 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*
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 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
 Every day, I get to experience the joy of teaching Kindergarten, a time when the minds of young children are at a crucial point developmentally. Part of my job as their teacher is to form them into becoming a “person for others,” a term we use often in our classroom. There are days when showing them and teaching them about Christ’s mission of love and mercy turns into a lofty concept that is difficult for them to grasp. Toys fly across the room and children chase each other with plastic carrots, and teaching them to be a “person for others” seems difficult. Being a person for others is someone who does the work of Jesus Christ: loving others unconditionally and helping those who need help. Being with these children every day made me think more closely about unconditionally loving everyone we come into contact with. An example of this love and sacrifice is Our Holy Father, Pope Francis. This Pope has taught the world to take chances, get messy, and make mistakes for Christ. His merciful methods, when speaking about teachings of the Church, show Catholics and the world that he believes each person can truly be an evangelizer to all people. He has reminded us that while it is one thing to write a check to a food drive, it is another thing entirely to truly be with the poor and suffering. He has shown us that we are all brothers and sisters in this journey of faith, and we are on the road together. We all need to be a “person for others.” There is so much to distract us from the people around us. We often turn a blind eye to all kinds of problems. We rarely stop to think about how our actions can affect others. As a way to be more reflective, I like to pray the Examen. The Examen is a short prayer by St. Ignatius of Loyola, which is usually reflected upon in a quiet space: First, find a moment of gratitude from the day. Next, ask for freedom of something that has been weighting you down. Then, review the day in all of its parts both good and bad. Finally, talk to God about anything on your mind or heart. Finish the Examen with a short prayer, and you are ready to begin a new day filled with grace. When we take the time to reflect on our lives and ourselves, we can become aware of the kind of person we want to be. Jesus came to the world with a selfless mission to encourage and share His love and compassion. When we are merciful, loving, and caring with other members of the Church, face-to-face and shoulder-to-shoulder, we can evangelize and change the world. It begins with you; be a person for others! *This is reposted and was originally published October 23, 2014*
 As we begin this season of Lent, let us open our hearts and minds to the transformation that can occur during this time. Lent is the forty days of waiting for the death and resurrection of Jesus. The forty days allow ourselves to reflect on ourselves and our relationship with Christ. These forty days are known as a fast. Some people take that in a literal sense, abstaining from sweets, soda, or some other unhealthy habit. Others may fast from social media or other activities. We also can take this time to deepen our sense of faith and look to Jesus for how we can better ourselves during this Lenten season. In the reading for the Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time, the week before Lent, the Gospel gives us some inspiration of how we can reflect this Lenten season. It reads “Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own?” (Luke 6:39-45). Why is it that we are so quick to pass judgement onto others but do not reflect on our own actions? Often, we are quick to critique a small flaw in others while turning a blind eye to a large issue within ourselves. Do we see the wooden beam in our eye and choose not to notice it, or are we blind to our faults? Either way, we are called to do some searching into the intentions within our own hearts during Lent. In the Gospel reading for Ash Wednesday, Jesus gives us advice on how we can look at ourselves during Lent and examine if we are being humble. He says, “When you give alms, do not blow a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets to win the praise of others” (Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18). When we are doing a good deed, are we doing so from the goodness in our hearts, or are we doing so for the glory and praise of others? If it is the latter, then we should reframe our thinking around our actions. Later in the same reading, Jesus gives us guidance on how we can pray better during this Lenten season: "When you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, who love to stand and pray in the synagogues and on street corners so that others may see them. Amen, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you pray, go to your inner room, close the door, and pray to your Father in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will repay you” (Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18). Here, Jesus is asking us if we are living out our faith for him, or are we living out our faith for others? What are the intentions of our hearts in prayer? Is it to seem like the most holy to our peers, or is it wanting to actually strive for holiness? Our intentions should be pure and the opinions of our peers should not matter, as the only opinion of our holiness is that of the Lord. In these readings, right before Lent, we are given the opportunity to examine ourselves as we enter into this season. We can ask ourselves, “Am I ready for Lent? Is my heart ready to enter this season of waiting, or am I being passive to the change that is needed within my own heart?” I encourage us all to do some self-reflection as we enter into Lent and allow this season to transform our hearts to strive for holiness.
 For most of my day when I am not in a chapel or church, I struggle to keep in touch with God. While praying in a chapel is the anchor of our spiritual lives, for many of us, our day is mostly spent being “sent out” from these places of prayer. Yet, God is present everywhere, and he is always present to listen to our prayers. Unfortunately, I often let myself be swept up in classes, work, friendships, stacking to-do’s, trivial matters – all things that are not God – and neglect to reach to my Heavenly Father. The Church, fortunately, has a response to the tendency of forgetting to pray. She has given us many wonderful daily prayers to combat this, and a personal favorite of mine is the Angelus. Traditionally, the Angelus is prayed at six a.m., noon, and six p.m.. It only takes a minute or two to pray, but those couple of minutes remind us of the greatest thing to ever happen to us: Christ becoming man in the Incarnation in order to save us. I first heard the Angelus just a year and a half ago when I attended a noontime daily Mass a couple of times a week. Before the Mass would begin, the celebrant would invite everyone to recite the prayer. The prayer felt unfamiliar at first besides for the three Hail Mary’s, especially because everyone else in the congregation would say it so quickly while I scrambled to follow along. After a while, I learned the words, and their significance began to penetrate. The prayers in between the Hail Mary’s are short but powerful Scripture verses related to the Annunciation and birth of Jesus. The last verse comes from the beginning of the Gospel of John: “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14). Everyone at this point either kneels or bows their heads in reverence for Christ. It feels insufficient that one sentence sums up the greatest moment in human history, and, seconds later, we progress to the final Hail Mary. Yet, the significance of the singular verse has substantial impacts in all of our lives. Taking a moment to recite the Word dwelling among us serves as a powerful reminder of the ever-present reality that often escapes the way we live our daily lives. Throughout the year, I noticed other people stopping what they were doing at the proper time to pray the Angelus, whether it would be at the dinner table at six or after a class was dismissed at noon. I admired their instinct to pray when they heard the church bells or saw what time it was. Their inherent turn towards the Lord, despite the noise of life around them, was inspiring for me. I had to imitate that by praying the Angelus whenever I would remember to. While I have struggled to remember to pray every time the clock struck noon or six, the moments that I did centered what I was doing around the Lord. I remember especially praying the Angelus at my summer job as a server. I would be rushing around the restaurant, silently praying, even if my prayer would be interrupted by assisting customers or running food to patrons’ tables. After I finished, I felt more at peace with what I needed to complete for the day. St. Paul tells us to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thes 5:17), whether it be through sacred liturgy in an ornate chapel, works of charity, or meditative prayers. As we journey through Lent, here are a couple of other prayers, along with the Angelus, to pray throughout the day to keep us centered on the Lord:
 Catholics believe conscience “is man’s most secret core and his sanctuary. There he is alone with God whose voice echoes in his depths” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, paragraph 1776). Do you remember entering a sanctuary for the first time? For me, it was years ago, around 1964, when I was learning how to be an altar server. It was in the middle of a school day, in school clothes, learning the prayers (in Latin) and the movements from the priest, in an empty and silent church. It was like being on stage without lights, costumes, or audience. A deserted place. The dictionary defines sanctuary as “a consecrated place” for worship but it is also a place of refuge and protection. I found the synonyms interesting - “haven,” “shelter,” “harbor,” and “retreat.” We Catholics see the sanctuary as the center of the Church. It is where the altar is and where the “sacred mysteries” are celebrated. Some of my Protestant friends see the whole of their church as “sanctuary.” For both Catholics and Protestants, sanctuary is a holy place. We need such a place. Remember when Jesus tells his disciples to “Come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest awhile” (Mark 6:31). They were busy. In this chapter of Mark, Jesus is rejected at Nazareth, “his native place,” the apostles are sent on mission two by two, the story of John the Baptist’s death is told, Jesus has the attention of King Herod, the apostles return triumphant from their missions, the crowd presses in so they “had no opportunity to eat,” Jesus feeds the five thousand, calms a storm at sea, and heals many in the land of Gennesaret. Conscience as a sanctuary, a “deserted place,” has four characteristics. Place. We must intentionally enter conscience. It is an internal place - just like our thoughts, memories, fantasies - and it is a holy place. It is like having the sanctuary of the Church inside of us. It is easy to enter - just like prayer. Externals help. Some people, like me, have a special prayer chair at home. Others go to an empty Church. Some find a secluded place in nature. Alone. Conscience is where we are alone, in our “most secret core.” This is more difficult than it sounds. We need to take off any and all pretense and free ourselves of distractions. It is easy to turn off our phones, or the TV. It is harder to quiet the ongoing “feed” that clutters and fills our minds. To quiet our calendar with its clatter of appointments and projects. In many ways, we must empty ourselves to enter conscience. In a day and age of overlapping and conflicting identities, we claim one identity here. I am human. God. While we are totally alone in our conscience, we are not completely alone because God is with us. Not only is God with us, as one subject to another. God is also “within” us. We become aware of the divine spark, the breath of God that brought us into being, the image in which we were fashioned. There is a delightful scene in The Lion King when Simba must make a life changing decision: confront his past and return to the pride or stay with his friends “with no worries.” With Rafiki’s help, Simba sees his father who rebukes him, “Simba, you have forgotten me.” Simba protests, “No! How could I?” Mufasa pleads, “You must take your place in the circle of life. Remember who you are. You are my son, and the one true king. Remember who you are.” In conscience we remember who - and whose - we are. Isaiah (43:1) admonishes us, “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name: you are mine.” Conversation. Sometimes people will talk about a “come to Jesus” moment. While incomplete, this sentiment points in the right direction. Conscience is a place for conversation with God. Saint John Paul II wrote “The importance of this interior dialogue of man with himself can never be adequately appreciated. But it is also a dialogue of man with God, the author of the law, the primordial image and final end of man” (Veritatis Splendor, paragraph 58). The conversation is always about who I am and how I can do good and avoid evil. The conversation can range from the minuscule - what will I eat today - to one’s life’s work. In and through this conversation, we grow closer to God, begin to see ourselves as God sees us, and form our understanding of good and evil as well as the virtues that aid us with the countless decisions we make everyday. God is not a stern judge who yells at us. God is like a light helping us see what to turn towards and when to turn away. It can be painful. There are acts that I should not do any more. But there is also liberation - freedom to grow and love in life giving ways. Let us remember who we are as beloved children of God and embrace our conscience - daily if possible - becoming our true selves through dialogue with God about what is good and loving.
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