 If you’re used to communicating with others via text message, then you’ve probably, at some point, received a message and interpreted it out of context. A curt reply with a period at the end could be misinterpreted as either passive aggressive or as an irritated response. This happens to me occasionally, and I always have to remember that without hearing a person’s message verbally, it can be difficult to understand what they’re really saying or implying. Maya Angelou’s quote rings true here: “Words mean more than what is set down on paper. It takes the human voice to infuse them with deeper meaning.” Our voices add a unique depth and fullness to our communications by revealing emotions, nuances, and subtle meanings more sharply than words alone can communicate. On this feast of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist, I am struck by St. Augustine’s words from this morning's Office of Readings: “Today we remember that Zechariah’s ‘tongue is loosed because a voice is born.’” St. John the Baptist was born to be the final prophetic voice who proclaimed the Word made flesh. Like the Old Testament prophets, John foretells the coming of the Messiah and calls sinners to repentance with words that cut to the heart (Luke 3:1-29). But, unlike the Old Testament prophets, John identifies the Messiah for the first time in salvation history. John points Jesus out and encourages his followers to pursue him (John 1:29-37). He is confident that his cousin is the foretold Christ, and by his proclamation John fulfills the mission of all the prophets as he straddles the boundary of the Old and New Testament. John’s historical mission of giving voice to the Word is also our mission. At our baptism, we were anointed as a priest, prophet, and king. We share uniquely in Jesus’s ministry, and we are called to be lay prophets who proclaim the good news of repentance and redemption. We must, like John the Baptist, spend time coming to know the promises of the Messiah so that we can recognize Him when we see him. And when we see Him present in the sacraments, or when we encounter Him as we are accompanied by a spiritual mentor, or when we experience Him through the fullness of our prayer, we must point Him out for all to see. To fulfill our baptismal call to be prophets of the Gospel of Christ, we must give voice to our experiences of God. John’s words must be our words to the world, “Behold, the Lamb of God.” *This blog is reposted and was originally published June 23, 2020.* AuthorThomas Carani works at a parish in Austin, Texas. He received his B.A. in Theology and Religious Studies from The Catholic University of America. Thomas is also a graduate of the Echo Graduate Service Program at the University of Notre Dame, where he received his Master’s in Theology.
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“For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” So they said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.” Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst.” (John 6:34-36) We hunger and thirst. This is true of all people, through all time. We need to be nourished: physically, emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually. Sometimes we are keenly aware of our hunger. We may even know what we need to satisfy it – a meal, a conversation with a friend, a good book, or a moment in prayer. Other times we experience the ache of hunger, but can not necessarily name it as such, let alone pinpoint what it is we need. Underlying all of our earthly hungers is our deep longing for God. Ultimately it is God alone who can satisfy our hunger. The feast of Corpus Christi, or the Solemnity of the Most Precious Body and Blood of Jesus, is a celebration of our hunger being met. In the Eucharist, Jesus meets us intimately and personally. He gives his body, his very self, so that we might be close to him and be satisfied in him. And this total and complete giving is for us, for our strengthening and our sanctification. However, at times our experience of Jesus in the Eucharist can seem to fall short of this. We struggle to comprehend what it means that he is truly present in the Eucharistic elements–Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity. We forget that Jesus is the Bread of Life and really can satisfy us. We may miss the graces he is pouring out on us through his presence in the Eucharist. Whatever your experiences with the Eucharist may be, there are some practical ways we can continue to know and grow closer to Jesus in the Eucharist. Ask the Lord for Greater Eucharistic Faith and Devotion. While belief is a grace and gift of the Holy Spirit, “it is no less true that believing is an authentically human act.” (CCC 154) It is a profound act of faith simply to ask the Lord for a deeper devotion to the Eucharist. We can ask him to help us trust in his presence and to become more aware of his nourishing grace in the Eucharist. This humble disposition can help us be more receptive to the graces the Lord is pouring out on us when we receive the Blessed Sacrament at Mass and in the power of the Eucharist. Pray to Be Changed by the Eucharist. When we respond “Amen” before receiving the Body and Blood of Christ at Mass we are saying, “Yes, I believe this is truly Jesus’ body and blood.” Still, it can be easy to take this for granted or forget about the graces bestowed on us through the sacrament. You may consider offering a prayer before or after receiving Communion in which you call to mind the power in receiving Jesus’ presence sacramentally through the Eucharist. One of my favorite prayers to offer during this time is a private prayer the priest says before receiving the Eucharist himself. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, who, by the will of the Father and the work of the Holy Spirit, through your Death gave life to the world, free me by this, your most holy Body and Blood, from all my sins and from every evil; keep me always faithful to your commandments, and never let me be parted from you. (Roman Missal, Order of Mass, 131) Spend Time With the Lord in Eucharistic Adoration. Eucharistic adoration gives us a time to sit and be with Jesus. You can take time to exalt and adore him, or just speak with him from your heart. Spending time in quiet prayer can be difficult, but the Lord surely blesses the time we spend with him. I think this is summed up well in the book In Senu Jesu, When Heart Speaks to Heart: The Journal of a Priest at Prayer by A Benedictine Monk, which records words spoken by Jesus and Mary to an Irish Benedictine monk, when Jesus says, “This is what I want of you: time “wasted,” spent in My presence. Time given to Me for My sake.” Even just sitting in Jesus’ Eucharistic presence satisfies some of our longing for him. On this feast of Corpus Christi, let us return to the heart of our faith, which is Jesus’ own self given for us. Whether you are feeling far from or near to the Eucharist, let us reaffirm our plea, “Jesus, give us this bread always,” that we may always be satisfied through, with, and in Jesus. AuthorErin Donn is a campus minister at an all-girls Catholic high school and lives in Washington, DC.
 What does it mean to be called to revive? It means reviving faith! In a world where so many look away from faith and into trust of many things other than God, it means making God the center of our lives through our way of thinking and our actions. It means looking beyond self and seeing our neighbor as one in the image and likeness of God, even when that may be difficult or painful to do. It means believing, even when life becomes difficult and crosses are many. It means living the virtue of hope. Pope Leo XIV when he addressed young people of Chicago and the whole world put it this way: “So many people who suffer from different experiences of depression or sadness - they can discover that the love of God is truly healing, that it brings hope, and that actually, coming together as friends, as brothers and sisters, in community, in a parish, in an experience of living our faith together, we can find that the Lord’s grace, that the love of God can truly heal us, can give us the strength that we need, can be the source of that hope that we all need in our lives. To share that message of hope with one another - in outreach, in service, in looking for ways to make our world a better place - gives true life to all of us, and is a sign of hope for the whole world” (Video Message, June 14, 2025). When we live faith, and, more so, live together in a true community of faith, then we can be more fully present to one another in the sorrows and failures, joys and successes of life. Together we can move forward in revived faith that witnesses hope, and lives in love. May the charity of Christ urge us on! In God, the Infinite Love, Fr. Frank
 I will place my law within them, and write it upon their hearts; I will be their God, and they shall be my people. (Jeremiah 31:33) When you hear the word “law,” what comes to mind? I think of traffic laws. In Washington, DC, where I live, the city installed cameras to catch people running red lights. Then came the speeding tickets. Recently, they added cameras to stop signs. These traffic laws - created by our city leaders - are much different than the law of God written on our hearts. The Catholic teaching on conscience helps us understand where law is, how we access it, and what we do with it. “Conscience includes the perception of the principles of morality (synderesis)” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1780). The Catechism also teaches that conscience “is a judgement of reason.” (1778) Consequently, we are dealing with reason, perception, and “principles of morality,” when we exercise our conscience. Saint Thomas Aquinas taught that God’s law, what he called first principles, “were naturally known.” (Summa Theologica, Pt 1, Q 79, Article 12). As Jeremiah proclaimed, God’s law is written on our hearts. This law always leads towards the good. Some examples of God’s law would be “do good and avoid evil,” “I put before you life and death. Choose life,” and “no man is an island.” Human beings can see these moral laws as long as there is nothing wrong with their power of perception. When we look for God’s law, these first principles of the moral life, we are forming a natural habit, what Saint Thomas Aquinas called “synderesis.” The exercise of conscience, then, uses our power of reason to apply these first principles to a moral act - one we have done, are doing, or will do in the future. In our society, law is often utilitarian and conventional. Here in the United States of America, we drive on the right side of the road. In other countries, like England, they drive on the left. That is a convention. Traffic laws are used to regulate the flow of traffic - to assure the safety, and freedom - of all. But those laws - while prudent to follow - are not absolute. While I may get a speeding ticket for running a red light in the middle of the night when I took my son to the emergency room due to abdominal pain, I have not sinned. When, on the other hand, I choose my recreation over the needs of my family, I may have broken no law but may have committed a very serious - perhaps even a grave - sin. Thomas Aquinas provides a hierarchy of law beginning with Eternal Law, Natural Law, Human Law, and Divine Law. Eternal Law is only known to God but is the basis for Natural Law. From Natural Law, human beings create law for human flourishing and the common good. Divine Law are teachings and commandments God reveals through salvation history. Aquinas teaches that all human beings can understand “do good and avoid evil” since it is a moral axiom of natural law whereas the commandment to “love one another as I have loved you” is revealed by Jesus at the Last Supper. Which takes us back to our traffic laws. When we are exercising our conscience, we must turn toward the first principles that are already written on our hearts rather than the “law of the land.” There is not a moral equivalency between “do good and avoid evil” and breaking a human law. Indeed, some human laws must be broken because they are morally corrupt. Law in our country seems to be losing its moral footing. One political party creates a law that is then replaced by another political party. In so many cases, we are over regulated in our country and, in others, we are under regulated. As Catholics and Christians, we must sort through “the law of the land” and judge our compliance by the dictates of our conscience. C.S. Lewis, in one of his philosophical texts, The Abolition of Man, argues for an innate moral code that we, as a society, must teach our children to see how we misuse words to reduce our experiences to trivialities. In that text, he attempts to demonstrate how recognition and value of “first principles” are manifested in other cultures and religious traditions. Our Jewish ancestors also held to first principles and stressed the relational nature of law. Complying with law was not just a transactional relationship between the ruler and the subject; it was a way to build and enhance community. God wants our human flourishing. God has written on our hearts his moral law and has given us the power to see it, hear his voice, improve our reception of both, and to apply it to common and complicated moral challenges.
 They bought into the lie—that nothing had changed, that their dreams were stifled, that death prevailed. The locked doors reflected their locked hearts. Like anyone, they were afraid, inconsolable, at the point of despair. Save one—a virgin. She continues to model to us today what it means to live faith, what it looks like to be a disciple. The fear of the disciples in the upper room is understandable. They had abandoned the man whom they had left everything to follow for three years. The same man they had pledged to follow unto death had been tortured and killed as their backs were turned, as they cowered for their own lives. Their hopes of a restored Jewish kingdom, a glorious king from the line of David, freedom from Roman rule and the return of God’s presence to the Temple seemed to be nailed to a cross on Golgotha, laid in a tomb hewn from rock. They had yet to see God’s plan amidst the perceived failure. How could this be God’s plan? It was so unlike their own. Their fear is our own. It is the fear of unmet desires, of unworthiness, of death, of uncertainty, of perceived silence. Like the disciples, we often fail to see God’s plan in our lives. We look around in despair and sense that He is silent. We live the reality of death, confusion and suffering and say, “nothing good can come from this.” But as the disciples quickly realized, our ways are not God’s ways. Our wills are not yet one. Much stands in the way: selfishness, greed, egoism, materialism, pride. All changes with the coming of the Holy Spirit. What makes a law-abiding Jew abandon his persecution of Christians in favor of joining them and proclaiming the Christ to Jerusalem and Rome? What makes uneducated fisherman leaders of the universal Church and martyrs for the faith? What makes the son of a wealthy Italian merchant the begging founder of a religious order and a friend of the poor? What makes a cloistered nun in Lisieux a Doctor of the Church? What makes a German priest in Auschwitz volunteer to die in place of a father? What makes a modern day Italian mother and doctor offer her life for that of her child? The Advocate, the Holy Spirit. It is the Holy Spirit who is the game changer for the Church—what will now set the disciples apart from the whole world and what continues to set Christians apart today. The Holy Spirit is the active agent of conversion in man, the third person of the Trinity who opens up the Scriptures and sets our hearts on fire. It is the Holy Spirit who enables us to live our mission. The Holy Spirit, God’s love, is the difference between the fearful men in the upper room and the on-fire disciples of Christ preaching the Gospel and converting thousands in a single day. In the Gospel today, Jesus prays for his followers in the Garden of Gethsemane while also speaking directly to you and me. He prays for something seemingly impossible: “that they may all be one” as the Trinity is one. Christ speaks these words not to frustrate his followers but to call them to a perfection possible through God alone. He utters these precious words knowing he will be sending the Holy Spirit to enable man to do this. The goal is outward. This communion—the call to unity—must lead to mission: “that the world may know that you sent me and that you loved them.” God’s love is efficacious. It cannot be contained but must be proclaimed to the world. Only God could deign to give man so dignified and impossible a call. And only God could enable man to fulfill it. This high priestly prayer of Jesus (which encompasses John 15-17) is one of my favorite parts of Scripture. It is so imbued with Christ’s love for us. The purpose of the Incarnation is about to be revealed. Christ is living his last moments and wants to remind his followers, you and me, why he came: to reveal the Father, to invite man to eternity with Him and to assure man of his lovable-ness in the eyes of God. This love of God is meant to abide in us and reach out from our hearts to the hearts of others. This is only possible through the Eucharist, which physically is Christ’s love present in us and which is made possible through the Holy Spirit. God himself calls us, but God himself equips us…with Himself. It is astounding to what we are called: to holiness, divine love. This is the Christian destiny, but not our inclination. Like the disciples, so quickly do we turn inward. So quickly do we lock the door in fear. God calls us to sanctity, which can only be achieved after an experience of the fire of God’s love. We call this Pentecost, the same outpouring of the Holy Spirit that we receive in Baptism and Confirmation. The same outpouring of the Holy Spirit that we receive every Sunday in the form of the Eucharist. Are we being transformed by this grace or do we remain in the upper room? I challenge you to go back to your own story, your own moments of conversion. When did you fall in love with God? Have you? Only armed with the certainty of being loved will we be able to love others and live out the communion and mission Jesus calls us to. And so we call upon the Holy Spirit, the love of God Himself, who was breathed out upon the disciples at Pentecost in tongues of fire. We ask the Holy Spirit to breathe new life within us, within the Church. We ask the Holy Spirit to transform us with the fire of God’s love. This results in unlocked doors, an empty room. The disciples emerged, transfigured. Will you? *This post was originally published May 21, 2015* AuthorKate Flannery has a Master's degree in Leadership for the New Evangelization at the Augustine Institute in Denver.
 It is important for every person to be sufficiently present to himself in order to hear and follow the voice of his conscience. (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1779) Do you ever have that experience where you are trying to “catch up” with yourself? There are a lot of physical and psychological techniques we can use to calm ourselves down after a stressful day. Some people find exercise, or just going for a walk, helpful. It “clears the mind.” Others may do yoga. Still others may do some deep breathing or mindfulness practices. Others may just take a nap. These are all healthy ways to unwind that are good and much better than alcohol or drugs that dulls the mind and heart, masks the stress and fails to restore your strength. Nevertheless, these healthy means of unwinding still fall short of the requirement of conscience. I recall a time when I attended a NBA basketball game. The noise level was so high, I could not think. The “requirement of interiority is all the more necessary as life often distracts us from any reflection, self-examination or introspection.” (1779). It took all the concentration I could muster just to make a decision about what I needed. I decided that I had to get out of the building. I told my companions, “I’m leaving.” I would not even wait for the elevator. I walked down four flights of steps as quickly as I could. Once outside, I texted my companions to reconnect with them, found a place to sit down, breathed, and waited. The decisions we make under stress, even after we have relaxed, are not an act of conscience because we have to be “present to ourselves” so we can “hear and follow the voice” of our conscience. Sometimes, when I begin to slow down and be present to myself, I am surprised at all the voices inside of me. Ann Garrido, in one of her reflections, suggested “occlumency” as a spiritual practice. This insight came to her during a retreat when she found it difficult to clear her mind of “all the voices.” It reminded her of Professor Dumbledore, who wanted to protect Harry Potter from Lord Voldemort’s “access to his head space.” In the wizarding world created by J.K. Rowling, “Legilimency” was the magical ability to access someone’s thoughts; “Occlumency” was the protection. This level of self-awareness is also found in modern business practices when leaders and managers carefully examine the information they are using to make business decisions. What data is relevant to our problem or opportunity? What is the source of that information? Are we taking all the relevant data into account? Do we have any beliefs - any assumptions - that might influence our understanding of the data and the conclusions drawn from that data? Chris Argyris (1923-2013), considered by many as the “father of organizational learning,” developed the Ladder of Inference as a conceptual model to explain how people make decisions and form beliefs. This model is a series of questions to identify assumptions and test for bias. In order to “hear and follow the voice of conscience,” we need to be present to ourselves, free of other voices, mindful of our assumptions and suspicious about bias. Remember taking tests in school? You needed to focus on the questions before you. You drew from your own ability to recall, and apply, the knowledge you learned. The teacher was there, but mostly to assure that students were staying on task and not cheating. Interiority is like that but with a big difference. With conscience, the teacher is Jesus who is there with you. You still need to do the work, but he is there loving you, encouraging you, and helping you to see and hear clearly. Pope Francis blessed the church with an extended catechesis on discernment during his General Audiences from August 31, 2022 to January 4, 2023. During his catechesis on December 21, 2022, Pope Francis stressed our discernment - our interiority - is never done alone. We bring to our conscience the Word of God, the teachings of the Church, our relationship with Jesus, the saints, our friendship with God, the gift of the Holy Spirit, and the graces we have received through the sacraments and prayer. We need to be present to ourselves in order to be alone with God. It is his voice, her breath, their music we strain to hear. The more we access our conscience - to be totally present to the moral quality of acts we have done, a choice we must make, or future choices - the more aligned we will be with God’s truth, mercy, and love. We will be free to be completely alive as the image of God we were created to be. Try it today. Take an hour. Turn off your phone. Let go of all those distractions that pollute your thoughts. Don’t fight them. Just let them go. Take five deep breaths praying. “Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on me,” then, with the second breath, “Spirit of the Living God, melt me,” then “... mold me,” “... fill me,” and “... use me.” Start a conversation. “God, what good do you want me to do tomorrow?” Just listen. Lots of thoughts may emerge. Breathe. Ask the same question again. Some thoughts will fall away. Breathe. Ask the question again, and again, until you hear a still small voice whisper a word or two deep within your heart. The psalmist sang of the righteous; “the law of the LORD is his joy; and on his law he meditates day and night.” (Psalm 1:2) The righteous are “right” with themselves, others, and God. The law of the Lord is his voice, his way, and it is the source of our joy and our companion “day and night.” May we, too, be so blessed.
 There are only a few people whom I look at in biblical history and identify with on an average-human-level. It can be hard to find personal connections to many saints and holy people for me. Some were ordinary and humble, but others were so extraordinary and left big shoes to fill. It can be challenging to wrap your head around their sanctity—I know it is for me. When I hear about St. Martha though, I think, “Yes, she’s my girl.” Martha had close friends and pesky siblings, and when important company came over, she was mad no one was helping as she cleaned and cooked herself into a tizzy. She was so human, so relatable. St. Martha, her sister Mary, and their brother Lazarus were close friends of the Lord. We hear about them from Luke’s Gospel: As they continued their journey he entered a village where a woman whose name was Martha welcomed him. She had a sister named Mary [who] sat beside the Lord at his feet listening to him speak. Martha, burdened with much serving, came to him and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me by myself to do the serving? Tell her to help me.” The Lord said to her in reply, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things. There is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part and it will not be taken from her. This is such a great passage. It shows the humanity of these average people. It contrasts Martha, the burdened preparer and host for the occasion, with Mary, the one who sat with and listened to their wise friend, Jesus. It is a chance for those of us who get frazzled to stop for a moment and listen to the Word of God. It is a chance for us to not only let Jesus into our homes, but also into our hearts as well. Martha is so relatable. In a later moment in John’s Gospel, we hear about Martha taking a completely different approach to the Lord’s arrival. This time, he is met with her sadness but also her faith. This is a big moment for Martha. She seems to have learned to trust and believe, and thus Christ’s arrival brings hope for her even after the death of her brother. She tells Jesus that if he had been here, Lazarus wouldn’t have died, but has hope and faith that everything will still be okay. Jesus responds, “Your brother will rise.” Martha said to him, “I know he will rise, in the resurrection on the last day.” Jesus told her, “I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” She said to him, “Yes, Lord. I have come to believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world.” From this we hear St. Martha echo her own “fiat” with the words, “Yes, Lord.” This is when we see her inner beauty emerge. Her old self, prone to complaining and anxiety from hosting, has been replaced by faith. I find a lot of comfort knowing that St. Martha was imperfect and struggled—even when Jesus was in her home. Her feast day is July 29th, the day before my birthday, and I feel more connected to this saint than ever before. It wasn’t the first time that Jesus entered her home or that she listened to his words. It also probably was not the second or third time she had interacted with him, being close friends. But when the moment came for her to have hope in the Lord, she did. Patience and sitting with Christ, like her sister Mary did, might be another way to sainthood, but for Martha, her heart was not as ready to accept Him then. Her human imperfections kept her from that. Her path to sainthood was a journey comprised of moments of faith and trust, as we saw in her conversation with Jesus after Lazarus’ death. She shows us that, though we can’t always be perfect, our call to sanctity begins with the words, “Yes, Lord. I have come to believe...” *This is a repost and was originally published July 29, 2021.*
 “With the light and the strength of the Holy Spirit, let us build a Church founded on God’s love, a sign of unity, a missionary Church that opens its arms to the world, proclaims the word, allows itself to be made ‘restless’ by history, and becomes a leaven of harmony for humanity. Together, as one people, as brothers and sisters, let us walk towards God and love one another.” – Pope Leo XIV, Homily for the Mass for the Beginning of the Pontificate In the early days of the pontificate of Pope Leo XIV, the Church sees a missionary, a unifier, and an advocate for the marginalized. He is a person with global experience, who also understands deeply and well both Church and society in North and South America. These traits and many others that we will see over time give us glimpses not only into him, but, more importantly of Christ. Steeped in the spirituality and traditions of the Augustinian Order, Pope Leo seems to want our hearts to rest in God, in the way of St. Augustine, but not rest from our loving care of others. As he shared in his first homily as Pope: “This is the world that has been entrusted to us, a world in which, as Pope Francis taught us so many times, we are called to bear witness to our joyful faith in Jesus the Savior. Therefore, it is essential that we too repeat, with Peter: ‘You are the Christ, the Son of the living God’ (Mt 16:16). It is essential to do this, first of all, in our personal relationship with the Lord, in our commitment to a daily journey of conversion. Then, to do so as a Church, experiencing together our fidelity to the Lord and bringing the Good News to all (cf. Lumen Gentium, 1).” Let us pray for our Holy Father, Pope Leo XIV! May the charity of Christ urge us on! In God, the Infinite Love, Fr. Frank
 I, like many others around the world, was stunned to hear the news on Easter Monday morning that Pope Francis had passed away. I felt confused, as we had just seen him give the Easter blessing less than a day before. I honestly did not believe that the media headline was real until I saw more and more information from various sources. For me, Pope Francis was the pope that I remember most from my life. He was elected to the papacy when I was a freshman in high school, so his impact on the Church was felt most during my adolescence and young adulthood. During the transition between Pope Benedict and Pope Francis, I remember that we would watch a livestream of the conclave in my theology class every day until the new pope was elected. We would all wait to see the white smoke, and of course, the smoke was seen after school hours. It was exciting to see a new head of the Church be elected! It also was interesting to learn about the conclave process and papal elections as Pope Benedict was elected when I was maybe six or seven years old. We all were so excited going to theology class after the election. I remember my theology teacher sharing that this new pope was from South America - the first time that has ever happened, and we were all excited to learn more! She also explained that he chose the name Francis. He was the first ever Pope Francis in Church history, as he drew inspiration from St. Francis of Assisi. As Pope Francis’ papacy continued, I was inspired more and more by his actions. To begin, when he was elected, he gave a simple blessing to the crowd at St. Peter’s Square and asked for them to pray for him. I remember thinking of the humility in this. The man who is elected to lead our Church is asking his followers for prayers as he begins. He just gave the crowd a wave, and a simple blessing. But that is just the type of man Pope Francis was. We learned about when he was living in Argentina, he regularly rode public transportation and was a voice for the poor and helpless. He did not want the adornment or flashiness that came with the positions he held within the Church; he just wanted to be with his people and to help those in need. He regularly washed the feet and blessed those who were homeless. He invited those who were hungry to have meals with him. Even when elected, he turned down the usual papal apartment and opted for a simple room and wanted to live amongst the everyday people. His humility is seen even on his birthday! He did not invite cardinals or world leaders to celebrate with him. He chose to invite those on the street into the Vatican to share a meal with him. He chose to invite those who might not have known when their next meal was coming and be welcomed and fed by the pope of all people! When he passed, he did not want an over-the-top celebration. Instead, he wanted a simple ceremony, in a simple coffin, with little fluff or theatrics. He made sure that those who were suffering or helpless, migrants, and homeless were invited to his funeral and even had them be the final honor guard for his remains. In my eyes, Pope Francis’ papacy can be summed up in the phrase “aiming for peace”. It really is what he tried to do every day. He wanted to unite and bring peace to all, not just Catholics, but for all in the world. From bringing peace to the world through Laudato Si’ and caring for our common home, to regularly speaking out against violence in the world, to welcoming those who felt castaway by the Church. Pope Francis just wanted to bring us all together in the love of Christ. I remember watching a video of him speaking to a young boy who recently lost his father. The young boy was scared that his father, who was not a Catholic, would not be in Heaven. The boy mentioned that his father was a good man and had all of his children baptized but did not believe himself. It would have been easy for Pope Francis to just say “Well, if he is not a Catholic, he is not in Heaven”. But Pope Francis calmed the terrified young boy, even inviting him to come sit with him, and explained that his father was a good man and that God would not abandon a man with a character such as his. This was a wonderful example of the compassion and inclusivity to faith that Pope Francis was known for. There will never be another Jorge Mario Bergoglio who becomes Pope Francis. We will be left to remember the excellent man that he was and the even better pope that he became. Let us all pray for the repose of Pope Francis’ soul as we mourn his loss, but also let us pray for the cardinals who are currently in the conclave process of electing our new leader of the Catholic Church. The Catholic Apostolate Center has many resources during this time of transition. We invited you to visit our Pope Francis Portal and Papal Conclave Resource Page to learn more.
 If you are anything like me, you find it difficult to discern God’s call, but sometimes Jesus makes it plain and simple in Scripture. For example, Jesus very specifically calls us friends (John 15:15). Friendship is a calling. In my own faith journey, I continually find this actually a rather strange, startling summons. Jesus’ friendship is an unmerited grace-filled gift, which is desirable, but it also demands something of me, which is a bit frightening. On a day-to-day basis, nothing gives me, or most people I imagine, greater joy than faithful friendships. If we Christians lack Gospel joy, it goes to show among other things, that we are not heeding the call to be faithful friends of Jesus. Rediscovering friendship as a calling has challenged my paradigm for discerning my personal vocation. Friendship shapes both the context and content of my choices. Let me try to explain what I mean. A culture of friendship is an indispensable context for discerning a vocation. Faithful friends often know us better than we know ourselves. They help us discern our gifts, weaknesses, and purpose, and then encourage or challenge us to act in a way we couldn’t or wouldn’t on our own. Like the spiritual life in general, friendships are very often difficult to navigate. This is not because the path ahead is overly complicated, but because the next step usually lies in the darkness of the unknown. Friends who know our hearts invite us to step into the vulnerability with courage and bring our darkness into light. One example in my life is the young adult group I attend, the Baltimore Frassati Fellowship. We don’t focus on multiplying social activities, which too easily becomes another way to fill rather than sanctify our time. The Church teaches us to share each other’s time, not compete for it. We focus on cultivating an atmosphere of trust and virtue that counterbalances the typically transitory and fast-paced “young adult” phase of life. Our events are rather ordinary, but they are consistent and dependable: weekly adoration, regular service opportunities, and a larger monthly Holy Hour and social. Pretty soon, we all have to make decisions (something I’m bad at), so friendship also determines the content of our vocation. Paraphrasing John Henry Newman, each of us is called to some definite and unique vocation, which is centered in some specific friendship(s) (Meditations on Christian Doctrine, I.2). Here is a question to pray with: What kind of friendship am I called to, and with whom? I wasn’t always used to thinking about different “kinds” of friendships, so one helpful question I learned to ask while in seminary concerned the call to exclusive or inclusive friendships. Am I called to befriend one person like no other (marriage), to show no partiality and be a special part of many lives (religious life), or some other group? Moreover, since there is no greater love than “to lay down one’s life for one’s friends,” (John 15:13), friendship is also intrinsically sacrificial. Another form of the question is: Who is God calling me to daily lay down my life for: a spouse and children or on the altar of Eucharistic sacrifice? That’s what makes so special the radical witness of someone like Jean Vanier, the founder of L’Arche. Vanier felt called to leave behind an academic career to form a small community with persons with developmental disabilities where they could share their lives in faith and friendship. After 50 years, his original calling continues to grow and inspire others to embrace the joy, virtue, sacrifice, and particularity our friendships in Christ are meant to take. As part of the universal call to holiness though, evangelization involves going out and befriending others and inviting them to become friends of Jesus. Friendship, though it takes different forms, is an apostolate all are called to. *This blog was originally published on September 8, 2015*
 This past Easter Monday, Pope Francis died. As I shared this news with my toddlers, they were both sad and confused. They understood that when a person dies, those who cared about them will feel sad, but they were still confused and couldn’t help but ask, “What’s a pope?" The theology teacher in me lit up with excitement as I recognized a teachable moment! As we discussed popes and bishops, I stumbled upon explaining how popes are elected, and I had an idea – what if we have a family conclave? I could teach my children about the process and to unite the activities of our domestic church, as much as possible, with the coming conclave of the Roman Catholic Church. We could “elect” a family patron saint and mimic the aspects of the conclave so my children can understand. While I have not tried this out yet, here is my plan so you too can have your own conclave! The Short List At this stage, journalists, theologians, Catholics and non-Catholics everywhere are taking guesses as to who the next pope will be. Instead of taking a guess myself or trying to explain who is who to my four- and two-year-olds, I will create a short list of saints to vote for that my children already know about. Whether you gather as a class, a family, or a larger group, you can choose half a dozen saints or so to start with. Alternatively, if you are working with adults or older children, you could have participants nominate a saint for the group’s patron before voting. Voting As you may know, when the cardinals gather to vote for a new pope, they vote secretly using paper ballots and “drop… the twice-folded ballot in a large chalice.” They vote four times each day, twice in the morning and twice in the afternoon, until one person has two-thirds of the votes. In your own conclave, you can, likewise, pass out paper and pens, let each person secretly write the name of the saint they’d like to “elect” as the group’s saint, fold it twice, and one person at a time cast their vote into a large bowl. Because my children are small and cannot write yet, we will have to forgo the secrecy part. But we can still let them choose the saint they want to vote for and deliver their votes to our “large chalice” (a big mixing bowl). Then, we will tally the votes and assess if a majority has been reached. If a majority is not reached, I recommend having a snack break before repeating the process. Of course, if you’re working with small children, you need not strictly hold to the two-thirds rule, any majority or even simply choosing the saint with the most votes would be just as successful. Habemus Papam! (We Have a Pope!) When one saint wins, you can joyfully announce “Habemus sanctus!” or “We have a saint!” just as the senior cardinal deacon announces “Habemus papam!” or “We have a pope!” from the balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica when a new pope has been elected. In my house, I will also be making red paper cardinal hats and a white pope hat for my toddlers who love dressing up. Maybe I’ll even make some pretend red vestments to add to the experience. However you choose to participate in the upcoming conclave – whether it’s watching news updates on TV or having your own conclave with family and friends – let us take this momentous occasion to reignite our trust in the Holy Spirit who guides the cardinals in their voting. And let us all unite our prayers for the cardinals and whoever our next pope will be. You can visit our Conclave Resource Page for more information on how popes are elected.
 Happy St. Joseph’s Day! As someone who sins, I love St. Joseph. I mean, I can easily relate to him: he sinned. I sin. We have something in common. One of my favorite mental pictures of St. Joseph is within the everyday happenings of family life in Nazareth. Albeit, within my own imagination, I picture a normal day of meal preparation, carpentry work, and rest. Then, someone swears after a woodworking injury – because who likes splinters? Or maybe, later that day someone gets prideful or impatient or envious or slothful… that someone has to be Joseph. Jesus and Mary were sinless, so any sinful thought, word or action in that holy household had to be Joseph. Can you imagine living in a household where you are the only one who commits sins? Yeesh! What great patience and humility that man must have acquired over the years! No wonder he is a saint! As a self-proclaimed perfectionist, I sometimes find myself falling into a pattern of negative self-talk. While I can much more easily be kind to others around me, more often than I should, I proverbially beat myself up when I miss a step, knock something over, or don’t buzz about my house at peak efficiency. Really, as I write this article, I can see that the idea that I would walk, think, and do everything in my day perfectly, efficiently, and sinlessly is absolutely absurd. I am a human living after the Fall, so I make mistakes, and I sin. Yet, somehow, I think I should be downright Olympic and saintly in the way I run my household of three children under the age of five. And I expect to maintain a heavenly calmness all the time. Whatever the reasons for why I end up down the rabbit hole of pursuing perfection, when I get bogged down, I like to turn to St. Joseph for strength and inspiration. I am willing to bet St. Joseph got discouraged, at some point, or frustrated with his own sinfulness. He probably recognized the holiness of Mary and Jesus, and by contrast, the lack of that fullness of holiness in himself. Yet, St. Joseph never gave up. He humbly and sincerely lived and worked with the two most holy humans in all history for approximately 10,958 days, give or take a few. And if we were to spend some time thinking about it, I imagine that those ordinary days in Nazareth looked at least a little bit like our ordinary days today – waking up, getting dressed, preparing food, eating and drinking, putting away leftovers and cleaning dishes, working, getting tired, and eventually going to sleep. And, like so many of St. Joseph’s days in Nazareth, Jesus is with us! While Jesus is not exactly growing up in our house, Jesus is “with you always, until the end of the age” (Mt 28:20). If only I would remind myself of Jesus’ presence in my life throughout each day! Lastly, I celebrate St. Joseph as the patron saint of peaceful deaths. While it is not known for certain, tradition holds that St. Joseph died with Jesus and Mary by his side. What a way to leave this world! I pray that we are also given such a grace as to recognize Jesus’ presence with us at the hour of our own deaths! St. Joseph, please pray for us! Humbly, may we always strive to pursue holiness, and not perfection. May we follow in your footsteps and never grow weary in our pursuit of holiness.
 Conscience is a judgment of reason whereby the human person recognizes the moral quality of a concrete act that he is going to perform, is in the process of performing, or has already completed. In all he says and does, man is obliged to follow faithfully what he knows to be just and right. (CCC 1778) We can reason. We can think things through. We can “think before we speak.” We can respond rather than react, or, worse, panic. Every day, we make decisions - some very ordinary and others that will affect the rest of our lives. Yet, God has given us intellect. We can think about our actions before we act. The story of Susanna, in the Book of Daniel (13:1-64), is an excellent example of conscience as a “judgement of reason.” Susanna was raised by her parents “according to the law of Moses.” She was “very beautiful” and married Joakim who was “most respected” by the Jewish people, was very rich, and had a garden near his house. Two elders were appointed judges by the people. They would frequently visit Jaokim’s house and watch Susanna as she walked through the garden in the afternoon. They began to lust for her and their lust “perverted their thinking; they would not allow their eyes to look to heaven, and did not keep in mind just judgements.” Eventually, they came to realize that they both lusted for Susanna and conspired to “look for an occasion when they could find her alone.” That day came when Susanna decided to bathe in the garden alone and the two elders, who were hidden among the trees, approached her after the garden doors were shut, and demanded that she lie with them or they would “testify against you that a young man was here with you.” Susanna’s response is remarkable: “I am completely trapped,” Susanna groaned. “If I yield, it will be my death; if I refuse, I cannot escape your power. Yet it is better for me not to do it and to fall into your power than to sin before the Lord.” Then, Susanna screamed. Susanna realized that if she gave into these elders, she would be committing a grave sin and, if she did not, she would have to face the false accusations of the judges. Eventually, Susanna was summoned before the people. The elders testified against her and “the assembly believed them, since they were elders and judges of the people.” She was condemned to death, yet she cried aloud: “Eternal God, you know what is hidden and are aware of all things before they come to be: you know that they have testified falsely against me. Here I am about to die, though I have done none of the things for which these men have condemned me.” The Lord heard the cry of Susanna and “stirred up the holy spirit of a young boy named Daniel,” who proved Susanna’s innocence and exposed the evil done by the two judges. Susanna teaches us a lot about the judgement of reason. Sometimes, our choice is clear because we must choose between a good and an evil - do I study for the test tonight even though I will miss the game I want to watch or do I see if I can get the answers from a classmate during the test tomorrow? Other times, our choice is between two goods - I need some protein for my lunch. Should I have chicken or fish? The most challenging choice is between two evils. That is what Susanna faced. She could either submit to the elders’ evil desires in the hope of avoiding their judgement, or resist them and face their false accusations before the people. Our conscience lives within three time zones - acts that we have committed (past), an act we are about to commit (present), and an act we will commit (future). Susanna needed to make a judgement about a present act. Every judgement we make is an act of conscience. Fortunately, we can examine the acts we have done in the past to review the situation we faced, the choices we had, and the decisions we made. This is why the Church encourages us to examine our conscience before the Sacrament of Reconciliation. The Examination of Conscience is an essential aspect of the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola. It takes courage to review the acts we have committed over time. We need to reconsider the facts and feelings that were at play. Was I reacting rather than responding? Was I focusing too much on the wrong done to me rather than the right response? Especially, as I consider future actions, am I faced with a choice between a right and a wrong, two goods, or two evils? Perhaps, the right choice is to do the harder thing. God understands our limits. We must choose now to do what is good without all the information, perhaps under some distress, and with the facts we know and trust. We are obliged to follow faithfully what we know is just and right. God has given us intelligence. We can judge “the moral quality of a concrete act.” Like Susanna, we must access the morality of our acts and have the courage to do what we know is just and right - even if it is difficult - or acknowledge our failure, confess our sins, and repent. Today, we celebrate another woman of great faith, profound conscience, and courage: Saint Catherine of Siena. May we learn from both Susanna and St. Catherine and think about what we have done, what we are doing, what we will do, and decide what is just and right.
 Today, we celebrate the feast day of St. Gianna Beretta Molla, a wife, mother, and physician who gave the ultimate sacrifice of her life for her infant daughter. She is also one of my most trusted role models as a Christian, wife, and mother. When I graduated with my master’s degree, my husband gave me a print of a quote of St. Gianna that reads, “Whatever God wants.” It hangs by my bedside table and is often my first short prayer as I get out of bed in the morning. It was very fitting for the journey that we had just begun: my husband and I had been married for almost an entire year and I had just finished a rigorous graduate program. Meanwhile, we were coping with the loss of my father, who had passed 6 months prior. With such joy, stress, and suffering, I often turned to this prayer of St. Gianna as a deep source of hope and consolation to remind me of God’s sovereign love and guidance in my life. I continue to turn to this prayer as God’s will for my life unfolds. St. Gianna did not say “whatever God wants” with apathy but with joyful submission to Christ’s work in her life and confidence in God’s goodness. At her canonization, Pope St. John Paul II described her witness as a “significant messenger of divine love.” From her writings and letters, we know her love for God and her family was fervent and passionate. In a letter written to her future husband during their engagement, she said she would often pray, “Lord, you see my desire and my good will. Supply what is lacking and help me to become the wife and mother you desire.” Her letters to her husband often express their deep desire to raise a family that would love and serve the Lord with all of their hearts. They would soon have a son and three daughters. During St. Gianna’s final pregnancy, doctors discovered a fibroid tumor in her uterus. St. Gianna’s life could be easily saved by an abortion or a hysterectomy, or she could undergo a risky operation to remove the tumor and save her baby. St. Gianna chose to save her baby. However, the impending birth could mean life or death for both St. Gianna and her unborn child. She consistently told her husband, “If you must decide between me and the child, do not hesitate: choose – I insist – the child.” And indeed, St. Gianna’s daughter who lived due to her mother’s sacrifice is a living testimony to her mother’s deep love for her children and her trust in God’s will. Of her sacrifice, Pope St. John Paul II said this: Following the example of Christ, who "having loved his own... loved them to the end" (Jn 13: 1), this holy mother of a family remained heroically faithful to the commitment she made on the day of her marriage. The extreme sacrifice she sealed with her life testifies that only those who have the courage to give of themselves totally to God and to others are able to fulfill themselves. It is clear that her courage and love did witness to her simple prayer, “whatever God wants.” As life has continued to present new joys, stresses, and sufferings, my husband and I continue to reflect on St. Gianna’s prayer that hangs in our bedroom: “Whatever God wants.” In eagerly awaiting the birth of our unborn son, our hope, like St. Gianna and her husband’s, is that we can raise him and our future children with a deep love for the Lord and total trust in his providence as we pray in confidence, “Whatever God wants.” We hope that through living out our vocation of marriage amidst the ups and downs of life, our love is another witness to our children, family, and friends of God’s faithfulness as we pray, “Whatever God wants.” “Whatever God wants” is not a prayer of defeat or carelessness. For St. Gianna, it was a prayer of courage, strength, and complete trust in the power of God. May we, too, come to find the joy of this submission and love for Christ. St. Gianna, pray for us! *This blog is reposted and was originally published on 4/27/2017* AuthorAlyce Shields is a teacher in Washington D.C
 “Because you, O God, are the Infinite Love, you have loved us and, in your mercy, wished that your only begotten Son should become one of us and bring us who our sinners before you. That is why you sent your Son as our Redeemer” (OOCC III, 139). – St. Vincent Pallotti We are celebrating the great act of our redemption. Jesus died on the Cross, but the Father did not make that the end. Sin and death did not prevail. He innocent Lamb of God, sacrificed himself for us. Through the Cross and in the Resurrection, we are redeemed, we have hope! God, who is Infinite Love gave us the Son so that we could have the opportunity for Eternal Life. St. Vincent Pallotti knew this well as did our recently deceased Holy Father, Pope Francis. On April 21st, the day of the death of Pope Francis, we also remembered the 230th anniversary of his birth in Rome in 1795. He had a deep mystical experience of God, the Infinite Love, which moved him to go forth as an apostle of Infinite Love Incarnate, our Redeemer, Jesus Christ. As we celebrate the Easter season, we are called to embrace Infinite Love, the Risen Christ, more fully. He is our true hope in life. Everything else will fall short, but the Risen One will not. He is Infinite Love and calls us to share this love with others in what we say and do. May we be his witnesses in the world, as Pope Francis called us to do, drawing others into his all-embracing Infinite Love. May the charity of Christ urge us on! In God, the Infinite Love, Fr. Frank
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