 We are neighbors to all. Each person is created in the image and likeness of God. Our Savior, Jesus Christ, calls us to love our neighbor. The parable of the Good Samaritan is clear, everyone is our neighbor (Luke 10:25-37). Pope Francis in his Encyclical Letter, Fratelli Tutti, which uses this parable as a guiding image, says: “If every human being possesses an inalienable dignity, if all people are my brothers and sisters, and if the world truly belongs to everyone, then it matters little whether my neighbor was born in my country or elsewhere” (125). We are called to love our neighbor as ourselves (cf. Mark 12:29). Love, according to St. Thomas Aquinas, is “willing the good of the other.” As Christians, we will the good of the other, even if others do not will our good. This is not the way the world tends to function, though. Too often, we divide in various ways. Such division is not what Christ wants of us, especially within the Church, as well as among all humanity. He prayed that we “may be one” (John 17:21). Pope Francis, in Fratelli Tutti, puts it this way: “Love, then, is more than just a series of benevolent actions. Those actions have their source in a union increasingly directed towards others, considering them of value, worthy, pleasing and beautiful apart from their physical or moral appearances. Our love for others, for who they are, moves us to seek the best for their lives. Only by cultivating this way of relating to one another will we make possible a social friendship that excludes no one and a fraternity that is open to all” (94). May the charity of Christ urge us on! In God, the Infinite Love, Fr. Frank
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 “Serve the Lord with laughter.” It’s a quote from a favorite and incredibly popular saint that might surprise us, for the man who spoke these words was so deep, profound, and intentional that we might overlook the fact that he laughed. When we think of St. Padre Pio, we often instead focus on the deep wounds in his hands—the stigmata which he bore for 50 years—or his ability to levitate, speak with his guardian angel, read souls, or bilocate. Laughter seems too ordinary, perhaps, for sanctity. And yet, as a practical jokester and manager of mischief, I am drawn to this quote deeply—for I feel a personal apostolate of joy and am experiencing that call more starkly in a season in my life marked by exhaustion, stress, and transition. Some of my favorite saints and quotes from Scripture focus on the theme of joy. When asked to speak to a group at Theology on Tap several years ago, I chose “The Serious Call to Joy” as my topic. I love Psalm 34, which reads, “Look to him that you may be radiant with joy.” And I often meditate on Christ’s words to his disciples: “I have said these things to you, so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete” (Jn 15:11). Finally, a patron of our family is St. Philip Neri, who was lovingly nicknamed “Apostle of Joy.” My son John Philip was even born on his feast day and shares his name. When I think of what I want to be called after my death, I can’t think of anything better than that title given to St. Philip Neri (apart from, perhaps, being known as the Patron Saint of Bacon). To me, joy just seems like the natural fruit of holiness—a sure sign of a deep and profound relationship with Christ. Pope Francis himself has noted this—dedicating an entire encyclical to the joy of the Gospel. He made waves when publishing the encyclical because he said there was no room in evangelization for “sourpusses”—the first time any such term has appeared in a papal document. He explains, “Proclaiming Christ means showing that to believe in and to follow him is not only something right and true, but also something beautiful, capable of filling life with new splendor and profound joy, even in the midst of difficulties.” I think now of joy perhaps because I’m seeing so little of it in general. The world seems bogged down by burdens greater than we think we can bear. And being 8 months pregnant, I find myself a bit bogged down physically and emotionally, too. But, Pope Francis reminds us that the joy of Christ is possible even in the midst of our suffering and hardship. This does not diminish our suffering, nor does it erase or ignore it, but points out that Christian joy can transcend and transfigure suffering. So, when I came across Padre Pio’s quote on his feast day earlier this month, it was a powerful reminder of my call to laughter—or at least of my commitment to being an apostle of joy. Pope Francis continues, “Joy adapts and changes, but it always endures, even as a flicker of light born of our personal certainty that, when everything is said and done, we are infinitely loved.” (EG, 6) The knowledge that I am infinitely loved despite my frailty and littleness, especially in this season of pregnancy, is what beckons me ever onward. If I think of my life right now, I don’t know how else to keep going other than by laughing. I look down to find crumbs and stains dotting my bulging belly. My goal most days is not to waddle while walking. I find myself stopping mid-sentence because I forgot my train of thought or walking into a room to get something just to leave puzzled, muttering to myself. Turning over in bed practically requires the use of a crane. And I face my staircase each day with the determination of one climbing Mt. Everest. Humor aside, if we turn to Scripture, we find a love story saturated with calls and invitations to joy. From the Old Testament to the New, God speaks to us throughout salvation history because he wants to restore his creation to be “man fully alive.” For me, someone who is “fully alive” is a person of joy that radiates love wherever they go. As our world and society continue to navigate times of hardship, transition, and injustice, and as you personally continue to navigate your own crosses (whether they be staircases or not), I invite you to ask St. Padre Pio and other holy men and women to help teach you the secret of joy that comes from “the certainty that Jesus is with us and with the Father.” May we all become apostles and ambassadors of joy to a world thirsting for Christ’s love and may we find creative and nourishing ways to serve the Lord with laughter. As Pope Francis quotes Paul VI saying, “Let us recover and deepen our enthusiasm, that ‘delightful and comforting joy of evangelizing, even when it is in tears that we must sow… And may the world of our time, which is searching, sometimes with anguish, sometimes with hope, be enabled to receive the good news not from evangelizers who are dejected, discouraged, impatient or anxious, but from ministers of the Gospel whose lives glow with fervor, who have first received the joy of Christ.[6]’” *This post was originally published September 30th, 2021*
 St. Vincent Pallotti said, “Seek God and you will find God. Seek God in all things and you will find God in all things. Seek God always and you will always find God.” When I was in high school, this was used as a call and response to get the lunchroom or assembly to be quiet. In hindsight, it is pretty sad that we took such beautiful words and reduced them to a bit of a Pavlovian response to get high schoolers to zip it, but I digress. At the heart of Pallotti’s sentiment is this: God is everywhere (this is the Jesuit side of Pallotti coming out) and all we have to do to find him is open our eyes and our hearts and look for him. I have been sitting with this strange scene that is a mix of a drama movie and spiritual writing. I imagine two people talking after some form of suffering, maybe it is raining for cinematic effect, with one looking at the other and saying, “how can you endure _____ and still see love?” The other person, after a pause, responds, “how can I not? It is like opening your eyes on a clear day and trying not to see the sunlight. All there is around me is love. Every color, shape, and composite thing radiates the love of God. It is inexplicable, but I can’t really explain seeing the light either- it simply is. And so too, in an even deeper way, is the infinite love of God.” I have not played out the rest of the script, but I do not think I will write the whole movie anyways. We live in, to say it in highly a-theological language, a pretty messed up world. War, violence, natural disasters, poverty, and so much more make it hard to watch the news and, somewhat understandably, hard for people to look at that seemingly endless void of evil and see a God, let alone the Christian God who is infinite love. And yet, as friends and followers of Jesus, we are invited to open our eyes and to see love all around us. Yes, it is difficult, but it is necessary when our context is the cross and resurrection of Jesus Christ. In the last few weeks, I have faced the loss of a friend, accompanied some of my students through their own loss, and more of the normal ups and downs of life. It has not been easy, and yet when I open my eyes, once the dust settles and I have a chance to remember who I am and where I am, all I see is love. I am aware, though, that this is a conscious choice. The easiest thing is to see the suffering and to sit in it. As I said in my last post, suffering is a guarantee in life. If that is all we see, life looks bleak and even meaningless. If we see love, we realize that suffering can have meaning in our lives and that death and sin do not have the final say. Today and every day, regardless of where you find yourself, what you endure, and how you are feeling, let us follow Pallotti’s model and seek God, because when we do, we will realize that he is all around us and the only thing we can see if we choose to look for Him.
 On September 14th, we celebrate the feast day of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross. In the Gospel of John, Jesus tells us: “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life from one's friends” (John 15:13). That love is never more evident than our Lord's passion and death on the Cross. By that Holy Cross, we have been redeemed. Jesus Christ foretold his Passion to the Apostles, instituted the Eucharist at the Last Supper, and fulfilled God's plan for human salvation at Calvary upon that Holy Cross. This, my friends, is the greatest love ever known to humankind; by the grace of God, we will come to know the fullness of God's love in eternity. The promise of eternal salvation was made possible upon that Cross and we, as Catholics, are called to pick up our cross and follow Christ daily. This is a very hard thing to accomplish in today's world. Jesus gave us the Holy Spirit at Pentecost to guide and strengthen us while following his commands. Paul tells us: “I have the strength for everything through him who empowers me” (Philippians 4:13). Jesus Christ empowers us with the Holy Spirit today just as he did with the Apostles. It is exactly that God-given power that we need in today’s often secular world to preach Christ crucified and “fight the good fight,” as St. Paul says. For if we profess Christ without recognizing and living his sacrifice on the Cross, we cannot be disciples of the Lord. Peter found that out when Jesus admonished him after the foretelling of his passion and death. I keep written on my desk calendar in my office and in my daily liturgical calendar, a Latin phrase that I think summarizes this idea: Lex orandi, Lex credendi, Lex vivendi - As we worship, So we believe, So we live. As we worship, so we believe, so we live. We must, through worship and prayer, “Love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind” (Matthew 22:37). We must believe all that Jesus has taught us, that he is our Lord and Savior, and that he suffered and died so that we may live. We must live out our faith in what Jesus has called us to do by spreading the good news and picking up our cross and following our Lord. This is not an easy task. It isn't easy being a Christian. Christ never said it would be easy. Being a Christian is not just being a member of a religion, it is our way of life. We live the faith Christ gave to us. When we struggle with this, when we get lazy or complacent with our prayer time, or if we need a reminder of just how much we are loved and what our calling is, we need only to gaze upon the Holy Cross. We can also reflect on the Prophet Isaiah, when he told us exactly what Christ has done for us and for the salvation of man: "Yet it was our pain that he bore, our sufferings he endured. We thought of him as stricken, struck down by God and afflicted, but he was pierced for our sins, crushed for our iniquity. He bore the punishment that makes us whole, by his wounds we were healed" (Isaiah 53:4-5). Brothers and sisters in Christ, we celebrate the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross.” Remember, worship, believe, and live in the glory of Christ crucified. *This post was originally published on September 11th, 2014* AuthorMark A. Straub Sr. is a member of the Knights of Columbus and president of the parish council of Our Lady of the Woods Parish in Woodhaven, Michigan.
 As you may know, we are in the final phase of the National Eucharistic Revival, “a three-year initiative sponsored by the Bishops of the United States to inspire and prepare the People of God to be formed, healed, converted, united, and sent out to a hurting and hungry world through a renewed encounter with Jesus in the Eucharist – the source and summit of our Catholic faith”. This initiative is a response to the Holy Father’s call for a “pastoral and missionary conversion which cannot leave things as they presently are” so that the Church in the United States might be “permanently in a state of mission” (Evangelii Gaudium, 25). This final phase known as the “Year of Mission” is a response to the preceding stages of diocesan and parish revival as well as the National Eucharistic Congress that was held July 17-21, 2024. One beautiful expression of this missionary dimension of the Eucharistic Revival was the National Eucharistic Pilgrimage that took place leading up to the National Eucharistic Congress. The first of its kind, and one of the largest Eucharistic processions in history, consisted of four routes beginning at the northern, southern, eastern, and western parts of the United States. The routes formed the shape of a cross as pilgrims journeyed with the Blessed Sacrament across the whole country, blessing over 6,000 miles of our nation. Participants in the pilgrimage attended Mass every day of their journey and had regular evenings of reflection and adoration. After traveling for about two months, all four branches of the Pilgrimage met in Indianapolis for the National Eucharistic Congress. I was privileged to join a moment of the National Eucharistic Pilgrimage along the northern route, known as the Marian route, which began at the headwaters of the Mississippi and wound its way through the midwestern United States. As the pilgrimage passed through Notre Dame, IN over the course of a weekend, I was able to attend a couple of the specially planned events. One was a musical entitled “Behold God’s Love: A Eucharistic Musical,” which drew inspiration from mystery plays performed on the feast of Corpus Christi (the Body and Blood of Christ) in the Middle Ages. These plays presented moments from salvation history. The other special event was Sunday Mass in the Basilica of the Sacred Heart followed by a procession around the university’s campus, culminating in Benediction offered from the steps of the Main Building. It was such a gift to join pilgrims, some of whom had been part of the route from the beginning, in a tangible manifestation of our life as “the pilgrim Church on earth”, the people of God on their way to their heavenly homeland. It provided an opportunity to reflect in a special way on one of the many names with which we refer to the Eucharist, one that evokes a certain aspect of the “inexhaustible richness of this sacrament” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1328). Viaticum, a Latin word that means provision for the journey, is a particularly fitting name to contemplate in the context of this pilgrimage, as the Eucharist is the spiritual food which sustains and nourishes us. Certainly, it was the source of sustenance for those making the cross-country journey over the course of several weeks. Yet this pilgrimage (and all pilgrimages) was undertaken to call to mind our common human condition as those marching onward “ ‘following the narrow way of the cross,’ toward the heavenly banquet” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1344), when we can all be seated at the table of the Kingdom of God. The Eucharist as viaticum gives us the graces we need for each day as we advance along our earthly pilgrimage. Each step of the National Eucharistic Pilgrimage reminds us that our entire lives and every place in which we find ourselves can be holy, consecrated by the presence of our Lord. When we receive the Lord in the Eucharist and accept the call to be sent forth on mission to every part of the world, we experience “a foretaste of that heavenly liturgy which is celebrated in the Holy City of Jerusalem toward which we journey as pilgrims, where Christ is sitting at the right hand of God, Minister of the sanctuary and of the true tabernacle” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1090). The National Eucharistic Pilgrimage, whether or not you were able to join it, shows a visible bond of communion that assures “the unity of the pilgrim Church” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 815) and reminds us that we do not have to journey to far-off holy places to go on mission. Every place our feet touch can be holy ground if, as we tread it, we seek to draw ever closer to our Eucharistic Lord, who longs to make himself present to us and to all, not only in the Mass, but in every moment.
 I did not have a chance to attend the Eucharistic Congress last month. However, I did have the pleasure of reading the book For the Life of the World: Invited to Eucharistic Mission by Bishop Andrew Cozzens and Tim Glemkowski. The book outlines four essential pillars to being a Eucharistic missionary: Eucharistic encounter, Eucharistic identity, Eucharistic life, and Eucharistic mission. On the feast of St. Teresa of Calcutta, a great example of a Eucharistic missionary, let us seek her intercession to bear a Eucharistic presence in the world! Eucharistic Encounter The life of a Eucharistic missionary starts with an encounter. We are reminded of what Pope Benedict XVI said in his encyclical Deus Caritas Est (God is Love), “Being Christian is not the result of an ethical choice or a lofty idea, but the encounter with an event, a person, which gives life a new horizon and a decisive direction,” (no. 1). Bishop Cozzens notes four essential elements to an encounter with Jesus: realizing that Jesus is God, experiencing one’s own unworthiness, discovery that one is intimately loved, and being invited to follow him in a new life. We see these elements unfold in St. Teresa’s own life when she encountered Jesus in the poor. Eucharistic Identity Our identity is essential to our mission. Bishop Cozzens noted that Jesus never had an identity crisis. Before Jesus began his public ministry, he submitted himself to God to be baptized. Bishop Cozzens highlights three essential principles to Eucharisic identity: relationship, identity, and mission. He writes, “This is the basic point: We were created by God to be in relationship, and from our relationship we know who we are — our identity. When we know who we are, then we know how we should act and what we should do — our mission,” (pg. 50). When St. Teresa encountered Jesus in the poor, she experienced a call within a call: to assume a new identity by leaving the Sisters of Loretto and founding the Missionaries of Charity. Eucharistic Life We are called to a Eucharistic life, to be in communion with Christ. Bishop Cozzens notes that this communion with Christ is how we mark ourselves as the Church. Fr. Roger Landry in a 2022 article in the National Catholic Register entitled, “The Eucharistic Life of St. Teresa of Calcutta,” noted how St. Teresa compared the Missionaries of Charity’s work to the Blessed Mother: “Every Holy Communion fills us with Jesus and we must, with our Lady, go in haste to give him to others. For her, it was on her first Holy Communion day that Jesus came into her life and so for all of us, also. He made himself the Bread of Life so that we too, like Mary, become full of Jesus. We too, like her, should be in haste to give him to others. We too, like her, serve others.” We receive Jesus in the Eucharist at Mass, and we are called to give him to others through a life of service. Bishop Cozzens explains that receiving Holy Communion is a covenantal act. “This is why we say ‘Amen,’ which is a covenantal act. To receive Holy Communion is to say: ‘I want to live in this covenant with you. I want to live in communion with you, Lord.’ This means I must also live in communion with the Church, Christ’s Body,” (pg. 62). Eucharistic Mission The Church, in her essence, is missionary. Bishop Cozzens notes that our mission was not invented or decided by us, rather given to us from Jesus. This mission is ad gentes or “to the nations”. The challenge today is that we no longer live in a Christian world. Pope Francis, in a 2019 address to the Roman Curia, said, “We are no longer living in a Christian world, because faith – especially in Europe, but also in a large part of the West – is no longer an evident presupposition of social life; indeed, faith is often rejected, derided, marginalized and ridiculed.” We, who have experienced an encounter with Christ, whose identity has been revealed through this encounter, and who have been called to share in this Eucharistic life, are to be a beacon of light to those who have fallen away from their faith or have never experienced Christ. St. Teresa once said, “We must know that we have been created for greater things, not just to be a number in the world, not just to go for diplomas and degrees, this work and that work. We have been created in order to love and to be loved.” This is what it means to be a Eucharistic missionary. St. Teresa of Calcutta, pray for us!
 Do you have a favorite saint? As Catholics we enjoy the “communion of saints,” a treasure trove of ancestors in the faith, who “intercede with the Father for us, as they proffer the merits which they acquired on earth through the one mediator between God and men, Christ Jesus.” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 956). They learned from Jesus, were perfected through their love for him, and offer their wisdom to us and our struggles to God. One of my favorite saints is Gregory the Great (540-604). I was 44 when I met St. Gregory. I was preparing to teach an introduction to pastoral ministry class to seminarians. At the time, psychology and sociology shaped pastoral care. St. Gregory offered an accessible, faithful, and practical approach. My students loved him. St. Gregory was born into a wealthy family in Rome. By his early 30’s, he was Prefect of Rome – like a city manager – responsible for roads, aqueducts, and safety. After his father died, he resigned his position, gave away his vast estates, converted his family home into a monastery (Saint Andrew’s), and became a monk. Eventually, the Pope called him into service, made him his personal envoy to Emperor Tiberius, and then returned to Rome to be Abbot. In 590, after a terrible flood, the pope died, and the people elected Gregory to be pope. He resisted and appealed to the emperor who denied his request. He was consecrated pope on September 3, 590. St. Gregory has been, and continues to be, a blessing to me. Here are five lessons I learned from St. Gregory.
St. Gregory lived during turbulent times. We live during turbulent times. St. Gregory rooted himself in scripture and scripture infused his personal prayer and celebration of the Eucharist, his approach to the moral life, his care for others, and his passion for mission. Perhaps these merits drawn from his life can do the same for us. St. Gregory, pray for us!
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