Finally, after millennia of prophecies and expectation, the promise that humanity would be redeemed and restored in its relationship with God was fulfilled. Now Christ had risen in glory and conquered death by His Passion, allowing humanity to once again be united with its loving Creator (c.f. 2 Peter 1:4). This reunification of the disciples and their beloved Teacher was indeed a cause for celebration! What intense feelings of love and wonder must have resounded in the apostles’ hearts after their Master, Teacher, and Savior had been cruelly put to death only a few days ago. They believed that Jesus’ return meant that He would now “restore the kingdom to Israel” to finish His earthly ministry (Acts 1:6). “Not so, not yet,” Jesus corrects them (c.f. CCC 672). Instead, it was now time for Him to join the Father in Heaven since He had accomplished the Mission of atonement that He had been sent to earth for on the Cross (c.f. John 19:30). With that, Jesus was taken up before His followers into Glory. While they were still watching, whether out of wonder, awe, confusion, or fear as what to do next (perceptibly without Jesus), two heavenly messengers appear and urge the disciples not to stand there, looking up. Jesus would come again, they promised. Meanwhile, there was a mission to undertake; they were to go and wait for the Spirit, Who would help them take the next steps towards completing Jesus’ final instructions, which were, as St. Pope John Paul II put it, “the faithful expression of the Father’s will.” Before He was taken up, Jesus said to the disciples, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you” (Matthew 28:18-20). Christ was planning something bigger than establishing a temporal kingdom on earth, as the Jews commonly thought their awaited Messiah would bring. The Apostles, moreover, were instructed to teach— to proclaim the Good News to the whole world. And they were to baptize in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Like Jesus, they were to speak explicitly about the Kingdom of God and about salvation. The Apostles were to give witness to Christ to the ends of the earth. The early Church clearly understood these instructions and the missionary era began. And everybody knew that this missionary era could never end until the same Jesus, who went up to heaven, would come back again. (St. John Paul II, “Homily on the Solemnity of the Ascension of Our Lord,” May 24, 1979) We, too, in a sense, can stand with the apostles, looking heavenward to that place where our Lord ascended. We, too, can experience that intense wonder deep within each of us which transforms fear and tragedy, insecurity and tension into a peaceful certainty that floods the heart with loving warmth from God. From this, the same question posed to the disciples nearly two thousand years ago is asked of each of us even today: why do you stand looking up? The Church’s mission has always been that of the Great Commission, to spread the glorious, joyful, and redemptive news of Christ’s rising from the dead (c.f. John 3:16). As Saint Augustine testified, we are the Church and are commanded to accept this mission and not stand idly by in either amazement or apathy! Certainly, Holy Mother Church’s evangelization has endured obstacles, dogmatic disputes, and other setbacks over the centuries in bringing the Good News to the ends of the earth. No matter the challenge, the Church always pulls through since she has been founded by Christ Himself with the promise that “the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it” (Matthew 16:18). As the disciples and the Blessed Mother would experience on Pentecost Sunday, it is the Holy Spirit, the gift of the Father, Who is the source of the Church’s strength. It is He Who guides the Church in the way of Truth in the spreading of the Gospel, doing so through the power of God and not by means of the imperfect wisdom or strength of man. After having undergone the humiliation of His passion and death, Jesus took His place at the right-hand of God; He took His place with His eternal Father. But He also entered heaven as our Head whereupon, in the expression of Leo the Great, the glory of the Head became the hope of the body… our nature is with God in Christ. And as man, the Lord Jesus lives forever to intercede for us with Father. At the same time, from His throne of glory, Jesus sends out to the whole Church a message of hope and a call to holiness. Because of Christ’s merits, because of His intercession with the Father, we are able to attain justice and holiness of life, in him… The power of the glorified Christ, the beloved Son of the eternal Father, is superabundant, to sustain each of us and all of us in the fidelity of our dedication to God’s Kingdom. The efficacy of Christ’s Ascension touches all us in the concrete reality of our daily lives. Because of this mystery it is the vocation of the whole Church to wait in joyful hope for the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ. (St. John Paul II, “Homily on the Solemnity of the Ascension of Our Lord,” May 24, 1979) As part of the “New Evangelization,” we are reminded of this command to reveal the Truth of our resurrected Lord through our words and actions in accordance with how we are called to live as Christians, that is, with love (c.f. John 13:34-35). Like the evangelizers before us, we can expect face challenges when spreading the Gospel message, namely persecution (c.f. John 15:18, Romans 8:35-39, 2 Timothy 3:12, 1 Peter 4:16-19). Ah, but what a price to pay for the glory of God! Remember, too, that Christ promised that He would always be with us in our ministry (c.f. Matthew 28:20, Galatians 2:19-20)! As Pope Francis noted during his fourth general audience, Jesus is no longer “in a definite place in the world as He was before the Ascension… He is now in the lordship of God, present in all space and time, next to each of us.” We can always turn to Him in prayer; He, in turn, will sustain us with strength, grace, and Love. Given the difficulty of our task (often requiring great sacrifice on our part), this is indeed a great comfort! In addition, it is Christ as both God and man Who brings our humanity before God to intercede for us. Finally, the Ascension of the Lord is also our Feast because we have ascended with the Lord! The Feast presents an opportunity to reflect upon the relationship between our profession of faith and our daily life. It is the start of the evangelization of the world by Christ’s disciples and the call for us to do that same Work, started nearly two millennia ago, in joyful witness to the Redeemer of the world. The Solemnity of the Lord’s Ascension must also fill us with serenity and enthusiasm, just as it did the Apostles who set out again from the Mount of Olives “with great joy” (Luke 24:52). Like them, we too, accepting the invitation of the “two men in dazzling apparel”, must not stay gazing up at the sky, but, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit must go everywhere and proclaim the saving message of Christ’s death and Resurrection. His very words, with which the Gospel according to St Matthew ends, accompany and comfort us: “and lo, I am with you always, to the close of the age” (Matthew 28:20). (Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI, “Homily of His Holiness During the Pastoral Visit to Cassino and Monte Cassino,” May 24, 2009 **This post was originally published on 5/24/2014
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 Journeying is precisely the art of looking toward the horizon, thinking where I want to go but also enduring the fatigue of the journey, which is sometimes difficult. … There are dark days, even days when we fail, even days when we fall … but always think of this: Don't be afraid of failures. Don't be afraid of falling . . . This is working every day, this is journeying as humans. But also, it's bad walking alone: It's bad and boring. Walking in community, with friends, with those who love us, that helps us. It helps us to arrive precisely at that goal, that 'there where' we're supposed to arrive.”--Pope Francis College years are some of the most formative times in a young person’s life. One not only learns the skills they need to succeed in their future career, they also learn professionalism, time management, and make friends that can last a lifetime. One’s faith can also dramatically shift and change in college. As a cradle Catholic, it is hard for me to point to one moment of surrender, acceptance, or conversion to Christ Jesus as my Lord and Savior. Instead, I characterize my faith journey as a slow metanoia, a more methodical reorienting of my heart and mind to Christ through formation and acceptance over time. It was through gradual engagement in The Catholic University of America’s Campus Ministry and communal life that my personal faith began to be transformed and deepened as I grew in relationship with Christ. As I reflect upon my undergraduate faith journey, what stands out to me as transformative experiences that led me closer to Christ have been moments where I have been accompanied by peer and ordained ministers and when I was trusted to accompany others along their faith journeys. In my experience at CUA, I had countless individuals willing to journey with me as I learned and grew in the Faith. Specifically, I had peer ministers who were fellow students that grabbed coffee with me, answered my questions about college and the Church, and even commiserated with me over bad professors or annoying classes. My minister was only a year above me, and being able to ask someone who was so relatable about living one’s Catholic faith in college helped me see how to practically follow Christ’s teachings in my four years at CUA. This accompaniment made me realize that Christ calls the members of the Church to care for each other genuinely and authentically, instead of from a place of authority or condescension. Similarly, I was also introduced to spiritual direction early in my sophomore year, and experiences with my spiritual director allowed me to more fully enter into a relationship with Christ that is comfortable with the highs and lows of the Christian life. My spiritual director wanted to understand my faith journey in all of its facets. He helped me chart a course of discipleship that facilitated an encounter with Jesus Christ both sacramentally and in those around me. This relationship also kept me grounded when I had questions and when hard decisions of life rocked the boat that is my personal faith. The relationships with my Student Minister and spiritual director brought me into the Church’s relational mission that was somewhat absent in my faith life before I arrived at college, and the accompaniment I experienced from these individuals led me to get involved in college ministry. Eventually, I became the proverbial accompanier for first-year students at CUA. Just as being accompanied helped me become more mindful of Christ’s presence in those around me, being the one who accompanies helped me grow closer to Christ as well. I was privileged to be a retreat leader as well as a Student Minister in my time at CUA, and it is from walking with first-year students in these capacities that I have been exposed to new ways of prayer, thinking about God, and living the Christian life as best we can. What has been most impactful from my experience as a Student Minister was walking with my residents as we all made our way back to “in-person” faith throughout 2020 and 2021. Having been isolated from March to April of 2020, my residents and I walked together, helping each other unpack Scripture, become comfortable in Mass again, and encounter Christ differently throughout the pandemic. Even meeting for our weekly Bible study was incredibly transformative after our months of isolation, and our weekly group allowed us to relearn how to worship and reflect as a community again. Journeying with my peers as a lay ecclesial minister allowed me to more deeply encounter Christ in my peers and form a deeper relationship with Him as I was constantly leading or participating in Faith Formation. Throughout my experiences at college, accompaniment and community have been cornerstones of my faith development. I have come to realize that I am accompanied, I accompany others, and through it all, Jesus journeys with me. Jesus’s presence in the Eucharist and in others has helped me remain firmly rooted in His redemptive love that overcomes all human hardship. College years—especially during a pandemic—can be very isolating, but students can grow greatly in their personal faith with faithful accompaniment.
 “Mothers are the strongest antidote to the spread of self-centered individualism… It is they who testify to the beauty of life.” I sit on the second leg of a cross-country plane ride sandwiched between a carseat and a five- year-old boy. My son sleeps deeply with his head on my lap, scrunched up in his seat. In my arms is my six-month-old daughter, whom I attempt to nurse over her brother. I sit in this makeshift human game of tetris, breathe in deeply, and think, hours left in our journey, “what is my life?” There are many times when I have asked this question throughout the past five and a half years. It’s a question I ask bemusedly from time to time when I have been stretched in such a way that I never thought would be possible—in the moments when I am asked to give creatively, humorously, or abundantly. As you might imagine, motherhood presents those opportunities quite often. I smirk in these moments because I know these thoughts come from the woman who said as an adolescent that she would rather not have children. Babies were foreign to me and teenagers seemed like purgatory. Why would I want to have kids who would one day likely treat me the way I had treated my parents as a young person—always keeping them on their toes, suggesting another mission trip or school program that happened to be thousands of miles away in third world countries, or simply giving them attitude, ungrateful responses, and callous words? Why would I want to pour myself out to a being that may not appreciate me or reciprocate the love I gave? Why would I want children? My family loves to tease me about and remind me of this fact with each child I have. Here I find myself, three kids in, packing extra clothes for that one blowout, using a toddler potty in dire instances of emergency, cutting sandwiches into bento lunch boxes, sneaking vegetables into homecooked dinners, and bandaging the latest knee scrape. Here I find myself, convincing toddlers that shoes are a good idea, cleaning the mold from bath toy crevices, trying to keep my cool when the freshly assembled yogurt and granola bowl is tipped over, listening to children’s saint podcast episodes, and reading all the books using all the voices. How did this happen? The best answer I can say is grace. God took the young callous woman who had never changed a diaper and made a mother out of me (more on that journey another time), and I found that I loved it. I remember when our first son was born. I would go to bed after he was asleep and lay there hoping to be needed by him again (I know—crazy right?). I relished the fact that I could provide for him—I could feed, soothe, hold him. It felt like the most important task I had ever been given. Probably because it was and continues to be. As John Paul II wrote in his Letter to Women, “For in giving themselves to others each day women fulfil their deepest vocation.” Today, motherhood takes every ounce of my energy and creativity and patience. There have been many times when I have fallen short of my vocation to love unconditionally, forgive immeasurably, and respond charitably. I lose my patience, raise my voice, and threaten ridiculous consequences. Sometimes I wonder who indeed the child is in a scenario. But I don’t regret a minute of it. My task, though often behind the scenes, is to help form a civilization of love starting with my domestic church—my home. My task, though often overlooked, is to raise men and women of virtue striving to become saints. My task, though often ignored, is to bring the "genius of women” to society--“placing [myself] at the service of others in..everyday [life].” I have learned slowly what St. Ignatius of Loyola spoke of when he prayed to “give and not count the cost.” As a teenager, I could not fathom the depths of true love and mercy. Years later in graduate school, I heard a professor define mercy as “love that keeps giving in the face of rejection.” What seemed like it was for chumps to my teenage mind now comprises my entire life mission. Mothers, and parents overall, are called to live this mercy profoundly—imaging for the world in a special way the love of God. And I’m not the only one attempting this kind of supernatural love. I’m surrounded by these kinds of mothers. I’m surrounded by women who give of themselves extraordinarily every day. Mothers who offer to watch my kids for a couple of hours to give me a mental health morning. Mothers who drop off a day of meals when our family is sick. Mothers who leave notes of encouragement for one another. Who call to say hi and just check in. Mothers who remember my birthday. Who encourage me with their witness of authenticity, humility, and courage. Mothers with multiple roles or jobs ,new mothers and seasoned mothers. So many times, I have looked around and thought not only, “what is my life?” but “what is life, what is society, what is culture, without motherhood?” And not only physical motherhood, but spiritual motherhood, too. Women who bring life into the world in ways as unique as themselves—with their compassion, sensitivity, creativity, and love. I have been humbled by this vocation time and again. And so, I look up with a smirk to the Lord, my shoulders wrapped in a nursing cover, finagling an infant and sweating, trying to keep two children asleep in a cramped airplane row, and say not only, “what is my life?” but “thank you for this life.
5/10/2022 Part Two: Fully Initiated- Learning and Living our Faith through the Order of Christian Initiation of Adults (OCIA)Read Now I shared in Part One about the need for our Church’s pathway for those desiring to become Catholic, officially called the Order of Christian Initiation of Adults (OCIA), to foster more than head knowledge of the faith and instead cultivate our call to communion through real-life holy habits and spiritual practices. Easier said than done! In this post, I’d like to share a few ways we set out to alter the typical “classroom” paradigm—meeting for classroom teaching/discussion one night a week for six to nine months—by “pastorally engineering” a process aimed at personal belonging in the parish community and steady immersion into the mystery of faith through first-hand experience. As a matter of fact, that is what the liturgical text (the Order of Christian Initiation of Adults) is all about. Putting the words into relevant practice takes both fidelity and creativity. I don’t claim any “unprecedented” results. What I’m sharing is simply our “work-in-progress” attempts to try something different and maybe raise some discussion in your own contexts. If the OCIA process is new or unfamiliar, I hope this also gives you a better idea of what’s involved. Stage One: The Period of Evangelization and Inquiry (Pre-Catechumenate) People inquire about becoming Catholic at all points in the year (some parish OCIA programs meet all year round, but we don’t). I meet with them, listen to their story, share basic information about the OCIA process, and encourage them to get involved in parish life if they aren’t already. I then ask them to do two things to prepare for when our formal OCIA program begins (in October): 1) If not already, simply begin attending Mass every Sunday, and 2) Read the Gospel of Mark from beginning to end. In October, when OCIA sessions officially begin, we have class every Monday night up until the beginning of Advent. This Period (Evangelization and Inquiry) is entirely about the proclamation of the Kerygma and the basics of Christianity, no matter what stage or knowledge of faith. (Of course, each class goes into more depth and discussion as you would imagine). The only readings I ask during this period come from the Bible- by this point (over two months), they will have read the entire Gospel of Matthew and other important passages of the Old Testament and New Testament. Each class includes teaching and doing a form of prayer together (e.g., Sign of the Cross, Examen, Lectio Divina, The Lord’s Prayer, etc.). We can’t just tell people to pray- we have to teach them by doing it with them! Each Session is focused on a single question: Week 1) Who is God? Week 2) Who am I? Week 3) What is Salvation? Week 4) Who is Jesus? Week 5) Why Did Jesus Die? Week 6) What is the Resurrection? The last session (7) on “Who is the Holy Spirit?” actually takes place during a 9am – 3pm group Advent retreat day on Saturday of the beginning of Advent (for the Annunciation). On this retreat day, which we celebrated at some Catholic historical sites in Baltimore, we also celebrated the Rite of Acceptance of Catechumens, which signals the transition to the next stage of OCIA. The Four Stages of OCIA are built around the Liturgical Year. One more critical thing; before we move on to Stage Two of the OCIA, I ask them to select their sponsor/godparent. The sponsor is the most important individual for their OCIA journey. Their sponsor must be able to fulfill the program requirements, which beyond merely fulfilling canon law criteria, include attending Mass with them or their family every Sunday and Holy Day, and completing all of the “Missions” with them. Yes. For this reason, I effectively “require” their sponsor to be a parishioner. I do not assign sponsors, but, if necessary, as pastorally responsible, I will seek to introduce and create the relationship with a potential sponsor (disclosure: I haven’t had to do this yet). The impetus was our parish’s mentor-model marriage preparation program, but I simply see this as discipleship happening in pairs (Mk 6:7; Lk 10:1). I mostly refer to the sponsor as their companion (literally, “to share bread with). Stage Two: The Period of the Catechumenate This stage comprises the bulk of the candidate’s time and formation. Having gone deep into the Kerygma, we now delve into topics like What is the Creed? What is the Church? Who is Mary? and each of the sacraments. This Stage runs from the beginning of Advent to the beginning of Lent. During this stage, the group stops meeting every Monday and meets one Monday a month. Instead, the Catechumen and their Sponsor are sent out “two-by-two” to accomplish specific “Missions” with their companion. Each “Mission” is designed to illuminate an aspect of the mystery of the faith by participating in that sacred time and space. The Mission is accompanied by readings from Scripture, the Catechism, and the writings of the saints along with some reflection questions. (I do not use any “textbooks”- primary sources only!) I personally put together a workbook for each stage that I call “Field Guides” that simply contain the readings and, most importantly, the “Missions” I ask them to accomplish with their Sponsor. By the end of the Second Stage, here is a list of what they will (in theory) have done together:
So, as you can see, even though we are not meeting in class every week, the participants are actively engaged, even more engaged than once a week class. Not to mention, this shifts the weight of pastoral responsibility and formation upon the sponsor—facilitating good memories and fortifying a deep bond of faith and friendship along the way. The Missions framework promotes a journey of faith built upon discovery and self-initiated learning. Imagine being an inquiring candidate or catechumen and having a trusted friend or mentor who performs and discusses these actions with you. That’s discipleship! From a minister’s point of view, on a very practical note, this helps solve the problem of having to compete with Monday nights and schedules or doing “make-up sessions.” The participants must plan and complete all their “missions” on their own time. This way, no topic is (in theory) left uncovered. These “missions,” however, are not busy work or boxes to check, but ordinary Catholic practices that introduce the candidate (and sometimes their sponsor) into a Catholic way of life. They are engineered for immersion into the liturgical and communal life of the parish, diocese, and universal Church. It’s not merely talking about being Catholic, but simply going out and doing all the things that Catholics are called to do on a regular basis. We learn by living! The requirement to “Pass Go” onto the Third Stage of OCIA is simply having completed these Missions and attended the monthly in-person Sessions that go into more teaching depth on special topics like the Eucharist and Holy Orders. All these missions prepare the candidate and catechumen to participate in the Rite of Election at the cathedral, which happens at the beginning of Lent and signals the transition to Stage Three. In Part Three (final) of this blog series, I will discuss Stage Three and Stage Four of OCIA and how this different paradigm has helped us foster a mentality of full initiation—both into the sacraments and the Parish Community and Universal Church—as the true goal of becoming Catholic.
 I have always cringed when I have heard people describe new and seasoned mothers as “cute” or “adorable.” Though those things might be true, and though I might be biased as someone who is not a mother, I have always seen motherhood in a different light. “Cute” and “adorable” do not capture the fearsome and challenging vocation of being a mother. To me, motherhood seems tenacious, fierce, and strong. My perspective of motherhood has been shaped by my own mother. My mom, a Danish and Irish Catholic originally from Long Island, is the sweetest and loveliest person you will meet. She has a discerning eye for the most appropriate greeting card for any occasion. She generously picks out treats from my favorite bakery and thoughtfully compiles care packages to extend her love from across the miles. Sparing no opportunity to offer encouragement, a listening ear, and hope, my mom’s gentleness and kindness continue to leave a lasting impact on my life. At the same time, my mother is fierce. When my sister or I have experienced painful moments in our lives, my mom has sat with us, shared our anger or sadness, but also encouraged us to get up, have courage, and continue on. I watched her care for my grandmother with tenderness during my grandmother’s last years of life. Despite the many emotions that came with caring for an aging parent, my mother never relented in her patience or warmth though my grandmother was often scared or unsteady on her feet. I think often of how I learned to be strong and accompany others because of watching how my mom carried herself and listened patiently to others. I think the virtue that my mom has cultivated within me the most is hope, as she often reminded my sister and me that, though we might find ourselves sad or in pain in challenging moments, “the birds will still sing, and the sun will come up tomorrow.” There are many moments when my mom’s strength, protectiveness, and ferocity have come to the fore. However, there is one story in particular that I believe encapsulates my mother’s strength. When I was 8 or 9, my family vacationed at a beach in the South Carolina low-country. I loved to play in the ocean and would often lose myself jumping and swimming in the salty waves. One day, when I was swimming in the ocean and immersed fully under the water, I felt a hand grab my wrist and pull me out of the water. It was my mother. From where she was standing on the shore, she had run into the water to drag me back onto the beach because she had seen a large shark fin making its way on the surface of the water towards where I was swimming. In the Book of Wisdom, Chapter 7, there are beautiful verses describing Wisdom, often personified in the Hebrew scriptures as a woman. One verse in particular has always been my favorite and reminds me of the strength and ferocity of women in my life, especially my mother: “For she is the breath of the might of God” (Wisdom 7:25). When I think of this verse, I consider the unfathomable strength and ferocity of God. From our Scriptures, we know that the might of God has destroyed armies (2 Kings 19:35-37), parted the Red Sea (Exodus 14), created the world (Genesis 1-2), healed the sick (Matthew 14:14), and brought the dead back to life (John 20). At the same time, the word “breath” evokes a gentle sensation of air that is cooling, reviving, and life-giving. A breath is a small share in an organism’s larger pattern of breathing and is just one small part of the total function of a living being. From my view, it seems to me that my mother, as well as all mothers, have the capability to be “a breath of the might of God.” Mothers have the power to give life, protect, defend, encourage, and strengthen. They share in the power of God’s might through their steadfastness, gentleness, fierceness, and love. Mothers, because they share in God’s might, invite us to contemplate God’s own fierceness, love, tenacity, and tenderness. Much like my mom letting nothing stop her from pulling me out of the water to protect me from a shark, God also is relentless in wanting to be in relationship with us as God’s beloved children. Like my mother cared for my grandmother with patience and tenderness, God also gifts us merciful, gentle love no matter the state we are in. Just as my mom continues to listen, encourage, and instill hope, God also accepts us and loves us just as we are. Though God’s power and might is totally incomprehensible to us as human beings, we may know it in a small way through the gift of our mothers.
 This May, we have the joy of spending the whole month in the Easter season. We begin this month not far removed from Easter Sunday and end the month by celebrating the Ascension. Some parishes will also start a Pentecost Novena leading up to Pentecost on June 5th. One quirk of celebrating the saints is that when their feast day falls on a Sunday, we typically don’t get to celebrate them at Mass and learn about their lives. This May, there are three outstanding saints whose feasts fall on the three Sundays leading up to Pentecost. St. Isidore the Farmer The feast of the 11th and 12th century saint, Isidore the Farmer, is celebrated on May 15th. I find the life of St. Isidore the Farmer incredibly inspiring. St. Isidore was not a priest or member of the clergy. Rather, he was a pious farmer who was devoted to his work and also attended daily Mass. Through his commitment to farming and to the Eucharist, he was able to make a difference in his community and become a role model for other farmers. In today’s world, I sometimes find it hard to work in a more secular field while I have friends who work for the Church. I think of the example of saints like St. Isidore the Farmer who lived out their faith in their work and this witness inspires me hundreds of years later. As we prepare for Pentecost, let us pray for the intercession of St. Isidore the Farmer in living out our faith throughout our daily work. St. Rita of Cascia A week later, on May 22nd, we celebrate the feast of St. Rita of Cascia. St. Rita was a 15th century married Italian woman who eventually became an Augustinian nun. She is known as the patron saint of marital problems because of the way she gracefully handled her difficult marriage and her husband’s death by a feuding family. After her husband’s death, she cared for her sons and eventually became an Augustinian nun who devoted herself to praying for peace in the community of Cascia. Along with St. Jude, she is also known as a patron saint of lost and impossible causes. As we continue to prepare for Pentecost, let us pray for the intercession of St. Rita of Cascia in any challenges that may be holding us back from growing in our relationship with the Risen Christ. Pope St. Paul VI On May 29th we celebrate the feast of Pope St. Paul VI, one of the most recently canonized saints. Pope St. Paul VI continued the Second Vatican Council after the death of Pope John XXIII and helped implement many of the decisions and reforms that came from the Council. Many of these decisions were incredibly challenging, but Paul VI was able to navigate the situation and is highly respected for his ability to lead the Church in difficult times. Paul VI also helped grow ecumenical relations with Eastern Orthodox and Protestant churches—a model which continued into the papacies of his successors. As we continue to prepare for Pentecost, let us pray for the intercession of Pope St. Paul VI in making difficult decisions that ultimately will help us grow closer to God and to our neighbor. To learn more about the saints, visit our Catholic Feast Days Website by clicking here. To view a calendar of the feast days in May, and each month, click here.
4/26/2022 Part One: Fully Initiated- Learning and Living our Faith through the Order of Christian Initiation of Adults (OCIA)Read Now The Easter Season is an opportunity to celebrate and reflect gratefully on the faith journeys of those adults newly received into “full communion with the Catholic Church” by participating in the Sacraments of Initiation—Baptism, Confirmation, and Eucharist—at the Easter Vigil. The official process, typically covering 9 months to a year in most parishes, with origins in the Early Church, goes by the name of the Order of Christian Initiation of Adults, or, O.C.I.A. (Most Catholics are familiar with “RCIA,” however the name has changed since the updating of liturgical texts). OCIA is easily one of my favorite ministries to participate in and coordinate. Like any ministry, while filled with surprising joys, it also presents unique challenges that call for thoughtful renewal regarding our faith’s rich tradition and treasures. (Usually the joys and challenges spring from the same soil!) For example, each new group of candidates (baptized non-Catholics) and catechumens (non-baptized) includes a very wide range of cultural and educational backgrounds, motivations and levels of commitment, and personal/family situations to pastorally navigate. OCIA is not ministry terrain for impatient or intolerant Catholics. We must face the reality that seeing our Church and parishes grow simply means learning how to make disciples “from scratch” through the challenging, beautiful work of evangelization and conversion followed by inviting and accompanying them into full communion with the Catholic Church. For adults who want to become Catholic, OCIA is the pathway. That means a robust OCIA ministry will be absolutely crucial in the future for parishes. Some readers may be surprised, even disturbed, at the attrition rates of newly confirmed adult Catholics who not long after the Vigil do not return to Mass. It is not merely a failure of catechesis (truly, the same problem occurs at parishes with outstanding and Orthodox teaching). It is not the job of parish leaders to complain or blame. It is our problem—not theirs—to solve. In the words of the late theologian Dallas Willard, “Your system is perfectly designed to yield the result you are getting.” That can be true of OCIA or any ministry structure. This year, I decided to explore some new practices—attempting a small paradigm shift, actually—that I found rewarding both in terms of the overall formational experience/quality for the candidates and catechumens and even for the ministry leaders (including myself). It’s really nothing “new” at all; in fact, we followed more thoroughly and precisely the liturgical texts than ever before. I’d like to share a few of those practices, which admittedly are far from perfect. I even told my participants the truth from the beginning: I was experimenting with a new structure, it might be bumpy, there would be tweaks, and to provide me feedback along the way. (For the record, they were amazing, adaptable, and very forgiving). Before that, let me say a brief word on this “paradigm” shift. It begins with a theological proposition: We learn the faith best by living it (that is, actively participating in it). This is a pastoral truth succinctly expressed in the ancient liturgical axiom Lex Orandi, Lex Credendi, “the rule of prayer is the rule of belief.” I am ever more convinced that we need to move away from programs that merely tell people about God and the Catholic Church and instead facilitate sacred time and space to actually encounter and reflect on the experience of the mystery itself by practicing the different “means of salvation” (prayer, scripture, saints, fellowship, works of mercy) contained in the Church’s spiritual storehouse. Most importantly, OCIA must be “pastorally engineered” to facilitate belonging in the local (parish), particular (arch/diocese), and universal church by gradually and steadily incorporating them into the holy habits and practices of faith in community. Those recent converts who fall away from the Church aren’t bad people and may have even learned much about the faith. Yet, even while receiving the sacraments, it’s as if they were not “fully initiated” at the basic human and relational level in which faith lives and grows. For the great success stories of those who do “catch” the faith over those months, there’s always another determining factor more relevant than class attendance. Here’s an obvious but under-appreciated fact in parish programming: People live busy and complicated lives. For example, this year I have a married couple in OCIA together. They have three young children under age ten. Is it reasonable to expect both parents to attend class at Church every Monday evening from 7:00 to 8:30pm for six or nine months? I submit it is not, and it isn’t because they aren’t “committed” enough. We’ve had single parents who work nights and weekends, seniors who do not drive at night. Moreover, while I cannot deny it is an important element of a strong OCIA, the classroom approach does not habituate the practice of faith in everyday life. We need ministry systems that work with and for those whom we serve. You may not personally be involved in OCIA, but I think it is worthwhile for everyone to become familiar with how the process works because it is truly a parish-wide ministry. If I am authentically fulfilling my baptismal call to be a missionary disciple and evangelizer, sooner or later every Catholic will find him or herself accompanying someone through OCIA, right? At least, every Catholic is responsible for fostering a place of belonging, a true family of God, when we receive our new brothers and sisters into full communion each year. In Part Two of this post, I would like to reflect on some of the practices I tried this year in my parish setting that aimed to create a fuller participation in what it means to be Catholic for life.
 “Brothers and sisters our hope has a name: the name of Jesus.” –Pope Francis, Easter Vigil Homily 2022 Easter has arrived. We celebrate the Risen Christ. In our remembrance of the Passion and death of Jesus on Good Friday, we know the rest of the story. Or do we? We may know it in our minds. Do we feel it in our hearts, feel the joy of our hope that “has a name”? Pope Francis points out in his Easter Vigil homily that the joy of the Resurrection of Jesus is not something to keep to ourselves. We need to proclaim it! Like the women going to the other disciples in the Upper Room, we need to proclaim this hope from our hearts to others who call themselves his followers and far beyond. It is easy for doubt and despair to enter in even within the community of faith. These can dampen our hope. We human beings are the ones who try to limit hope, somehow thinking that we are in control. We are not. Hope in the Risen Christ is limitless. His love, mercy, and compassion are infinite, leading us to ultimate hope –salvation. Alleluia, Christ is Risen! Alleluia, Christ is Risen indeed! Alleluia, Christ is our hope! May the charity of Christ urge us on! Blessed Easter, Fr. Frank
 From the evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper until Evening Prayer on Easter Sunday, the Church celebrates a very special period called the Paschal Triduum. As the USCCB explains, the Easter Triduum is the summit of the Liturgical Year which “marks the end of the Lenten season.” Because of this important spiritual shift, there are some symbols used during this liturgical season that are unique to the Paschal Triduum, and I hope that you might find and reflect on these symbols this year as we commemorate the life, death, and Resurrection of Christ. Holy Thursday Holy Oils The Holy Oils that are used by the Church throughout the year (Oil of the Sick, Oil of the Catechumens, and Holy chrism) may be presented during the entrance procession of the Mass of the Lord’s Supper on Holy Thursday. These oils are blessed by the Bishop during the Chrism Mass—which can happen on Holy Thursday or another time during Holy Week—with the priests of the diocese gathered at the local cathedral. During this celebration, all of the priests present renew their priestly vows. Ringing of the Bells During the “Gloria” which is sung on Holy Thursday, we hear the altar bells ringing! We are celebrating the Mass for the last time until the Easter Vigil, and the Church is in mourning so the bells will remain silent until we sing the “Gloria” again. Washing of the Feet As Jesus did at the Last Supper (John 14:1-17), the Church is called to wash the feet of the members of the Body of Christ during the celebration of the Institution of the Eucharist. This symbol of humility is a wonderful connection with the service of Christ. Ubi Caritas It is rare that the Church prescribes a specific hymn to be sung other than those prescribed for the Proper of the Mass, yet on Holy Thursday the Roman Missal says that we should sing the ancient song “Ubi Caritas” during the Offertory. A very simple song, the lyrics are very meaningful, especially for the Mass of the Lord’s Supper. Translated, they mean "Where charity is, God is there." Eucharistic Procession and Reposition The Church’s tabernacle, while normally filled with the Blessed Sacrament and reserved hosts, is emptied and brought to the Altar of Repose where the faithful are invited to join in Adoration. This procession is meant to be of great importance for the community and reminds us of the walk that Christ is about to take the following day on the Via Dolorosa, but instead of being nailed to a cross, we place our King in a place of honor. Good Friday Fonts After the Mass of the Lord’s Supper on Holy Thursday, churches are supposed to empty their Holy Water fonts “in preparation of the blessing of the water at the Easter Vigil, and it corresponds to those days on which the Eucharist is not celebrated (i.e., Good Friday and Holy Saturday).” (EWTN) Prostration On Good Friday, the Church is mourning the death of Christ and is full of sorrow. In response to this sorrow, the priest (and deacon, if present) prostates himself in front of a stark, barren altar. There is no music and none of the regular pomp and circumstance that comes with the beginning of a liturgical celebration. No sacraments are to be celebrated but that of penance and the anointing of the sick. The earth has gone quiet. No Invitation Normally, when a priest begins Mass, he invites us all to pray along with him, saying, “Let us pray.” During the Celebration of the Lord’s Passion (Good Friday), no such invitation is made. The priest just begins his invocation. Solemn Intercessions You may find that the prayers of the faithful may take longer than normal. Your church may sing them or have them chanted, with some kneeling and standing interspersed. Adoration of the Holy Cross There are many ways in which the Celebration of the Lord’s Passion is different from other liturgical celebrations, and the adoration of the Cross is certainly one of them. We are invited to come forward and spend time in veneration and adoration of the Cross on this most solemn of days – the day on which Christ perished while hanging from the very cross which we venerate. You may notice people genuflecting to the cross – this is something reserved specifically for Good Friday, out of veneration and sorrow for the blood which was shed and soaked up by the wood of the cross. Communion The Celebration of the Lord’s Supper is not a Mass. It is the one day out of the year in which no Mass is celebrated anywhere on Earth. Therefore, when we come to the celebration, there is no Eucharistic Prayer or any prayer related until, after the Adoration of the Holy Cross, the priest or deacon brings out the Blessed Sacrament and begins praying the Agnus Dei as it is normally done at Mass, which follows with himself and others receiving the Blessed Sacrament. Holy Saturday and the Easter Vigil Decoration When one walks into the church for the Easter Vigil, they will notice a big change from the celebrations of Lent and Holy Week – the church should be decorated with lilies, white and gold, and a joyful décor! While the lights should be turned down as well, we are anticipating the Resurrection and the excitement is palpable! The Light of Christ From the fire used to light the Easter Candle, the inscriptions on the Easter Candle, and the procession into the Church, light is integral to the Easter Vigil due to its representation of the "light of Christ, rising in glory," scattering the "darkness of our hearts and minds." We process into the Church with the Easter Candle, “just as the children of Israel were guided at night by the pillar of fire, so Christians follow the risen Christ” as we proclaim The Light of Christ while singing praises of thanksgiving! (USCCB) Readings Instead of the standard 3 readings at a Sunday Mass, at the Easter Vigil we generally hear anywhere between 5 and 9 readings. As we prepare to celebrate some of the holiest days in our Church, I invite you to observe the different rituals, customs, and symbols present during the Triduum. May you have a blessed and joyous Easter season! Question for Reflection: What changes do you notice from the Lent to Easter season? For more resources to guide you throughout the Triduum into the Easter season, please click here. *This post was originally published on 4/9/2019.
 Exult greatly, O daughter Zion! Shout for joy, O daughter Jerusalem! Behold: your king is coming to you, a just savior is he, Humble, and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey. Zechariah 9:9 So begins the first liturgy of Holy Week on Palm Sunday. We hear these words referenced in the first of an unusual two Gospel readings during the procession into the church. We start our celebration of Palm Sunday, appropriately, by proclaiming and then reenacting the story in Matthew’s Gospel of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, a moment of great joy and excitement for the inhabitants of the city. Those in the congregation welcome the priest, who enters the church in persona Christi, as we echo the words of the people of Jerusalem, “Hosanna in the highest!” What a happy occasion! The Messiah, the One whom the prophets foretold, has come! How fickle this joy seems, though, when we get to the Passion narrative. In a matter of minutes, we go from crying, “Hosanna!” to “Crucify him!” One minute, we’re giving Jesus a king’s welcome. The next, we’re condemning Him to death. I know I’m not the only one who feels a dagger through his heart every time we say—loudly—that refrain of condemnation. How dare I welcome Christ with such exuberance, knowing what I’m about to do to Him? Quite the emotional roller coaster, with Mass only halfway over! Holy Week is exhausting. I find it the most taxing part of the liturgical year. Starting with Palm Sunday, I’m attending Masses, praying the Stations of the Cross, and singing with the choir for days on end, practically turning the Triduum into a 3-day long vigil. In recent years, I’ve taken to spending Good Friday on pilgrimage to the National Shrine in Washington, D.C., to place myself in an intentional state of prayer and reflection. So why do I do this to myself? Why get on this roller coaster and make myself so physically, emotionally, and spiritually drained by the time Easter morning arrives? Quite simply, it’s because I love it. It’s the most rewarding experience of prayer that I have all year. On Palm Sunday, we’re reminded of what we’ll bear witness to in the days to come. We’re invited to reflect on what’s about to be re-presented in a real-time reenactment of the focal point of Christ’s entire earthly life. At the Chrism Mass on the morning of Holy Thursday, we bear witness to the consecration of holy oils for use in the upcoming year’s sacraments. We also see the gathering of all our diocesan priests, who renew their vows and participate in probably the largest concelebration of the year. It’s a moving and impressive sight. Later on Holy Thursday, we see the reenactment of the Last Supper, the very institution of the Eucharist we celebrate to this day. We’re reminded, too, of the great humility we’re called to emulate: “If I, therefore, the master and teacher, have washed your feet, you ought to wash one another’s feet.” (John 13:14) On Good Friday, we once again take up the cries of, “Crucify him!” as we see the events of Christ’s Passion and death unfold before our eyes. We’re called toward the sanctuary to kiss the gruesome device of our salvation, the ancient instrument of punishment used to redeem all of mankind. And after an unceremonious Communion service, the liturgy suddenly pauses and we just go home. The Church holds its breath as we wait. And then, finally, the Easter Vigil—the happiest day of the year, of all history! We hear the no longer fickle, but truly joyous words of the Exsultet, the Easter Proclamation: Exult, let them exult, the hosts of heaven, exult, let Angel ministers of God exult, let the trumpet of salvation sound aloud our mighty King's triumph! Be glad, let earth be glad, as glory floods her, ablaze with light from her eternal King, let all corners of the earth be glad, knowing an end to gloom and darkness. If I arrive at Easter morning feeling exhausted but strengthened, it means that I've truly entered into Holy Week, walking with Christ as He always walks with me. This Holy Week, may we walk more closely with Christ on His journey towards the cross, knowing that this journey continues with His resurrection. It is Christ's resurrection, His triumph over sin and death, that gives our Lenten journey meaning and enables us to exult with the Church and be glad! Question for Reflection: How can you enter more deeply into Holy Week in order to better celebrate the joy of Easter Sunday? For more resources to prepare you for Holy Week and Easter, please click here.
 "Since you are ambassadors and ministers of Jesus Christ in the work that you do, you must act as representing Jesus Christ himself. He wants your disciples to see him in you and receive your instructions as if he were giving them to them. They must be convinced that your instructions are the truth of Jesus Christ who speaks with your mouth, that it is only in his name that you teach, and that it is he who has given you authority over them.”—St. John Baptist de la Salle The entirety of the baptized are, as St. Paul says, “ambassadors for Christ,” but St. John Baptist de la Salle—the patron saint of teachers—expands on this idea for educators of the youth. La Salle sees teachers as becoming the image of Christ for students in the classroom. This idea necessitates that teachers teach their disciplines well, but they must also be models of love and virtue for their students. As a Secondary Education and History student observing at a Washington D.C. Catholic middle school, I have recently reflected on my role as a classroom teacher. Teachers, in many ways, become an extension of the domestic church. As children reach kindergarten age, they begin to spend the vast majority of their weeks—close to seven hours a day Monday to Friday—in the care of their teachers. The sheer amount of time students spend with their teachers necessitates that teachers become another guardian for their students. I have seen this first-hand in an eighth-grade class I have been observing. Students look to their teacher for guidance and reassurance, and their teacher provides structure, help, and correction for each student as needed. Particularly, in middle and high school, teachers begin to form students’ adolescent and adult mannerisms, and a teacher’s embodiment of Christ’s charity is essential for students to see how the Christian life is lived. Students crave a person to model, and while Jesus is the perfect example, it is hard for many to conceptualize how Jesus lived as a human being. La Salle explains, “Example makes a much greater impression on the mind and the heart than words, especially for children, for they do not yet have a mind sufficiently able to reflect, and they ordinarily model themselves on the example of their teachers” (la Salle, Meditations for Time of Retreat). A teacher must then step in as a witness to Christ’s mission lived out in the modern world. Teachers cannot be aloof people who look perfect to students. Instead, instructors must show that they are human with the capacity to make mistakes in classroom instruction and in working with their students. Over this semester of observations, I have noticed that students will eventually place their trust in you as they get to know you. As I assisted students with their classwork, asked them questions about their class and school, and talked about life, they slowly began asking me questions and fostering conversations with me. This culminated when I taught a complete lesson on the Roaring 20s and the Harlem Renaissance. My students engaged with me throughout the class period, and they even offered me feedback like a need to slow down a little and explain my slide images more. Students were also appreciative that I did not have all the answers to their questions, but I followed them up by saying, “let me check on that and get back to you.” Teachers must show students that they are an authority on their content and should be a trusted source of knowledge, but they also have limitations and do not know every single fact on a subject. Teachers—like pastoral ministers—must recognize the gravity of their role and hold themselves to a high moral and professional standard, but they must also be down-to-earth and relatable. This relatability in the classroom for middle and high school students allows for a form of collaboration where teachers and students work together to pursue the truth and the Christian life. St. John Baptist de la Salle was constantly trying to teach his order of teaching brothers that they were ministers of the Church and Christ and that the salvation of students lay within their hands as teachers. La Salle asked teachers to give of themselves to inspire their students in their academics and faith lives because he realized that students craved authentic witnesses to the theological and human truths of life. St. la Salle explained himself best when he wrote, “for the love of God ought to impel you, because Jesus Christ died for all, so that those who live might live no longer for themselves but for him who died for them. This is what your zeal must inspire in your disciples, as if God were appealing through you, because you are ambassadors for Jesus Christ” (la Salle, Meditations for Time of Retreat). In many ways, St. la Salle preempted modern evangelization practices with his emphasis on authentic witness as a means to bring people closer to God. To learn more about the saints, visit our Catholic Feast Days Website by clicking here.
 This April, we have a busy season of liturgical events. From the conclusion of Lent to Palm Sunday, Holy Week, Easter, and the Octave of Easter, the entire Easter season is filled with solemn liturgies, commemorations, and celebrations. Through it all, we are called to grow in our relationship with the Lord. When every Sunday seems to be celebrating or commemorating something different, I often find myself turning to the saints for some consistency and routine. Saints to Prepare us for Holy Week This week, we celebrate three saints who can help us prepare for Holy Week. Today, we celebrate the 14th century Dominican St. Vincent Ferrer. He was a gifted intellectual who discerned God’s call for him to be a missionary and ultimately became known for his missionary work all throughout Europe. St. Vincent Ferrer incorporated his intellectual gifts into missionary work for the good of the universal Church. Yesterday, we celebrated another gifted intellectual in the history of the Church: St. Isidore of Seville. St. Isidore is known for his writings which helped spread the faith even long after he had died. On Thursday, we will celebrate St. John Baptist de la Salle. He is known for his educational reforms which included the founding of the Institute of the Brothers of the Christian Schools. Through prayer and discernment, he recognized the need for education reform which included having trained lay teachers. He devoted his life to increasing the access to education for those who normally would not get such opportunities. We can look to all three of these saints to help us prepare for Holy Week by allowing the Lord to work in our lives using the gifts He gave us. April 28th On April 28th, we will celebrate three saints who have left a great impact on the Church: St. Louis de Montfort, St. Peter Chanel, and St. Gianna Molla. St. Louis de Montfort was alive from the late 1600s to the early 1700s. Even though he died when he was only 43 years old, many of his writings form the basis of much of Mariology (the study of Mary) today. St. Peter Chanel was a 19th century Marist who was a missionary on the Polynesian island of Futuna. After four years of tireless work helping the islanders with daily life, Peter Chanel was martyred when the chief’s son converted to Catholicism. After his martyrdom, many of the islanders eventually converted to Catholicism, including the chief himself. Now the island (as well most of Oceania) has a strong devotion to St. Peter Chanel. Lastly, we will celebrate the 20th century saint, St. Gianna Molla on April 28th. St. Gianna Molla was an Italian pediatrician who refused an abortion and hysterectomy despite her life-threatening pregnancy and eventually died after giving birth. She is known for following the teachings of the faith while serving as a doctor and is a model for Catholics practicing medicine today. As we enter this liturgically busy April, let us look to the saints we celebrate this month for inspiration in following God’s will throughout our lives using the gifts He has given us. To learn more about the saints, visit our Catholic Feast Days Website by clicking here. To view a calendar of the feast days in April, and each month, click here. For more Lenten and Easter resources, please click here.
 In the Church, we have a timely liturgical schedule of feasts, seasons, and commemorations. Each year, we practice prayer, fasting, and almsgiving during the season of Lent in order to prepare ourselves for the Resurrection of the Lord at Easter. In Advent, we hear readings from Isaiah that help us to turn our attention to the coming of Christ both in his nativity at Christmas and at the end of time. In addition to these seasons, we also celebrate individual days as part of practicing our faith. On St. Therese’s feast day, we ask for roses to cross our path to confirm her intercession for us. On All Souls’ Day, we remember those who have died and pray for their sanctification. According to paragraph 102 of the Dogmatic Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy, or Sacrosanctum Concilium, in celebrating these feasts and seasons, the Church “unfolds the whole mystery of Christ, from the incarnation and birth until the ascension, the day of Pentecost, and the expectation of blessed hope and of the coming of the Lord.” In other words, the variety of feasts and seasons allow us to contemplate the life and mystery of Christ from different angles. For example, at Christmas, the Church looks with awe upon God becoming human in the Incarnation. On the feast day of the Annunciation, we reflect on God’s total initiative to redeem the human race with the collaboration of Mary’s fiat. Celebrating the witness of the saints on their feast days inspires us that we too can witness to the love of God in large and small ways in our lives. Each of these examples gives us glimpses at aspects of our faith and renews our devotion to “the whole mystery of Christ.” Why is it important to mark particular days and seasons as days to commemorate certain aspects of our faith? Further along in paragraph 102 of Sacrosanctum Concilium, we find the answer: “Recalling thus the mysteries of redemption, the Church opens to the faithful the riches of her Lord's powers and merits, so that these are in some way made present for all time, and the faithful are enabled to lay hold upon them and become filled with saving grace.” In short, celebrating these feasts and seasons help us grow in grace. We hear readings that help us think about what the feast commemorates. We pray particular prayers that ask for the intercession of the saints we celebrate. We participate in special traditions, such as creating offrendas during All Souls Day, or preparing large feasts on the feast day of St. Joseph. Because of the liturgical calendar, we are invited to stop and be drawn into contemplation of the love of God. The love of God is not something we are invited to contemplate only on days or seasons marked by the official liturgical calendar. In addition, we can also continue to allow our attention to be drawn to the love of God in the feasts and seasons in our personal lives. For example, we might keep vigil on a particular date each year to remember the death of a loved one. We might even mark the difficult or challenging events of our lives, such as the date of a breakup, the date of a move away from a former home, or the date of a medical diagnosis. On the other hand, we may call to mind particular dates of joyful occasions, such as the acceptance into a school, a proposal or marriage, or coming home from military service. Just like formal feast days, the informal feast days of our lives also allow us to contemplate the mystery of Christ and the love of God through different lenses. The date of a breakup might remind us of the pain we went through, but the eventual freedom we may have found later on by trusting in God’s providence. Commemorating the date of the death of a loved one each year might give us the chance to reflect on the gift of friendships and relationships in our lives and how they have contributed to our growth and becoming. Keeping memory of the date of an initial medical diagnosis might allow us to think about our reliance on God and remind us to unite our suffering with Christ’s suffering. The anniversary of a wedding or proposal punctuates our lives with gratitude for a partner or spouse. In keeping our own personal liturgical calendar in addition to the Church’s formal liturgical calendar, we are invited to contemplate the “whole of the mystery of Christ” in our own personal lives. We can reflect upon the love and providence of God made manifest not only in the feast days of the Church’s formal liturgical calendar, but also in the significant events in our lives that have drawn us deeper into the mystery of our own relationship with God and others. By punctuating our lives with universal and personal liturgical feasts, we call to mind Christ’s words in the Gospel of Matthew in a profound way: “And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20). What are some days or seasons in your life that you might add to your personal liturgical calendar? In remembering these dates, how are you being invited to contemplate God’s love for you?
 “Do not let your heart be troubled. Believe in God and also in Me.” - John 14:1-2 Discipling a child is an “inside” job – it begins in the home. I learned about Jesus and the love and mercy of God from my parents first, and as a parent it has been my mission to incorporate practical ways to bring my faith alive for my children to ‘catch’ hold of and form them into disciples. Discipleship leads through example and draws others into a Christ-centered life. Beginning each day with praise and prayer, thankfulness and petition. It can involve sharing a simple breakfast together, encouraging each individual in their specific tasks for school or work, or offering a touch of blessing as they go off into the new day. Other acts can include reading age-appropriate books about our magnificent God and the saints and participating in daily Mass as often as possible. Mass brings every person to the Altar of Love – to the source of our help – ‘the fountain of grace.’ Hearing the Word of God proclaimed and remembering the ultimate sacrifice given for our redemption is full of richness that settles upon and within us. The Mass is our way of participating in the redeeming mercy and love of Calvary and helps keep us on the narrow path when we venture out into our day. Singing songs and playing games that reinforce the fundamentals of our beliefs brings the doctrine alive and becomes a part of our core being. Using all our senses to learn about our Catholic faith makes it an integral part of who we are as individuals commissioned to be Church to the world in everything we do. Throughout motherhood, I attempted to teach our children to serve in all kinds of ways and to look beyond themselves and care for another. In the home, we have endless opportunities to serve each other and share the message that others are valued and important to being the Body of Christ together. I taught sharing, deferred to someone else’s wants first, offered a helping hand, worked side by side to accomplish a task, and simply enjoyed spending time together. This discipling has one goal: to bring each child to a deep understanding of their identity in God and their inheritance from Jesus. It has to be intentional and repeated in the simple day-to-day. There are countless other ways I can disciple and the Holy Spirit helps me make it real and animated as I nurture my communion with Him. Wow, what a calling we have! The first people we “practice our faith” with are right in our own homes! As Christ Himself noted in the Gospels, sometimes this is the most challenging environment. Those who know me the most – who see all my cracks and weaknesses – can more easily dismiss me or even ignore me. Jesus Himself was not welcomed in His hometown. At home, in the raw moments shared with one another amidst the messiness of real life, we are just ordinary people to each other. Yet, in the beauty of the family, God uses the ordinary to bring about the miraculous. Love and sacrifice poured out for each other each day refines us and molds us. In rubbing against each other’s edges, we become the children God created us to be. All this explained – discipling doesn’t assume that when we nurture our children in the faith that it is a done deal. As a mom, I do my part, every day of my life, and pray each child remains captive in the Lord’s heart as they grow and leave. It’s a freedom each of us is blessed with – to one day go forth and be disciples in a new place, apart from parental tutelage. Continuing to disciple adult children is scary and wonderful at the same time, and quite the delicate balance. I share this to remind you that we are all in different stages of being formed and in constant need of being discipled, no matter our age or state in life! My husband and I were blessed with seven children – one in heaven and six living. Of the six, four have chosen to walk away from or live on the fringes of the Catholic Church and the traditions they were raised in. I know I am not alone in this, as other families have children leaving the Church as well. I used to stress over it and worry myself into utter agitation. Gradually, as I practice my faith more fervently, attend Mass, and bring my children in name to the Altar of the Lord, the peacefulness has returned. I am confident that the work that began in them will come to a positive end because what God desires, even more than this mama, is to have each of them with Him in eternity. He will stop at nothing to keep chasing after them! As St. Ambrose instructed Monica as she chased after her adult son, Augustine: “You have done your job. Do not talk to Augustine about God. Talk to God about your son.” I am not in charge of their decisions, but I can continue to grow in making my own choices rooted in Christ and love them no matter what. Jesus shows me ways to love and serve them where they are right now and remind them of their inheritance as a child of the living God. Sometimes it’s speaking encouragement, hard truth, or sharing my struggles. Sometimes it’s performing some act of kindness that exhibits the heart of God to them: little ordinary things like making enough food to include them when they stop by, finishing their laundry when they have to run off to work, sharing a little text message that I love them, an invitation to come play board games, or just being available to listen and keeping the door of communication always open. This also always includes inviting them to join us in the Rosary, coming with us to Mass, or other activities at the parish; not pushing – just extending the invitation. And so, my husband and I continue to walk out each day ‘practicing’ by doing all we can to become better children of God ourselves. We leave the rest to God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, Mother Mary, Saint Joseph, their guardian angels and all the saints to do what they do best. Discipling is an ‘inside job’- it grows in the living, beating heart of the home – and God works His miraculous through us to draw each of His children to Him. My confidence that He will complete His good work in each of these is secure! Come back to me with all your heart Don’t let fear keep us apart Trees do bend though straight and tall So must we to others’ call. Long have I waited for Your coming home to Me And living deeply our new life Song: Hosea by Gregory Norbet
 How much time do we spend fretting about the items on our to-do list? Whether it’s a long-term goal or a set of tasks for the day, the pressure to do all things (and to do them well) seems overwhelming at times. In tomorrow’s feast of the Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord, we see how the Blessed Virgin Mary offers us an alternative to our preoccupation with personal accomplishments. Her response to the angel Gabriel’s message focuses instead on God’s initiative. The angel greets her saying, “Hail, full of grace!” (Luke 1:28), or in other biblical translations he refers to her as “highly favored.” Gabriel goes on to describe the greatness of the child she will bear: “He will be great and will be called Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give him the throne of David his father, and he will rule over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end” (Luke 1:32-33). If I imagine myself in Mary’s place, I would find it very hard to resist merely contemplating my merits and basking in the divine recognition I had just received. Our Blessed Mother, however, thinks only of her lowliness before the Lord, identifying herself simply as “the handmaid of the Lord” (Luke 1:38). She knows that her “yes” to the Lord is far from simple. Because she was only betrothed to Joseph, her pregnancy could mean not only shame, but death by stoning. Despite such difficult circumstances and uncertainty as to how this could possibly come about (she asks, “How can this be?” (Luke 1:34)), she trusts in the power of the Most High. Allowing the Holy Spirit to work freely within her, she grants her full assent: “May it be done to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38). She gives no thought to how she can do this, but instead marvels at all that God does. Just a few verses later (Luke 1:46-55), Mary offers her great canticle known as the Magnificat, in which she proclaims the greatness of the Lord and all God’s mighty deeds. In her singular role within the history of salvation, Mary directs all attention to the grace of God that works within her. What a timely message during this liturgical season! It can be tempting to focus on what we have been doing (or not doing) for Lent. Yet this joyful mystery of the Annunciation prompts us to recognize what God is doing within us. After all, the purpose of a Lenten resolution is not simply to achieve a goal we have set for ourselves but to allow ourselves to be transformed by God’s grace. Perhaps in prayer over the next few days we might consider: How has God’s grace been at work in me lately? How can I entrust myself to the power of the Most High instead of getting bogged down in what I need to do and how challenging it may be? How can I allow the Holy Spirit to work in and through me? May our celebration of Mary’s life of charity, hidden sanctity, and faithful fulfillment of God’s will lead us to imitate her example, so that we too may be mindful of the great things the Lord has done in us and for us.
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