 It is officially Holy Week. On Sunday, we commemorated Christ’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem as the people laid down palm fronds and cried out, “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord...Hosanna in the highest!”. In many dioceses, the Chrism Mass was celebrated on Monday at which the bishop or archbishop consecrated the holy oils that will be used at the Easter Vigil and in upcoming celebrations of Baptism, Confirmation, Ordination, and the Anointing of the Sick. The Chrism Mass is a beautiful sign of unity amongst the presbyterate of a diocese and closeness with their bishop. At our campus ministry, we chose to make the Chrism Mass our daily Mass on the Monday of Holy Week, shepherding our community to this beautiful liturgy where the Oils of Chrism and Catechumen, which will be used to fully initiate six of our students at the Easter Vigil, will be blessed. When many of us think of Holy Week, we think of the Paschal Triduum: Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter. We shouldn’t look at these days like just any other Thursday, Friday, or Sunday (and Saturday); they’re the most important ones of each week. On Holy Thursday, we begin what is one liturgy which lasts from Thursday through the end of Easter Sunday, unfolding Christ's Paschal Mystery for us. We have a lot to be grateful for on Holy Thursday, especially the institution of the Eucharist and the priesthood. Holy Thursday’s liturgy is called the Mass of the Lord’s Supper, calling to mind the Last Supper shared in the upper room by Christ and his disciples. At that meal, Jesus gives us the Holy Eucharist, his body, blood, soul, and divinity, which we partake in every time we go to Mass. It is by the priesthood that Christ instituted our share in that Eucharist. We should not forget that Christ not only instituted the Eucharist and priesthood on Holy Thursday, but also gave us the perfect model of humility and service when he washed his disciples’ feet in the Gospel of John. Holy Thursday is an opportunity to reflect upon the humility of our Lord who humbled himself to wash the feet of those who would betray and abandon him and who continues to come to us in the humble form of bread and wine. Good Friday is not a Mass but a service of our Lord’s Passion. We recall Christ’s passion and death by adoring the cross, the instrument of Jesus’ suffering and death, and simultaneously, his throne. On Good Friday, like on the day Jesus died, a silence comes over the world as Jesus descends into hell. While bloody and an instance of great sorrow, we should take time to reflect on Christ’s sacrifice on Good Friday. He who became sin and yet himself was sinless took to an instrument of government torture and execution for you and for me to offer us redemption and salvation with no motivation other than love! If the stainless lamb could give everything for me, then what should I be willing to endure to hope to spend eternity with that same Christ? And then we arrive to Holy Saturday: a day of silence, a day of mourning, a day of expectation. While Christ’s disciples were frantic and worried, grieving the loss of their friend and master, we know how the story ends. When the Easter Vigil arrives, we can see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel! That light is not merely a candle or the headlight of a car on a dark road, but THE light, the light of the world, the triumphant Christ who has defeated sin and death for us. At the Easter Liturgy, we celebrate and meditate on this victory over sin and death, and we also celebrate our brothers and sisters becoming fully initiated Catholics by receiving the sacraments of initiation. What better way is there to celebrate the gift of salvation by witnessing and celebrating with those men and women who become children of God in Baptism and receive the fullness of Baptismal grace in Confirmation? Easter is so much more than just bunnies and chocolate. Easter is the most important day in human history and an annual commemoration of the greatest gift we’ve been given: the offer and promise of salvation, won for us by God who became man. There is so much to think and pray about this Holy Week, so much to celebrate and to commemorate. Maybe this is the first Holy Week that you’re trying to enter deeply into the mysteries. Maybe you’re not totally sure. But as my friend and co-worker in the vineyard Fr. Mike says to our students, “just do the thing!”. Give Christ a chance to change your heart in a way he never has this Holy Week. You won’t regret it.
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 Moral conscience, present at the heart of a person, enjoins him at the appropriate moment to do good and to avoid evil (CCC 1777). When it comes to the human heart, does a sentimental, biological, or Catholic image come to mind? My trusty Merriam-Webster Dictionary offered six definitions for the word “heart.” The first was the biological definition - the muscular organ that pumps blood. A more sentimental image could be a passing emotion, like a heart emoji on a social media post (my sister-in-law is all about beagle puppies), romantic love celebrated on Valentine's Day, or even a “sensitive” personality. The Catholic image for the heart, “the heart of the person,” is the “central or innermost part” of the human person. This definition points to a more older understanding of “heart.” Our ancestors in faith saw the human heart as the center of one’s being that encompasses intellect, will, emotions, and moral character. They believed the heart, not the brain, was the place where one reasoned, understood, and made judgements. Pope Francis, in his recent letter Dilexit Nos, noted that the heart is “the locus of sincerity, where deceit and disguise have no place. It usually indicates our true intentions, what we really think, believe and desire, the “secrets” that we tell no one: in a word, the naked truth about ourselves (para 5).” I have always been drawn to the story of Joseph, the youngest son of Jacob, who was sold into slavery by his jealous brothers. Joseph: King of Dreams, the 2000 animated film by Dreamworks, beautifully portrayed his anguish, and the “naked truth” he had to confront deep within his own heart. Would he make his brothers suffer, as they made him suffer, or will he forgive them and reunite with his father? As Dion, the American musician and songwriter said, “My definition of the blues is the naked cry of the human heart longing to be in union with God.” There are three other Scripture passages that illuminate the heart as our “innermost being” where we are in relationship with God as we discern the good we are to choose and the evil we are to avoid. In Jeremiah 31:31-34, God establishes a new covenant with his people: “I will place my law within them, and write it upon their hearts; I will be their God, and they shall be my people.” As our innermost center, free of deceit and disguise, our hearts already know the good, however frightening, and evil, however enticing. This is truly a sanctuary, a holy place, because God trusts the human heart. Pope Francis, in his letter Fratelli Tutti, on fraternity and social friendship, reflects on the parable of the Good Samaritan: “Jesus trusts in the best of the human spirit; with this parable, he encourages us to persevere in love, to restore dignity to the suffering and to build a society worthy of the name.” Jesus can trust us because he is the Word of God that is written on our hearts, or, as Saint John Henry Newman says, “conscience is the aboriginal Vicar of Christ” (CCC 1778). Finally, on Easter Sunday, Luke describes an encounter between the Risen Lord and two disciples on the Road to Emmaus. They are perplexed by all the events in Jerusalem resulting in the death of Jesus and hearing that Jesus had been raised from the dead. Jesus listens to them, and then explains all the ways Sacred Scripture points to him. They entreat him to stay with them as the day ends. During their meal, the two disciples finally recognized him in the breaking of the bread:“Were not our hearts burning within us while he spoke to us on the way and opened the scriptures to us?” (Luke 24:32). Our conscience is present in our innermost being: in our hearts, where we are most truly ourselves before God. God has written his law on our hearts, as he trusts “the best of the human spirit,” and he fills us up so we can empty ourselves out in love. The paradox of conscience is that the more attune we are to the promptings of our hearts, the more selfless we become. Lent is a time for purification, for self-emptying, so we are less distracted and more attune to the “Vicar of Christ.”
 As I was reflecting on the importance of the Lenten journey, it occurred to me that the forty days Jesus spent in the desert were Christ’s training and preparatory period for His life of ministry. By entering into the desert to pray and fast, our Savior was preparing Himself in body and soul to enter into His public mission. We too are called into a time of spiritual preparation to grow in holiness and become followers of Christ sent on mission. Lent helps us to do this by inviting us to focus on prayer, fasting and almsgiving. Because we are personally called to be stewards of Christ’s work on earth, we each have a special vocation that plays an important role in salvation history. Our Lord, in His humanity, demonstrated for us the importance of preparing for our calling. Let’s take a moment to look at the temptations presented to Jesus in the desert and to reflect on how they may relate to our present life and Lenten journey. The First Temptation: Hunger “The devil said to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become bread.’” (Luke 4:3) Let’s look at hunger from both a physical and spiritual dimension. Are we respecting our physical hunger by providing our body with appropriate nourishment through a well-balanced diet? Our bodies have been fashioned by our Divine Creator. Are we respecting that gift? Learning to discern the various signs that our body sends us is an important step in growing in discipline. We can strengthen, energize, and nourish our physical selves in a way that will enable us to carry out our calling. When we ignore this area of challenge and growth, we fail to establish a sense of physical discernment and our fallen desires become the master of our selves. Throughout Lent, we are invited to abstain from certain things, like meat on Fridays. This helps us to grow in healthy self-denial and invites us to make sacrifices that free us to more intentionally satisfy our spiritual hunger. When looking at spiritual hunger, do we even acknowledge that this desire exists? Are we aware of it? We cannot live without God. Oftentimes, it can be tempting to focus more on satisfying our physical needs than our spiritual needs. Lent is a wonderful time to focus on satisfying our spiritual hunger for God. Can we discern a spiritual versus physical desire? Are we turning to good, Christian practices to help us sustain our spiritual bodies or are we starving them? Do we nourish our soul with Scripture and frequent reception of the sacraments or do we drown this desire in the noise of daily life? The Second Temptation: Power “Then he took him up and showed him all the kingdoms of the world in a single instant. The devil said to him, ‘I shall give to you all this power and their glory; for it has been handed over to me, and I may give it to whomever I wish. All this will be yours, if you worship me.’” (Luke 4: 5-7) In this temptation, the devil offers Jesus thrones and dominions, the powers of the world. Jesus knew that all powers belonged to His Father in heaven, and that all human power is a gift from God. On Ash Wednesday, we often hear the words, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Lent reminds us of our humble origin and our final end. It invites us to grow deeper in our humility and on our reliance on God, who elevates us to His sons and daughters through Baptism and invites us to eternal life with Him. What powers or successes are we tempted by in our lives? Are they disordered? Let us reflect on the things in our lives that we cling to, strive for, or attempt to control. Is there anything God is asking us to hand over that we can give Him this Lent? Have our goals become idols in our life? What false power have we been blinded by that has taken worship away from our Almighty and Triune God? The Third Temptation: Putting God to The Test “Then he led him to Jerusalem, made him stand on the parapet of the temple, and said to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here…’” (Luke 4: 9-10) In this temptation, the devil challenges God’s authority and invites Jesus to test God’s power. What are the ways in which we test our Heavenly Father? Do we only turn to God in times of need or instead seek His guidance in all circumstances in life? There is a very important difference between throwing ourselves down in order to see if we’ll be caught versus allowing ourselves to fall, trusting that we’ll be held. Our relationship with our Heavenly Father should not be one of testing, but of trusting. By refusing to give in to the devil’s temptation, Jesus models for us trust, obedience, and faith—what Adam and Eve lacked when they experienced temptation in the Garden of Eden. As we continue through our Lenten journey, may we open ourselves to a deep and honest reflection of these temptations and remember that Christ has already overcome our greatest enemy: the devil. Our Savior, who is fully God and fully man, entered into a time of preparation to discipline and strengthen the physical in order to allow the spiritual to grow and develop. Christ shows us the way against temptation and gives us the strength to overcome it, knowing that the Father of Lies will be waiting with his temptations and tricks to stop us from fulfilling our role in salvation history. During Lent, let us continue to prepare for our call and, strengthened by the powers of heaven and Jesus Christ Himself, not allow the temptations of the Evil One to stand in our way. Questions for Reflection: What are your greatest temptations during Lent? What are some ways you have been able to overcome temptation? *This blog was originally published on March 1, 2018* AuthorElaine Seckar is the Wellness Coordinator of Saint Patrick Church in Carlisle, PA.
 The day I have dreaded for years is coming – this August, my oldest child will go to his first day of school. Last month, my husband and I filled out our parish school’s enrollment paperwork for our son, and just like that, the days of being at home with mommy full-time are winding down. Of course, as a former Catholic school teacher, I know his time at school will be good. He will love making new friends, learning so many new things, and running nonstop around a new playground. But knowing in my head that his school will be a second home for him, filled with prayer and encouragement, does not make my heart stop from feeling a little sad at the fact that “My baby boy is growing up!”. This milestone moment of letting go – when I voluntarily forgo one thing in exchange for something better – has led me to reflect on our Lenten moments of letting go and their significance. (1) Worthwhile Sacrifice: Similarly to how I will forgo the weekday hours of playing with my son, in exchange for gifting him all the benefits of Catholic education, in Lent, we fast and give alms; that is, we choose to give up something – perhaps money, time, meat, or sweets – in exchange for something better like the “mastery over our instincts and freedom of heart” gained by acts of asceticism or self-discipline (CCC 2043). Gaining self-control through “voluntary self-denial such as fasting and almsgiving” – like sacrificially passing on dessert – can help prepare us for when the temptation to sin comes and help us grow stronger in resisting that temptation (CCC 1438). (2) An Opportunity to Refocus: Additionally, just like the reality check that in a few months I will be sending my oldest child to school reminds me to appreciate and be grateful for every moment I get to spend with him, our Lenten acts of fasting and almsgiving should serve as reminders to refocus ourselves on what should be at the center of our lives – our love of God and neighbor. Our earthly comfort and pleasures are not the be-all, end-all of our days, and complaining about minor inconveniences and sacrifices does not make us any holier. Rather, all our actions and all our resources should ultimately direct us towards achieving holiness and sharing the love of Christ with others. (3) Necessary Letting Go: Lastly, it is worth remembering that letting go of something can also be a necessary part of our journey towards Heaven. Just like in human development where a child naturally grows, learns, and eventually reaches adulthood, we can and should challenge ourselves to grow spiritually during this Lent – which will entail letting go of a sinful habit or two. This Lent, we can reflect, with the help of an excellent confession guide, perhaps, on what sinful habits we need to let go of. Also, we can reflect on how and in what areas we can improve. Lent needs not only focus on what sins we want to get rid of, but we can also focus this Lent on the positive spiritual habits we would like to begin. Afterall, Lent is a time of prayer, fasting and almsgiving, and we certainly should not forget to take this opportunity to bolster our prayer life. I pray your Lent is a holy and fruitful one that brings your focus ever more lovingly back to Christ.
 Now you are Christ’s body, and individually parts of it. –1 Corinthians 12:27 I commute to work every day by train through Chicago’s “loop.” It’s the perfect place for people-watching. Recently, I was on a busy sidewalk when a woman who looked rather tired and disheveled pushed a stroller near the crowd with her child. Behind me were two very elegantly dressed women in a hurry. The woman with the stroller asked the passing crowd, “Can you spare some change for our next meal?” It’s a question that I’ve heard too often downtown. I felt a pang of sadness and guilt. Often, I am unsure how to respond. The women behind me continued on past her and began commenting: “What a horrible mother”; “Of course I’m not going to help her out. Why would I want to give her my money?” Those comments hurt even more than seeing this poor mother and child suffer. In the first letter to the Corinthians, St. Paul writes, “As a body is one though it has many parts, and all the parts of the body, though many, are one body, so also Christ. . . . If [one] part suffers, all the parts suffer with it; if one part is honored, all the parts share its joy.” The mother and her baby, the women behind me, and all those who are a part of my community of friends and family are of one body. As stated in Lumen Gentium, “By communicating His Spirit, Christ made His brothers, called together from all nations, mystically the components of His own Body. In that Body the life of Christ is poured into the believers who, through the sacraments, are united in a hidden and real way to Christ who suffered and was glorified.” We live as one with Christ and with one another even amidst the poverty, injustice, and messiness we experience. This letter from Paul to the early Church deepens their understanding of the Body of Christ and its physical makeup. Each person has a function within it which works alongside the other members and promotes the common good. As the Catechism of the Catholic Church notes, “The unity of the Mystical Body produces and stimulates charity among the faithful.” I often fall into the temptation of removing myself from a group who seems holier than me, those who are more involved in their community or are outspoken in ways that I’m not. I even tend to exclude myself from the community of pedestrians walking down the sidewalk. I forget that we make up the Body of Christ and that if others suffer, I suffer. If others rejoice, I rejoice. I also share a part of myself with each of them. One of my mentors once said, “Our goal is always to connect. Even if it’s uncomfortable, we are made for relationship.” As a Christian, I am called to notice those in the community around me and to connect with them. Mystici Corporis Christi, the encyclical from Pius XII, also outlines the meaning of being a part of the Mystical Body of Christ. “Each member of the Church, of the Mystical Body of Christ, if authentic, is integrally bonded in soul, and hopefully in heart, through the Incarnation, by the Spirit, with Jesus, Son of God, and son of Mary, divine and human,” wrote Msgr. Owen F. Campion. We are bonded in soul and heart because of Christ’s physical and spiritual sacrifice as the Son of God. We become whole in him and in relation to others. As members of the Church, we are called to be a family who loves and cares for others, even those outside of our communities. In all circumstances, the Body of Christ leads me to a holier life. When I am doubtful or uncertain, my faith community allows me to grow. When I’m overwhelmed, others will kindle the fire of faith within me. I fully experience joy when I experience it with others and share the Good News and the love of Jesus. I may do this differently from a trained hand who provides, or a speaker with a gifted tongue, but I’m using my gifts as a member of the Body of Christ. We are called to take part of this community through our unique identity with authenticity. I paused that day on my commute because of this mystical experience of community. I witnessed the pain of the poor mother and child on the Chicago sidewalk, and the harshness of the response of the two women who were walking near me. I became more aware of this truth in the wounds and challenging emotions I experienced. I feel pain because I am connected to all people in some way. Conversely, I can feel joy if I make small choices to build up the Body of Christ. St. Paul outlines this for us, and we hear it in St. Teresa of Avila’s words, “Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, yours are the eyes, you are his body. Christ has no body now on earth but yours.” We must pay attention like Jesus would, and love our physical and mystical body. Questions for Reflection: What unique gifts can I share with others as a member of the Body of Christ? How can I become more aware of the communities I live in? *This post was originally published June 26, 2017*
 Our lives tend to leave more room for “no’s” than “yes’s” in our daily schedule. No matter who you are, saying no to something can be almost second nature. We’re wired to wake up, do things, eat, do more things, eat again, do more things, go to bed, then rinse and repeat. The schedules we adhere to dictate many of our decisions by just going, going, going, until the next thing. Yet, there are so many opportunities to have a positive response, but this is what generally comes out:
If you haven’t heard of a “Yes Day,” it’s when you take a free day and only say yes to opportunities, adventure, and decisions that might otherwise be too silly or far-fetched. Often, parents might give their kids a Yes Day for fun, or a couple might have a Yes Day to find new restaurants and things to do in the area. During a Yes Day, there is no room for “no” anywhere. Although this might be extreme, there is a lesson to be learned from it. If we take a step back, we can consider that saying no all the time really takes the excitement and spontaneity out of the day. There is a brave and holy woman who said “yes” to a very peculiar situation. There were endless unknowns, and she only had her faith in God to guide her. She could have been ridiculed, forsaken by her family and loving fiance, and banished from society. Her fears were probably extreme, but her faith was stronger. Of course, I’m talking about the Virgin Mary, for whom today’s Annunciation Solemnity honors. When she said her emphatic “yes”, she changed the course of history and humanity. One little yes. It is written in Luke 1:37-38, “Fear not, for nothing will be impossible with God. And Mary said, ‘Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word.”’ These are my favorite two sentences in all of the Gospels, and I’ve loved this verse for more than twenty years. What I love about Mary’s “yes” is that the Angel Gabriel told her not to worry and immediately she was ready to face the challenges that accompanied this faith-filled “yes.” It shows me that if Mary’s very real fears could be dissuaded in just one phrase, I too can face my own fears and tribulations. Even in my darkest days, I can remember Mary’s “yes” and keep moving forward with my faith, knowing that God is with me and will never forsake me. In these remaining weeks of Lent, I challenge you to say “yes” a little more and “no”a little less in your day. Some examples might be:
 Reviving Faith – Rekindling Charity – Forming Apostles. This is not simply a tagline for the Catholic Apostolate Center. These three are central to the charism of St. Vincent Pallotti which informs all that the Center does. Pallotti understood in the early 19th century that Catholics, as people of faith, are called to be apostles, sent on mission by Christ into the world to share the Gospel and care for our brothers and sisters. Rekindling charity means that we are called to deepen love of God and neighbor. Pallotti understood clearly that all are in the image and likeness of God, and we should not allow another image and likeness of God to suffer. The fire of charity, of love, in our hearts needs to burn brightly through all that we do for our brothers and sisters. This is at the heart of almsgiving during the season of Lent. We are challenged by this Lenten practice to give of ourselves fully to others, not simply from our surplus. Rekindling charity is not only for Lent but also should be practiced by people of faith always. St. Joseph, whose feast day is today, is an example of a person who gave of himself fully for God in charity, not thinking of himself, but of others, particularly the Blessed Virgin Mary and Jesus. Pallotti offers us this consideration in a world that is quite divided, as it was in his time: “If we are truly animated by the spirit of love, we shall always treat all with love, look on all with love, think of all with love, and speak of all with love” (OOCC III, 338). May the charity of Christ urge us on! In God, the Infinite Love, Fr. Frank
 Every day, I get to experience the joy of teaching Kindergarten, a time when the minds of young children are at a crucial point developmentally. Part of my job as their teacher is to form them into becoming a “person for others,” a term we use often in our classroom. There are days when showing them and teaching them about Christ’s mission of love and mercy turns into a lofty concept that is difficult for them to grasp. Toys fly across the room and children chase each other with plastic carrots, and teaching them to be a “person for others” seems difficult. Being a person for others is someone who does the work of Jesus Christ: loving others unconditionally and helping those who need help. Being with these children every day made me think more closely about unconditionally loving everyone we come into contact with. An example of this love and sacrifice is Our Holy Father, Pope Francis. This Pope has taught the world to take chances, get messy, and make mistakes for Christ. His merciful methods, when speaking about teachings of the Church, show Catholics and the world that he believes each person can truly be an evangelizer to all people. He has reminded us that while it is one thing to write a check to a food drive, it is another thing entirely to truly be with the poor and suffering. He has shown us that we are all brothers and sisters in this journey of faith, and we are on the road together. We all need to be a “person for others.” There is so much to distract us from the people around us. We often turn a blind eye to all kinds of problems. We rarely stop to think about how our actions can affect others. As a way to be more reflective, I like to pray the Examen. The Examen is a short prayer by St. Ignatius of Loyola, which is usually reflected upon in a quiet space: First, find a moment of gratitude from the day. Next, ask for freedom of something that has been weighting you down. Then, review the day in all of its parts both good and bad. Finally, talk to God about anything on your mind or heart. Finish the Examen with a short prayer, and you are ready to begin a new day filled with grace. When we take the time to reflect on our lives and ourselves, we can become aware of the kind of person we want to be. Jesus came to the world with a selfless mission to encourage and share His love and compassion. When we are merciful, loving, and caring with other members of the Church, face-to-face and shoulder-to-shoulder, we can evangelize and change the world. It begins with you; be a person for others! *This is reposted and was originally published October 23, 2014*
 As we begin this season of Lent, let us open our hearts and minds to the transformation that can occur during this time. Lent is the forty days of waiting for the death and resurrection of Jesus. The forty days allow ourselves to reflect on ourselves and our relationship with Christ. These forty days are known as a fast. Some people take that in a literal sense, abstaining from sweets, soda, or some other unhealthy habit. Others may fast from social media or other activities. We also can take this time to deepen our sense of faith and look to Jesus for how we can better ourselves during this Lenten season. In the reading for the Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time, the week before Lent, the Gospel gives us some inspiration of how we can reflect this Lenten season. It reads “Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own?” (Luke 6:39-45). Why is it that we are so quick to pass judgement onto others but do not reflect on our own actions? Often, we are quick to critique a small flaw in others while turning a blind eye to a large issue within ourselves. Do we see the wooden beam in our eye and choose not to notice it, or are we blind to our faults? Either way, we are called to do some searching into the intentions within our own hearts during Lent. In the Gospel reading for Ash Wednesday, Jesus gives us advice on how we can look at ourselves during Lent and examine if we are being humble. He says, “When you give alms, do not blow a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets to win the praise of others” (Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18). When we are doing a good deed, are we doing so from the goodness in our hearts, or are we doing so for the glory and praise of others? If it is the latter, then we should reframe our thinking around our actions. Later in the same reading, Jesus gives us guidance on how we can pray better during this Lenten season: "When you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, who love to stand and pray in the synagogues and on street corners so that others may see them. Amen, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you pray, go to your inner room, close the door, and pray to your Father in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will repay you” (Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18). Here, Jesus is asking us if we are living out our faith for him, or are we living out our faith for others? What are the intentions of our hearts in prayer? Is it to seem like the most holy to our peers, or is it wanting to actually strive for holiness? Our intentions should be pure and the opinions of our peers should not matter, as the only opinion of our holiness is that of the Lord. In these readings, right before Lent, we are given the opportunity to examine ourselves as we enter into this season. We can ask ourselves, “Am I ready for Lent? Is my heart ready to enter this season of waiting, or am I being passive to the change that is needed within my own heart?” I encourage us all to do some self-reflection as we enter into Lent and allow this season to transform our hearts to strive for holiness.
 For most of my day when I am not in a chapel or church, I struggle to keep in touch with God. While praying in a chapel is the anchor of our spiritual lives, for many of us, our day is mostly spent being “sent out” from these places of prayer. Yet, God is present everywhere, and he is always present to listen to our prayers. Unfortunately, I often let myself be swept up in classes, work, friendships, stacking to-do’s, trivial matters – all things that are not God – and neglect to reach to my Heavenly Father. The Church, fortunately, has a response to the tendency of forgetting to pray. She has given us many wonderful daily prayers to combat this, and a personal favorite of mine is the Angelus. Traditionally, the Angelus is prayed at six a.m., noon, and six p.m.. It only takes a minute or two to pray, but those couple of minutes remind us of the greatest thing to ever happen to us: Christ becoming man in the Incarnation in order to save us. I first heard the Angelus just a year and a half ago when I attended a noontime daily Mass a couple of times a week. Before the Mass would begin, the celebrant would invite everyone to recite the prayer. The prayer felt unfamiliar at first besides for the three Hail Mary’s, especially because everyone else in the congregation would say it so quickly while I scrambled to follow along. After a while, I learned the words, and their significance began to penetrate. The prayers in between the Hail Mary’s are short but powerful Scripture verses related to the Annunciation and birth of Jesus. The last verse comes from the beginning of the Gospel of John: “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14). Everyone at this point either kneels or bows their heads in reverence for Christ. It feels insufficient that one sentence sums up the greatest moment in human history, and, seconds later, we progress to the final Hail Mary. Yet, the significance of the singular verse has substantial impacts in all of our lives. Taking a moment to recite the Word dwelling among us serves as a powerful reminder of the ever-present reality that often escapes the way we live our daily lives. Throughout the year, I noticed other people stopping what they were doing at the proper time to pray the Angelus, whether it would be at the dinner table at six or after a class was dismissed at noon. I admired their instinct to pray when they heard the church bells or saw what time it was. Their inherent turn towards the Lord, despite the noise of life around them, was inspiring for me. I had to imitate that by praying the Angelus whenever I would remember to. While I have struggled to remember to pray every time the clock struck noon or six, the moments that I did centered what I was doing around the Lord. I remember especially praying the Angelus at my summer job as a server. I would be rushing around the restaurant, silently praying, even if my prayer would be interrupted by assisting customers or running food to patrons’ tables. After I finished, I felt more at peace with what I needed to complete for the day. St. Paul tells us to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thes 5:17), whether it be through sacred liturgy in an ornate chapel, works of charity, or meditative prayers. As we journey through Lent, here are a couple of other prayers, along with the Angelus, to pray throughout the day to keep us centered on the Lord:
 Catholics believe conscience “is man’s most secret core and his sanctuary. There he is alone with God whose voice echoes in his depths” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, paragraph 1776). Do you remember entering a sanctuary for the first time? For me, it was years ago, around 1964, when I was learning how to be an altar server. It was in the middle of a school day, in school clothes, learning the prayers (in Latin) and the movements from the priest, in an empty and silent church. It was like being on stage without lights, costumes, or audience. A deserted place. The dictionary defines sanctuary as “a consecrated place” for worship but it is also a place of refuge and protection. I found the synonyms interesting - “haven,” “shelter,” “harbor,” and “retreat.” We Catholics see the sanctuary as the center of the Church. It is where the altar is and where the “sacred mysteries” are celebrated. Some of my Protestant friends see the whole of their church as “sanctuary.” For both Catholics and Protestants, sanctuary is a holy place. We need such a place. Remember when Jesus tells his disciples to “Come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest awhile” (Mark 6:31). They were busy. In this chapter of Mark, Jesus is rejected at Nazareth, “his native place,” the apostles are sent on mission two by two, the story of John the Baptist’s death is told, Jesus has the attention of King Herod, the apostles return triumphant from their missions, the crowd presses in so they “had no opportunity to eat,” Jesus feeds the five thousand, calms a storm at sea, and heals many in the land of Gennesaret. Conscience as a sanctuary, a “deserted place,” has four characteristics. Place. We must intentionally enter conscience. It is an internal place - just like our thoughts, memories, fantasies - and it is a holy place. It is like having the sanctuary of the Church inside of us. It is easy to enter - just like prayer. Externals help. Some people, like me, have a special prayer chair at home. Others go to an empty Church. Some find a secluded place in nature. Alone. Conscience is where we are alone, in our “most secret core.” This is more difficult than it sounds. We need to take off any and all pretense and free ourselves of distractions. It is easy to turn off our phones, or the TV. It is harder to quiet the ongoing “feed” that clutters and fills our minds. To quiet our calendar with its clatter of appointments and projects. In many ways, we must empty ourselves to enter conscience. In a day and age of overlapping and conflicting identities, we claim one identity here. I am human. God. While we are totally alone in our conscience, we are not completely alone because God is with us. Not only is God with us, as one subject to another. God is also “within” us. We become aware of the divine spark, the breath of God that brought us into being, the image in which we were fashioned. There is a delightful scene in The Lion King when Simba must make a life changing decision: confront his past and return to the pride or stay with his friends “with no worries.” With Rafiki’s help, Simba sees his father who rebukes him, “Simba, you have forgotten me.” Simba protests, “No! How could I?” Mufasa pleads, “You must take your place in the circle of life. Remember who you are. You are my son, and the one true king. Remember who you are.” In conscience we remember who - and whose - we are. Isaiah (43:1) admonishes us, “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name: you are mine.” Conversation. Sometimes people will talk about a “come to Jesus” moment. While incomplete, this sentiment points in the right direction. Conscience is a place for conversation with God. Saint John Paul II wrote “The importance of this interior dialogue of man with himself can never be adequately appreciated. But it is also a dialogue of man with God, the author of the law, the primordial image and final end of man” (Veritatis Splendor, paragraph 58). The conversation is always about who I am and how I can do good and avoid evil. The conversation can range from the minuscule - what will I eat today - to one’s life’s work. In and through this conversation, we grow closer to God, begin to see ourselves as God sees us, and form our understanding of good and evil as well as the virtues that aid us with the countless decisions we make everyday. God is not a stern judge who yells at us. God is like a light helping us see what to turn towards and when to turn away. It can be painful. There are acts that I should not do any more. But there is also liberation - freedom to grow and love in life giving ways. Let us remember who we are as beloved children of God and embrace our conscience - daily if possible - becoming our true selves through dialogue with God about what is good and loving.
I am scared of Lent. There: I said it. This cradle Catholic, with plenty of Lents under her belt, is scared of one of the most sacred liturgical seasons in the Church. I’m not saying I don’t love it. I do. I loved when my favorite priest buried the “Hallelujah,” and then emptied our Church of decoration, only adding more as we got further into Lent and into spring. I love (well, love/hate) fasting, and the way my mind is automatically drawn toward my dependence on God and solidarity with others. And my favorite color is purple. So, yeah, Lent is my season. But I’m scared of it. Truth be told, I feel like I’m bad at Lent – never repentant enough, never serious enough, never sacrificing or doing enough. When I was little, I made charts to track my progress through the 40 days free of candy, or Facebook, or whatever I gave up. When I got older, I got smarter and started adding to my Lenten routine. More Scripture, more prayer, more almsgiving. Usually I do okay striking a balance between sacrificing for God and building toward God, but this year…all bets are off. This year, away from home, family, and friends, I’ve been feeling so restless. Isn’t this season a time to rest in God, and prepare our hearts for that life-changing Resurrection? Part of me feels like, “God, haven’t I given up enough? I’ve followed you into this desert that is rural Kentucky!” But part of me (and I’m sure this is the part the Holy Spirit is dealing with) knows there is always more. We can always remove more that stands in our way to the fullness of God. Yet, as Lent draws to an end, I still feel like I am figuring out what I’m doing. My housemates have all dutifully prayed; they have gracefully denied sweets and coffee and swear words. All I’ve managed to do is plod along through Merton’s Seven Storey Mountain, because hey – third time’s a charm, right? In the meantime, I thumb through my notebook still rewriting different versions of my Lenten plan. And there lies my problem; I am still trying to plan Lent. I have turned it into some Christian New Year’s Resolutions/Get-Right Plan for Lent 2013. If I “do” A, B, and C, then the Resurrection will surely come! If I “do” Lent with enough sacrifice, enough Bible study, enough whatever, then I’m sure to feel the Resurrection like never before. But maybe that’s not the way to do it. The Rev. William Bradley, in a sermon given on the first Sunday of Lent, said, “The difference between us and Jesus is that he doesn’t run from…insecurity, rather he embraces, inhabits it as part of his life with God. Rather than trying to fill it with people, things, drugs, and busyness, he sits with his emptiness to see if God will show up.” I haven’t quite figured out what I’m “doing” this Lenten season, and maybe that’s okay. Maybe I need to simply take my restlessness to God in prayer and sit with it, until I’m no longer with the restlessness but with the peace and grace that is God. Only once I can settle into being this Lent, can I start to actually do the life-giving practices of this holy season and rejoice in His resurrection that lies ahead. *This blog was originally published March 21, 2013* AuthorKatherine Biegner graduated from Assumption College and served as a tutor and mentor in the Christian Appalachian Project in rural Kentucky.
 A foundational truth in the life of a Christian is that we are loved–particularly and passionately–by God. It is through this love that the creator of the universe brought each of us into being: God, infinitely perfect and blessed in himself, in a plan of sheer goodness freely created man to make him share in his own blessed life (CCC 1). From the beginning of time, God fully knew and loved each of us and furthermore wanted to bring us into the fullness of his family through baptism as his beloved children. However, in an age of constant connection and access to behind-the-scenes looks into other people's lives, it can be easy to slip into a mindset of criticalness or comparison. We can forget or neglect the core truth of our belovedness. The voice of the world or the Evil One may creep in to prey on our weaknesses and doubts. We may question who we are and why things are happening as they are. For the moments or seasons where our relationship with God feels like it is on less solid ground, or just the times when we want to help ourselves remain rooted in Christ, I would like to propose a few simple practices we can bring into our daily lives. Gratitude I am a high school campus minister and one of my more frequent student interactions is when they wander into my office to ask for a snack. The cost of one of these snacks is sharing a “God moment” from their day. This simple activity gives my girls a moment to take a small step back and consider a place they have seen or encountered God in the midst of their ordinary days. A smattering of responses on any given day might include getting to school safely, doing well on an exam they were worried about, or a good lunchtime conversation with a friend. In his book New Seeds of Contemplation, twentieth century Trappist monk Thomas Merton wrote, “To be grateful is to recognize the love of God in everything he has given us -- and he has given us everything” (1961). How often in our day-to-day lives do we overlook these simple things and take them for granted when they could each be an opportunity to give thanks to God? Practice of the Presence of God One of the blessings of working in a Catholic school is that (when I remember) I can take a moment during my work day to pray before Jesus in the tabernacle. While many of us don’t have this access, we can all still take moments of repose with God during work or throughout our days. As Brother Lawrence reminds us in his little gem The Practice of the Presence of God, “Lift up your heart to him during your meals and in company; the least little remembrance will always be the most pleasing to him. One need not cry out very loudly; he is nearer to us than we think” (1692). It might be making a request of God, such as asking for the Holy Spirit to be with us for a difficult conversation or calling God’s blessing on our travels or a project we’re undertaking. Or, it may simply be closing our eyes while we sit at our desk to just remind ourselves that God is with us in each moment of our days and lives. Abiding in Community One of the greatest traps the Evil One can catch us in is to feel like we are alone or that we are the only ones struggling. I recently found myself stressed out about a particular situation and noticed myself turning inwards and getting caught in a cycle of overthinking. I decided one simple step I could take was to text a friend and ask for her prayers. Much to my surprise–and consolation–her reply was that she had been inspired to pray for this exact intention during Mass the day before. Now our prayers might not always be anticipated quite so providentially, but God nonetheless desires us to turn to others for strength in our faith and relationship with him: “Where one alone may be overcome, two together can resist. A three-ply cord is not easily broken” (Ecclesiastes 4:12). Christian fellowship can put flesh and voice to the realities of God’s nearness that might be hard to otherwise see at times. Our community of friends can speak the realities of faith to us, help us bring our needs to God, and accompany us on the path of virtue and sanctity. Whether you find yourself today feeling close or far from God, he is indeed near. I pray that these little tricks–gratitude, the practice of the presence of God, and abiding in community–might help you encounter him today and embrace his personal, gratuitous love for you. AuthorErin Donn is a campus minister at an all-girls Catholic high school and lives in Washington, DC.
 Our Lenten pilgrimage is almost upon us! In this Jubilee Year as “pilgrims of hope,” we journey during Lent toward the hope of the Resurrection. We will go from walking into the desert with Jesus to walking to Emmaus with the Risen Christ. Throughout, he is accompanying us to a deeper encounter with him. In the Lenten part of our pilgrimage, we will use the practices of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving not as ends in themselves, but as means to live more fully our life in Christ. Our own effort alone does not produce holiness. Christ gives us the grace to grow more fully into life in him. The pilgrimage of Lent is not an end in itself. It is a time of preparation to celebrate our ultimate hope in the Risen Christ. He is hope itself. As Pope Francis reminds us: “The death and resurrection of Jesus is the heart of our faith and the basis of our hope” (Bull of Indiction for the Jubilee Year, 20). How do you intend to prepare for your Lenten pilgrimage? This pilgrimage is not a solo journey. We are on it together with the whole Church. In fact, our prayer, fasting, and almsgiving should move us to encounter Christ in the community of faith, the Church, and in those who are in need. Then, we become a sign of hope to others, accompanying them to greater life in Christ. May the charity of Christ urge us on! In God, the Infinite Love, Fr. Frank
 I’m a summer girl, so bear with me and close your eyes to imagine the warm weather with bright, yellow sunshine for so many wonderful hours each day. Everything is lush and green and colorful, and, to cool off, you head either indoors or into a cool pool or the ocean. Friends and neighbors are outdoors using grills or mowing lawns, and those scents waft around the neighborhood. You hear sounds of kids playing, birds and insects chirping, and maybe an ice cream truck can be heard faintly in the distance as it makes its way through the town. Now, open your eyes and look outside. Near me, it is dark outside, early in the day right after work. The cold chills to the bone when you step outside, and only evergreen trees stand proudly while other trees are bare and dead. The air is a crisp cold, and the weather could be snowy, icy, rainy, or chilly - you just never know. Summer has really obvious beauty to me, but winter can seem brutal at times, unless we look at it from a different perspective. This cold season may actually be the perfect time for us to reflect and really take the time to see, not just look at the world right in front of us. How often are we consumed with being at the next season, the next weekend, or the next meeting, instead of noticing what’s right in front of us at this very moment? Recently, I have been doing some self-care work and discovered that I have an issue with time –I actually obsess about it. I worry about being on time and backtrack my whole day to make sure I am on schedule for everything I have coming up. I think about what is coming up and miss the moments I am currently in. I do it unknowingly, and my day revolves around this little compulsion, all stemming from childhood. It is very personal, but I share this because I realized I have no real control over time. No control at all. It is all really in God’s hands. I cannot stop time, prevent things from happening, make other people get places on time, go back in time, or make time move faster. As a human with many flaws, this was a very humbling revelation and I am grateful to have learned this about myself. I’m not sure how many other people in the world may have experienced this concept, but I really hope to bring some clarity: God loves us, and life is all on God’s timeline. The sad and tragic things we suffer at times, though we struggle with them and they can hurt us deeply, help us recognize the joys that life can also bring –full of happiness and goodness, light and hope. God is there for all of it on our life journeys. There is a famous reading about time and how God has already perfectly predetermined the structure of time for us in Ecclesiastes 3: 1-11: There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace. What do workers gain from their toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end. This really puts it all into perspective for me. There is time for everything, purpose for it all, and it is all on God’s time - not mine. Even winter, my least favorite season, really has such hidden beauty and purpose. So let us look again outside on this winter day that I described before. There might be peace in the stillness of snowfall and a refreshing, perfect chill in the air when you take a deep breath. There might be no growing grass to mow or flowers to smell, but there might be a cozy home that protects and comforts you from the elements. The night comes early, but our busy bodies can give way to sleep and find the rest we may desperately need. The hidden beauty is really right here, even in this cold season because it is just that, a season. It is a fragment of time, but with a hope of spring soon, and then summer, followed by fall and winter again. It is all a cyclical part of God’s plan that teaches us so many things about his love for us and that there really is a time for everything. God is there for it all; we need only to look for him, time and time again.
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