 “In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.” This is how I begin all of my prayers; and it comes from a long tradition in Christianity. As Catholics, we usually accompany these words by making the Sign of the Cross with our hand. Why is this so important to our faith and to me personally? To begin, I suggest revisiting and praying the Nicene Creed as it is proclaimed at every Catholic Mass. This is our profession of faith. The Holy Trinity – three persons in one – is a mystery we mere mortals can scarcely understand, but it explains our identity as children of God. We are taught from the Old Testament that God the Father is the Creator, and He sustains all of the world. In the New Testament we are instructed that God the Son is our Savior, Jesus Christ – both divine and human in nature and whose behavior we strive to model. At Pentecost, as told in the Acts of the Apostles in the New Testament, we are shown that the Holy Spirit is imparted to each of us as the presence of God in us who gives us wisdom and boldness to act as we are taught by Jesus. The unity of these three divine beings in one God is a profound gift I believe in complete faith, and it helps me understand who I am in His Kingdom. I am a child of the Father who loved me into being together with my earthly mom and dad, I am redeemed by the body and blood poured out by Jesus His Son for all my failings, and I am aided constantly by the Holy Spirit to live and profess the Christian life in joy and exuberance! I like to think of myself as being a flesh and bone human with supernatural assistance (as long as I cooperate with the will of God)! That is a pretty amazing disposition to live out of. We read in the Old Testament’s books of the prophets that God promised a Messiah to save His people, and then in Matthew 1:2-16 the genealogy of Jesus is recorded and spiritually comes to include each of us, who through our baptism become sons and daughters of God. This is an earthly and divine bond like no other in all of creation. There is so much more to us human beings than our earthly bodies and this temporary space we inhabit. We are walking, talking, living, breathing messengers of God the Almighty, commissioned to share love and mercy to every other living being around us. We are flesh and bone, but we are also spirit and intellect. When in right relationship with our Lord, we are the dwelling place for God to move and work in and through us. Understanding our identity and praying for guidance to live it out in what we do and say is imperative to being a member of the Kingdom of Heaven. This knowledge and the grace and virtues that flow from accepting our mission gives us the power to bring life and healing and hope and joy to a hurting, confused, and broken world. So, if you are ready to accept the mission, be prepared to be filled to overflowing with the Holy Spirit and be equipped with all that is necessary to be a present day apostle! Several years ago, one of our young sons made a simple but beautiful bookmark for my husband as a gift. It was brightly colored and had the words: WORK FOR GOD! down the middle. This summarizes exactly what we are called to do and continues to be a great reminder as it sits in my husband’s Bible. The Holy Trinity is the foundation of all our Christian beliefs and it gives me great comfort knowing who I come from and who I belong to for time and eternity, even when I do not fully comprehend it. We can sing from the rooftops: “Holy Father, Holy Son, Holy Spirit, three we name Thee; while in essence only one, undivided God we claim Thee; and adoring bend the knee, while we own the mystery” (Holy God, We Praise Thy Name by Ignace Franz). *This blog is reposted and was originally published May 25, 2021.* AuthorSusan A. Fowler was born and raised in Maryland and has been a lifelong Catholic actively involved in parish ministries for over 43 years. She has been married for 40 years, raised 6 children with her husband, and currently resides in Georgia.
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 What is the purpose of serving the Church? It is to further the mission of Christ until he comes again. This mission was given to the Eleven Apostles at the time of the Ascension of the Lord. At Pentecost, the Holy Spirit came upon them, the Blessed Virgin Mary, and the other disciples in the Cenacle or Upper Room. The gift of the Holy Spirit gave them the ability to go forth on this mission as the Church to serve Christ through living his mission, not their own. We continue as Church to do this today since all the baptized share in the mission of Christ. This purpose should align what we do as Church as not simply maintaining a club for believers, but instead as a place of prayer, community, and formation to go forth for Christ, witnessing him to the world and accompanying others into encountering him through the Church. If we have leadership roles in the Church, whether lay or ordained, then we need to always remind ourselves that we are not about ourselves, but our purpose, our center, is Christ. What we do as Church always needs to be about furthering the mission of Christ in the world. It is not about furthering our own agenda. The ways that we will stay focused on our purpose are through good prayer, discernment, and dialogue with others in the community of faith. When we do that then we will serve the mission of Christ, not our own mission. May the charity of Christ urge us on! In God, the Infinite Love, Fr. Frank
 The Easter season in the Catholic Church is often experienced as a quiet unfolding of joy. After the intensity of Lent and the solemn beauty of Holy Week, Easter arrives not just as a single day, but as a season—fifty days of celebration that stretch toward Pentecost. It is a time when the Church invites us to linger in the reality of the Resurrection, to let it sink in slowly, and to begin recognizing how it changes everything. At the heart of this season is a simple but profound truth: Christ is risen. This is not just a past event, but a living reality. In the Gospels, the apostles themselves needed time to grasp what had happened. Mary Magdalene comes to the tomb in grief and confusion, only to encounter the risen Jesus when He calls her by name. The disciples on the road to Emmaus walk alongside Him without recognizing Him at first, their hearts “burning within them” as He opens the Scriptures. Even Thomas, who doubts, is invited to touch Christ’s wounds and believe. These moments are deeply human. They remind us that faith often grows gradually, not all at once. During the Easter season, the Church gives us permission to be like those first disciples; learning, questioning, and slowly awakening to the presence of the risen Lord in our own lives. For many Catholics, especially those who might not be deeply immersed in daily spiritual practices, this season offers a gentle invitation rather than a demand. It doesn’t ask for dramatic change overnight. Instead, it encourages small acts of awareness: noticing grace in ordinary moments, returning to prayer even if it’s brief, or simply reflecting on where God might be present in the midst of daily routines. The Resurrection also carries a message of hope that is both personal and communal. In a world that often feels uncertain or heavy, Easter insists that suffering and death do not have the final word. This doesn’t mean that difficulties disappear, but that they are transformed. Just as Christ’s wounds were not erased but glorified, our own struggles can become places where God’s grace is revealed. As the Easter season progresses, the Church begins to turn its gaze toward Pentecost. If Easter is about the risen Christ, Pentecost is about the gift He leaves behind: the Holy Spirit. In the Acts of the Apostles, we see a group of followers who are still afraid and uncertain, gathered in an upper room. Then, at Pentecost, everything changes. The Spirit descends like tongues of fire, and those same disciples go out boldly, preaching and witnessing to the world. This movement; from fear to courage, from confusion to clarity, is what makes Pentecost so compelling. It reminds us that the Christian life is not meant to be lived alone or by our own strength. The Holy Spirit is given to guide, strengthen, and inspire us. Even for someone who feels only loosely connected to their faith, this can be a powerful idea: that God is not distant, but actively present and working within us. Looking ahead to Pentecost during the Easter season can shape how we live these weeks. It becomes less about passively celebrating something that happened long ago and more about preparing our hearts for what God wants to do now. This preparation doesn’t have to be complicated. It might be as simple as asking, “Where do I need courage?” or “What is God inviting me to do differently?” The beauty of this liturgical journey is that it mirrors the rhythm of real life. We move from moments of clarity to moments of doubt, from joy to uncertainty, and back again. Easter assures us that Christ walks with us through all of it. Pentecost promises that we are never without help. In the end, the Easter season is not just about remembering the Resurrection. It is about living in its light. It is about allowing that joy to take root, even if only in small ways, and trusting that it will grow. And as Pentecost approaches, it’s about opening ourselves, however imperfectly, to the transforming presence of the Holy Spirit. Together, these seasons remind us that faith is not static. It is alive, dynamic, and always moving forward, just as the Church moves from the empty tomb to the fire of Pentecost, carrying the hope of Christ into the world.
 We often associate tree climbing with child’s play—it’s an action that requires flexible limbs and a daring outlook that only winks at the possibility of risk. I can’t imagine it being much different in the ancient world. To see a man quickly climbing up a tree just to get a glimpse of another must have been perceived as childish and perhaps a little embarrassing. The Gospel today speaks of a short-statured man who grew quickly in the eyes of God. Zacchaeus may be chuckled at for his stature, but he can be looked up to as a model of faith in action. At the time Christ comes to his town of Jericho, Zacchaeus is not an upstanding man. But something about Jesus calls to him, so much so that Zacchaeus is willing to do anything—even climb up a tree—just to catch a glimpse of him. The beginning of the Gospel mentions that Jesus “intended to pass through the town.” However, upon encountering Zacchaeus, he stops, calls him by name, and accompanies him to his home to dine with him. And Zacchaeus’ response is joy. This joy comes from a newfound generosity blooming in Zacchaeus’ heart. The man who once extorted his community responds quickly and tells Jesus he will give away half his possessions to the poor. Furthermore, he pledges to repay—four times over—anyone he has extorted. The man, called a sinner by the rest of the town, has been called by name by Christ and responds with faith in action. He has experienced conversion, and his actions result in Christ saying, “today salvation has come to this house.” Is this how we await Christ, so longingly that will we do anything just to glimpse him? Or are we off somewhere else in the town of Jericho, distracted or lukewarm to the knowledge that Christ walks in our midst? What if every member of the Church—the clergy, religious, the laity—awaited Christ with the expectation of Zacchaeus? It is this desire and willingness that has disposed his heart to be receptive to God’s work. It is a small glimmer of the receptivity of Mary when she gave her fiat at the Annunciation. And through this, God can work miracles—the birth of a Savior from a virgin womb, the conversion of a short-statured, greedy sinner. As a Church, we often go back and forth between roles. We are the sinful people called to encounter Christ and bring his mercy and joy to the world, but we can also play the role of Christ in our work of evangelization. Christ—who calls Zacchaeus by name and is not afraid to dine with sinners. Christ—who changes his plans in order to minister to those right in front of him. Christ—who comes “to seek and to save what was lost.” As Pope Francis said in his closing homily at the end of the Synod on Young People, the Faith, and Vocational Discernment, “That is how God operates. He gets personally involved with preferential love for every person. By his actions, he already communicates his message. Faith thus flowers in life.” And what are Zacchaeus’ actions if not faith flowering? This flowering faith is what Pope Francis and the Synod Fathers are reminding the Church of once more as the Synod has come to a close. Almost a month out from this historic event, we are called to ponder deeply the prompting of the Holy Spirit and, like Zacchaeus, seek an encounter with Christ. It is this encounter with a personal God who calls us by name that will enable us to go out, as Zacchaeus did, with generous joy to repay our debts and minister to the poor and lowly. Let us call our brothers and sisters on the fringes by name. Let us put aside our preconceived notions of ministry and evangelization and answer to the needs of the moment. Let us sit and dine with our brothers and sisters. “Let us ask ourselves whether, as Christians, we are capable of becoming neighbours, stepping out of our circles and embracing those who are not ‘one of us’, those whom God ardently seeks.” Today, let us carry the light of Christ in our hearts and imitate him in seeking and saving what was lost. *This blog is reposted and was originally published November 20, 2018.* AuthorKate Fowler was the Blog Editor for the Catholic Apostolate Center. She received her Master’s in Leadership for the New Evangelization at the Augustine Institute.
 When someone is in the middle of great suffering or is having a crisis of faith, in the depths of their hearts, most people are also asking the question - “Why?” “Why is this suffering happening to me (or my loved one) and not someone else?” “Why now?” “Why does this type of suffering even exist?” “Why doesn’t God simply remove this suffering?” While there are countless books aiming to answer these questions in a satisfactory and all-encompassing way, one book I came across recently handled these why questions in a clear and refreshing manner. What to Say and How to Say It - Discuss Your Catholic Faith with Clarity and Confidence is an apologetical conversation guidebook written by Brandon Vogt, published by Ave Maria Press in 2020. While I may have my own critiques of this book, I found the chapter on the Problem of Evil phenomenal in how Vogt approaches this problem and how to discuss it with others. Firstly, when it comes to accompanying someone who is questioning God’s existence, God’s goodness, or why they or someone they love is suffering, the priority of our efforts should go to being present and listening to this person’s story. In the midst of suffering, the person is probably “focused less on the intellectual concerns and more on the personal, agonizing, subjective experience of pain and suffering… [in this case,] intellectual answers fail to satisfy” (Vogt 35-6). After all, no discussion of a topic as big and pervasive as the problem of evil can be settled completely in a short time. These questions of why evil exists or why a particular suffering strikes one person and not another can come back into our minds and hearts multiple times over our lifetimes. Vogt names three approaches to answering a person’s questions about the problem of evil in What to Say and How to Say It, but the last one focuses on how to accompany someone who’s suffering. Vogt names the questioning of those in suffering “The Emotional Problem with Evil,” and he explains that in this case, the person is grappling with the sufferings we, our loved ones, or the world face (Vogt 36, emphasis added). When someone is in the depths of suffering, “intellectual answers fail to satisfy. They don’t really solve our problem. We still feel deep pain and confusion” (Vogt 36). What a person needs in these moments of suffering is the loving comfort of our heavenly Father and his faithful followers in front of us; intuitively, “we just want to comfort the suffering loved ones in front of us” (Vogt 43). In these situations, Vogt offers three consolations that may help comfort those in the darkest of days. Firstly, “the love of Jesus is the best resource to help us face suffering with hope and courage instead of bitterness and despair. … In Christianity, [Vogt explains] we find a God who willingly suffers with his people” (Vogt 44). Jesus says to us through his suffering, “I’m with you. I know suffering. I know evil. I’ve been through the worst of it and have come out the other side. And I’ll get you through it too. You are not alone” (Vogt 44). As those who accompany others in their times of suffering, we too can echo Christ’s words and presence. We can be there with them in the difficult moments, reminding them with our presence that they are not alone. Christ Himself is present and suffers with them. Of course, “this insight alone doesn’t solve the problem of evil. It doesn’t make it go away. But it does make the evil easier to bear” (Vogt 44). A second way to bring comfort to the suffering is to offer “an eternal perspective that relieves pain and suffering. For Christians, this life is not the final act in the play. It’s only the prologue. … God promises an everlasting life, if we choose it, with eternal joy and splendor in his kingdom. … he will wipe away all our tears, right all wrongs, and end all evil, pain, and suffering” (Vogt 44-5). When a loved one has died or an illness is diagnosed as terminal, setting our eyes on what comes after death can help ease the pangs of heartbreak. Thirdly, and perhaps, slightly unconventionally, we could remember that as humans, “when things go well, … we forget how much we depend on [God]” (Vogt 45). Humbly, we can notice that “when we experience deep pain or suffering, we reach out to God with great desperation, crying out for help” recognizing in a whole new depth our dependence on God and our helplessness in the face of our suffering (Vogt 46). Could it be that “sometimes, … suffer[ing is the reality check we need in order to] turn back to [God] and reopen the lines of communication” (Vogt 46)? Perhaps, the suffering we face, as gut-wrenching as it is, can act as a tool to bring us back to God with all our hearts. Of course, no one wants suffering, but when suffering inevitably appears in this, our valley of tears, “evil and pain often lead people back to God” (Vogt 46). In times of suffering, may we turn to God with our whole hearts. May we become the presence of Christ to those going through the darkest of days and listen empathetically to the cries of those who mourn. May the consolations of Christ’s experience of suffering, an eternal perspective, and turning back to God bring us and those we comfort closer to everlasting life. AuthorMeg 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.
 Each year on May 1, the Church celebrates St. Joseph the Worker. He’s easy to overlook at first glance: no recorded words in Scripture, no dramatic speeches. But, if you look a little closer, you see something powerful: a life built on quiet, steady faithfulness. St. Joseph didn’t chase recognition, he simply did what God asked of him. When faced with uncertainty, he responded with trust: “When Joseph awoke, he did as the angel of the Lord had commanded him.” (Matthew 1:24) That kind of response isn’t flashy, but it’s rare, and it is exactly what makes him such a strong model, especially for those of us serving in volunteer ministry. In my own experience working in ministry and volunteer leadership, I’ve seen how much of the Church’s mission depends on people who show up without expecting anything in return. The reality is, most of the work happens behind the scenes. It’s planning, listening, organizing, and encouraging. It’s doing the small things well, over and over again. That’s where St. Joseph meets us. His leadership wasn’t about control or visibility. It was about responsibility, care, and trust in God. As the head of the Holy Family, he led by providing, protecting, and creating space for others to grow. Scripture tells us that Jesus “grew and became strong” (Luke 2:40). Joseph undoubtedly helped make that possible in his role as foster father. That’s what real volunteerism and volunteer leadership looks like. Jesus makes it even clearer: “Whoever wishes to be great among you shall be your servant.” (Mark 10:43) Volunteer leadership flips the usual script. It’s not about being in charge, instead it’s about being available. It’s about putting the mission first, even when no one notices. In practical terms, that means:
Here’s the thing - St. Joseph didn’t intend to leave behind a legacy the world would celebrate. However, his quiet yes to God placed him at the center of salvation history. That should tell us something. Volunteer service, especially in leadership, isn’t always easy. It asks for time, patience, and sacrifice. But it also draws us closer to Christ, who “came not to be served but to serve” (Matthew 20:28). The real question is simple: are we willing to serve like that? Not for recognition, not for credit, but just because God is asking. St. Joseph shows us that not only is it possible, it’s worth it. May St. Joseph intercede for all who serve the Church and our communities - particularly those who take up the mantle of leadership. May his example inspire us to embrace humble service with generous hearts, trusting that God will bring forth fruit in His time. AuthorWith 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.
 Today we celebrate the feast of St. Louis Marie de Monfort, a French priest from the late 17th, early 18th century. He was a third order Dominican with great devotion to Mary and the rosary. Known for his great missionary zeal, de Montfort is a model of reviving faith, rekindling charity, and forming apostles. He did this through cultivating an intimate relationship with Jesus through Mary. As we near the month of May, we can be inspired by St. Louis as we celebrate Mary’s month. But what are some practical ways to make the most of this time? I would like to share three ideas that will help us stay close to Mary this month. First, we can turn to Mary in prayer and ask for her intercession. We can entrust our needs to her, confident that she will care for us. This can be done through the rosary as we meditate on the life of Christ, with Mary at our side. Other prayers include the Memorare, Litany of Loreto, and Regina Caeli. These remind us of who Mary is and of her role in our own sanctification. A popular version of the Morning Offering begins, “O Jesus, through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I offer you my prayers, works, joys, and sufferings of this day” (EWTN). In this prayer, we fly to Mary’s heart since, as the Mother of God and Jesus’ first disciple, she is close to the heart of her Son. By cultivating a prayerful relationship with Mary, we too can draw close to Jesus’ heart. Second, we can research a Marian apparition. The stories surrounding these visions are astounding. A quick internet search can bring up many articles and books about and information of shrines of Our Lady. Some of the more famous apparitions include Our Lady of Lourdes, Our Lady of Fatima, and Our Lady of Guadalupe. These apparitions give great witness to the power of prayer and trust in God. If you are already familiar with these, I would encourage you to find a new one. A couple of apparitions that I have recently discovered are Our Lady of the Golden Heart and the Virgin of the Poor. All these encounters remind us that Mary brings healing and conversion because she truly cares for us as her children. Finally, we can celebrate a May crowning. When I was in grade school, each May, the whole student body would sit in front of the school by the Mary grotto to do just this. A few eighth graders put a flower crown on the Mary statue and led the rosary. Students from every grade were selected to pray one prayer from the rosary - it was as if we became the beads. This is just one example of how to do a May crowning. If you don’t have a flower crown lying around, you could buy a flower or a bouquet to place by a statue of Mary in your home or at your parish. You could also set aside one evening with your family or friends to pray a decade of the rosary by an image of Mary. Whatever method you choose, take the time to reflect on Mary’s queenship. All these ways help us to get to know our Mother better. St. Louis urges us to invite her into all aspects of our lives. God, in his abundant grace, has given us Mary as a model and intercessor to accompany us on our path to holiness. Let us be more intentional this coming month to turn to her so that she may draw us more closely to her Son. AuthorKelly Mosier is an intern at the Catholic Apostolate Center. She is currently an undergrad at the Catholic University of America where she studies Theology with a minor in Writing. She is involved in Pep Band as a co-captain and in wind ensemble. Kelly also participates in service opportunities around campus and lectors weekly. When not at school, she resides in Hershey, Pennsylvania.
 I think there is something special about a cover—about taking a song, a painting, or a movie and recreating it within the modern frame of mind. Aretha Franklin’s bold and unapologetic “Respect” is a perfect example, as she interprets the song as a Black woman in the 1960’s. As is Jimi Hendrix’s “All Along the Watchtower,” in which he narrates the song with hauntingly beautiful guitar riffs. In visual art, Andy Warhol recreates the portrait of Mao Zedong with a messy array of bright colors—an unusual depiction of the dictator. Finally, modern movies, headlined by the Cohen Brothers’ True Grit, give life to old characters and stories, recreating them for new audiences. However, even the Beatles, the most covered band of all time, cannot compete with the millions of interpretations of Jesus Christ. Thousands of artists have painted Christ crucified or the Madonna and Child. Everyone from Van Gogh, Basquiat, or da Vinci have painted Jesus Christ, each in their own manner. It can be mind-numbing to try to flip through them all, viewing each painting, alien to the others, and, oftentimes, to us. There are always two questions to ask when discussing art: “What is this artist trying to say?” and “What do we think he or she is trying to say?” These questions matter much more when investigating faith. In a special way, how artists of all disciplines—including sculptors, writers, or directors—interpret Jesus will affect us. Every Catholic, no doubt, thinks of Jesus through some piece of art or another, but Jesus is more than just a collection of paints, words, or images. Jesus is alive. It is tempting to trap Him in a Caravaggio, an El Greco, or even in the Passion of the Christ—to prevent Him from challenging us. Jesus as represented in art cannot call us out in our sins; He cannot tell us the hard truths we need to wrestle with. Even further, we should not trap Jesus in the Church or solely in the Mass. Yes, we are oftentimes challenged in specific ways during the Mass, especially when a priest gives a difficult homily. It can be easy, however, to selectively hear the priest, interpreting him and hearing only what we want to hear. We often want a sanitized Jesus, one that affirms us and makes us feel good. But while Jesus resides in the tabernacle and comes to meet us in every celebration of the Eucharist, He cannot be left there. Jesus wants to encounter us personally in order for us to help others encounter Him. Jesus always challenged His disciples to worship, act, and believe in accordance with truth. Jesus was not “sanitized” or acting in the “proper way” when He overturned the tables of the money changers; He was not “sanitized” when He described the narrow way; and He surely was not clean and tidy when He died on the Cross. Jesus defied our expectations. He was filled with passion for God’s truth. While He is Beauty itself, Jesus often made His listeners look away as they were unable to embrace the unsavory truth that can be hard to swallow. I enjoy going to Washington’s National Gallery of Art or New York’s MET, but next time I see Christ there, I will be reminded that He is not trapped in the golden walls of the frame. Jesus is alive, living in the Eucharist and in others. While it is beautiful to witness Jesus in the arts, we must remember that Christ lives in the audience, the museum goers. While the beauty of the art itself is mesmerizing, Christ is alive in flesh, both on the altar and in people who remind us that, while beautiful, Christ’s message is a challenge. *This blog is reposted and was originally published April 13, 2021.* AuthorBrady Baylis is a history and secondary education student at The Catholic University of America.
 Today, we commemorate the first anniversary of the death of Pope Francis and celebrate the 231st anniversary of the birth of St. Vincent Pallotti. Both had a vision of a Church of missionary disciples or apostles, followers of Christ who are sent by him to live his mission in the Church and in the world. In the life of Pope Francis, we find a person committed to the poor and those who he saw as on the “peripheries”. He called us all through his words and example to be close to them and to learn from them. He wanted us to be brothers and sisters with all human beings. He wrote in his Encyclical Letter, Fratelli Tutti: “Love also impels us towards universal communion. No one can mature or find fulfillment by withdrawing from others. By its very nature, love calls for growth in openness and the ability to accept others as part of a continuing adventure that makes every periphery converge in a greater sense of mutual belonging. As Jesus told us: ‘You are all brothers’ (Mt 23:8) (95). St. Vincent Pallotti was also a man of solidarity with the poor, both materially and spiritually. He spent himself from a young age caring for the poor and the suffering. Pallotti mediated on the words of St. Paul in the Second Letter to the Corinthians, “the charity of Christ urges us on” or “the love of Christ impels us” (2 Cor. 5:14). He gave this as the motto of the Union of Catholic Apostolate, his association of lay people, religious, and clergy that assisted the missionary efforts of the Church, revived the faith of Catholics, and did works of universal charity. Today, those who follow his spiritual tradition that began in the city of Rome in 1835 are now around the world in over 55 countries. May we be in communion with one another and co-responsible for the mission of Christ and his Church as both Pope Francis and St. Vincent taught. May the charity of Christ urge us on! In God, the Infinite Love, Fr. Frank
 “Teach me to seek You, and reveal Yourself to me as I seek; for unless You teach me I cannot seek You, and unless You reveal Yourself I cannot find You. Let me seek You in desiring You; let me desire You in seeking You. Let me find You in loving You; let me love You in finding You” (Proslogion, I). In the Fall of 2023, I was taking a class on Christian Theology at The Catholic University of America. The quote above is taken from one of the readings I was assigned: the Proslogion of St. Anselm of Canterbury. This text has lingered with me for years, and, through reading it again and again, I have been drawn closer to St. Anselm, and I have grown to appreciate his life and his constant desire to understand who God is. St. Anselm lived during the eleventh century, after the golden age of the Church Fathers and Augustine, and before the High Medieval theology of figures like St. Thomas Aquinas and St. Bonaventure. Saints like St. Dominic and St. Francis, who reshaped the way the Church thought about religious life had not yet come onto the scene. Powerful rulers were trying to assert their authority over that of the Church. In the midst of these circumstances, St. Anselm found solace as a monk in the Abbey of Bec in present day France, and he drew himself into the inner chamber of his heart to understand the object of every heart’s desire: God Himself. From St. Anselm comes the often repeated definition of theology: faith seeking understanding. In all of his works, Anselm begins with the starting point of complete faith and trust in God and His Church, moving from there to try to understand the faith and God that he professes. His Proslogion is not a grand theological work like the Summa of St. Thomas Aquinas; rather, it is simply a prayer of someone who wants to know and love God. I was struck the first time I read Anselm’s Proslogion. The text breathes with the love of and the desire to know God, and it is a prime example of medieval monastic spirituality. Yet, I had more to learn from St. Anselm in his prayer that has come down to us. Anselm retreats into the inner chamber of his heart to come to know and love God. In his prayer, he makes himself completely dependent upon God for inspiration and insight. Oftentimes in prayer, we can enter into it with a particular request or agenda in mind. Perhaps we return again to ask God for a favor for ourselves or someone in our lives. At other times, maybe we are striving to spend an extra five or ten minutes in a chapel. These are all good things: God wants us to ask for what we need, and he wants us to spend time with him. St. Anselm reminds us that all of our prayers should begin with an interior recognition of who God is and who we are. We can only find him if he reveals himself; we can only seek him if he teaches us to do so. We are completely at his disposal in our prayer. Yet, if we humbly open our hearts to his work, our quest to find God in our prayer can become a quest of love and joy, whereby the mere act of seeking God is an opportunity to grow to love him more, and, upon finding him, our joy may be made complete. Sometimes, we must quiet our hearts to do this, put aside our supplications or grand desires for our prayers, and retreat into ourselves to find God dwelling there already. I strongly encourage anyone, whether they are interested in medieval theology or just simply want to learn more about the saints, to read the Proslogion of St. Anselm to see where his quest for God in the silence of his heart led him. May we learn to have a humble heart and to place our trust completely in God from the example of St. Anselm. St. Anselm, pray for us!
 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:
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?
 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.* AuthorElizabeth Bigelow received her Master's in Leadership for the New Evangelization at the Augustine Institute in Denver, Colorado.
 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. AuthorErin Donn is a campus minister at an all-girls Catholic high school and lives in Washington, DC.
 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.
 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 AuthorKyrien Keeton is a student at The Catholic University of America and the Section Editor for news at the independent student newspaper “The Tower.”
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