 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
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 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.
 Every year, the calendar places two seasons side by side: Thanksgiving and Advent. For many of us, one day we’re gathering around a table filled with turkey and pie, and the next, we’re lighting the first candle of the Advent wreath. It can feel like a quick transition from gratitude to anticipation, but in the rhythm of our faith, these two moments can be connected. Thanksgiving, though a secular holiday, resonates deeply with us as Catholics. At its core, it’s about gratitude, a virtue central to our life with God. The very word “Eucharist” comes from the Greek eucharistia, meaning “thanksgiving.” When we gather for Mass, we give thanks for the gift of salvation, for God’s mercy, and for the daily graces that sustain us. So, as we pass the stuffing and share stories of gratitude, we are, in a sense, preparing our hearts for Advent’s invitation to make room for Christ with thankful & hopeful hearts. Advent is often described as a season of waiting and preparation. Preparing our homes, our hearts, and our lives for the coming of the Lord at Christmas. But this preparation isn’t meant to be rushed or frantic. Instead, it’s about making time and space for Christ to enter. And one of the surest ways to create that space is through gratitude. When we pause to name our blessings, such as family, friends, health, forgiveness, and even the challenges that have helped us grow, we are reminded of God’s faithfulness throughout the year. Gratitude grounds us in reality: that everything we have, even the breath in our lungs, is a gift. In a world that constantly tells us we need more, Thanksgiving invites us to say, “What I have is enough.” Advent, then, invites us to say, “And yet, I still long for more of You, Lord.” Thanksgiving orients us toward what has been given; Advent turns our gaze to what is yet to come. Gratitude and hope are two sides of the same coin. When we are thankful, we remember how God has provided in the past. When we hope, we trust that He will continue to provide in the future. The Advent wreath offers a simple but profound visual of this movement from gratitude to hope. Each candle brings more light into the darkness, just as each act of thanksgiving strengthens our faith in the promise of Christ’s coming. The first candle, the candle of hope, reminds us that we are a people who live between what God has done and what God will do. Thanksgiving helps us look back with appreciation; Advent helps us look forward with expectation. As we move from Thanksgiving into Advent, there are simple ways to let one flow into the other:
Thanksgiving and Advent together teach us to look back with gratitude and to look forward with hope. Both invite us to slow down, to notice the blessings around us, and to recognize the deeper longing within us. As Catholics, we don’t move abruptly from the Thanksgiving table to the Nativity scene. Instead, we journey through the quiet expectation of Advent, carrying with us hearts filled with thanksgiving. Gratitude opens the door; hope leads us through it. And at the end of this path, we find the greatest gift of all, Christ Himself, the one for whom we have been waiting, the one to whom we give thanks. Author
 Advent offers a time to live in the hope of Christ. Christ is our hope. The Incarnate Son of God came at the first Christmas in all humility and in the fullness of humanity. He will also come again at the end of time. During Advent we reflect on both realities. He is our hope for salvation and hope for our suffering world. We pray during Advent for Christ to come again in glory and in thanksgiving for his first coming, which opened the doors to salvation. It is a blessed and sacred time of hopefulness. It is also a time for us to grow more deeply in faith in Christ. We can simply move through the season of Advent with only an eye toward Christmas and miss the opportunity to deepen our life in Christ who is our hope. There are many resources that the Catholic Apostolate Center offers to enter into the season of Advent more fully. These resources are some of our most popular ones. We invite you to share them with others. In the United States, we are also celebrating Thanksgiving, a time of gratitude for what God has done for us. In some ways, it is good that this holiday comes near Advent so that we can also be grateful for the faith that we have and our hope in Christ. It is a season of giving, looking beyond ourselves to the needs of others. This time of year is a good one to revive faith and rekindle charity, not only in ourselves, but in those around us, because that is what apostles of Christ are called to do. May the charity of Christ urge us on! In God, the Infinite Love, Fr. Frank Author
 For many families it’s a Thanksgiving tradition to go around the table and express what each person is thankful for before digging into the meal. Families may share many of the same reasons they give thanks, though each person is often impacted differently or expresses their gratitude uniquely. This type of intentional gratitude sets the preparation-intense Thanksgiving meal apart from every other bread breaking (or rather turkey wishbone-breaking). Giving thanks is, of course, not limited to just the third Thursday of November. Opportunities and reasons to give thanks are infinitely abundant throughout the year. It’s not just about speaking about gratitude, but living it as a blessing in life from God Almighty. This time of Thanksgiving in the United States reminds me that “… all good giving and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father…” Whether we realize it or not, we give thanks to God each Sunday in and with our parish community. When the faithful gather for Mass, they gather for the Eucharist (which means “thanksgiving” in Greek). Just as when Christ Himself instituted the Eucharist at the Last Supper two thousand years ago, the Mass commemorates the real sacrifice of God the Son in atonement for the sinful debt humanity had incurred. In St. Luke’s account, our Lord, knowing that His Passion was to come, “eagerly desired” to share the Passover meal with His disciples. During the meal, Jesus gave thanks to His Father for the True Bread, His Body, that would be broken for us. That is, He thanked the Father that He was able to offer Himself for our redemption (cf Luke 22:22). Since Christ Himself set this standard for us to express our gratitude in life, let us strive to imitate Him and look for opportunities to give thanks, even in the midst of suffering. As the Sacrifice of Holy Mass is the ultimate prayer humanity can offer, it is the perfect opportunity to express our prayerful thanksgiving to God. The priest gathers the intercessions of the faithful into the prayer offered before the Liturgy of the Eucharist. Usually there is a petition to offer one’s personal prayers in the silence of his or her heart. At this I often marvel: what private needs are being prayed for by my fellow parishioners? What circumstances are awaiting my fellow Christians once they depart the church’s pews? That itself presents to me a witness to be grateful for: each person who wanders into a church seeks help from the One he or she knows will certainly and lovingly listen and answer. These are touching acts of faith in our God, who provides meaning and comfort to suffering, longing, confusion, and loss! An “attitude of gratitude” is a worthy daily pursuit. It can begin each morning as we remember that life is a gift from God! This attitude can flourish when applied to circumstances of daily life: Thank God I arrived safely. God protected me from that distracted driver! I’m so glad to hear her injury wasn’t serious and recovery is going well. I am grateful to have a forgiving, patient, and loving spouse, especially this morning! I am thankful for this job God has blessed me with to support my family. Let us remember to thank God who so richly blesses us every day, especially through those who touch our lives and care for us. Offer prayers and love to God and to your neighbors, not just during the Thanksgiving meal, but in church, during phone calls (call your parents!), and in other run-ins. May our prayers echo that of the biblical Job, who despite great sufferings and loss faithfully prayed to God, “The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD!” Questions for Reflection: What are you most grateful for this Thanksgiving season? How can you practice a spiritual attitude of gratitude each day? *This blog was originally published November 22, 2018.* AuthorThomas Wong is a young professional in Washington, D.C.
 I am surprised to learn that Wikipedia has an article on “Catholic Guilt.” Growing up, the notion of “Catholic guilt” was in the air and often used in a humorous and dismissive way, “Catholic guilt, the gift that keeps on giving.” The word “guilt” only shows up in The Catechism of the Catholic Church four times although the concept of moral responsibility is prevalent throughout the catechism. It first appears in an article on indulgences (1471), then twice in the discussion of conscience (1784 and 1801), and finally in the teaching on the Fifth Commandment, you shall not kill, under the respect for health section, “Those incur grave guilt who, by drunkenness or a love of speed, endanger their own and others’ safety on the road, at sea, or in the air.” (2290) The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines guilt, a noun, as “the fact of having committed a breach of conduct, especially violating law and involving a penalty.” The verb is a feeling. Interestingly, guilt as a noun has been used since the 12th century; guilt was first used as a verb in 1971. It is important to distinguish guilt “as a breach of conduct” from shame, a form of sadness caused by guilt, some type of shortcoming, or impropriety. We are guilty because we have done a bad thing. The feeling of shame usually follows. In addition to acts of commission - such as drunk driving - there are also sins of omission like the priest on the road to Jericho who “passed by” the man left “half dead” along the side of the road in the Parable of the Good Samaritan. I say “usually” because sometimes conscience is blinded “through the habit of committing sin” or some type of rationalization that nullifies the “breach of conduct.” Some people feel no shame, no remorse, over the lies they tell because they tell so many lies. They cannot distinguish between a lie and truth. Or, we know drinking and driving is dangerous but we deny the danger because “it's late at night, the traffic is light, and I only have a couple of miles to go.” Guilt and shame are powerful gifts that confirm we have a conscience, that we can have a change of heart and behavior, that we can make amends, embrace God’s mercy, and live in hope. I have always found the story of John Newton (1725-1807) particularly moving. He captained the slave ship The Greyhound when, during a storm (March 1748), he cried out for deliverance. This was his conversion. He began to treat his slave better than others. Nevertheless, it was a serious illness that stopped him sailing in 1754. He went on to pursue theological studies and was ordained an Anglican priest in 1764. He wrote Amazing Grace in 1772. Eventually, in 1788, he published Thoughts upon the African Slave Trade and began his work with William Wilberforce who lead the abolition campaign in parliament. Newton died in 1807, the year the British Parliament passed the Slave Trade Act abolishing the slave trade in the British Empire. Newton’s conscience was awakened by a “grace that taught my heart to fear.” It would take him 40 years to completely repent of the evil he had done. Similar stories can be found in the prolife movement. Norma McCorvey, “Jane Roe” in the 1973 Roe v. Wade case legalizing abortion, became pro-life in 1995 and eventually converted to Catholicism in 1998. Or Abby Johnson, a clinic director for Planned Parenthood, who tells of her change of heart, and her conversion, in her 2010 book Unplanned. Finally, Dr. Bernard Nathanson, an abortion provider, had a change of heart due to ultrasound technology. He converted to Catholicism in 1996. Guilt, and its companion emotion of shame, can be powerful gifts that lead us to the truth and mercy of God. They can also become excessive and even neurotic. This is why the Sacrament of Reconciliation is so helpful because, even with venial sins, confession “helps us form our conscience, fight against evil tendencies, let ourselves be healed by Christ and progress in the life of the Spirit.” (1458). When guilt awakens our conscience, it is best to repent, confess our sins to a priest, do the penance given, and gratefully welcome the mercy of God. If we find ourselves ruminating about what we have done, or what we have failed to do, go to confession and talk to the priest. He will help us name our sin, let go of what does not belong to us, and make a good confession that leads to God’s mercy, our humility, and our hope. 'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, And grace my fears reliev'd; How precious did that grace appear The hour I first believ'd! (Amazing Grace, verse 2, by John Newton).
 While Christmas is still some time away, the circumstances surrounding the birth of our Lord give reason for us to pause and reflect throughout the year on the great mystery of the Incarnation—the entering of God the eternal Son into time and the human experience. At the Christmas vigil, the Gospel proclamation involves tracing the ancestral lineage of Jesus as “the son of David, the son of Abraham” and the prophetic culmination of divine promises. Those specifications, similar to the grand announcement of The Nativity of the Lord from the Roman Martyrology, draw upon Sacred Scripture to formally declare the birth of Christ and squarely place His entry into time. The USCCB notes: “It begins with creation and relates the birth of the Lord to the major events and personages of sacred and secular history. The particular events contained in the announcement help pastorally to situate the birth of Jesus in the context of salvation history.” Reflecting on the genealogy of Jesus helps us to remember that he is part of a human family and was raised with particular role models and inherited traditions. It also reminds us that many people helped prepare the way for the coming of the Savior, playing greater or lesser roles for the glory of the Father’s plan. Two people who are part of Jesus’ genealogy, but passed over in Scripture are the parents of the Blessed Mother, Sts. Joachim and Ann. Factually, nothing about the parents of Mary arises from credible historic sources apart from their existence — not even their names of Joachim and Ann are verified! Although they are passed over in Scripture, Mary’s parents are critical as they represent generations who actively participated in the obligations of family and faith life while anticipating the coming of the Messiah. These saints maintained the spiritual and familial environment that nourished and inspired the Blessed Mother to always trust in God and to famously declare, “May it be done to me according to your word.” We find evidence of Mary’s strength of character and trust in the Lord in Scripture, especially Luke chapter 1 verses 28-55 and John chapter 2: Mary is steadfast in making decisions, active in prayer, obedient to the laws of her faith, calm through moments of crisis, and devoted to her relatives. It is not hard to see how such models of parenthood would likely have inspired Mary’s own upbringing of Jesus. We can wonder how much of Mary’s unyielding belief through Jesus’ ministry, Passion, and Resurrection — especially after seeing her son publically brutalized and murdered — was instilled in her by the fortitude and strength she saw modeled by her own parents during her childhood. What can we learn from the parents of the Blessed Mother? We may not all be grandparents, but we can still influence our families through our receptiveness to the perspectives, experiences, and lessons of those preceding us. Truly these are treasures of wisdom not to be taken lightly or ignored. Pope Francis has sought to convey this important observation. During his first World Youth Day as Pope, observing that Brazilians were celebrating Grandparents Day on the feast of Sts. Joachim and Ann, he reflected: "How precious is the family as the privileged place for transmitting the faith! … How important it is to have intergenerational exchanges and dialogue, especially within the context of the family … Children and the elderly build the future of peoples: children because they lead history forward, the elderly because they transmit the experience and wisdom of their lives." The family is often the first community of love, knowledge, and faith that we experience (CCC 2205). It is a great gift to preserve and strengthen that takes our time, talent, and commitment to keep strong. Yet, just as each of our family members are imperfect, so too is our own love despite our best intentions. At times we may lose patience amidst the demands of life. Or, more tragically, we may find ourselves amongst family members who do not know how to love, perhaps products of their own troubled upbringings. When we face difficulties within our families, or see hurt in other intergenerational families, let us remember that regardless of our human relations, we have been born into the spiritual family of the Church. How wonderful it is that despite our earthly circumstances each of us has been entrusted to call God our Father, Mary our Mother, Joachim and Ann our grandparents and Jesus our Brother and Savior. Sts. Joachim and Ann, pray for us! Questions for Reflection: Who are the people in my family who have taught me the beauty of the faith? Which members of my family need me to show them the love of Christ? *This blog was originally published July 25, 2018.* AuthorThomas Wong is a young professional in Washington, D.C
 A human being must always obey the certain judgment of his conscience. If he were deliberately to act against it, he would condemn himself. Yet it can happen that moral conscience remains in ignorance and makes erroneous judgments about acts to be performed or already committed. (Catechism of the Catholic Church, par. 1790) How many decisions do we make a day? There was a study done at Cornell University about food choices. In the study, participants estimated they made 15 food choices per day. When the researchers investigated the actual number of decisions they made, it was much higher - over 200. Were any of these an act of conscience? There is a humorous scene in the 1998 film, Dr. Dolittle, where Mrs. Parkus, who is allergic to shellfish, eats shellfish anyway and then comes to “her doctor” for medicine. Mrs. Parkus is making a moral judgement on what is good, and she is deciding that her enjoyment of shellfish is more important than her health and well-being. Mrs. Parkus is not considering the consequences her decision has on others - the time her care may take away from other, more serious patients, the drain on resources, as well as the demands on friends and family. Many of us know much more serious decisions loved ones make with life threatening consequences - alcohol, drugs, gambling, to name a few. Most of us, however, make lots of decisions throughout the day without considering their moral gravity. Do I hit the snooze button or not? What will I eat for breakfast? What emails will I read? Will I turn on the television, listen to a podcast, or catch up with the latest sports news? One commentator said our awareness is like having 30 tabs open on our computer browser and we are just jumping from one to another. For the most part, deciding cereal over eggs for breakfast is not a significant moral decision. How to respond to that last email from a colleague, or to reach out to an estranged sibling, or putting the phone away and focusing on your adult children struggling with work issues are moral issues. Fortunately, our Church helps us deal with these challenges. First, the Church recognizes that we are often “confronted by situations that make moral judgments less assured and decision difficult.” (par. 1787) and encourages us to “seriously seek what is right and good and discern the will of God expressed in divine law.” We know, in our gut, that it is better to reach out to our troublesome brother going through a tough time than to watch the football game. Second, our Church recognizes that we need to “interpret the data of experience and read the signs of the times.” We have the virtue of prudence, the advice of competent people, and the help of the Holy Spirit as well as the seven gifts the Spirit bestowed on us through confirmation. In short, we have a lot of help to deal with the moral judgments we need to make. Finally, the Church provides three rules that “apply in every case.” (par. 1789). It is never okay to do evil so that good may result from it. Second, the golden rule - do what you would want others to do for you. Finally, consider the consequence for “your brother” since it is not right to do anything that would make them stumble. In short, the end does not justify the means, treat others the way you want to be treated, and respect the conscience of others, even if you disagree with it. Recently, the readings of the day reminded us of the warning Jesus gave the Pharisees about paying “tithes of mint and rue” while paying “no attention to judgement and to love for God.” (Memorial of Saint Teresa of Jesus) It is easy to fall into a routine. We focus on the “little things” and ignore the big ones. Notice, Jesus says we need to do both. I often wonder if the opposite might be true for some of us. There is so much information - too many tabs open on our computer screens - that we accept, without questioning, the information we are being fed. I came across a video of Pope Leo XIV saying terrible things about someone only to realize the video was computer generated; it was fake. On the other hand, some politicians make mountains out of mole hills. Just because someone breaks a law - like crossing the border - does not mean they are a criminal. This is another reason why the Church encourages us to examine our conscience on a regular basis. It is good for us not only to examine what we have done - or the moral decisions we are facing - but also to examine our exercise of prudence, who we listen to, and how we engage the Holy Spirit and all the gifts the Spirit has given us. We must follow our judgement of conscience. We must also be humble, self-aware, and prudent. We may have made a mistake. When we do, we confess them, make restitution, and learn from them.
 “Practice patience toward everyone and especially toward yourself. Never be disturbed because of your imperfections but always get up bravely after a fall.” -St. Francis de Sales A few years ago, I had the opportunity to travel to Rome, Italy. To this day, the pilgrimage showers graces into my life. One day on the pilgrimage, we went to the Basilica of Sant’Agostino and prayed in front of a painting by Caravaggio called the Madonna di Loreto. In it, Caravaggio paints dirty, unkempt pilgrims kneeling in front of Our Lady and Jesus. Two years later, the image is still embedded in my mind. The Rome pilgrimage seemed to be a small microcosm of my life. My struggles and weaknesses were the same struggles and weaknesses I encountered back at home and work, yet in Rome they had a different weight. My frustrations with my weaknesses were still there, but it wasn’t until I was looking up at that painting that I realized that the pilgrimage was a process. My sin and weakness, my toil, my striving for sanctity—all of this was a process. The walking, the waiting, the impatience, the stumbling, the praying, the joy, the suffering—all was part of my pilgrimage and contributed to the end or goal: sanctity. I found myself praying for patience, and was informed by a fellow pilgrim that the root word of patience is “to suffer.” I found this definition fitting for the journey. Today, we are all on a pilgrimage aimed toward Heaven. In my walk, I find myself quickly frustrated at my stumbles, my repeated sin (that for some reason I just cannot get over), my judgment, my lack of love, and the list could go on. This frustration with the pace of my walk on the pilgrimage to salvation is not helpful for the walk—it is inhibiting. My walk requires patience with others and with myself. Looking at that painting by Caravaggio, I realized that we are the pilgrims—dirty from the journey, imperfect, on our knees asking Our Lady for the gift of her Son. He receives all of us as we are on this walk, and patience in the process will lend to an easier recovery after a stumble, a lighter load to carry. Let us grant ourselves patience throughout our pilgrimage to our end, Jesus Christ. As St. Teresa of Calcutta reminds us, “We have only today. Let us begin.” *This blog was originally published October 5, 2017.* AuthorElizabeth Pawelek received her Master's in Leadership for the New Evangelization at the Augustine Institute in Denver, Colorado.
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