 Once I learned about the tradition of picking a Confirmation saint, I was instantly interested in the life of St. Felicity. She was the Confirmation saint of my older cousin, with whom I am very close. I always heard the story that when the bishop heard that she chose St. Felicity as her saint, he had a big smile on his face. When it became my turn to be confirmed, this same cousin was my sponsor, so I thought it would be fitting that I also choose Felicity to be my saint. But I didn’t know a ton about St. Felicity, besides the fact that she had a very pretty name, was a martyr, and had her name read out in the Litany of Saints at the Easter Vigil Mass. As I have begun to research more about her life and martyrdom, I have only become more and more interested in learning about her. The first thing that I noticed about St. Felicity is that she is most commonly associated with St. Perpetua; you usually see them styled as “Sts. Perpetua and Felicity”. This is because the two women were imprisoned and martyred together in the early days of the Church, but that is just about the only similarity between the two women. St. Perpetua was a young noblewoman who had just become a mother at the time of her death, while St. Felicity was an enslaved woman who was imprisoned and pregnant at the time of her death. I couldn’t help but wonder how the two women became to be martyred together while on very different paths in their life. Perpetua’s father, who was pagan, pleaded with her to denounce her Christian faith, which she refused to do. This led to her imprisonment in Carthage, North Africa, at the age of twenty-two. As for Felicity, the only information we know is that she too was imprisoned for the refusal to deny her faith. There is actually a first-hand account of Perpetua’s imprisonment from a diary that she wrote, and in it, she details the horrors of her confinement. She writes, “After a few days we were taken into prison, and I was much afraid because I had never known such darkness. O bitter day! There was a great heat because of the press, there was cruel handling of the soldiers.” I can only imagine the rollercoaster of emotions that Perpetua was feeling during her imprisonment. She was taken away from her child and suffered violence from the soldiers, all for refusing to go against her faith. Sts. Perpetua and Felicity and their companions were soon martyred. They had all accepted their fate for their belief in God and lived out their final days in prayer. Prior to her death, St. Felicity gave birth to a baby girl, who was raised by a Christian woman in Carthage. I find it to be very fitting that the feast of Sts. Perpetua and Felicity happens to fall during Lent, a time in which we are meant to reflect on the suffering that Jesus faced during his Death and Resurrection. We can look back on the martyrdom of Sts. Perpetua and Felicity as another example that bears witness to extreme fortitude, similar to that of Jesus. Over the years, I have really enjoyed learning more about the life of St. Felicity, and I feel proud to have chosen her as my Confirmation saint after seeing the strength she showed during the suffering she faced at the end of her life. AuthorSarah Harrigan Scalfaro is the Director of Administration for the Catholic Apostolate Center where she coordinates the promotions and logistics of various groups and visitors coming to our Green Hill facility. She also assists with the day-to-day operations of Green Hill and other administrative duties and is responsible for the creation and publication of our Center newsletter.
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 In addition to some ushers wandering about, in my church’s back pews at a Sunday Mass I see – The unruly toddler or restless baby. Those individuals whose mobility is impaired. That one person who dresses differently from everyone else in the Church. Or the person with the crossed arms who looks like they don’t want to be here. Why are so many people in the back pew when there’s plenty of room up front? Or even in the middle pews? In my younger days, I was once an enthusiastic usher who joyfully invited some of these individuals to come forward and enjoy a seat closer to the altar, only to have my invitations turned down, time and time again. Now, as a mother of two toddlers and a baby, I frequently go past the last row of seats along the back wall of the main sanctuary. Taking care of my little ones has given me the opportunity to meet the folks in the back pew, and every once in a while observe their participation in the Mass. Humility Embarrassingly, it took me years to notice something about some of the people in the back pew. There's something admirable about their hesitancy to go further into the sanctuary – like the tax collector in Jesus’ parable in Luke 18:9-14 who “stood off at a distance and would not even raise his eyes to heaven but beat his breast and prayed, ‘O God, be merciful to me a sinner.’” (Luke 18:13). What if these followers of Christ in the back pews are aware, more than the rest of us, of what is truly occurring in this holy space. What if – in all sincere humility, the individuals in the back pew recognize the greatness of God and by contrast, every human’s smallness, every person’s sinfulness, by comparison. Maybe, just maybe, without words or without even being conscious of it, they can sense the sacredness of what is about to happen here, and as a result, we find them sheepishly congregating in the farthest space from the altar, but still in the sanctuary. Presence And there’s another miracle taking place in the back pew - they came! Maybe the person who sits in the back doesn’t feel like they fit in with the parish’s majority demographic, or maybe they notice that they aren’t dressed in the same way as everyone else. Whatever the reason a person might choose to sit in the back of the Church - that person decided Mass was worth coming to anyway. It was worth driving to the Church. It was worth potentially feeling uncomfortable or out of place. Now, on any given Sunday, I cannot say that all those in the back pew are without their own vices or shortcomings, and certainly not everyone in the back pews of a Church has a meritorious reason for choosing that space. Let’s be honest - there’s probably someone in the back pew that simply wants to beat the post-Mass exodus to the parking lot. Nonetheless, let this be your invitation to see Jesus present in the folks in the back few pews at Mass next weekend - regardless of their reasons. Afterall, seeing the best in others is a Christ-like practice worth acquiring.
 I’ll be the first to admit that, some Sundays, my mind wanders. Whatever was on my mind before entering the Church building does not magically disappear when I enter the pew, and, sometimes, the worries of the day prevent my full and active participation in the Mass. Other Sundays, I bring my strongest enthusiasm and energy to give my all at Mass, and the three little saints under the age of 6 that I bring with me to Mass have normal childhood needs that supersede my best intentions. Yet, every once in a while, despite all the distractions and my human frailty, the Holy Spirit still figures out a way to speak to me through the Mass. On one of these spiritually enriching Sunday Masses, I was able to hear the words of the Eucharistic Prayer with new ears. A phrase caught my attention in a whole new way. In fact, I haven’t been able to shake the weight of the priest’s words that day and every Sunday since then. At the beginning of the Eucharistic Prayer, called the Preface, before the Consecration occurs, the priest begins … Priest: The Lord be with you. People: And with your spirit. Priest: Lift up your hearts. People: We lift them up to the Lord. Priest: Let us give thanks to the Lord our God. People: It is right and just. And then, the priest says something particularly amazing … The priest says, “It is truly right and just, our duty and salvation, always and everywhere to give you thanks...” Giving Unending Thanks to God is ‘Our Duty and Salvation’ It is our basic duty as human beings to give thanks to God. Afterall, what could be more natural than to be grateful and appreciative to the God who created us, sustains us, and is the source of all good things? Albeit facetious, if we were to find a job description or instruction manual for how to be a good human on one of the many job search websites out there, being grateful to the Creator who made us, sustains us, and loves us more than we can possibly imagine has to make the top of the list of duties. And the importance of our thanksgiving does not end there. Not only is giving thanks and glory to God one of our chief responsibilities, but we should “always and everywhere … give God thanks” because it is part of working out our salvation! How well (or how poorly) do we respond to God’s gracious gifts, love, and mercy? Do we give thanks and glory to God by loving God and our neighbor? Christ has opened the gates of heaven for us; how will we respond to His offer of salvation? Dr. John Cavadini at the University of Notre Dame stressed the importance of thanksgiving in this way: ‘If the only prayer we ever said was ‘Thank you!’ and we meant it a little more and more each time we prayed, that would be enough.’ It’s been over ten years since I took a theology course with Dr. Cavadini, yet his words on thanksgiving are still committed to my memory today. The Eucharist - Our Thanksgiving If the importance of our grateful prayers and actions weren’t enough, our efforts to give thanks to God should bring us right back to where we started - the Eucharist. Our catechism explains, “the Eucharist is a sacrifice of thanksgiving to the Father, a blessing by which the Church expresses her gratitude to God for all his benefits, for all that he has accomplished through creation, redemption, and sanctification. Eucharist means first of all ‘thanksgiving’” (CCC 1360). It is “through Christ, the Church can offer the sacrifice of praise in thanksgiving for all that God has made good, beautiful, and just in creation and in humanity” (CCC 1359). May we all grow in gratitude for the gifts God has bestowed upon us and humbly approach the sacrificial altar with grateful hearts!
 As I have gotten older, my favorite part about Lent has become the fact that we have the privilege of willingly walking into the desert - into these 40 days - with our Lord. I think there are a lot of times in our lives when we suddenly find ourselves in the desert - desperate for water, nourishment, or companionship. It is in the desert where we not only grow in intimacy with the Lord, but are also able to be strengthened through real repentance. What is true for us in the deserts of our lives is the same thing that was true for the Prodigal Son in this Sunday’s Gospel: we receive the promise of a Father who receives our repentance with mercy. The story of the Prodigal Son is an important one for us to reflect upon as we continue on our Lenten journeys - it is through repentance that the very son who squandered his inheritance is welcomed back with open arms into the mercy of his father. And the story doesn’t end there: not only does the father embrace and welcome his son back, he rejoices and celebrates his return for those around him to see. It is through our repentance that we experience the mercy of God; it is through our repentance that we receive the promise of the desert of these 40 days. This is so beautifully echoed in all the readings that the Church gives us during this season: God the Father rejoices when we are brought back to life again (Luke 15:32). We as Catholics have the unique privilege of receiving this mercy every time we hear the words of the priest absolving us in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Our moments of feeling desperate in the desert can be alleviated by honest repentance. After one particularly frustrating time in my life, I remember feeling like the Prodigal Son: convicted that I needed to repent and return to God, but also feeling shame over all the ways that I had squandered what the Lord had given me. And in that moment a priest reminded me that confession is always a place of victory. Like the prodigal son who acknowledged his failures and was welcomed back with mercy and celebration, we too find an outpouring of mercy and grace when we reconcile ourselves to God. As we journey towards Calvary, we do so knowing that our repentance leads to an encounter of mercy and ultimately to victory. Questions for Reflection: What are some moments in your life when you’ve encountered the mercy of God and others? How did these moments affect you? For more resources to accompany you in your Lenten journey, please click here. *This blog is reposted and was originally published March 28, 2019.* AuthorLauren Scharmer is the director of a multi-parish youth ministry program in the Archdiocese of St. Louis.
 What does it look like to turn our hearts toward Christ this Lent? Pope Leo offers us an important consideration in his Lenten Message: “I would like to invite you to a very practical and frequently unappreciated form of abstinence: that of refraining from words that offend and hurt our neighbor. Let us begin by disarming our language, avoiding harsh words and rash judgement, refraining from slander and speaking ill of those who are not present and cannot defend themselves. Instead, let us strive to measure our words and cultivate kindness and respect in our families, among our friends, at work, on social media, in political debates, in the media and in Christian communities. In this way, words of hatred will give way to words of hope and peace” (2026 Lenten Message). Turning our hearts and minds toward Christ is reflected not simply in the practices that we think are directed toward God, but even more so the ones that are directed toward our brothers and sisters in humanity. Our love of God needs to be reflected in our love of neighbor. Recently, the Holy Father went to the Pallottine church in Ostia near Rome, Santa Maria Regina Pacis (St. Mary, Queen of Peace) where he visited the parishioners and celebrated Mass. It is a place with much drug abuse and crime, and yet, there is a vibrant, faith-filled community that works together with other Christians and people of good will to assist the needs of others, particularly children and young people. In his homily, Pope Leo talked about the need to look into our own hearts: “When it happens to us to judge others and to despise them, let us remember that the evil we see in the world has its roots right there, where the heart becomes cold, hard and poor in mercy” (Homily in Ostia, February 15, 2026) Lent is the perfect opportunity through prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, to turn our hearts to Christ through love of God and love of neighbor. May the charity of Christ urge us on! In God, the Infinite Love, Fr. Frank
 For the last two years, my parish has hosted a virtual Lourdes pilgrimage led by the Lourdes Volunteers. This prayerful experience went beyond my general understanding of Mary’s 18 apparitions to St. Bernadette in southern France during 1858. By attending this virtual pilgrimage, I felt the Virgin Mary’s call to learn more about her, and through her, to grow closer to God. A few months after attending my first virtual pilgrimage, I completed a Marian consecration with several friends. Thankfully, the team of volunteers with the Lourdes Volunteers is still hosting virtual pilgrimage experiences via broadcast on the Feast of Our Lady of Lourdes on February 11. We often think of the physical healing miracles at Lourdes, but emotional healing is also an important part of the message of Lourdes. When I attended these virtual pilgrimage sessions, the lessons of sacrifice that Our Lady shared with St. Bernadette stood out to me most. “I do not promise you happiness of this world, but of the next,” Mary said to St. Bernadette. Mary reminds us that uniting our sufferings to Jesus’ sufferings on the cross is where we find true joy. I don’t know about you, but that’s a lot easier said than done! Prayer is transformative and plays a huge part in helping get us through our earthly sufferings. Choosing love helps make sacrifice endurable. St. Bernadette taught us that suffering passes, but having suffered remains eternally. The physical and emotional sacrifices of this world are temporary compared to the glory of everlasting life in heaven with God. St. Bernadette famously said, “One who loves does not notice their trials, or perhaps more accurately, is able to love them. Love without measure.” At first, this not noticing of trials seems idealistic. But then I realized that our trials are made more bearable because of our love for another. I think of how mothers go through physical pain and exhaustion for their newborn babies, or how a father stays up at night with a sick child. I think of how husbands and wives sacrifice individual wants for the needs of each other. I think of how a friend puts their own struggles aside to help another friend going through a deep, rough patch. We can look to Mary and Jesus as examples of how to love while enduring sacrifice. “She spoke to me as one person to another,” said St. Bernadette of Mary. This conversational nature of Mary and St. Bernadette’s relationship shows us that we can easily speak to her and ask for her prayerful intercession as our mother. At Mary’s appearances to St. Bernadette, she revealed herself to be the Immaculate Conception. By allowing God to forgive us of our sins and conduct his work inside us, we are becoming more “immaculate” witnesses to God in the world. Mary emphasized the need for penance and prayer, not just for ourselves, but for the healing of all. While our travel is limited during this Covid-19 pandemic, we can still embody St. Bernadette by imagining the grotto and going there in our hearts to make a pilgrimage. Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us. St. Bernadette, pray for us. *This blog is reposted and was originally published February 11, 2021.* AuthorDana Edwards Szigeti currently resides in Orlando, Florida, where she works as a senior communications representative for a local company.
 A saint for a modern era is St. Josephine Bahkita, whose Feast Day is Feb 8th. Born in 1869, and having lived through a time when injustice and racism were rampant, she found faith, compassion, and even forgiveness that ultimately led her to Christ. Her childhood was carefree in Sudan, spending her younger years with her fellow Daju people where her uncle was the tribal chief. In 1877 she was taken and enslaved for many years under torment and abuse. It wasn’t until 1883, that she finally had a kind master who did not beat her and showed her compassion. She traveled with him to Italy where she was given to a family and served as a nanny to them. Through this family, she met the Canossion Sisters in Venice and learned, for the first time, about God, who he was, and that he was the Creator of all things that she had spent her life in awe and wonder of. She left the family and discerned to join the Sisters, answering a call to Christ. After legally being named free through a court case that ensured her freedom from slavery, she was baptized in 1890 and given the name Josephine Margaret and Fortunata (which means “fortunate” in Latin, and in Arabic, it’s Bakhita). On the same day of her baptism, she received holy communion and confirmation by Giusseppe Sarto, the Cardinal Patriarch of Venice, who later became Pope Pius X. She took her final vows in December of 1896, and remained steadfast to her duties for the next 42 years, forever known for her gentleness and kindness. Affectionately, she was known as the “black mother” or “little brown sister” and shared her story of finding God and his grace for her life with anyone who might listen. Often, she would tell of her life and thank her kidnappers, for without having been taken from her home as a child, she might never have found God, found her Faith, or found her vocation with the Sisters doing the work of Christ. Later in life, she was subject to a wheelchair due to pain in her body and claimed it was “as the master desires” with no concern of her own pain. She died on February 8th, 1947 having uttered her final words, “Our Lady, Our Lady!”. We could learn a lot from St. Josephine, with her ability to show compassion when times were hard for her and find gratitude from the darkest times in her life. She is a modern saint for modern times, only having been canonized in 2000 by Pope John Paul II when he visited Sudan. In our lives, how often do we face injustice or have traumatic experiences that lead us to blame God or turn away from his Love? How many of us have been hurt, maybe by “religion” and imperfect people in our lives, only to turn away from God fully? When we take a moment to think about our pain and our suffering, is there anything that we could thank God for? Although at the time it was terrible and traumatic, did something good come from it? What blessings in our lives would we have without having faced other challenges? It’s like children learning a new skill for the first time, there are failures and it’s hard. With perseverance, the child slowly learns the new skill until they master it, finally feeling success. In my own life, I had an overly religious mother who was emotionally abusive and weaponized faith in a very twisted way. This caused division in my family and pain for me and my siblings to deal with throughout my entire life. Even though it was a traumatic time in my faith journey and has left scars, I have learned to find silver linings to it, knowing that without experiencing all of that, I may not have the many blessings in my life now. In the spirit of St. Josephine Bahkita, let us too be grateful for the many good things that we have in our life here and now. Let us remember that it is Christ who has walked beside us, never giving us more than we could handle, and showing us a bigger picture of life. My life is more full of joy, love, and faith than it was 20 years ago, and it wouldn’t have been without every bit of the journey I’ve had that led me to where I am today. This is my charge to you, my fellow Catholics and kindhearted people of the world, to use our hardships as stepping stones on the path of finding Christ in our lives each and every day. Let us have grateful hearts for the good and bad that have lent to our faith journeys, and pray that others may find this similar gratitude for the many blessings and graces we have. In my research, I found a prayer to St. Josephine Bahkita: Saint Josephine Bakhita, as a child, you were sold as a slave and had to spend untold difficulties and suffering. Once freed from your physical slavery, you found true redemption in your encounter with Christ and his Church. Oh, St. Bakhita, help those who are trapped in slavery; intercede on their behalf before God so that they are freed from the chains of captivity. May God free anyone who has been enslaved by man. Provide relief to those who survive slavery and allow them to see Him as a model of faith and hope. Help all survivors to find healing for their wounds. We beg you to pray and intercede for those who are enslaved among us. Amen. Sources: https://www.catholic.org/saints/saint.php?saint_id=5601 https://www.vatican.va/news_services/liturgy/saints/ns_lit_doc_20001001_giuseppina-bakhita_en.html
 You are called to be an apostle. Each one of us is. That was the firm belief of St. Vincent Pallotti. He spoke about this while living and ministering in Rome in the first half of the 19th century. Today, as a result of the teachings of the Second Vatican Council, particularly the Decree on the Apostolate of the Laity (Apostolicam actuositatem), this understanding is now part of official Church teaching. In his day, though, it was not and considered by some as unacceptable. All the baptized, though, are called to be co-responsible for the mission of Christ and the Church. Each of us has charisms, gifts, and talents gifted to us by the Holy Spirit. We are universally called to holiness and also called to apostolate – living as “authentic apostles of Christ in the Church and in the world” (St John Paul II to the Pallottines, June 22, 1986). We are not meant to go forth alone, but instead for mission that is spiritually fruitful, we need to collaborate with other members of the Body of Christ, the Church. All that we do needs to be centered on Christ since it is his mission in which we share. “A true apostle looks for opportunities to announce Christ by words addressed either to non-believers with a view to leading them to faith, or to the faithful with a view to instructing, strengthening, and encouraging them to a more fervent life. ‘For the charity of Christ impels us’ (2 Cor. 5:14)” (Apostolicam actuositatem, 6). We are moved forth by Christ out of love for him and for our brothers and sisters. We are sent by him, because that is what an apostle is, one who is sent by Christ. We are sent to witness the charity or love of Christ in a world in need of his presence in both word and deed. As we celebrate the feast day of St. Vincent Pallotti on January 22nd, may we be in gratitude for this insight that he had about all being apostles that eventually became the official teaching of the Church. May we be in thanksgiving for the manifestation of this insight in the association that he founded, the Union of Catholic Apostolate. Even more so, let us live as apostles of Christ in all that we say and do. May the charity of Christ urge us on! In God, the Infinite Love, Fr. Frank
 When I was four years old, my parents decided they wanted to put me in some type of pre-school before I entered kindergarten the next year. Being the oldest child, there was no precedent for where to go. My parents spent weeks looking at different preschools and settled on a small Lutheran school just up the street from our house. The appeal was its location and small class size. Knowing they would be enrolling me at the local Catholic school after preschool, my parents were not too concerned about sending me to a Lutheran preschool. I started my first day in a class with 8 other children. There were seven little boys with a habit of biting, and then one other girl. Naturally, this girl and I became best friends. We really had no other choice. Even though we only went to school together for one year, we remain friends to this day and I look forward to attending her wedding next year. I am her token Catholic friend and she is my token Lutheran friend. We have grown together and share our faiths with each other. Later this week is the start of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity (January 18-25) and it has made me think a lot about my “token Lutheran friend.” I remember a conversation we had when we were ten years old, after a friend of hers had asked her why we were still friends since I was Catholic. Sitting in her kitchen, we talked about how to us, it didn’t matter at all. We were defined by more than our individual faiths and united in a shared belief of Christ as the one through whom we can achieve salvation. Today, it surprises me how theologically intense some of our discussions got, even at young ages. The week of Prayer for Christian Unity is a reminder to all of us that the Christian faith, while made up of many different denominations, is still universal. There are differences that divide the different Christian faiths, but this coming week is a time to focus on the things that unite us. The idea of New Evangelization reminds us as Catholics to share our faith and spread the Gospel. I leave you with this scripture passage, selected as the biblical text for the 2014 Prayer for Christian Unity. St. Paul reminds us that we are all united in our faith in Christ, and I challenge you to use this week as a time to reflect on how we as a Catholic community can grow in faith with our Christian brothers and sisters. “Now I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you should be in agreement and that there should be no divisions among you, but that you should be united in the same mind and the same purpose. For it has been reported to me by Chloe’s people that there are quarrels among you, my brothers and sisters. What I mean is that each of you says, ‘I belong to Paul’, or ‘I belong to Apollos’, or ‘I belong to Cephas’, or ‘I belong to Christ.’ Has Christ been divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Or were you baptized in the name of Paul? I thank God that I baptized none of you except Crispus and Gaius, so that no one can say that you were baptized in my name. (I did baptize also the household of Stephanas; beyond that, I do not know whether I baptized anyone else.) For Christ did not send me to baptize but to proclaim the gospel, and not with eloquent wisdom, so that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its power.” Check out the Catholic Apostolate Center’s resources on Christian unity here. *This blog is reposted and was originally published January 17, 2014.* AuthorRebecca Ruesch was the Blog Editor for the Catholic Apostolate Center
 “The first end I propose in our daily work is to do the will of God; secondly, to do it in the manner he wills it; and thirdly to do it because it is his will.” – St. Elizabeth Ann Seton St. Elizabeth Ann Seton (1774-1821), whom we celebrate on January 4, holds the distinction of being the first native-born American saint. Looking back over her great achievements (which include planting the seeds of Catholic education in America and founding a religious order, the Daughters of Charity), what is so special and relevant about Mother Seton is how ordinary her holiness was. From Wall Street to Italy, from Baltimore to rural Emmitsburg, MD, Elizabeth initially lead a privileged life, but always remained humble and grounded. After becoming a widow with five children at only 28 years old, she eventually moved her young family to Emmitsburg and founded a religious order and Catholic school. After the death of her husband, her life was difficult, filled with personal trials and hardships. Yet, through all of it, she demonstrated constant dedication to discerning and pursuing the will of God, or, as she simply called it, “The Will.” In fact, it is through looking at how Elizabeth sought God’s will in the toughest moments of life that we stand to learn the most from her remarkable, yet ordinary life. Embracing Change “God, forgive what I have been, correct what I am, and direct what I shall be.” Humans are creatures of habit, which makes change a scary thing. God certainly called St. Elizabeth to change directions many times over the course of her life, even change her vocation! Elizabeth remained faithful and constant in the moment, while exercising abandonment to the will of God to respond freely as her circumstances changed. Elizabeth demonstrates how we do not become saints overnight, but grow through a day-by-day process of seeking forgiveness and correction every step of the way. Faithfulness in Failure “We know certainly that our God calls us to a holy life. We know that he gives us every grace, every abundant grace; and though we are so weak of ourselves, this grace is able to carry us through every obstacle and difficulty.” Growing up in a prosperous family, Elizabeth enjoyed a happy and fruitful marriage, blessing her with five children. Together with her husband William, to whom she was very much in love, they inherited a successful business on Wall Street. But in a short period of time, all that changed. William’s business failed and went bankrupt. Elizabeth knew success very early on, but learned firsthand the difference between success and faithfulness. As an American saint, Elizabeth powerfully challenges the American tendency to view outward success as an indisputable sign of God’s grace. The experience awakened in Elizabeth a newfound love of the poor, as well as a deeper understanding of the will of God in the midst of many obstacles and difficulties on the path to a holy life. Trust During Tragedy “The accidents of life separate us from our dearest friends, but let us not despair. God is like a looking glass in which souls see each other. The more we are united to Him by love, the nearer we are to those who belong to Him.” Not long after her family went bankrupt, Elizabeth and her husband William moved to Italy, where he became sick and died of Tuberculosis. Elizabeth had already lost her mother and sister early in life. Following her husband’s death, Elizabeth found consolation and hope in visiting and praying in various churches throughout Italy, and felt especially drawn to the Eucharist and the Blessed Virgin Mary even though she was still Episcopalian. Her experience planted seeds for her entrance into the Catholic Church. Many of us, myself included, have experienced tragedy strike at the heart of a family. Elizabeth demonstrates that tragedy, though profoundly shaking, need not lead to despair, but an invitation to rely even more on the will of God. Rejoice Despite Rejection “Afflictions are the steps to heaven.” When news of Elizabeth’s conversion in 1805 became public, many parents removed their children from the school where Elizabeth taught in Baltimore (after returning from Italy) and other friends no longer associated with her. Used to being a well-liked socialite, this experience must have been painful. Despite feelings of rejection, Elizabeth did not become bitter, defensive, or lose her natural joy and generosity. Instead, Elizabeth teaches us that following the will of God opens us to greater love and acceptance of others, not enmity with them. The tragedies and setbacks in Elizabeth’s life were not enough to keep her from trusting the will of God. In her own words, “God has given me a great deal to do, and I have always and hope always to prefer his will to every wish of my own.” Let us approach this new year as St. Elizabeth Ann Seton would have, eager to both desire and do the will of God. Consider starting off 2017 with this novena to St. Elizabeth Ann Seton starting tomorrow, January 4th. Pray in a special way to desire, know, and follow the will of God as St. Elizabeth Ann Seton did. St. Elizabeth Ann Seton, pray for us! *This blog is reposted and was originally published January 3, 2017.* AuthorEvan Ponton works at Church of the Nativity in Timonium, MD and actively writes and serves in ministry with the Archdiocese of Baltimore.
 The world, in many ways, is far from peace. For some, their hearts are not at peace due to worries and concerns. We are about to celebrate, though, the coming of the Prince of Peace, Jesus Christ, into our world and into our lives. The Prince of Peace offers peace that nothing and no one in this world can give. At Christmas, he invites us gently, the Infant Jesus, to welcome him into our lives, giving us peace that is beyond this world. We recall that holy night when he was born. It was a night that was not one of peace since there was no room for him in the inn. As he lay in the lowly manger, shepherds came to adore and to experience peace incarnate. The Prince of Peace is Savior of the world who came to fulfill the mission of his Eternal Father. The third verse of the famous Christmas carol O Holy Night describes his mission. Truly He taught us to love one another; His law is love and His gospel is peace. Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother; And in His name all oppression shall cease. Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we, Let all within us praise His holy name. Christ is the Lord! O praise His Name forever, His power and glory evermore proclaim. His pow’r and glory evermore proclaim! May his mission be our mission so that we can be bearers of the Prince of Peace to all we encounter. May you have a blessed Christmas and may the charity of Christ urge us on! In God, the Infinite Love, Fr. Frank
 Of all the observations on the nature of life I have come across from the popular comic strip Peanuts by Charles Schulz, there is one which I have been touched by the most. In a recurring plot, the main character, a fellow named Charlie Brown, falls for a beautiful peer of his known only as “The Little Red-Haired Girl.” Just being in the same room as her makes poor ole Charlie Brown tremble as he is enamored by her incredible beauty, talent, and personality… three characteristics he cannot possibly boast of his own. One day, he finds a pencil of hers and, to his astonishment, finds that it is covered in her teeth marks. This odd observation immediately causes Charlie Brown to find new confidence to pursue her and make her notice him, triumphantly exclaiming, “She’s human!” Especially as we approach Christmas, this simple yet amazing truth reflects upon one of the cornerstones of our Faith: “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (Jn 1:14). How much more relatable is a God Who became human! Yet often we may forget this in light of His divinity, instead placing God on a high pedestal for us to approach and gaze upon but never quite reach. We may discourage ourselves with this thinking of authentic Christian living as merely lofty ideals and unreachable standards— “speech and day dreams” according to St. Vincent Pallotti. The question, then, “What is God really like?” is answered during an exchange between Jesus and His disciple Philip: “Lord, show us the Father and that will be enough for us,” (Jn 14:8) Philip asks, to which Jesus responds, “He who has seen me has seen the Father” (Jn 14:9). Not only do the emotions of Jesus reflect a necessary component of the image and likeness of God that each of us is made in, His emotions also reveal the nature of God. Believing that the written Word and the Living Word give us a trustworthy revelation of God, we know that God is in fact emotional. Jesus felt “compassion,” “pitied,” and was “deeply moved;” he was “angry,” “indignant,” and “consumed with zeal;” he was “troubled,” “greatly distressed,” “very sorrowful,” and “grieved;” he “sighed,” “wept,” “groaned,” and was “in agony;” he was “amazed;” he “rejoiced very greatly,” and was “full of joy;” he “greatly desired” and he “loved.” In our quest to be like Jesus, however, we often overlook his emotions. Jesus reveals what it means to be fully human and made in the image of God. His emotions reflect that Identity without any deficiency or distortion. When we compare our own emotional lives to His, we become aware of our need for a transformation of our emotions so that we can be fully human, as He is. Christmas reminds us of the incredible, baffling mystery of the Incarnation—God, the Creator of the universe humbled Himself by taking on human form! From the time Christ lay upon the wood of the manger through His expiration on the wood of the Cross, we see and are able to relate to not just the idealization of humanity, but how to endure life’s pains, sorrows, and tribulations, as well as its joys and triumphs. If we are the body of Christ, created and redeemed to represent Jesus in the world, then we, like St. Paul, need to “gaze upon him” and learn to reflect the emotions of Jesus (Hebrews 12:2). Then we can know Him, and in knowing Him know God, and know ourselves as we were created to be. May God bless you, and God love you! Have a blessed Advent and Christmas! *This blog is reposted and was originally published December 25, 2015.* AuthorThomas Wong is an undergraduate at The Catholic University of America in Washington, D.C. You can follow him at @ElGreaterWong.
 Prepare a full account of your stewardship. (Luke 16:2) We recently celebrated the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe with the arresting story of St. Dismas, “the good thief.” Saint Luke portrays Jesus crucified between two criminals, “one on his right, the other on his left.” (Luke 23:33) The civil and religious leaders of the day tortured to death the King of the Universe. As Jesus hung on the cross, fighting for every breath, the leaders sneered at him, the soldiers jeered, and even the other criminal reviled him, “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us.” It was then that St. Dismas spoke his conscience and rebuked the other criminal, “Have you no fear of God, for you are subject to the same condemnation? And indeed, we have been condemned justly, for the sentence we received corresponds to our crimes, but this man has done nothing criminal.” Now, turning to Jesus, he asks, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” St. Dismas demonstrates the essentials of conscience. He is self aware, recognizes the evil he has done, and accepts his punishment as just. Jesus, however, was innocent. His crucifixion by the civil and religious leaders was wrong. Even to question him, to revile him, is an affront to God. The stark clarity of St. Dismas’ conscience is in sharp contrast to the onslaught of moral decisions we face every day. Is it right or wrong to discriminate against a person based solely on his or her sex? Is it right or wrong to give a smart phone to a 13 year old who is “the only one” in her class without one? Is it right or wrong for the soldier to disobey a direct order from his superior if it violates the Constitution of the United States of America? The Church recognizes the challenges of conscience. (Catechism 1792). Three of these are following the bad example of others, being caught up in our own passions, and a disordered understanding of autonomy. We are bombarded with so many messages from others telling us to value one thing or believe another. It is heroic to be authentic - to be your true self. St. Dismas could have “gone along with the crowd,” and mocked Jesus too. He did not. He was self aware and acknowledged his own truth - however ugly it was. We also have passions. Some of them are good, but we can get so caught up in them that we lose perspective. Our love for football deafens us to the creeping depression of our teenager. Like the priest and the scribe in the parable of the Good Samaritan, we are blind to those suffering along the road, or worse, we ignore the starving and wounded Lazarus at our door. The culture of individualism in which we swim, like fish in water, distorts our understanding of autonomy. We strongly believe in our right to “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,” but fail to accept the responsibility to provide those same rights to others. Our autonomy creates and sustains our society which then provides and protects it. Pope Leo XIV, on the Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, preached, “Sometimes, unfortunately, where human self-reliance prevails, where material comfort and a certain complacency dull the conscience, this faith can grow old. Then death enters in the form of resignation and complaint, of nostalgia and fear. Instead of letting the old world pass away, one clings to it still, seeking the help of the rich and powerful, which often comes with contempt for the poor and lowly.” (August 15, 2025) Conscience is deeply personal but it is not private. Our moral decisions have public ramifications. A well formed conscience serves the common good. The common good is “the sum total of the social conditions which allow people, either as groups or as individuals, to reach their fulfillment more fully and more easily.” (Catechism, 1906) The catechism summarizes: “The dignity of the human person requires the pursuit of the common good. Everyone should be concerned to create and support institutions that improve the conditions of human life.” (Catechism, 1926) We live in an increasingly interconnected world. The globalization of the economy unleashed an abundance of inexpensive goods for many and robbed jobs from generations of workers. The 2020 pandemic clearly taught us that nature - pollution, climate change, and viruses - knows no border. Even today, an economic policy to “punish” one country for unfair business practices ends up hurting soybean farmers in Iowa. We, the baptized disciples of Jesus, are the Church. We, as a communion of faith, must strengthen our conscience in service to the common good. When I started this series of articles on conscience, I thought we needed to reclaim conscience. Today, I believe it is more urgent than ever. We need to remember, regain, and reclaim conscience. On November 12, 2025 the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops issued a Special Message addressing their concern for the “evolving situation impacting immigrants.” The bishops are echoing Saint Dismas. The current administration, regardless of its good intentions, crossed a line. We may “never do evil so that good may result from it” (Catechism, 1789). We, as a Church in our country, must decide when our leaders cross the line. The bishops identified points on that line in their Special Message; profiling, vilification of immigrants, loss of legal status, and the indiscriminate mass deportation of people. It is fitting to give the last word to our brothers, the Bishops of the United States of America. “Catholic teaching exhorts nations to recognize the fundamental dignity of all persons, including immigrants. We bishops advocate for a meaningful reform of our nation’s immigration laws and procedures. Human dignity and national security are not in conflict. Both are possible if people of good will work together.” (Special Message)
 I distinctly remember a few years ago when I looked a friend in the eyes over coffee just prior to Advent and said, “I’m so grateful that Advent is about to start - I’m ready for other people to be waiting, too.” The reality is that we spend a lot of our lives waiting - waiting for the light to turn green, waiting for a relationship to be mended, or waiting for the Lord to reveal more of His plan to us. The waiting is inescapable - and yet it is so easy to feel like waiting equals failure. Our world would have us believe a lot of lies about waiting - mainly that waiting means that God isn’t faithful, that He has somehow forgotten us. There have been so many times in my life where I have believed the lie that God is not faithful in the waiting - that the waiting is wasted. In a season of life that contains its fair share of waiting, I have had to remind myself again and again that He is in the waiting. As Christians, we know there is such a thing as waiting well— as not only seeking God in the waiting, but knowing that God is seeking us in the waiting. I’m sure that the relief that I experienced in that conversation with a friend a few years ago speaks a lot of truth about the ache of our own hearts - an ache that is lived out during Advent. The Church gives us the Advent season not only to prepare our hearts for the coming of our Lord at Christmas, but to also remind ourselves of the beauty in the waiting. The beauty of being a Christian is that we CAN hope in the waiting - we can hope in the waiting because we know Who we are waiting for. “Let us allow ourselves, then,” Pope Francis encourages, “to teach hope, to faithfully await the coming of the Lord, and whatever desert we might have in our life will become a flowering garden.” This Advent, I am going to breathe another sigh of relief and of gratitude that others are waiting with me, but that we have a God worth waiting for. May we as a Church wait hopefully for the coming of our Lord together, knowing that He is in the waiting. And may the desert of our waiting reveal to us, as Pope Francis said, a flowering garden this Christmas. *This is a repost and was originally published December 5, 2017.* AuthorLauren Scharmer is the director of a multi parish youth ministry program in the Archdiocese of St. Louis.
 When you turn on the radio any time between Thanksgiving and December 25th, you are bound to hear the nostalgic melodies, catchy rhythms, and modern remixes of Christmas music. The four weeks leading up to the Feast of the Nativity of Our Lord are treated as a season of celebration, the most wonderful time of the year. Ironically, we forget that we’re still waiting! In order to embrace the anticipatory season of Advent, I am offering four hymns to add to your December playlist. The first song is “Save Us, O Lord” by Bob Dufford, S.J. This piece is based on Psalm 80, which petitions God to protect and restore his people. This psalm likely refers to the Babylonian Exile and how the physical distance from Jerusalem fostered a pining for proximity with God. It is from this position of great longing that the psalmist remembers the liberation of his ancestors from Egypt and consequently asks God to continue his saving work. During the season of Advent, we too experience a kind of exile. Looking at our world, it can seem as though God’s “vineyards are trampled, uprooted, and burned” (Save Us, O Lord, verse 3, by Bob Dufford, S.J.). While this dissatisfaction can be a cause of despair, it also serves as a reminder of the restoration promised to us. Just as the Israelites returned to Jerusalem after seventy years in exile, we too can be certain our redemption will come. The next song is “O Come Divine Messiah,” a French carol which continues with the anticipatory theme. This carol highlights the prophetic role of proclaiming the coming of the Messiah. The prophets arouse hope by not only acknowledging the weight of desolation but also by emphasizing the promise of consolation. This piece calls on Christ to bring about his promise to conquer suffering. This song is certain of Christ’s power to triumph over sadness, but it is also aware of the humility with which he embraced human nature. As we experience the stress that surrounds the preparation for Christmas, we can be assured that when we face difficulties, we are accompanied by a God who sympathizes with our condition and always reigns victorious. Good things come to those who wait. The Israelites truly believed in this. The song “Lo, How a Rose E’er Blooming,” a German hymn from the 16th century, refers to the covenant in which David was promised an heir whose kingdom would be without end. Although a millennium passed before the birth of Jesus, the Israelites waited for God. They trusted in his promise to come as Emmanuel, God with us. We too are reassured by God’s omnipresence. The Advent wreath is a common sight during this time, and the evergreen branches remind us that God is present in all seasons of our lives. As we near the winter solstice, the darkest day of the year, we must remember the rose that never wilts: Jesus. No one received the hopeful message of the Messiah’s coming as well as Mary. In “Gabriel’s Message,” a Basque carol, we are reminded that waiting does not entail inaction. This piece narrates the Annunciation and particularly highlights how Mary responds to God’s will. The third verse observes that she “bowed her head, ‘To me be as it pleaseth God,’ she said, ‘my soul shall laud and magnify His holy Name’” (Gabriel’s Message, verse 3). Mary’s Fiat and Magnificat demonstrate the proper response in the season of expectation. We are to give God our yes every day with the goal of serving and glorifying him in all we do. Although we do not know the plan for all of our tomorrows, we cannot ignore the steps that can be taken today. These hymns call us to stop and ponder what and who we are waiting for. They remind us that we are awaiting the fulfillment of God’s kingdom where darkness does not prevail. The Scriptural basis of these hymns connect us to salvation history defined by the expectation of Jesus. We can learn from the Old Testament to hope in God’s promises and from the example of Mary to put our efforts toward building the Kingdom of God. As we prepare our homes for Christmas, let us prepare our hearts for the Second Coming by trusting in God’s saving power, carrying our crosses with Jesus, being aware of his presence, and acting in obedience like Mary.
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