 Contemporary Western culture seems to promote nothing but pride these days; it insists that only those who are proud, selfish, and disobedient can effect change or succeed in life. But salvation history and the lives of the saints tell us a different story—namely, that pride is the downfall of mankind, and that humility is what ultimately exalts us. Humility is a difficult virtue to embrace because it is such a quiet one and is often mistaken for what it is not. In his Summa Contra Gentiles, St. Thomas Aquinas describes humility thus: “Truly, the virtue of humility consists in this, that one keep himself within his own limits; he does not stretch himself to what is above him, but he subjects himself to his superior.” Being humble does not mean debasing yourself and refusing to acknowledge that you have any gifts or talents whatsoever—and some would argue that in fact, such an attitude is actually hidden pride! The truly humble man understands that he is not the greatest at anything, and that while he is better at something than others might be, his gift ultimately comes from God and is to be used for the glory of God, not for personal accolades. The prime example of this is the Blessed Virgin Mary. She was a young woman without wealth or powerful connections, and yet her submission to the will of God altered the course of human history and opened the door for the divine Messiah to enter the world He would one day redeem. She did not attempt to argue that she was utterly unworthy of the grace bestowed on her, but rather submitted with her humble fiat, “May it be done unto me according to your word.” The truly humble man knows his own limitations—he submits to the authority not only of God and of the Church, but also to the legitimate authority of the government and the workplace. A humble man does not go looking for opportunities to gain power and prestige. He dies to himself for the sake of others—he harbors no resentment when others’ work is extolled while his goes unnoticed, and he uses those moments of humiliation to draw closer to Christ. The humble man continues to use his gifts even if no one but God is going to see or acknowledge them. And when his gifts and accomplishments are acknowledged by the world, the humble man turns that praise back to God instead of focusing it on himself. The humble man does not need to project an Instagram-perfect image of his life to the rest of the world: he accepts that he is a work in progress, can admit when he is wrong, and can accept criticism with grace. Sometimes true humility seems impossible to achieve. Because we are fallen creatures wrapped up in ourselves, we have to constantly work toward selflessness. One method of doing this is by praying The Litany of Humility. This prayer asks Jesus to deliver us from desires and fears fueled by pride—from the desire of praise, to the fear of being wronged. But the beauty of this litany is that it not only asks that we be freed from our pride, but it also asks for the grace to desire that others may be better than we are, loved more than we are, holier than we are. True humility is not downplaying our own roles, but is setting aside our own desires so that others can rise higher and do more for Christ than we ever could. It’s being the Andrew to someone else’s Peter and the Barnabas to someone else’s Paul—calling forth someone to the good or encouraging their potential, even if means that person becomes greater than ourselves. Matt Maher has his own take on the Litany of Humility in his song “Every Little Prison.” What I like about Maher’s version is that he adapts the prayer to be more recognizable for the modern Christian. Pride takes many forms in this era of Instagram followers, Facebook “likes,” and the 24-hour news cycle—we spend time “wondering if I am relevant and liked” and “wanting to be seen.” Ultimately, humility requires us to turn to God instead of other things and to trust in him, in his mercy and his wisdom, rather than becoming slaves to our fears of being judged, or of not being loved, or of having to let go. By praying for freedom from the prisons created by pride, may we live more confidently in the love of God and in doing his will. Author
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 As the United States marks 250 years since the signing of the Declaration of Independence, the Catholic bishops of our country – through the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB) – are inviting Catholics into a profound spiritual moment: the consecration of the United States to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. This act of consecration is more than a symbolic gesture or patriotic observance. It is a reminder that every nation ultimately stands under God and needs His mercy, guidance, and love. The practice of consecrating nations to the Sacred Heart has a long history in the life of the Church. In 1899, Pope Leo XIII consecrated the entire world to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, calling it “the great act” of his pontificate. Over the years, many countries, dioceses, and communities have followed this example during moments of challenge, transition, or renewal. These acts of consecration are not political statements. Rather, they are spiritual acts of trust, placing people and nations under the care of Christ and asking for His protection and guidance. At a time marked by division, anxiety, violence, and distrust, the Church is once again calling us back to the Heart of Christ. The Sacred Heart of Jesus represents the deep and personal love that Christ has for humanity, a love poured out completely on the Cross. To consecrate something means to dedicate it entirely to God. By consecrating our nation to the Sacred Heart, the bishops are entrusting the United States to the care and mercy of Jesus Christ. This does not mean that our nation is perfect or favored. Rather, it is a humble acknowledgment that we need God now more than ever. This anniversary also gives us an opportunity to reflect on freedom itself. Our nation was founded on ideals of liberty and human dignity, but as Christians, we know that true freedom is not found simply in independence or self-determination. Jesus reminds us, “You will know the truth, and the truth will make you free” (John 8:32). Authentic freedom is found in living as sons and daughters of God. The bishops are encouraging not only a national consecration, but also personal and family consecrations to the Sacred Heart. Renewal in our country begins first with renewal in our homes and hearts. So how can we participate? We can begin with prayer and time spent with the Lord in the Eucharist. We can place an image of the Sacred Heart in our homes as a reminder that Christ is at the center of family life. We can practice works of mercy and charity, especially toward those who are poor, suffering, or forgotten. We can pray for our nation with hope instead of despair. Devotion to the Sacred Heart is ultimately about trusting in the love of Jesus and allowing that love to transform us. As St. John writes, “Let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action” (1 John 3:18). As our country enters its next 250 years, this consecration offers an invitation to renewal. Not merely political renewal or cultural renewal, but spiritual renewal rooted in Christ. May the Sacred Heart of Jesus bless our nation, strengthen our families, and draw all people closer to Him. AuthorWith the Center since 2011, Chris Pierno is the Catholic Apostolate Center's Manager of Marketing & Consulting. In this role, he oversees the Center's marketing program and coordination of consulting services. He also supports the staff in areas of graphic design, advancement, public relations, administration, and strategic planning for the Center. Chris also is a co-host for the Center's premier podcast, OnMission.
 The roar of the ginormous trash truck chugging down our street and the repetitive screech as it stops in front of each house pierces the air of our house and makes my toddler and I lock eyes with joyful anticipation. We run out the front door hoping to catch a glimpse of this mechanical dinosaur and gleefully celebrate the clenching of trash cans and tossing of waste into the back of the truck before it eventually departs down the next block. A weekly occurrence at my house, this trash truck ritual had me thinking about its similarities to the sacrament of Confession, or more properly called, Reconciliation. For years, my understanding of this sacrament was much like my experience of trash day - a celebration of the spiritual waste removal. My sins are gone, the trash can empty, my soul is clean, and I’m inspired to start over again with a fresh conscience. While my trash day metaphor is not entirely inaccurate, our Catechism takes my understanding a step further explaining “the whole power of the sacrament of Penance consists in restoring us to God’s grace and joining us with him in an intimate friendship. Reconciliation with God is thus the purpose and effect of this sacrament” (CCC 1468). More than just confessing our sins or taking out the spiritual trash, the sacrament restores what we have broken by sinning - our relationship with our Beloved God. This is why Reconciliation is, in my opinion, the most appropriate name for the sacrament; we are going to God to reconcile ourselves with him. And while our relationship with God is mended and healed in the sacrament of Reconciliation, there is still work to be done on our parts. While our sins are forgiven, absolution “does not remedy all the disorders sin has caused” (CCC 1459); there may still be apologies to be made to the people we’ve hurt or penance to do. Even though we’ve been forgiven, our “unhealthy attachment[s] to” sin and things in this world that would lead us away from our right relationship with God remain (CCC 1472). Looking back to my trash day metaphor, even though this week’s trash is gone, there are still things in my house that will become trash over the next week.; Certain habits are in place in my house that will continue to create trash week after week - whether it’s packaging, food waste, paper products, or my baby’s diapers. We are called to continue, even after exiting the Confessional, “by works of mercy and charity, as well as by prayer and the various practices of penance, to put off completely the ‘old man’ and to put on the ‘new man’ (CCC 1473). Imagine if I went back into my house after the trash truck took away my garbage and thought seriously about how to make less trash in the next week. Okay, enough of the trash truck metaphor. Even after receiving the sacrament of Reconciliation, we’re called to spiritually strive for improvement, exchanging sinful habits for holy ones and striving to avoid or conquer temptations when they come. Thankfully, Reconciliation gives us “an increase of spiritual strength for the Christian battle” moving forward, and we need it (CCC 1496). Undertaking the tasks of uprooting whatever leads us to sin is no small mission. We can’t do it alone; thankfully, both our Church community and Christ himself walk by our side, encouraging us and cheering us on as we forge ahead towards Heaven. Author
 Recently, I attended a marriage preparation weekend with my fiancé. We learned a lot about each other and grew in love and appreciation for one another, but something we discovered over the weekend was the difference in how we pray. We are both faith-filled people who serve the Church in a variety of ways, but we had never really thought about the ways we pray. We had especially never considered praying together as a couple…or so I thought. Over the weekend, the couples who shared their stories kept talking about prayer together, and it made me want to have that in our relationship, too. I thought about how my prayer life is full of journaling, talking with other faith-filled gal pals, reflection, song, and giving thanks. I learned that my fiancé’s prayer life was found primarily in the Mass and when he truly needed something. Then I thought about how we go to Mass together each week and make it the high point of the day. Turns out, we have been praying together this whole time—in the Mass! For us, going to Mass is not just something “to do” on Sundays, it’s the beginning of a new week with Christ in the Eucharist, living out His love for others through prayer and witness. All this thinking about prayer got me asking: how many other ways are there to pray? Prayer is a funny thing. It’s not like math with a specific algorithm to follow in order to get the answer. Prayer is done by adults and children, men and women, healthy and sick, in good times and in bad, all across the world. Prayer is so diverse and can actually be simple to do. Our Catholic faith has provided us with prayers to say to God, songs to sing and listen to, quiet to listen for God’s voice, and a chance to meet him in the Eucharist at Mass. Jesus himself taught his disciples to pray when they asked him, and he left us the Our Father as a result (Matthew 6: 9-13). He wanted us to teach others these words because they cover everything you might need to say. Jesus said, “This is how you are to pray: Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as in heaven. Give us today our daily bread; and forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors; and do not subject us to the final test, but deliver us from the evil one.” Through these few words, we can become closer to God and more dedicated to living the Gospel each day. Jesus also left us with the Mass. Mass is the place where my fiancé and I first began our relationship, the place we will continue to go on a regular basis together, and where our future children will experience the presence of Christ in the Eucharist. For those who may not be familiar with the structure of the Mass, it is separated into two major parts: the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist. Within these two parts, there are various prayers and belief statements like the Responsorial Psalm and the Nicene Creed. The “source and summit of Christian life” is the Eucharist, and it comes after we have heard the Word, or the scripture readings (Lumen Gentium, 11). Together, these two parts help us become witnesses of the faith and of God’s love for others. For some, Mass is not where they experience deep prayer and closeness to Christ like my fiancé does. Some feel close to Christ in nature and through wonder and awe. Some find God in the quiet reflection of their day. Others pray each day with a Rosary, Liturgy of the Hours, or other conventional prayers. Personally, I like to switch up my prayer routine and experience different forms of prayer. Prayer is amazing because we have so many ways we could pray and yet, no matter which way we choose in that special moment, we are still opening our hearts to God. In prayer, we are creating a connection with God. This is such a complex concept, talking with our Creator, but so simple to do! Let us close in a simple but powerful prayer: Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the Beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen. Question for Reflection: What are a few ways to incorporate communal prayer into your spiritual routine? If you are in a relationship with a significant other, reflect upon what ways you pray together. Click here for more resources on Prayer and Catechesis. *This blog is reposted and was originally published March 28, 2017.*
 When God created the world, he had a busy work week too. He created Light and Darkness on the first day, so there is now night and day; the second day, he made the sky by separating water below and above. On the third day, he made dry land and seas, vegetation, plants, and all the trees. On the fourth day, God created the Sun, Moon, and stars, so we could have time by days and months and years, and then, on the fifth and sixth days, he made sea creatures and birds and then land animals, completing his Creation with humans made in God’s own image and likeness. “God saw all that He had made, and it was very good.” (Gen 1:31) So on that seventh day, he rested, and it became the Sabbath. All of this to be said, God showed us the beauty of rest and of admiring the work we’ve already done. For busy working adults and parents, Sunday is often filled with catching up on household chores and preparing for the upcoming week, while hardly taking a moment to find rest from the previous week. How do we find that balance for ourselves on Sundays of all days? Lucky for us, during one of the busiest times of the year for kids in school and parents working, the Liturgical Calendar leads us to: The Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity. This Sunday’s focus is a perfect opportunity to be filled with peace and step away from the “doing” to just rest in the “being” of God’s love. Christ invites us in one of his most thoughtful and famous readings, John 3:16-18: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God sent the Son into the world, not to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him. He who believes in him is not condemned; he who does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God.” To me, this Gospel passage provides me with peace knowing that I don’t have to earn anything or be someone else. There are no conditions around God’s love, I just need to accept it, I need to sit in it and be taken over by His love. The Holy Trinity gives us a chance to accept love in our minds, hearts, and body only if we let it. So now what? I have a challenge for you: starting this Sunday, give yourself a no-cancel 15 minutes. Sit in silence. Put the phone away. Do no busy things like chores or work, no agenda for the time - just breathing in the presence of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Breathe in…1, 2, 3. Hold for 3….1, 2, 3. Breathe out….1, 2, 3. Hold for 3….1, 2, 3. Repeat Remember, God’s love is unconditional and all you need to do is accept it. Have a great Sunday!
 “In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.” This is how I begin all of my prayers; and it comes from a long tradition in Christianity. As Catholics, we usually accompany these words by making the Sign of the Cross with our hand. Why is this so important to our faith and to me personally? To begin, I suggest revisiting and praying the Nicene Creed as it is proclaimed at every Catholic Mass. This is our profession of faith. The Holy Trinity – three persons in one – is a mystery we mere mortals can scarcely understand, but it explains our identity as children of God. We are taught from the Old Testament that God the Father is the Creator, and He sustains all of the world. In the New Testament we are instructed that God the Son is our Savior, Jesus Christ – both divine and human in nature and whose behavior we strive to model. At Pentecost, as told in the Acts of the Apostles in the New Testament, we are shown that the Holy Spirit is imparted to each of us as the presence of God in us who gives us wisdom and boldness to act as we are taught by Jesus. The unity of these three divine beings in one God is a profound gift I believe in complete faith, and it helps me understand who I am in His Kingdom. I am a child of the Father who loved me into being together with my earthly mom and dad, I am redeemed by the body and blood poured out by Jesus His Son for all my failings, and I am aided constantly by the Holy Spirit to live and profess the Christian life in joy and exuberance! I like to think of myself as being a flesh and bone human with supernatural assistance (as long as I cooperate with the will of God)! That is a pretty amazing disposition to live out of. We read in the Old Testament’s books of the prophets that God promised a Messiah to save His people, and then in Matthew 1:2-16 the genealogy of Jesus is recorded and spiritually comes to include each of us, who through our baptism become sons and daughters of God. This is an earthly and divine bond like no other in all of creation. There is so much more to us human beings than our earthly bodies and this temporary space we inhabit. We are walking, talking, living, breathing messengers of God the Almighty, commissioned to share love and mercy to every other living being around us. We are flesh and bone, but we are also spirit and intellect. When in right relationship with our Lord, we are the dwelling place for God to move and work in and through us. Understanding our identity and praying for guidance to live it out in what we do and say is imperative to being a member of the Kingdom of Heaven. This knowledge and the grace and virtues that flow from accepting our mission gives us the power to bring life and healing and hope and joy to a hurting, confused, and broken world. So, if you are ready to accept the mission, be prepared to be filled to overflowing with the Holy Spirit and be equipped with all that is necessary to be a present day apostle! Several years ago, one of our young sons made a simple but beautiful bookmark for my husband as a gift. It was brightly colored and had the words: WORK FOR GOD! down the middle. This summarizes exactly what we are called to do and continues to be a great reminder as it sits in my husband’s Bible. The Holy Trinity is the foundation of all our Christian beliefs and it gives me great comfort knowing who I come from and who I belong to for time and eternity, even when I do not fully comprehend it. We can sing from the rooftops: “Holy Father, Holy Son, Holy Spirit, three we name Thee; while in essence only one, undivided God we claim Thee; and adoring bend the knee, while we own the mystery” (Holy God, We Praise Thy Name by Ignace Franz). *This blog is reposted and was originally published May 25, 2021.* AuthorSusan A. Fowler was born and raised in Maryland and has been a lifelong Catholic actively involved in parish ministries for over 43 years. She has been married for 40 years, raised 6 children with her husband, and currently resides in Georgia.
 What is the purpose of serving the Church? It is to further the mission of Christ until he comes again. This mission was given to the Eleven Apostles at the time of the Ascension of the Lord. At Pentecost, the Holy Spirit came upon them, the Blessed Virgin Mary, and the other disciples in the Cenacle or Upper Room. The gift of the Holy Spirit gave them the ability to go forth on this mission as the Church to serve Christ through living his mission, not their own. We continue as Church to do this today since all the baptized share in the mission of Christ. This purpose should align what we do as Church as not simply maintaining a club for believers, but instead as a place of prayer, community, and formation to go forth for Christ, witnessing him to the world and accompanying others into encountering him through the Church. If we have leadership roles in the Church, whether lay or ordained, then we need to always remind ourselves that we are not about ourselves, but our purpose, our center, is Christ. What we do as Church always needs to be about furthering the mission of Christ in the world. It is not about furthering our own agenda. The ways that we will stay focused on our purpose are through good prayer, discernment, and dialogue with others in the community of faith. When we do that then we will serve the mission of Christ, not our own mission. May the charity of Christ urge us on! In God, the Infinite Love, Fr. Frank
 The Easter season in the Catholic Church is often experienced as a quiet unfolding of joy. After the intensity of Lent and the solemn beauty of Holy Week, Easter arrives not just as a single day, but as a season—fifty days of celebration that stretch toward Pentecost. It is a time when the Church invites us to linger in the reality of the Resurrection, to let it sink in slowly, and to begin recognizing how it changes everything. At the heart of this season is a simple but profound truth: Christ is risen. This is not just a past event, but a living reality. In the Gospels, the apostles themselves needed time to grasp what had happened. Mary Magdalene comes to the tomb in grief and confusion, only to encounter the risen Jesus when He calls her by name. The disciples on the road to Emmaus walk alongside Him without recognizing Him at first, their hearts “burning within them” as He opens the Scriptures. Even Thomas, who doubts, is invited to touch Christ’s wounds and believe. These moments are deeply human. They remind us that faith often grows gradually, not all at once. During the Easter season, the Church gives us permission to be like those first disciples; learning, questioning, and slowly awakening to the presence of the risen Lord in our own lives. For many Catholics, especially those who might not be deeply immersed in daily spiritual practices, this season offers a gentle invitation rather than a demand. It doesn’t ask for dramatic change overnight. Instead, it encourages small acts of awareness: noticing grace in ordinary moments, returning to prayer even if it’s brief, or simply reflecting on where God might be present in the midst of daily routines. The Resurrection also carries a message of hope that is both personal and communal. In a world that often feels uncertain or heavy, Easter insists that suffering and death do not have the final word. This doesn’t mean that difficulties disappear, but that they are transformed. Just as Christ’s wounds were not erased but glorified, our own struggles can become places where God’s grace is revealed. As the Easter season progresses, the Church begins to turn its gaze toward Pentecost. If Easter is about the risen Christ, Pentecost is about the gift He leaves behind: the Holy Spirit. In the Acts of the Apostles, we see a group of followers who are still afraid and uncertain, gathered in an upper room. Then, at Pentecost, everything changes. The Spirit descends like tongues of fire, and those same disciples go out boldly, preaching and witnessing to the world. This movement; from fear to courage, from confusion to clarity, is what makes Pentecost so compelling. It reminds us that the Christian life is not meant to be lived alone or by our own strength. The Holy Spirit is given to guide, strengthen, and inspire us. Even for someone who feels only loosely connected to their faith, this can be a powerful idea: that God is not distant, but actively present and working within us. Looking ahead to Pentecost during the Easter season can shape how we live these weeks. It becomes less about passively celebrating something that happened long ago and more about preparing our hearts for what God wants to do now. This preparation doesn’t have to be complicated. It might be as simple as asking, “Where do I need courage?” or “What is God inviting me to do differently?” The beauty of this liturgical journey is that it mirrors the rhythm of real life. We move from moments of clarity to moments of doubt, from joy to uncertainty, and back again. Easter assures us that Christ walks with us through all of it. Pentecost promises that we are never without help. In the end, the Easter season is not just about remembering the Resurrection. It is about living in its light. It is about allowing that joy to take root, even if only in small ways, and trusting that it will grow. And as Pentecost approaches, it’s about opening ourselves, however imperfectly, to the transforming presence of the Holy Spirit. Together, these seasons remind us that faith is not static. It is alive, dynamic, and always moving forward, just as the Church moves from the empty tomb to the fire of Pentecost, carrying the hope of Christ into the world.
 We often associate tree climbing with child’s play—it’s an action that requires flexible limbs and a daring outlook that only winks at the possibility of risk. I can’t imagine it being much different in the ancient world. To see a man quickly climbing up a tree just to get a glimpse of another must have been perceived as childish and perhaps a little embarrassing. The Gospel today speaks of a short-statured man who grew quickly in the eyes of God. Zacchaeus may be chuckled at for his stature, but he can be looked up to as a model of faith in action. At the time Christ comes to his town of Jericho, Zacchaeus is not an upstanding man. But something about Jesus calls to him, so much so that Zacchaeus is willing to do anything—even climb up a tree—just to catch a glimpse of him. The beginning of the Gospel mentions that Jesus “intended to pass through the town.” However, upon encountering Zacchaeus, he stops, calls him by name, and accompanies him to his home to dine with him. And Zacchaeus’ response is joy. This joy comes from a newfound generosity blooming in Zacchaeus’ heart. The man who once extorted his community responds quickly and tells Jesus he will give away half his possessions to the poor. Furthermore, he pledges to repay—four times over—anyone he has extorted. The man, called a sinner by the rest of the town, has been called by name by Christ and responds with faith in action. He has experienced conversion, and his actions result in Christ saying, “today salvation has come to this house.” Is this how we await Christ, so longingly that will we do anything just to glimpse him? Or are we off somewhere else in the town of Jericho, distracted or lukewarm to the knowledge that Christ walks in our midst? What if every member of the Church—the clergy, religious, the laity—awaited Christ with the expectation of Zacchaeus? It is this desire and willingness that has disposed his heart to be receptive to God’s work. It is a small glimmer of the receptivity of Mary when she gave her fiat at the Annunciation. And through this, God can work miracles—the birth of a Savior from a virgin womb, the conversion of a short-statured, greedy sinner. As a Church, we often go back and forth between roles. We are the sinful people called to encounter Christ and bring his mercy and joy to the world, but we can also play the role of Christ in our work of evangelization. Christ—who calls Zacchaeus by name and is not afraid to dine with sinners. Christ—who changes his plans in order to minister to those right in front of him. Christ—who comes “to seek and to save what was lost.” As Pope Francis said in his closing homily at the end of the Synod on Young People, the Faith, and Vocational Discernment, “That is how God operates. He gets personally involved with preferential love for every person. By his actions, he already communicates his message. Faith thus flowers in life.” And what are Zacchaeus’ actions if not faith flowering? This flowering faith is what Pope Francis and the Synod Fathers are reminding the Church of once more as the Synod has come to a close. Almost a month out from this historic event, we are called to ponder deeply the prompting of the Holy Spirit and, like Zacchaeus, seek an encounter with Christ. It is this encounter with a personal God who calls us by name that will enable us to go out, as Zacchaeus did, with generous joy to repay our debts and minister to the poor and lowly. Let us call our brothers and sisters on the fringes by name. Let us put aside our preconceived notions of ministry and evangelization and answer to the needs of the moment. Let us sit and dine with our brothers and sisters. “Let us ask ourselves whether, as Christians, we are capable of becoming neighbours, stepping out of our circles and embracing those who are not ‘one of us’, those whom God ardently seeks.” Today, let us carry the light of Christ in our hearts and imitate him in seeking and saving what was lost. *This blog is reposted and was originally published November 20, 2018.* AuthorKate Fowler was the Blog Editor for the Catholic Apostolate Center. She received her Master’s in Leadership for the New Evangelization at the Augustine Institute.
 When someone is in the middle of great suffering or is having a crisis of faith, in the depths of their hearts, most people are also asking the question - “Why?” “Why is this suffering happening to me (or my loved one) and not someone else?” “Why now?” “Why does this type of suffering even exist?” “Why doesn’t God simply remove this suffering?” While there are countless books aiming to answer these questions in a satisfactory and all-encompassing way, one book I came across recently handled these why questions in a clear and refreshing manner. What to Say and How to Say It - Discuss Your Catholic Faith with Clarity and Confidence is an apologetical conversation guidebook written by Brandon Vogt, published by Ave Maria Press in 2020. While I may have my own critiques of this book, I found the chapter on the Problem of Evil phenomenal in how Vogt approaches this problem and how to discuss it with others. Firstly, when it comes to accompanying someone who is questioning God’s existence, God’s goodness, or why they or someone they love is suffering, the priority of our efforts should go to being present and listening to this person’s story. In the midst of suffering, the person is probably “focused less on the intellectual concerns and more on the personal, agonizing, subjective experience of pain and suffering… [in this case,] intellectual answers fail to satisfy” (Vogt 35-6). After all, no discussion of a topic as big and pervasive as the problem of evil can be settled completely in a short time. These questions of why evil exists or why a particular suffering strikes one person and not another can come back into our minds and hearts multiple times over our lifetimes. Vogt names three approaches to answering a person’s questions about the problem of evil in What to Say and How to Say It, but the last one focuses on how to accompany someone who’s suffering. Vogt names the questioning of those in suffering “The Emotional Problem with Evil,” and he explains that in this case, the person is grappling with the sufferings we, our loved ones, or the world face (Vogt 36, emphasis added). When someone is in the depths of suffering, “intellectual answers fail to satisfy. They don’t really solve our problem. We still feel deep pain and confusion” (Vogt 36). What a person needs in these moments of suffering is the loving comfort of our heavenly Father and his faithful followers in front of us; intuitively, “we just want to comfort the suffering loved ones in front of us” (Vogt 43). In these situations, Vogt offers three consolations that may help comfort those in the darkest of days. Firstly, “the love of Jesus is the best resource to help us face suffering with hope and courage instead of bitterness and despair. … In Christianity, [Vogt explains] we find a God who willingly suffers with his people” (Vogt 44). Jesus says to us through his suffering, “I’m with you. I know suffering. I know evil. I’ve been through the worst of it and have come out the other side. And I’ll get you through it too. You are not alone” (Vogt 44). As those who accompany others in their times of suffering, we too can echo Christ’s words and presence. We can be there with them in the difficult moments, reminding them with our presence that they are not alone. Christ Himself is present and suffers with them. Of course, “this insight alone doesn’t solve the problem of evil. It doesn’t make it go away. But it does make the evil easier to bear” (Vogt 44). A second way to bring comfort to the suffering is to offer “an eternal perspective that relieves pain and suffering. For Christians, this life is not the final act in the play. It’s only the prologue. … God promises an everlasting life, if we choose it, with eternal joy and splendor in his kingdom. … he will wipe away all our tears, right all wrongs, and end all evil, pain, and suffering” (Vogt 44-5). When a loved one has died or an illness is diagnosed as terminal, setting our eyes on what comes after death can help ease the pangs of heartbreak. Thirdly, and perhaps, slightly unconventionally, we could remember that as humans, “when things go well, … we forget how much we depend on [God]” (Vogt 45). Humbly, we can notice that “when we experience deep pain or suffering, we reach out to God with great desperation, crying out for help” recognizing in a whole new depth our dependence on God and our helplessness in the face of our suffering (Vogt 46). Could it be that “sometimes, … suffer[ing is the reality check we need in order to] turn back to [God] and reopen the lines of communication” (Vogt 46)? Perhaps, the suffering we face, as gut-wrenching as it is, can act as a tool to bring us back to God with all our hearts. Of course, no one wants suffering, but when suffering inevitably appears in this, our valley of tears, “evil and pain often lead people back to God” (Vogt 46). In times of suffering, may we turn to God with our whole hearts. May we become the presence of Christ to those going through the darkest of days and listen empathetically to the cries of those who mourn. May the consolations of Christ’s experience of suffering, an eternal perspective, and turning back to God bring us and those we comfort closer to everlasting life. AuthorMeg Kanatzar Ferguson, D.Min. is the Curriculum Coordinator at the Catholic Apostolate Center. She helps develop online course materials and curriculums and assists with the development of Catholic Apostolate Center publications.
 Each year on May 1, the Church celebrates St. Joseph the Worker. He’s easy to overlook at first glance: no recorded words in Scripture, no dramatic speeches. But, if you look a little closer, you see something powerful: a life built on quiet, steady faithfulness. St. Joseph didn’t chase recognition, he simply did what God asked of him. When faced with uncertainty, he responded with trust: “When Joseph awoke, he did as the angel of the Lord had commanded him.” (Matthew 1:24) That kind of response isn’t flashy, but it’s rare, and it is exactly what makes him such a strong model, especially for those of us serving in volunteer ministry. In my own experience working in ministry and volunteer leadership, I’ve seen how much of the Church’s mission depends on people who show up without expecting anything in return. The reality is, most of the work happens behind the scenes. It’s planning, listening, organizing, and encouraging. It’s doing the small things well, over and over again. That’s where St. Joseph meets us. His leadership wasn’t about control or visibility. It was about responsibility, care, and trust in God. As the head of the Holy Family, he led by providing, protecting, and creating space for others to grow. Scripture tells us that Jesus “grew and became strong” (Luke 2:40). Joseph undoubtedly helped make that possible in his role as foster father. That’s what real volunteerism and volunteer leadership looks like. Jesus makes it even clearer: “Whoever wishes to be great among you shall be your servant.” (Mark 10:43) Volunteer leadership flips the usual script. It’s not about being in charge, instead it’s about being available. It’s about putting the mission first, even when no one notices. In practical terms, that means:
Here’s the thing - St. Joseph didn’t intend to leave behind a legacy the world would celebrate. However, his quiet yes to God placed him at the center of salvation history. That should tell us something. Volunteer service, especially in leadership, isn’t always easy. It asks for time, patience, and sacrifice. But it also draws us closer to Christ, who “came not to be served but to serve” (Matthew 20:28). The real question is simple: are we willing to serve like that? Not for recognition, not for credit, but just because God is asking. St. Joseph shows us that not only is it possible, it’s worth it. May St. Joseph intercede for all who serve the Church and our communities - particularly those who take up the mantle of leadership. May his example inspire us to embrace humble service with generous hearts, trusting that God will bring forth fruit in His time. AuthorWith the Center since 2011, Chris Pierno is the Catholic Apostolate Center's Manager of Marketing & Consulting. In this role, he oversees the Center's marketing program and coordination of consulting services. He also supports the staff in areas of graphic design, advancement, public relations, administration, and strategic planning for the Center. Chris also is a co-host for the Center's premier podcast, OnMission.
 Today we celebrate the feast of St. Louis Marie de Monfort, a French priest from the late 17th, early 18th century. He was a third order Dominican with great devotion to Mary and the rosary. Known for his great missionary zeal, de Montfort is a model of reviving faith, rekindling charity, and forming apostles. He did this through cultivating an intimate relationship with Jesus through Mary. As we near the month of May, we can be inspired by St. Louis as we celebrate Mary’s month. But what are some practical ways to make the most of this time? I would like to share three ideas that will help us stay close to Mary this month. First, we can turn to Mary in prayer and ask for her intercession. We can entrust our needs to her, confident that she will care for us. This can be done through the rosary as we meditate on the life of Christ, with Mary at our side. Other prayers include the Memorare, Litany of Loreto, and Regina Caeli. These remind us of who Mary is and of her role in our own sanctification. A popular version of the Morning Offering begins, “O Jesus, through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I offer you my prayers, works, joys, and sufferings of this day” (EWTN). In this prayer, we fly to Mary’s heart since, as the Mother of God and Jesus’ first disciple, she is close to the heart of her Son. By cultivating a prayerful relationship with Mary, we too can draw close to Jesus’ heart. Second, we can research a Marian apparition. The stories surrounding these visions are astounding. A quick internet search can bring up many articles and books about and information of shrines of Our Lady. Some of the more famous apparitions include Our Lady of Lourdes, Our Lady of Fatima, and Our Lady of Guadalupe. These apparitions give great witness to the power of prayer and trust in God. If you are already familiar with these, I would encourage you to find a new one. A couple of apparitions that I have recently discovered are Our Lady of the Golden Heart and the Virgin of the Poor. All these encounters remind us that Mary brings healing and conversion because she truly cares for us as her children. Finally, we can celebrate a May crowning. When I was in grade school, each May, the whole student body would sit in front of the school by the Mary grotto to do just this. A few eighth graders put a flower crown on the Mary statue and led the rosary. Students from every grade were selected to pray one prayer from the rosary - it was as if we became the beads. This is just one example of how to do a May crowning. If you don’t have a flower crown lying around, you could buy a flower or a bouquet to place by a statue of Mary in your home or at your parish. You could also set aside one evening with your family or friends to pray a decade of the rosary by an image of Mary. Whatever method you choose, take the time to reflect on Mary’s queenship. All these ways help us to get to know our Mother better. St. Louis urges us to invite her into all aspects of our lives. God, in his abundant grace, has given us Mary as a model and intercessor to accompany us on our path to holiness. Let us be more intentional this coming month to turn to her so that she may draw us more closely to her Son. AuthorKelly Mosier is an intern at the Catholic Apostolate Center. She is currently an undergrad at the Catholic University of America where she studies Theology with a minor in Writing. She is involved in Pep Band as a co-captain and in wind ensemble. Kelly also participates in service opportunities around campus and lectors weekly. When not at school, she resides in Hershey, Pennsylvania.
 I think there is something special about a cover—about taking a song, a painting, or a movie and recreating it within the modern frame of mind. Aretha Franklin’s bold and unapologetic “Respect” is a perfect example, as she interprets the song as a Black woman in the 1960’s. As is Jimi Hendrix’s “All Along the Watchtower,” in which he narrates the song with hauntingly beautiful guitar riffs. In visual art, Andy Warhol recreates the portrait of Mao Zedong with a messy array of bright colors—an unusual depiction of the dictator. Finally, modern movies, headlined by the Cohen Brothers’ True Grit, give life to old characters and stories, recreating them for new audiences. However, even the Beatles, the most covered band of all time, cannot compete with the millions of interpretations of Jesus Christ. Thousands of artists have painted Christ crucified or the Madonna and Child. Everyone from Van Gogh, Basquiat, or da Vinci have painted Jesus Christ, each in their own manner. It can be mind-numbing to try to flip through them all, viewing each painting, alien to the others, and, oftentimes, to us. There are always two questions to ask when discussing art: “What is this artist trying to say?” and “What do we think he or she is trying to say?” These questions matter much more when investigating faith. In a special way, how artists of all disciplines—including sculptors, writers, or directors—interpret Jesus will affect us. Every Catholic, no doubt, thinks of Jesus through some piece of art or another, but Jesus is more than just a collection of paints, words, or images. Jesus is alive. It is tempting to trap Him in a Caravaggio, an El Greco, or even in the Passion of the Christ—to prevent Him from challenging us. Jesus as represented in art cannot call us out in our sins; He cannot tell us the hard truths we need to wrestle with. Even further, we should not trap Jesus in the Church or solely in the Mass. Yes, we are oftentimes challenged in specific ways during the Mass, especially when a priest gives a difficult homily. It can be easy, however, to selectively hear the priest, interpreting him and hearing only what we want to hear. We often want a sanitized Jesus, one that affirms us and makes us feel good. But while Jesus resides in the tabernacle and comes to meet us in every celebration of the Eucharist, He cannot be left there. Jesus wants to encounter us personally in order for us to help others encounter Him. Jesus always challenged His disciples to worship, act, and believe in accordance with truth. Jesus was not “sanitized” or acting in the “proper way” when He overturned the tables of the money changers; He was not “sanitized” when He described the narrow way; and He surely was not clean and tidy when He died on the Cross. Jesus defied our expectations. He was filled with passion for God’s truth. While He is Beauty itself, Jesus often made His listeners look away as they were unable to embrace the unsavory truth that can be hard to swallow. I enjoy going to Washington’s National Gallery of Art or New York’s MET, but next time I see Christ there, I will be reminded that He is not trapped in the golden walls of the frame. Jesus is alive, living in the Eucharist and in others. While it is beautiful to witness Jesus in the arts, we must remember that Christ lives in the audience, the museum goers. While the beauty of the art itself is mesmerizing, Christ is alive in flesh, both on the altar and in people who remind us that, while beautiful, Christ’s message is a challenge. *This blog is reposted and was originally published April 13, 2021.* AuthorBrady Baylis is a history and secondary education student at The Catholic University of America.
 Today, we commemorate the first anniversary of the death of Pope Francis and celebrate the 231st anniversary of the birth of St. Vincent Pallotti. Both had a vision of a Church of missionary disciples or apostles, followers of Christ who are sent by him to live his mission in the Church and in the world. In the life of Pope Francis, we find a person committed to the poor and those who he saw as on the “peripheries”. He called us all through his words and example to be close to them and to learn from them. He wanted us to be brothers and sisters with all human beings. He wrote in his Encyclical Letter, Fratelli Tutti: “Love also impels us towards universal communion. No one can mature or find fulfillment by withdrawing from others. By its very nature, love calls for growth in openness and the ability to accept others as part of a continuing adventure that makes every periphery converge in a greater sense of mutual belonging. As Jesus told us: ‘You are all brothers’ (Mt 23:8) (95). St. Vincent Pallotti was also a man of solidarity with the poor, both materially and spiritually. He spent himself from a young age caring for the poor and the suffering. Pallotti mediated on the words of St. Paul in the Second Letter to the Corinthians, “the charity of Christ urges us on” or “the love of Christ impels us” (2 Cor. 5:14). He gave this as the motto of the Union of Catholic Apostolate, his association of lay people, religious, and clergy that assisted the missionary efforts of the Church, revived the faith of Catholics, and did works of universal charity. Today, those who follow his spiritual tradition that began in the city of Rome in 1835 are now around the world in over 55 countries. May we be in communion with one another and co-responsible for the mission of Christ and his Church as both Pope Francis and St. Vincent taught. May the charity of Christ urge us on! In God, the Infinite Love, Fr. Frank
 “Teach me to seek You, and reveal Yourself to me as I seek; for unless You teach me I cannot seek You, and unless You reveal Yourself I cannot find You. Let me seek You in desiring You; let me desire You in seeking You. Let me find You in loving You; let me love You in finding You” (Proslogion, I). In the Fall of 2023, I was taking a class on Christian Theology at The Catholic University of America. The quote above is taken from one of the readings I was assigned: the Proslogion of St. Anselm of Canterbury. This text has lingered with me for years, and, through reading it again and again, I have been drawn closer to St. Anselm, and I have grown to appreciate his life and his constant desire to understand who God is. St. Anselm lived during the eleventh century, after the golden age of the Church Fathers and Augustine, and before the High Medieval theology of figures like St. Thomas Aquinas and St. Bonaventure. Saints like St. Dominic and St. Francis, who reshaped the way the Church thought about religious life had not yet come onto the scene. Powerful rulers were trying to assert their authority over that of the Church. In the midst of these circumstances, St. Anselm found solace as a monk in the Abbey of Bec in present day France, and he drew himself into the inner chamber of his heart to understand the object of every heart’s desire: God Himself. From St. Anselm comes the often repeated definition of theology: faith seeking understanding. In all of his works, Anselm begins with the starting point of complete faith and trust in God and His Church, moving from there to try to understand the faith and God that he professes. His Proslogion is not a grand theological work like the Summa of St. Thomas Aquinas; rather, it is simply a prayer of someone who wants to know and love God. I was struck the first time I read Anselm’s Proslogion. The text breathes with the love of and the desire to know God, and it is a prime example of medieval monastic spirituality. Yet, I had more to learn from St. Anselm in his prayer that has come down to us. Anselm retreats into the inner chamber of his heart to come to know and love God. In his prayer, he makes himself completely dependent upon God for inspiration and insight. Oftentimes in prayer, we can enter into it with a particular request or agenda in mind. Perhaps we return again to ask God for a favor for ourselves or someone in our lives. At other times, maybe we are striving to spend an extra five or ten minutes in a chapel. These are all good things: God wants us to ask for what we need, and he wants us to spend time with him. St. Anselm reminds us that all of our prayers should begin with an interior recognition of who God is and who we are. We can only find him if he reveals himself; we can only seek him if he teaches us to do so. We are completely at his disposal in our prayer. Yet, if we humbly open our hearts to his work, our quest to find God in our prayer can become a quest of love and joy, whereby the mere act of seeking God is an opportunity to grow to love him more, and, upon finding him, our joy may be made complete. Sometimes, we must quiet our hearts to do this, put aside our supplications or grand desires for our prayers, and retreat into ourselves to find God dwelling there already. I strongly encourage anyone, whether they are interested in medieval theology or just simply want to learn more about the saints, to read the Proslogion of St. Anselm to see where his quest for God in the silence of his heart led him. May we learn to have a humble heart and to place our trust completely in God from the example of St. Anselm. St. Anselm, pray for us!
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