 “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.
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 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.
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