 I, like many others around the world, was stunned to hear the news on Easter Monday morning that Pope Francis had passed away. I felt confused, as we had just seen him give the Easter blessing less than a day before. I honestly did not believe that the media headline was real until I saw more and more information from various sources. For me, Pope Francis was the pope that I remember most from my life. He was elected to the papacy when I was a freshman in high school, so his impact on the Church was felt most during my adolescence and young adulthood. During the transition between Pope Benedict and Pope Francis, I remember that we would watch a livestream of the conclave in my theology class every day until the new pope was elected. We would all wait to see the white smoke, and of course, the smoke was seen after school hours. It was exciting to see a new head of the Church be elected! It also was interesting to learn about the conclave process and papal elections as Pope Benedict was elected when I was maybe six or seven years old. We all were so excited going to theology class after the election. I remember my theology teacher sharing that this new pope was from South America - the first time that has ever happened, and we were all excited to learn more! She also explained that he chose the name Francis. He was the first ever Pope Francis in Church history, as he drew inspiration from St. Francis of Assisi. As Pope Francis’ papacy continued, I was inspired more and more by his actions. To begin, when he was elected, he gave a simple blessing to the crowd at St. Peter’s Square and asked for them to pray for him. I remember thinking of the humility in this. The man who is elected to lead our Church is asking his followers for prayers as he begins. He just gave the crowd a wave, and a simple blessing. But that is just the type of man Pope Francis was. We learned about when he was living in Argentina, he regularly rode public transportation and was a voice for the poor and helpless. He did not want the adornment or flashiness that came with the positions he held within the Church; he just wanted to be with his people and to help those in need. He regularly washed the feet and blessed those who were homeless. He invited those who were hungry to have meals with him. Even when elected, he turned down the usual papal apartment and opted for a simple room and wanted to live amongst the everyday people. His humility is seen even on his birthday! He did not invite cardinals or world leaders to celebrate with him. He chose to invite those on the street into the Vatican to share a meal with him. He chose to invite those who might not have known when their next meal was coming and be welcomed and fed by the pope of all people! When he passed, he did not want an over-the-top celebration. Instead, he wanted a simple ceremony, in a simple coffin, with little fluff or theatrics. He made sure that those who were suffering or helpless, migrants, and homeless were invited to his funeral and even had them be the final honor guard for his remains. In my eyes, Pope Francis’ papacy can be summed up in the phrase “aiming for peace”. It really is what he tried to do every day. He wanted to unite and bring peace to all, not just Catholics, but for all in the world. From bringing peace to the world through Laudato Si’ and caring for our common home, to regularly speaking out against violence in the world, to welcoming those who felt castaway by the Church. Pope Francis just wanted to bring us all together in the love of Christ. I remember watching a video of him speaking to a young boy who recently lost his father. The young boy was scared that his father, who was not a Catholic, would not be in Heaven. The boy mentioned that his father was a good man and had all of his children baptized but did not believe himself. It would have been easy for Pope Francis to just say “Well, if he is not a Catholic, he is not in Heaven”. But Pope Francis calmed the terrified young boy, even inviting him to come sit with him, and explained that his father was a good man and that God would not abandon a man with a character such as his. This was a wonderful example of the compassion and inclusivity to faith that Pope Francis was known for. There will never be another Jorge Mario Bergoglio who becomes Pope Francis. We will be left to remember the excellent man that he was and the even better pope that he became. Let us all pray for the repose of Pope Francis’ soul as we mourn his loss, but also let us pray for the cardinals who are currently in the conclave process of electing our new leader of the Catholic Church. The Catholic Apostolate Center has many resources during this time of transition. We invited you to visit our Pope Francis Portal and Papal Conclave Resource Page to learn more.
0 Comments
 If you are anything like me, you find it difficult to discern God’s call, but sometimes Jesus makes it plain and simple in Scripture. For example, Jesus very specifically calls us friends (John 15:15). Friendship is a calling. In my own faith journey, I continually find this actually a rather strange, startling summons. Jesus’ friendship is an unmerited grace-filled gift, which is desirable, but it also demands something of me, which is a bit frightening. On a day-to-day basis, nothing gives me, or most people I imagine, greater joy than faithful friendships. If we Christians lack Gospel joy, it goes to show among other things, that we are not heeding the call to be faithful friends of Jesus. Rediscovering friendship as a calling has challenged my paradigm for discerning my personal vocation. Friendship shapes both the context and content of my choices. Let me try to explain what I mean. A culture of friendship is an indispensable context for discerning a vocation. Faithful friends often know us better than we know ourselves. They help us discern our gifts, weaknesses, and purpose, and then encourage or challenge us to act in a way we couldn’t or wouldn’t on our own. Like the spiritual life in general, friendships are very often difficult to navigate. This is not because the path ahead is overly complicated, but because the next step usually lies in the darkness of the unknown. Friends who know our hearts invite us to step into the vulnerability with courage and bring our darkness into light. One example in my life is the young adult group I attend, the Baltimore Frassati Fellowship. We don’t focus on multiplying social activities, which too easily becomes another way to fill rather than sanctify our time. The Church teaches us to share each other’s time, not compete for it. We focus on cultivating an atmosphere of trust and virtue that counterbalances the typically transitory and fast-paced “young adult” phase of life. Our events are rather ordinary, but they are consistent and dependable: weekly adoration, regular service opportunities, and a larger monthly Holy Hour and social. Pretty soon, we all have to make decisions (something I’m bad at), so friendship also determines the content of our vocation. Paraphrasing John Henry Newman, each of us is called to some definite and unique vocation, which is centered in some specific friendship(s) (Meditations on Christian Doctrine, I.2). Here is a question to pray with: What kind of friendship am I called to, and with whom? I wasn’t always used to thinking about different “kinds” of friendships, so one helpful question I learned to ask while in seminary concerned the call to exclusive or inclusive friendships. Am I called to befriend one person like no other (marriage), to show no partiality and be a special part of many lives (religious life), or some other group? Moreover, since there is no greater love than “to lay down one’s life for one’s friends,” (John 15:13), friendship is also intrinsically sacrificial. Another form of the question is: Who is God calling me to daily lay down my life for: a spouse and children or on the altar of Eucharistic sacrifice? That’s what makes so special the radical witness of someone like Jean Vanier, the founder of L’Arche. Vanier felt called to leave behind an academic career to form a small community with persons with developmental disabilities where they could share their lives in faith and friendship. After 50 years, his original calling continues to grow and inspire others to embrace the joy, virtue, sacrifice, and particularity our friendships in Christ are meant to take. As part of the universal call to holiness though, evangelization involves going out and befriending others and inviting them to become friends of Jesus. Friendship, though it takes different forms, is an apostolate all are called to. *This blog was originally published on September 8, 2015*
 This past Easter Monday, Pope Francis died. As I shared this news with my toddlers, they were both sad and confused. They understood that when a person dies, those who cared about them will feel sad, but they were still confused and couldn’t help but ask, “What’s a pope?" The theology teacher in me lit up with excitement as I recognized a teachable moment! As we discussed popes and bishops, I stumbled upon explaining how popes are elected, and I had an idea – what if we have a family conclave? I could teach my children about the process and to unite the activities of our domestic church, as much as possible, with the coming conclave of the Roman Catholic Church. We could “elect” a family patron saint and mimic the aspects of the conclave so my children can understand. While I have not tried this out yet, here is my plan so you too can have your own conclave! The Short List At this stage, journalists, theologians, Catholics and non-Catholics everywhere are taking guesses as to who the next pope will be. Instead of taking a guess myself or trying to explain who is who to my four- and two-year-olds, I will create a short list of saints to vote for that my children already know about. Whether you gather as a class, a family, or a larger group, you can choose half a dozen saints or so to start with. Alternatively, if you are working with adults or older children, you could have participants nominate a saint for the group’s patron before voting. Voting As you may know, when the cardinals gather to vote for a new pope, they vote secretly using paper ballots and “drop… the twice-folded ballot in a large chalice.” They vote four times each day, twice in the morning and twice in the afternoon, until one person has two-thirds of the votes. In your own conclave, you can, likewise, pass out paper and pens, let each person secretly write the name of the saint they’d like to “elect” as the group’s saint, fold it twice, and one person at a time cast their vote into a large bowl. Because my children are small and cannot write yet, we will have to forgo the secrecy part. But we can still let them choose the saint they want to vote for and deliver their votes to our “large chalice” (a big mixing bowl). Then, we will tally the votes and assess if a majority has been reached. If a majority is not reached, I recommend having a snack break before repeating the process. Of course, if you’re working with small children, you need not strictly hold to the two-thirds rule, any majority or even simply choosing the saint with the most votes would be just as successful. Habemus Papam! (We Have a Pope!) When one saint wins, you can joyfully announce “Habemus sanctus!” or “We have a saint!” just as the senior cardinal deacon announces “Habemus papam!” or “We have a pope!” from the balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica when a new pope has been elected. In my house, I will also be making red paper cardinal hats and a white pope hat for my toddlers who love dressing up. Maybe I’ll even make some pretend red vestments to add to the experience. However you choose to participate in the upcoming conclave – whether it’s watching news updates on TV or having your own conclave with family and friends – let us take this momentous occasion to reignite our trust in the Holy Spirit who guides the cardinals in their voting. And let us all unite our prayers for the cardinals and whoever our next pope will be. You can visit our Conclave Resource Page for more information on how popes are elected.
 Happy St. Joseph’s Day! As someone who sins, I love St. Joseph. I mean, I can easily relate to him: he sinned. I sin. We have something in common. One of my favorite mental pictures of St. Joseph is within the everyday happenings of family life in Nazareth. Albeit, within my own imagination, I picture a normal day of meal preparation, carpentry work, and rest. Then, someone swears after a woodworking injury – because who likes splinters? Or maybe, later that day someone gets prideful or impatient or envious or slothful… that someone has to be Joseph. Jesus and Mary were sinless, so any sinful thought, word or action in that holy household had to be Joseph. Can you imagine living in a household where you are the only one who commits sins? Yeesh! What great patience and humility that man must have acquired over the years! No wonder he is a saint! As a self-proclaimed perfectionist, I sometimes find myself falling into a pattern of negative self-talk. While I can much more easily be kind to others around me, more often than I should, I proverbially beat myself up when I miss a step, knock something over, or don’t buzz about my house at peak efficiency. Really, as I write this article, I can see that the idea that I would walk, think, and do everything in my day perfectly, efficiently, and sinlessly is absolutely absurd. I am a human living after the Fall, so I make mistakes, and I sin. Yet, somehow, I think I should be downright Olympic and saintly in the way I run my household of three children under the age of five. And I expect to maintain a heavenly calmness all the time. Whatever the reasons for why I end up down the rabbit hole of pursuing perfection, when I get bogged down, I like to turn to St. Joseph for strength and inspiration. I am willing to bet St. Joseph got discouraged, at some point, or frustrated with his own sinfulness. He probably recognized the holiness of Mary and Jesus, and by contrast, the lack of that fullness of holiness in himself. Yet, St. Joseph never gave up. He humbly and sincerely lived and worked with the two most holy humans in all history for approximately 10,958 days, give or take a few. And if we were to spend some time thinking about it, I imagine that those ordinary days in Nazareth looked at least a little bit like our ordinary days today – waking up, getting dressed, preparing food, eating and drinking, putting away leftovers and cleaning dishes, working, getting tired, and eventually going to sleep. And, like so many of St. Joseph’s days in Nazareth, Jesus is with us! While Jesus is not exactly growing up in our house, Jesus is “with you always, until the end of the age” (Mt 28:20). If only I would remind myself of Jesus’ presence in my life throughout each day! Lastly, I celebrate St. Joseph as the patron saint of peaceful deaths. While it is not known for certain, tradition holds that St. Joseph died with Jesus and Mary by his side. What a way to leave this world! I pray that we are also given such a grace as to recognize Jesus’ presence with us at the hour of our own deaths! St. Joseph, please pray for us! Humbly, may we always strive to pursue holiness, and not perfection. May we follow in your footsteps and never grow weary in our pursuit of holiness.
 Conscience is a judgment of reason whereby the human person recognizes the moral quality of a concrete act that he is going to perform, is in the process of performing, or has already completed. In all he says and does, man is obliged to follow faithfully what he knows to be just and right. (CCC 1778) We can reason. We can think things through. We can “think before we speak.” We can respond rather than react, or, worse, panic. Every day, we make decisions - some very ordinary and others that will affect the rest of our lives. Yet, God has given us intellect. We can think about our actions before we act. The story of Susanna, in the Book of Daniel (13:1-64), is an excellent example of conscience as a “judgement of reason.” Susanna was raised by her parents “according to the law of Moses.” She was “very beautiful” and married Joakim who was “most respected” by the Jewish people, was very rich, and had a garden near his house. Two elders were appointed judges by the people. They would frequently visit Jaokim’s house and watch Susanna as she walked through the garden in the afternoon. They began to lust for her and their lust “perverted their thinking; they would not allow their eyes to look to heaven, and did not keep in mind just judgements.” Eventually, they came to realize that they both lusted for Susanna and conspired to “look for an occasion when they could find her alone.” That day came when Susanna decided to bathe in the garden alone and the two elders, who were hidden among the trees, approached her after the garden doors were shut, and demanded that she lie with them or they would “testify against you that a young man was here with you.” Susanna’s response is remarkable: “I am completely trapped,” Susanna groaned. “If I yield, it will be my death; if I refuse, I cannot escape your power. Yet it is better for me not to do it and to fall into your power than to sin before the Lord.” Then, Susanna screamed. Susanna realized that if she gave into these elders, she would be committing a grave sin and, if she did not, she would have to face the false accusations of the judges. Eventually, Susanna was summoned before the people. The elders testified against her and “the assembly believed them, since they were elders and judges of the people.” She was condemned to death, yet she cried aloud: “Eternal God, you know what is hidden and are aware of all things before they come to be: you know that they have testified falsely against me. Here I am about to die, though I have done none of the things for which these men have condemned me.” The Lord heard the cry of Susanna and “stirred up the holy spirit of a young boy named Daniel,” who proved Susanna’s innocence and exposed the evil done by the two judges. Susanna teaches us a lot about the judgement of reason. Sometimes, our choice is clear because we must choose between a good and an evil - do I study for the test tonight even though I will miss the game I want to watch or do I see if I can get the answers from a classmate during the test tomorrow? Other times, our choice is between two goods - I need some protein for my lunch. Should I have chicken or fish? The most challenging choice is between two evils. That is what Susanna faced. She could either submit to the elders’ evil desires in the hope of avoiding their judgement, or resist them and face their false accusations before the people. Our conscience lives within three time zones - acts that we have committed (past), an act we are about to commit (present), and an act we will commit (future). Susanna needed to make a judgement about a present act. Every judgement we make is an act of conscience. Fortunately, we can examine the acts we have done in the past to review the situation we faced, the choices we had, and the decisions we made. This is why the Church encourages us to examine our conscience before the Sacrament of Reconciliation. The Examination of Conscience is an essential aspect of the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola. It takes courage to review the acts we have committed over time. We need to reconsider the facts and feelings that were at play. Was I reacting rather than responding? Was I focusing too much on the wrong done to me rather than the right response? Especially, as I consider future actions, am I faced with a choice between a right and a wrong, two goods, or two evils? Perhaps, the right choice is to do the harder thing. God understands our limits. We must choose now to do what is good without all the information, perhaps under some distress, and with the facts we know and trust. We are obliged to follow faithfully what we know is just and right. God has given us intelligence. We can judge “the moral quality of a concrete act.” Like Susanna, we must access the morality of our acts and have the courage to do what we know is just and right - even if it is difficult - or acknowledge our failure, confess our sins, and repent. Today, we celebrate another woman of great faith, profound conscience, and courage: Saint Catherine of Siena. May we learn from both Susanna and St. Catherine and think about what we have done, what we are doing, what we will do, and decide what is just and right.
 Today, we celebrate the feast day of St. Gianna Beretta Molla, a wife, mother, and physician who gave the ultimate sacrifice of her life for her infant daughter. She is also one of my most trusted role models as a Christian, wife, and mother. When I graduated with my master’s degree, my husband gave me a print of a quote of St. Gianna that reads, “Whatever God wants.” It hangs by my bedside table and is often my first short prayer as I get out of bed in the morning. It was very fitting for the journey that we had just begun: my husband and I had been married for almost an entire year and I had just finished a rigorous graduate program. Meanwhile, we were coping with the loss of my father, who had passed 6 months prior. With such joy, stress, and suffering, I often turned to this prayer of St. Gianna as a deep source of hope and consolation to remind me of God’s sovereign love and guidance in my life. I continue to turn to this prayer as God’s will for my life unfolds. St. Gianna did not say “whatever God wants” with apathy but with joyful submission to Christ’s work in her life and confidence in God’s goodness. At her canonization, Pope St. John Paul II described her witness as a “significant messenger of divine love.” From her writings and letters, we know her love for God and her family was fervent and passionate. In a letter written to her future husband during their engagement, she said she would often pray, “Lord, you see my desire and my good will. Supply what is lacking and help me to become the wife and mother you desire.” Her letters to her husband often express their deep desire to raise a family that would love and serve the Lord with all of their hearts. They would soon have a son and three daughters. During St. Gianna’s final pregnancy, doctors discovered a fibroid tumor in her uterus. St. Gianna’s life could be easily saved by an abortion or a hysterectomy, or she could undergo a risky operation to remove the tumor and save her baby. St. Gianna chose to save her baby. However, the impending birth could mean life or death for both St. Gianna and her unborn child. She consistently told her husband, “If you must decide between me and the child, do not hesitate: choose – I insist – the child.” And indeed, St. Gianna’s daughter who lived due to her mother’s sacrifice is a living testimony to her mother’s deep love for her children and her trust in God’s will. Of her sacrifice, Pope St. John Paul II said this: Following the example of Christ, who "having loved his own... loved them to the end" (Jn 13: 1), this holy mother of a family remained heroically faithful to the commitment she made on the day of her marriage. The extreme sacrifice she sealed with her life testifies that only those who have the courage to give of themselves totally to God and to others are able to fulfill themselves. It is clear that her courage and love did witness to her simple prayer, “whatever God wants.” As life has continued to present new joys, stresses, and sufferings, my husband and I continue to reflect on St. Gianna’s prayer that hangs in our bedroom: “Whatever God wants.” In eagerly awaiting the birth of our unborn son, our hope, like St. Gianna and her husband’s, is that we can raise him and our future children with a deep love for the Lord and total trust in his providence as we pray in confidence, “Whatever God wants.” We hope that through living out our vocation of marriage amidst the ups and downs of life, our love is another witness to our children, family, and friends of God’s faithfulness as we pray, “Whatever God wants.” “Whatever God wants” is not a prayer of defeat or carelessness. For St. Gianna, it was a prayer of courage, strength, and complete trust in the power of God. May we, too, come to find the joy of this submission and love for Christ. St. Gianna, pray for us! *This blog is reposted and was originally published on 4/27/2017* AuthorAlyce Shields is a teacher in Washington D.C
 “Because you, O God, are the Infinite Love, you have loved us and, in your mercy, wished that your only begotten Son should become one of us and bring us who our sinners before you. That is why you sent your Son as our Redeemer” (OOCC III, 139). – St. Vincent Pallotti We are celebrating the great act of our redemption. Jesus died on the Cross, but the Father did not make that the end. Sin and death did not prevail. He innocent Lamb of God, sacrificed himself for us. Through the Cross and in the Resurrection, we are redeemed, we have hope! God, who is Infinite Love gave us the Son so that we could have the opportunity for Eternal Life. St. Vincent Pallotti knew this well as did our recently deceased Holy Father, Pope Francis. On April 21st, the day of the death of Pope Francis, we also remembered the 230th anniversary of his birth in Rome in 1795. He had a deep mystical experience of God, the Infinite Love, which moved him to go forth as an apostle of Infinite Love Incarnate, our Redeemer, Jesus Christ. As we celebrate the Easter season, we are called to embrace Infinite Love, the Risen Christ, more fully. He is our true hope in life. Everything else will fall short, but the Risen One will not. He is Infinite Love and calls us to share this love with others in what we say and do. May we be his witnesses in the world, as Pope Francis called us to do, drawing others into his all-embracing Infinite Love. May the charity of Christ urge us on! In God, the Infinite Love, Fr. Frank
 Today marks the beginning of the Sacred Triduum, or the commemoration of the Lord’s Passion, Death, and Resurrection. It is also the climax of the loving salvation about the Creator who endured much in order to save his beloved. We are reminded of the love that envelopes the Triduum in the Gospel passage from the Holy Thursday Mass. The Gospel recounts Jesus washing the disciples’ feet, and it begins by confirming the love Christ has for his beloved: “Jesus knew that his hour had come to pass from this world to the Father. He loved his own in the world, and he loved them to the end.” These words precede the entire Passion narrative in John’s Gospel. Their placement at the beginning is significant for how we recount the remainder of the Triduum. We enter Holy Week knowing the events that will unfold during that time. Jesus knew better than anyone what that week of suffering, betrayal, death, and ultimately life would entail. In less than a day he would be tortured in every way imaginable and descend into hell. Yet, Jesus thought about “his own” and how dear they are to him on the night before he suffered. I love how St. John uses the words “his own” to describe Jesus’ apostles. There are numerous times in his Gospel where John uses “the world” to describe the human race, but “his own” emphasizes the love and care Jesus had during the Passion. He, the Good Shepherd, claimed his sheep, and that claim extends to us two millennia later. The love he had for the flock was so great that he suffered individually for each sheep. Just as Jesus took the time to individually wash each disciple’s feet, he thought about you, me, and every human to ever exist during his sufferings. Christ’s contemplation never fails to astound me, especially knowing that his chosen band will fail to keep watch with him and stand by his side during the hardest moment of his life. The pain he must have felt at their abandonment, especially loving his apostles as much as he did, must have been heart-wrenching. For me, one of the hardest realities of Holy Week is knowing that the pain Christ endured continues when I fail to be his disciple and flee from his goodness through sin. Recounting the immense tribulation Jesus endured for the salvation of the world is a chilling reality, but considering his sacrifice was not confined to first-century Jerusalem brings a feeling of guilt, especially thinking about each one of my sins adding dead weight to the cross. Yet, the love Christ felt for his disciples before and during the Passion is the same love he holds for all of us. And that love which gushed forth from his heart at the cross is stronger than any of the weight our sins adds to the cross. It can be hard to respond to this beautiful reality because of the scars of our sins. Looking at the apostles, however, can provide guidance for our next steps. While they all denied Christ in some capacity during the Passion, they returned to the Lord. John wakes up from his slumber and goes to the foot of the cross. On Easter Sunday, Peter runs to the tomb of the Lord he denied. Thomas comes to fully believe that the risen Christ is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. The ones who ran away from Jesus eventually ran out to the world, boldly proclaiming the Good News. They go on to live their lives like Christ as they loved Jesus “to the end”. The events of the Passion were not the end of their stories because of Jesus’ fierce love for his own. Through God’s mercy, our stories are not over either, no matter how many times we have fallen in our faith. Christ, out of his tremendous love for us, waits for us to come back to him. One way to physically return to him this Triduum is through Adoration. Many churches offer Adoration after their Holy Thursday Masses so their parishioners can keep watch with Christ in the garden. If you are able, take a moment to be with the one who loved and suffered much for your sake. He went through much just so he could be with us both in the present age, and more importantly, the age to come.
 It is officially Holy Week. On Sunday, we commemorated Christ’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem as the people laid down palm fronds and cried out, “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord...Hosanna in the highest!”. In many dioceses, the Chrism Mass was celebrated on Monday at which the bishop or archbishop consecrated the holy oils that will be used at the Easter Vigil and in upcoming celebrations of Baptism, Confirmation, Ordination, and the Anointing of the Sick. The Chrism Mass is a beautiful sign of unity amongst the presbyterate of a diocese and closeness with their bishop. At our campus ministry, we chose to make the Chrism Mass our daily Mass on the Monday of Holy Week, shepherding our community to this beautiful liturgy where the Oils of Chrism and Catechumen, which will be used to fully initiate six of our students at the Easter Vigil, will be blessed. When many of us think of Holy Week, we think of the Paschal Triduum: Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter. We shouldn’t look at these days like just any other Thursday, Friday, or Sunday (and Saturday); they’re the most important ones of each week. On Holy Thursday, we begin what is one liturgy which lasts from Thursday through the end of Easter Sunday, unfolding Christ's Paschal Mystery for us. We have a lot to be grateful for on Holy Thursday, especially the institution of the Eucharist and the priesthood. Holy Thursday’s liturgy is called the Mass of the Lord’s Supper, calling to mind the Last Supper shared in the upper room by Christ and his disciples. At that meal, Jesus gives us the Holy Eucharist, his body, blood, soul, and divinity, which we partake in every time we go to Mass. It is by the priesthood that Christ instituted our share in that Eucharist. We should not forget that Christ not only instituted the Eucharist and priesthood on Holy Thursday, but also gave us the perfect model of humility and service when he washed his disciples’ feet in the Gospel of John. Holy Thursday is an opportunity to reflect upon the humility of our Lord who humbled himself to wash the feet of those who would betray and abandon him and who continues to come to us in the humble form of bread and wine. Good Friday is not a Mass but a service of our Lord’s Passion. We recall Christ’s passion and death by adoring the cross, the instrument of Jesus’ suffering and death, and simultaneously, his throne. On Good Friday, like on the day Jesus died, a silence comes over the world as Jesus descends into hell. While bloody and an instance of great sorrow, we should take time to reflect on Christ’s sacrifice on Good Friday. He who became sin and yet himself was sinless took to an instrument of government torture and execution for you and for me to offer us redemption and salvation with no motivation other than love! If the stainless lamb could give everything for me, then what should I be willing to endure to hope to spend eternity with that same Christ? And then we arrive to Holy Saturday: a day of silence, a day of mourning, a day of expectation. While Christ’s disciples were frantic and worried, grieving the loss of their friend and master, we know how the story ends. When the Easter Vigil arrives, we can see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel! That light is not merely a candle or the headlight of a car on a dark road, but THE light, the light of the world, the triumphant Christ who has defeated sin and death for us. At the Easter Liturgy, we celebrate and meditate on this victory over sin and death, and we also celebrate our brothers and sisters becoming fully initiated Catholics by receiving the sacraments of initiation. What better way is there to celebrate the gift of salvation by witnessing and celebrating with those men and women who become children of God in Baptism and receive the fullness of Baptismal grace in Confirmation? Easter is so much more than just bunnies and chocolate. Easter is the most important day in human history and an annual commemoration of the greatest gift we’ve been given: the offer and promise of salvation, won for us by God who became man. There is so much to think and pray about this Holy Week, so much to celebrate and to commemorate. Maybe this is the first Holy Week that you’re trying to enter deeply into the mysteries. Maybe you’re not totally sure. But as my friend and co-worker in the vineyard Fr. Mike says to our students, “just do the thing!”. Give Christ a chance to change your heart in a way he never has this Holy Week. You won’t regret it.
 Moral conscience, present at the heart of a person, enjoins him at the appropriate moment to do good and to avoid evil (CCC 1777). When it comes to the human heart, does a sentimental, biological, or Catholic image come to mind? My trusty Merriam-Webster Dictionary offered six definitions for the word “heart.” The first was the biological definition - the muscular organ that pumps blood. A more sentimental image could be a passing emotion, like a heart emoji on a social media post (my sister-in-law is all about beagle puppies), romantic love celebrated on Valentine's Day, or even a “sensitive” personality. The Catholic image for the heart, “the heart of the person,” is the “central or innermost part” of the human person. This definition points to a more older understanding of “heart.” Our ancestors in faith saw the human heart as the center of one’s being that encompasses intellect, will, emotions, and moral character. They believed the heart, not the brain, was the place where one reasoned, understood, and made judgements. Pope Francis, in his recent letter Dilexit Nos, noted that the heart is “the locus of sincerity, where deceit and disguise have no place. It usually indicates our true intentions, what we really think, believe and desire, the “secrets” that we tell no one: in a word, the naked truth about ourselves (para 5).” I have always been drawn to the story of Joseph, the youngest son of Jacob, who was sold into slavery by his jealous brothers. Joseph: King of Dreams, the 2000 animated film by Dreamworks, beautifully portrayed his anguish, and the “naked truth” he had to confront deep within his own heart. Would he make his brothers suffer, as they made him suffer, or will he forgive them and reunite with his father? As Dion, the American musician and songwriter said, “My definition of the blues is the naked cry of the human heart longing to be in union with God.” There are three other Scripture passages that illuminate the heart as our “innermost being” where we are in relationship with God as we discern the good we are to choose and the evil we are to avoid. In Jeremiah 31:31-34, God establishes a new covenant with his people: “I will place my law within them, and write it upon their hearts; I will be their God, and they shall be my people.” As our innermost center, free of deceit and disguise, our hearts already know the good, however frightening, and evil, however enticing. This is truly a sanctuary, a holy place, because God trusts the human heart. Pope Francis, in his letter Fratelli Tutti, on fraternity and social friendship, reflects on the parable of the Good Samaritan: “Jesus trusts in the best of the human spirit; with this parable, he encourages us to persevere in love, to restore dignity to the suffering and to build a society worthy of the name.” Jesus can trust us because he is the Word of God that is written on our hearts, or, as Saint John Henry Newman says, “conscience is the aboriginal Vicar of Christ” (CCC 1778). Finally, on Easter Sunday, Luke describes an encounter between the Risen Lord and two disciples on the Road to Emmaus. They are perplexed by all the events in Jerusalem resulting in the death of Jesus and hearing that Jesus had been raised from the dead. Jesus listens to them, and then explains all the ways Sacred Scripture points to him. They entreat him to stay with them as the day ends. During their meal, the two disciples finally recognized him in the breaking of the bread:“Were not our hearts burning within us while he spoke to us on the way and opened the scriptures to us?” (Luke 24:32). Our conscience is present in our innermost being: in our hearts, where we are most truly ourselves before God. God has written his law on our hearts, as he trusts “the best of the human spirit,” and he fills us up so we can empty ourselves out in love. The paradox of conscience is that the more attune we are to the promptings of our hearts, the more selfless we become. Lent is a time for purification, for self-emptying, so we are less distracted and more attune to the “Vicar of Christ.”
 As I was reflecting on the importance of the Lenten journey, it occurred to me that the forty days Jesus spent in the desert were Christ’s training and preparatory period for His life of ministry. By entering into the desert to pray and fast, our Savior was preparing Himself in body and soul to enter into His public mission. We too are called into a time of spiritual preparation to grow in holiness and become followers of Christ sent on mission. Lent helps us to do this by inviting us to focus on prayer, fasting and almsgiving. Because we are personally called to be stewards of Christ’s work on earth, we each have a special vocation that plays an important role in salvation history. Our Lord, in His humanity, demonstrated for us the importance of preparing for our calling. Let’s take a moment to look at the temptations presented to Jesus in the desert and to reflect on how they may relate to our present life and Lenten journey. The First Temptation: Hunger “The devil said to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become bread.’” (Luke 4:3) Let’s look at hunger from both a physical and spiritual dimension. Are we respecting our physical hunger by providing our body with appropriate nourishment through a well-balanced diet? Our bodies have been fashioned by our Divine Creator. Are we respecting that gift? Learning to discern the various signs that our body sends us is an important step in growing in discipline. We can strengthen, energize, and nourish our physical selves in a way that will enable us to carry out our calling. When we ignore this area of challenge and growth, we fail to establish a sense of physical discernment and our fallen desires become the master of our selves. Throughout Lent, we are invited to abstain from certain things, like meat on Fridays. This helps us to grow in healthy self-denial and invites us to make sacrifices that free us to more intentionally satisfy our spiritual hunger. When looking at spiritual hunger, do we even acknowledge that this desire exists? Are we aware of it? We cannot live without God. Oftentimes, it can be tempting to focus more on satisfying our physical needs than our spiritual needs. Lent is a wonderful time to focus on satisfying our spiritual hunger for God. Can we discern a spiritual versus physical desire? Are we turning to good, Christian practices to help us sustain our spiritual bodies or are we starving them? Do we nourish our soul with Scripture and frequent reception of the sacraments or do we drown this desire in the noise of daily life? The Second Temptation: Power “Then he took him up and showed him all the kingdoms of the world in a single instant. The devil said to him, ‘I shall give to you all this power and their glory; for it has been handed over to me, and I may give it to whomever I wish. All this will be yours, if you worship me.’” (Luke 4: 5-7) In this temptation, the devil offers Jesus thrones and dominions, the powers of the world. Jesus knew that all powers belonged to His Father in heaven, and that all human power is a gift from God. On Ash Wednesday, we often hear the words, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Lent reminds us of our humble origin and our final end. It invites us to grow deeper in our humility and on our reliance on God, who elevates us to His sons and daughters through Baptism and invites us to eternal life with Him. What powers or successes are we tempted by in our lives? Are they disordered? Let us reflect on the things in our lives that we cling to, strive for, or attempt to control. Is there anything God is asking us to hand over that we can give Him this Lent? Have our goals become idols in our life? What false power have we been blinded by that has taken worship away from our Almighty and Triune God? The Third Temptation: Putting God to The Test “Then he led him to Jerusalem, made him stand on the parapet of the temple, and said to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here…’” (Luke 4: 9-10) In this temptation, the devil challenges God’s authority and invites Jesus to test God’s power. What are the ways in which we test our Heavenly Father? Do we only turn to God in times of need or instead seek His guidance in all circumstances in life? There is a very important difference between throwing ourselves down in order to see if we’ll be caught versus allowing ourselves to fall, trusting that we’ll be held. Our relationship with our Heavenly Father should not be one of testing, but of trusting. By refusing to give in to the devil’s temptation, Jesus models for us trust, obedience, and faith—what Adam and Eve lacked when they experienced temptation in the Garden of Eden. As we continue through our Lenten journey, may we open ourselves to a deep and honest reflection of these temptations and remember that Christ has already overcome our greatest enemy: the devil. Our Savior, who is fully God and fully man, entered into a time of preparation to discipline and strengthen the physical in order to allow the spiritual to grow and develop. Christ shows us the way against temptation and gives us the strength to overcome it, knowing that the Father of Lies will be waiting with his temptations and tricks to stop us from fulfilling our role in salvation history. During Lent, let us continue to prepare for our call and, strengthened by the powers of heaven and Jesus Christ Himself, not allow the temptations of the Evil One to stand in our way. Questions for Reflection: What are your greatest temptations during Lent? What are some ways you have been able to overcome temptation? *This blog was originally published on March 1, 2018* AuthorElaine Seckar is the Wellness Coordinator of Saint Patrick Church in Carlisle, PA.
 The day I have dreaded for years is coming – this August, my oldest child will go to his first day of school. Last month, my husband and I filled out our parish school’s enrollment paperwork for our son, and just like that, the days of being at home with mommy full-time are winding down. Of course, as a former Catholic school teacher, I know his time at school will be good. He will love making new friends, learning so many new things, and running nonstop around a new playground. But knowing in my head that his school will be a second home for him, filled with prayer and encouragement, does not make my heart stop from feeling a little sad at the fact that “My baby boy is growing up!”. This milestone moment of letting go – when I voluntarily forgo one thing in exchange for something better – has led me to reflect on our Lenten moments of letting go and their significance. (1) Worthwhile Sacrifice: Similarly to how I will forgo the weekday hours of playing with my son, in exchange for gifting him all the benefits of Catholic education, in Lent, we fast and give alms; that is, we choose to give up something – perhaps money, time, meat, or sweets – in exchange for something better like the “mastery over our instincts and freedom of heart” gained by acts of asceticism or self-discipline (CCC 2043). Gaining self-control through “voluntary self-denial such as fasting and almsgiving” – like sacrificially passing on dessert – can help prepare us for when the temptation to sin comes and help us grow stronger in resisting that temptation (CCC 1438). (2) An Opportunity to Refocus: Additionally, just like the reality check that in a few months I will be sending my oldest child to school reminds me to appreciate and be grateful for every moment I get to spend with him, our Lenten acts of fasting and almsgiving should serve as reminders to refocus ourselves on what should be at the center of our lives – our love of God and neighbor. Our earthly comfort and pleasures are not the be-all, end-all of our days, and complaining about minor inconveniences and sacrifices does not make us any holier. Rather, all our actions and all our resources should ultimately direct us towards achieving holiness and sharing the love of Christ with others. (3) Necessary Letting Go: Lastly, it is worth remembering that letting go of something can also be a necessary part of our journey towards Heaven. Just like in human development where a child naturally grows, learns, and eventually reaches adulthood, we can and should challenge ourselves to grow spiritually during this Lent – which will entail letting go of a sinful habit or two. This Lent, we can reflect, with the help of an excellent confession guide, perhaps, on what sinful habits we need to let go of. Also, we can reflect on how and in what areas we can improve. Lent needs not only focus on what sins we want to get rid of, but we can also focus this Lent on the positive spiritual habits we would like to begin. Afterall, Lent is a time of prayer, fasting and almsgiving, and we certainly should not forget to take this opportunity to bolster our prayer life. I pray your Lent is a holy and fruitful one that brings your focus ever more lovingly back to Christ.
 Now you are Christ’s body, and individually parts of it. –1 Corinthians 12:27 I commute to work every day by train through Chicago’s “loop.” It’s the perfect place for people-watching. Recently, I was on a busy sidewalk when a woman who looked rather tired and disheveled pushed a stroller near the crowd with her child. Behind me were two very elegantly dressed women in a hurry. The woman with the stroller asked the passing crowd, “Can you spare some change for our next meal?” It’s a question that I’ve heard too often downtown. I felt a pang of sadness and guilt. Often, I am unsure how to respond. The women behind me continued on past her and began commenting: “What a horrible mother”; “Of course I’m not going to help her out. Why would I want to give her my money?” Those comments hurt even more than seeing this poor mother and child suffer. In the first letter to the Corinthians, St. Paul writes, “As a body is one though it has many parts, and all the parts of the body, though many, are one body, so also Christ. . . . If [one] part suffers, all the parts suffer with it; if one part is honored, all the parts share its joy.” The mother and her baby, the women behind me, and all those who are a part of my community of friends and family are of one body. As stated in Lumen Gentium, “By communicating His Spirit, Christ made His brothers, called together from all nations, mystically the components of His own Body. In that Body the life of Christ is poured into the believers who, through the sacraments, are united in a hidden and real way to Christ who suffered and was glorified.” We live as one with Christ and with one another even amidst the poverty, injustice, and messiness we experience. This letter from Paul to the early Church deepens their understanding of the Body of Christ and its physical makeup. Each person has a function within it which works alongside the other members and promotes the common good. As the Catechism of the Catholic Church notes, “The unity of the Mystical Body produces and stimulates charity among the faithful.” I often fall into the temptation of removing myself from a group who seems holier than me, those who are more involved in their community or are outspoken in ways that I’m not. I even tend to exclude myself from the community of pedestrians walking down the sidewalk. I forget that we make up the Body of Christ and that if others suffer, I suffer. If others rejoice, I rejoice. I also share a part of myself with each of them. One of my mentors once said, “Our goal is always to connect. Even if it’s uncomfortable, we are made for relationship.” As a Christian, I am called to notice those in the community around me and to connect with them. Mystici Corporis Christi, the encyclical from Pius XII, also outlines the meaning of being a part of the Mystical Body of Christ. “Each member of the Church, of the Mystical Body of Christ, if authentic, is integrally bonded in soul, and hopefully in heart, through the Incarnation, by the Spirit, with Jesus, Son of God, and son of Mary, divine and human,” wrote Msgr. Owen F. Campion. We are bonded in soul and heart because of Christ’s physical and spiritual sacrifice as the Son of God. We become whole in him and in relation to others. As members of the Church, we are called to be a family who loves and cares for others, even those outside of our communities. In all circumstances, the Body of Christ leads me to a holier life. When I am doubtful or uncertain, my faith community allows me to grow. When I’m overwhelmed, others will kindle the fire of faith within me. I fully experience joy when I experience it with others and share the Good News and the love of Jesus. I may do this differently from a trained hand who provides, or a speaker with a gifted tongue, but I’m using my gifts as a member of the Body of Christ. We are called to take part of this community through our unique identity with authenticity. I paused that day on my commute because of this mystical experience of community. I witnessed the pain of the poor mother and child on the Chicago sidewalk, and the harshness of the response of the two women who were walking near me. I became more aware of this truth in the wounds and challenging emotions I experienced. I feel pain because I am connected to all people in some way. Conversely, I can feel joy if I make small choices to build up the Body of Christ. St. Paul outlines this for us, and we hear it in St. Teresa of Avila’s words, “Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, yours are the eyes, you are his body. Christ has no body now on earth but yours.” We must pay attention like Jesus would, and love our physical and mystical body. Questions for Reflection: What unique gifts can I share with others as a member of the Body of Christ? How can I become more aware of the communities I live in? *This post was originally published June 26, 2017*
 Our lives tend to leave more room for “no’s” than “yes’s” in our daily schedule. No matter who you are, saying no to something can be almost second nature. We’re wired to wake up, do things, eat, do more things, eat again, do more things, go to bed, then rinse and repeat. The schedules we adhere to dictate many of our decisions by just going, going, going, until the next thing. Yet, there are so many opportunities to have a positive response, but this is what generally comes out:
If you haven’t heard of a “Yes Day,” it’s when you take a free day and only say yes to opportunities, adventure, and decisions that might otherwise be too silly or far-fetched. Often, parents might give their kids a Yes Day for fun, or a couple might have a Yes Day to find new restaurants and things to do in the area. During a Yes Day, there is no room for “no” anywhere. Although this might be extreme, there is a lesson to be learned from it. If we take a step back, we can consider that saying no all the time really takes the excitement and spontaneity out of the day. There is a brave and holy woman who said “yes” to a very peculiar situation. There were endless unknowns, and she only had her faith in God to guide her. She could have been ridiculed, forsaken by her family and loving fiance, and banished from society. Her fears were probably extreme, but her faith was stronger. Of course, I’m talking about the Virgin Mary, for whom today’s Annunciation Solemnity honors. When she said her emphatic “yes”, she changed the course of history and humanity. One little yes. It is written in Luke 1:37-38, “Fear not, for nothing will be impossible with God. And Mary said, ‘Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word.”’ These are my favorite two sentences in all of the Gospels, and I’ve loved this verse for more than twenty years. What I love about Mary’s “yes” is that the Angel Gabriel told her not to worry and immediately she was ready to face the challenges that accompanied this faith-filled “yes.” It shows me that if Mary’s very real fears could be dissuaded in just one phrase, I too can face my own fears and tribulations. Even in my darkest days, I can remember Mary’s “yes” and keep moving forward with my faith, knowing that God is with me and will never forsake me. In these remaining weeks of Lent, I challenge you to say “yes” a little more and “no”a little less in your day. Some examples might be:
 Reviving Faith – Rekindling Charity – Forming Apostles. This is not simply a tagline for the Catholic Apostolate Center. These three are central to the charism of St. Vincent Pallotti which informs all that the Center does. Pallotti understood in the early 19th century that Catholics, as people of faith, are called to be apostles, sent on mission by Christ into the world to share the Gospel and care for our brothers and sisters. Rekindling charity means that we are called to deepen love of God and neighbor. Pallotti understood clearly that all are in the image and likeness of God, and we should not allow another image and likeness of God to suffer. The fire of charity, of love, in our hearts needs to burn brightly through all that we do for our brothers and sisters. This is at the heart of almsgiving during the season of Lent. We are challenged by this Lenten practice to give of ourselves fully to others, not simply from our surplus. Rekindling charity is not only for Lent but also should be practiced by people of faith always. St. Joseph, whose feast day is today, is an example of a person who gave of himself fully for God in charity, not thinking of himself, but of others, particularly the Blessed Virgin Mary and Jesus. Pallotti offers us this consideration in a world that is quite divided, as it was in his time: “If we are truly animated by the spirit of love, we shall always treat all with love, look on all with love, think of all with love, and speak of all with love” (OOCC III, 338). May the charity of Christ urge us on! In God, the Infinite Love, Fr. Frank
|
Archives
May 2025
Categories
All
|
RSS Feed
About |
Media |
© COPYRIGHT 2025 | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED