I recently attended a retreat where the priest warned us against the temptation to see the saints as mere pictures on holy cards or statues that decorate our churches. These icons of the saints and, more importantly, the real example of their lives are meant to call the heavenly host to mind so that we can call on their intercession and emulate their virtue in our lives. But the temptation nonetheless remains. For myself, I have realized this is in part because the saints can feel so distant. Many of them lived centuries ago, in times and settings that are vastly different from our own, while others live out piety or charity to a degree that can just feel unattainable.
This is where my blessed friend Solanus Casey comes in; he is one among many modern day saints. Born in Wisconsin in 1870, Bl. Solanus Casey grew up in a large Irish Catholic immigrant family. While technology and ways of living have changed dramatically in the 150 years since his death, Bl. Solanus Casey still rode in cars and took telephone calls. There are countless photos and even videos documenting his life as a friar. As an American, Solanus also lived and ministered in towns and cities that are familiar to us, like Detroit, Michigan, and East Harlem in New York City. The familiarity of Bl. Solanus’ life reveals an example of everyday holiness that we can apply to our own lives today in the twenty-first century. He did not face the threat of martyrdom nor did he live his religious vow of poverty more radically than required. But in his life as a Capuchin Franciscan friar, he did profoundly witness to humility and poverty of spirit in the ordinary circumstances of his life. Whether in his winding and sometimes frustrating path to religious life, bearing chronic illnesses, or performing his daily duties well, Solanus showed how we can find the entirety of our lives within God’s gracious providence. The Catechism of the Catholic Church defines humility as “the virtue by which a Christian acknowledges that God is the author of all good. Humility avoids inordinate ambition or pride, and provides the foundation for turning to God in prayer.” These words provide a good summary of Bl. Solanus’ approach to life. He initially began his studies for the priesthood at the diocesan seminary, however four years into his studies he was asked to leave. Solanus was barely passing some of his classes, but he was doing well in others. However, he was also studying in a German-headed diocese with strong anti-Irish sentiments. Despite this disappointment, and an initial distaste for the friary, he prevailed in pursuing the priesthood and entered with the Capuchins. Even here he struggled with his studies and when he was finally ordained in 1904 it was as a “simplex priest,” which offered him fully priestly faculties but prohibited him from hearing confessions or preaching homilies for congregations. A natural reaction to these trials would be discouragement or turning back, but Fr. Solanus abandoned these things to God, maintaining his trust in God and confidence in his vocation. In many of the friaries where he was assigned, Fr. Solanus was given the job of porter, which meant greeting people and answering telephone calls at the friary. It was particularly in this role that he made up for his inability to preach homilies that he was still able to touch thousands of lives as individuals came to him for counsel and healing. As news of his miraculous prayers spread, Fr. Solanus would spend hours each day meeting with individuals seeking his assistance. It was through Solanus’ obedience to this unremarkable job that God was able to do remarkable work. Throughout the ups and downs of his religious life, Fr. Solanus’ journal entries often ended with the simple phrase, “Deo Gratias.” Solanus rejoiced in knowing “the richness of life which has come to [us] by the grace of God.” He was able to receive all in his life, the joys as well as the struggles, as the will of the Father. May we learn from Bl. Solanus Casey how to remain faithful to God in all circumstances, confident that the Lord is and will always work all things for our good. Further reading: Odell, Catherine M. (2017). Father Solanus Casey: Revised and updated. Our Sunday Visitor. **This image is from: https://www.ncregister.com/features/holy-healer-the-remarkable-life-of-father-solanus-casey**
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It seems that there is something innate in our yearning for summer. As a child and student, I longed for the last day of school when I could trade in my early morning alarms and textbooks for sleeping in and spending time with friends. While summers in adulthood do not usher in quite the same change of schedule or freedom from responsibilities, I nonetheless eagerly await them. What is it that stirs this desire for summertime within us? What lessons of summertime can we bring into our spiritual lives? In the bustle of daily life it can be hard to find time for any rest, let alone that which truly restores and invigorates us. It is good that we work and labor, but we were not created for that alone. Jesus tells us, “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28) We can find this rest firstly in times of silence and prayer with our Lord. And, I think we can also find it in the long days of summer. The extra hours of sunlight or the extra days of vacation provide opportunities to lay our burdens of busyness down at the Lord’s feet. Far from eschewing or running away from responsibilities, these times of rest create opportunities to live out the rhythm of work and rest God desires for us. If summer affords you a bit more time to slow down, take some of these moments to reflect on how you can reorder your days to find a balance of work and rest to live throughout the year. How is the Lord calling you to deeper rest this summer? For many people the shorter, colder days of winter can be difficult to endure. The desire for the light of summer is tinged with a spiritual longing for a reprieve from the dreariness of winter. We can lift our faces to the sun after months of bundling up and hunching our shoulders against the cold. As composites of body and soul, these changes in the seasons do not just affect our activities, but translate to our emotional and spiritual lives too. While winter may have lent itself to a quiet reflectiveness or melancholy, the light of summer can incline our spirits towards a renewed levity. Even in the heaviest days of winter we know that summer will indeed come; just as in the heavy days of life we know that Christ’s promises of joy will be fulfilled. Have you noticed that your mood or prayer shifts with the seasons? What hopes are you bringing from the winter depths into this new season of light and warmth? In all the seasons we experience, whether naturally or interiorly, we are invited to praise and give thanks to God: a task we all know is easier said than done. One beauty of warm, sunny days is that they make that praise a bit easier to offer. It seems to me that we do not have to look quite as far to find joy as we may in the colder months. Summer wells up in us an awareness of God’s goodness. We can simply listen to the waves crashing at the beach, take in a perfect summer sunset, or revel in an afternoon spent outside with good friends. While the earth sings its summer song to the Lord, we can sing our song to Him too (see Psalm 96). As we continue through the summer months, take time to slow down and praise God in the goodness of the season. In what splendors of summer do you receive God’s love and glimpse His care for you? Despite all our longings for summer, it can often feel like it slips by too fast. This summer, which only just began seven days ago, I invite you to slow down and rest, shed the layers of life that can weigh us down, and open your heart to notice and receive all the goodness the Lord has in store for you in this season. Have you ever considered what it would have been like to be a member of the Church in the first few centuries? Jesus would have been fresh in peoples’ memories, but the rich Christian tradition we have today would have only just been taking shape. Those early followers of Christ would have been interpreting what Jesus’ teachings meant and figuring out how to live them out in their daily lives, both individually and communally. It was in this context that St. Justin Martyr, an early Christian convert and apologist who lived in modern day Israel from about 100-165 AD, lived. St. Justin is well known for his First Apology, which he wrote to the Roman emperor, Antoninus Titus, as a defense and explanation of Christianity. This text not only gives us insight to what it was like when the Church was taking shape, but it also provides a rich insight into how we can live as Christians to this day.
1) Being Christians in name and deed St. Justin knew as well as anyone today that it is much easier to say you are a Christian than it is to truly live as one. He wanted the emperor to truly understand what Christianity was and Who it was founded upon, to not base his opinions on the popular zeitgeist: “For from a name neither praise nor punishment could reasonably spring, unless something excellent or base in action be proved.” (Ch. IV) For us today, we live in a world where the name “Christian” can carry so many different connotations. It depends on each of us to “prove something excellent” in our actions. Besides claiming the name Christian, are we living and worshiping in a way that reflects this privileged name? 2) How to live as Christians Whether Christians in the first century or in the 21st century, we are called to live for God and His eternal kingdom above all else. With his eyes focused on Heaven, St. Justin was able to accept persecutions because he understood that his earthly life was temporary. He encouraged others to “imitate the excellences which reside in [God], temperance, and justice, and philanthropy.” (Ch. X) Rather than the material offerings sacrificed at the time, St. Justin wanted to make an offering of his life by setting aside his own will and taking up God’s ways. Rather than imitating the pagan gods, he wanted to become deified by “living near to God in holiness and virtue.” (Ch. XXIII) While our settings may be different today, we can still practice the patience, love, and charity towards others that St. Justin encouraged. 3) Christian Community Throughout the Apology, St. Justin is not just preaching about individual Christians, but the whole Christian community. From the beginning, the necessity of community was always understood. It was through one another that they would receive the faith, be converted, and persevere in the faith. Rather than worship alone, the early Christians understood the need to come together. The faithful would gather to offer prayers for one another to be “found good citizens and keepers of the commandments.” (Ch LXV) They would celebrate the Eucharist in remembrance of Christ’s passion and for their own nourishment. They would collect money to be distributed for the needs among them. Rather than seeing this early form of the Mass as a Sunday obligation, it was the fitting response to their new life in Christ. We too can embrace this view of community as the place we offer God fitting worship and truly practice our faith. While today most of us are blessed to not fear extreme persecution or martyrdom, we do still have the freedom and responsibility to make the choice for God and the good daily. Through the intercession of St. Justin, may we be strengthened to boldly profess and live out our faith. **This image is from: https://www.wordonfire.org/articles/contributors/st-justin-martyr-on-the-eucharist-and-the-ancient-mass/ In St. Peter’s speech at Pentecost he proclaims, “But God raised him up, releasing him from the throes of death, because it was impossible for him to be held by it.” (Acts 2:24) The truth of St. Peter’s words is made manifest in the liturgical rhythm of the Church year. Just as our Lord could not be held by the grave, the celebration of Easter cannot be held to just one day. In her beauty, the Church does not stop at the Octave of Easter either, but offers the faithful an entire liturgical season—50 whole days—to glory in Jesus’ resurrection. As Pope St. John Paul II declared, “We are an Easter people.” But once the beautiful liturgies of the Octave are behind us, the Easter lilies are removed from the churches, and the carrot cake has all been eaten, how are we to be an Easter people?
One good place to begin is entering into the celebration of the liturgy. I have a distinct childhood memory of attending Easter Sunday Mass while my family was away on spring break. During the homily the priest invited everyone to exclaim ‘alleluia!’, and then do it again because we weren’t enthusiastic enough. As an unobservant and not-the-best catechised child, the purpose of this exercise was lost on me. But now, as a frequent daily Mass attendee I am much more aware of the forty long, alleluia-less days of Lent and more fully appreciate the significance of proclaiming alleluia together with renewed vigor on Easter and in the days that follow. During Lent many of us are motivated to make more time for Mass or prayer in our lives, which are beautiful practices to continue through the Easter season and beyond. Throughout the Masses of the Octave, the Victimae paschali laudes, an ancient chant, may be recited before the Gospel. Whether you attend Mass and hear the chant or simply take time to meditate on it each day, it is a beautiful tool for reflecting on the Paschal mystery in our lives and offering extra praise to the Lord: “The sheep are ransomed by the Lamb; / and Christ, the undefiled, / hath sinners to his Father reconciled.” Just as Lent is a time of remembering our mortality, Easter can be a time of remembering our Eternal life. Another liturgical tool to draw on is the Liturgy of the Hours, the communal prayer of the Church. In Morning Prayer throughout the Octave, we use the same psalms and canticle of Easter Sunday morning for all eight days. Particularly striking is the Canticle of Daniel (Daniel 3:57-88, 56), in which we pray that all things on Heaven and Earth bless the Lord: Let us bless the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Let us praise and exalt him above all forever. Blessed are you, Lord, in the firmament of heaven. Praiseworthy and glorious and exalted above all forever. Whether you are able to pray Morning Prayer, or any of the other hours, in community or humbly pray them alone, you are still raising your prayers with all the faithful throughout the Earth and elevating them through Jesus to the Father. Throughout the Easter season, the first readings at Mass are taken from the Acts of the Apostles. Practically this makes sense since Acts recounts the events following Jesus’ death and resurrection. But there is also a spiritual significance to reading from this book during the Easter season. Just like His first disciples, we aren’t meant to keep our alleluias and joy in the Lord’s resurrection and salvation confined to our churches or to ourselves, but to proclaim them to the world. It took a little encouragement for the apostles to do this, and so it may for us, but we too can say with St. Peter: “He commissioned us to preach to the people and testify that he is the one appointed by God as judge of the living and the dead. To him all the prophets bear witness, that everyone who believes in him will receive forgiveness of sins through his name.” (Acts 10:42-43) The Easter season is a grace-filled time to unite ourselves to this age-old mission of the Apostles and share the Good News of Jesus. The Catechism of the Catholic Church tells us that, “Beginning with the Easter Triduum as its source of light, the new age of the Resurrection fills the whole liturgical year with its brilliance.” (Paragraph 1168) At the Easter Vigil, the faithful are invited to renew their baptismal promises and remember the light of Christ that is within them. As we make our way through the Easter season, let us glorify Christ in the liturgy and let the brilliance of the Eternal Light shine forth from our churches and our hearts. In college I was lucky enough to spend a semester in Cork, Ireland. In my Irish folklore class, my professor, a charming little Irish woman, introduced us to ‘tír na nÓg.’ Fundamental to Irish folklore, she described tír na nÓg as a liminal space, the betwixt and between. It is the thin veil that separates the supernatural world of the fairies from our natural, human one. In these places, there was much less of a divide between the supernatural and natural worlds. While Ireland is well known for its Celtic spirituality and folklore, it also has a strong Catholic tradition. As Catholicism took root in the country, the ancient traditions and rituals were maintained and incorporated into the Christian spirituality. In her book, Braving the Thin Places, Irish Catholic author Julianne Stanz draws out this connection. Just as tír na nÓg is the place where the mystical is believed to be closer at hand, we also have these “threshold places” in our own spiritual lives. Instead of thinking about the supernatural in terms of fairies, we can consider the way that God descends into our world and the places where we have a deeper sense of His mystical presence and action. Our personal thin places are those where “God is felt and near” (Stanz, 2021, p. xvii). But as most people who have desired to develop a deeper relationship with God will know, it can take time to become attuned to this nearness and let Him break through. For some, this breaking through can be spurred by beauty. In seeing a striking rainbow over the Irish countryside or beholding a newborn child, we can have an overwhelming sense of God’s power and work in our midst. In other cases, this breaking through may be the result of a personal difficulty or interior struggle. As Christ himself revealed, “For human beings this is impossible, but for God all things are possible” (Matthew 19:26). It is when our own powers fail, whether in comprehending the immensity of God’s goodness or in overcoming the difficulties we encounter, that we approach the threshold where God, with His strength and love, awaits us. Throughout the Old Testament, God revealed his nearness to his people: “What other nation is so great as to have their gods near them the way the Lord our God is near us whenever we pray to him?” (Deuteronomy 4:7) God approached the threshold of our lives and invited us to draw near to Him in return. In the Incarnation of Jesus, this nearness is made even more real to us. If tír na nÓg is the veil that separates the supernatural from the natural, Jesus fully pulls back this curtain. By descending into our world, He made space for the divine within the human. We call this grace; divine life within us. Grace works in our threshold places and enables us to discern God’s work and act upon His promptings. In concluding her book, Stanz speaks of the mysticism we must have, “an abandonment to the adventure of living with ‘holy worldliness’ as we try to experience in the thin places the wild things of God” (p. 169). Far from recklessness, this abandonment is a surrender to God and a trust in the ways He is working in our lives. It is “the free response of the human person to the initiative of God who reveals himself” (Catechism of the Catholic Church § 166). If we know God is near and for us, how can we not cross this threshold and rely on Him? The beloved Irish saint, St. Patrick, in his famous lorica or breastplate prayer models this reliance on God and belief in God’s nearness and power to cross the threshold of his humanity: I arise today Through God's strength to pilot me; God's might to uphold me, God's wisdom to guide me, God's eye to look before me, God's ear to hear me, God's word to speak for me, God's hand to guard me, God's way to lie before me, God's shield to protect me, God's hosts to save me. May we all have the grace to enter into our threshold places and be open to the powerful work of God in each of our lives! Stanz, J. (2021). Braving the Thin Places. Loyola Press. **Photo from Erin Donn.** “Jesus, let there be more of you and less of me.” This is the short prayer I was once encouraged to pray as a penance by a wise, older priest. As we find ourselves at the start of Lent, these words once again come to mind, and I would like to offer them for your contemplation. The Church offers the season of Lent as an opportunity to prepare Her children well for Christ’s resurrection–both at the celebration of Easter (March 31 this year) and at His Second Coming. These preparations take the form of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving; the spiritual, penitential, and charitable practices we take up and the worldly things we put down. For forty days we walk into the desert, just as Jesus did, to humbly open ourselves to temptations and more fully offer our lives to the Lord. So what does that prayer–letting there be more of Jesus and less of me–have to do with Lent? Well…everything. In the first reading at Mass on Ash Wednesday, the prophet Joel extols us: “Rend your hearts, not your garments, and return to the LORD, your God” with your whole hearts (Joel 2:12). The Lord does not want to see what we can do of our own strength or will during this season; He wants us to see what He can do through us and the transformation He can work within us. Lent certainly calls for a degree of testing the limits of our comfort zones. More than this, it is an invitation to leave behind our will and consider the offerings and changes that will help us become more like Christ. As you reflect on your Lenten practices, consider asking yourself: “What can I offer to Jesus? How can I make more room for Him in my life? What can I let go of that will help me on this journey?” Approaching Lent in this way necessitates an act of surrender. It requires us to focus less on the material outcomes and more on the spiritual. This might mean to not give up ice cream like you do every Lent and instead, or additionally, prayerfully consider what areas of your life you have been keeping the Lord out of. St. John Henry Newman speaks to this in a sermon for the First Sunday of Lent: “...fasting is only one branch of a large and momentous duty, the subdual of ourselves to Christ. We must surrender to Him all we have, all we are. We must keep nothing back.” This, admittedly, is a challenging invitation, but remember that we are not doing Lent on our own. We are doing it with Jesus. This act of surrender necessitates reliance. And this reliance requires humility; an admission of our own weakness and powerlessness compared to Christ’s great strength. When you want to snooze your alarm and eschew the morning prayer time you’ve committed to, offer that to the Lord. When you are tempted to join in the office gossip, ask for Jesus’ strength. Ordinary as these offerings may be, that does not mean they are easy. If we have chosen to subdue ourselves for Christ’s sake, we can trust that He will provide the grace and strength we lack. As Catherine Doherty writes in Season of Mercy, “Mortification and penance are a passionate response of a man to a Passionate Lover who is God.” In humbly striving to more fully do the will of the Father, we naturally make more room for Jesus. As you surrender yourself to Him this Lent, also rely on Him. He wants us, and the attachments that bind us, to shrink away only so that His mercy and love can reign more completely. “Jesus, let there be more of you and less of me.” Today we celebrate the heavenly birthday of one of my dearest friends, St. Francis de Sales. It is often said that the saints choose you, and I have certainly found that to be the case with Francis. Since I first “met” him while reading a book about the saints, he has continued to captivate and encourage me.
Francis was born in France in 1567 to an aristocratic family. He was well educated, and while his father hoped this would lead Francis to a career in law, his studies ended up leading him to the priesthood. He was a sought-after spiritual director (perhaps his most well-known directee was St. Jane Frances de Chantal with whom he started the Visitation Sisters). Francis was also devoted to evangelization and catechesis through preaching and writing, and had a love of the poor which was manifested through works of charity and his own detachment from material things. He was canonized a saint in 1665 and named a Doctor of the Church in 1877. One of the things that makes a saint is that their life and teaching transcend time and remain relevant over the centuries. This is certainly true of St. Francis de Sales. While Vatican II affirmed the universal call to holiness in the 1960s, Francis ardently promoted this teaching three centuries prior. When St. Jane Frances de Chantal wanted to leave her duties as a mother for the “higher” calling of entering religious life, Francis encouraged her to have patience and fully embrace her current vocation as a mother. Rather than imagining that holiness is better achieved in religious life, he reminded her that faithfulness to the real life unfolding before her was the place for her to become holy. As he said to another directee in An Introduction to the Devout Life, “work in quiet cooperation with him, and then rest satisfied that if you have trusted entirely to him you will always obtain such a measure of success as is most profitable for you, whether it seems so or not to your own individual judgment.” When Francis was named a Doctor of the Church, it was under the title Doctor of Divine Love. Francis’ personal devotion to the Lord and life of ministry flowed from his own love for God and awareness of God’s love. When Francis’ devoted friend, Bishop Jean-Pierre Camus, questioned him about how to grow in love of God and neighbor, Francis replied simply, “You learn to speak by speaking, to study by studying, to run by running, to work by working. Just so you learn to love God and many by loving. If you really want to love God, go on and love Him more and more.” This simple approach to God is a hallmark of Francis’ spirituality. Without pretending that such growth in holiness would be quick or easy, he offered straightforward guidance that people in any vocation or stage of life could follow. While we may not be able to love God perfectly and completely today, we can certainly strive for that and lay our foundation today. Francis shows us that God’s love toward us and our love toward God are reciprocal, growing in relation to one another. One of my favorite quotes from St. Francis de Sales is, “Have patience with all things, but chiefly have patience with yourself.” Francis offers the guidance of a gentle, compassionate father. He knew firsthand the temptation towards despair at our lowliness before God, but he also knew personally that God offers us the grace we need in our pilgrimage towards Him. God knows each of us intimately–our strengths and our struggles–and looks into our hearts. Rather than being overwhelmed by our shortcomings, spiritual and otherwise, Francis encourages us to extend God’s own gentleness and patience to ourselves. As Francis says elsewhere, God “delights to show forth his power in our weakness, his mercy in our misery.” St. Francis de Sales, Doctor of Divine Love, pray for us! Further reading: Pope Francis. (2022). Totum Amoris Est: On the fourth centenary of the death of Saint Francis de Sales. Campbell, Colleen Carroll. (2020). The Heart of Perfection: How the Saints Taught Me to Trade My Dream of Perfect for God's. Howard Books. **This image is from https://www.catholic.org/saints/saint.php?saint_id=51**
On September 12th, the Church celebrates the feast of the Most Holy Name of Mary. Throughout the year we honor countless saints who have uniquely modeled for us the path to holiness. However, Jesus and Mary are the only two people for whom the Church sets aside a feast just for their name. Each personās name deeply and intimately reveals something about who they are. If this is true for myself, you, and each of the saints, it is all the more true for Jesus and His Blessed Mother.
Throughout the centuries, Mary has earned countless and various titles based on the places she has appeared and the different characteristics that define her. But before all of these, she was given her first title by the child Jesus: Mom. This wasnāt a title Mary could have given herself; rather it was bestowed on her. The Father chose Mary to conceive and bear Jesus, and it was in His birth that she became a mother. It was through the Incarnate Lord that Maryās motherhood was fulfilled and she became āMom.ā For all of the times you have called your own motherās name, Jesus called Mary āmother,ā too. He spoke her name in joy and in sorrow, in petition and in gratitude. He models for us how to live in relationship with His own blessed mother and how to speak her name. However, even with Jesus showing us the way to His mother, it can still be a challenge to have a relationship with Mary. How do we relate to her and live under her maternity? How do we speak to Mary, our spiritual mother? The Church models so many beautiful devotions in answer to this question. We can pray a morning offering through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, asking her to be with us throughout our day. We can pray the rosary, walking alongside her through Jesusā life. We can sing a Marian hymn with our nightly prayers, inviting her to watch over us in our rest. When we speak Maryās name and call out to her as our spiritual mom, we are fulfilling St. Francis de Sales' words to ārun to Mary, and, as her little children, cast ourselves into her arms with a perfect confidence.ā We can give ourselves to Mary, like Jesus did, and she will in turn bring us closer to God. In the repetition of these Marian prayers and hymns we spiritually speak our mother Maryās name and ask for her help from the depths of our hearts. Just like our earthly mothers cherish the little gifts we give and imperfect efforts we make, Mary graciously receives and multiplies everything we call out to her from our heart. Mary doesnāt need us to come to her with perfect devotion, but with an honest desire to grow closer to Jesus through her. Day after day, we can speak her most holy name and call on her assistance with the confidence that she will come to our aid. As we honor the Most Holy Name of Mary, we pray the Lord will enkindle in us a deeper trust and devotion to His mother. Let us speak Maryās name with love and devotion, trusting in the power of her intercession and mediation for us. Mama Mary, pray for us! **This image is from: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:William-Adolphe_Bouguereau_The_Virgin_With_Angels.jpg***
I have friends that host an annual Epiphany party where each guest is gifted a word for the year. The word I received this year was wonder. āWhat a great word to carry through the year,ā January-me thought. But, as we begin to make our way from summer to fall, Iāve all but forgotten about this word, let alone pondered it in prayer.
The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines wonder as ārapt attention or astonishment at something awesomely mysterious or new to one's experience.ā There is something about newness and mystery that captivates us. We meet a child that has just been born after staying hidden in the womb for nine months or watch a sunset over the mountains and are struck anew by the splendor of Godās creation. However, it isnāt every day that weāre meeting babies or hiking in the Shenandoah Mountains. When we get swept away in the activity of everyday life the opportunities for and objects of wonder can feel few and far between. I doubt many of us would describe the tasks that make up our daily lives as āawesomely mysterious,ā let alone ānew.ā Yet, wonder isnāt meant to be reserved just for special occasions. One of my favorite things about children is the sense of wonder that they naturally possess. Despite the ordinariness and repetition of their days, their lives are marked by wonder. As children go through the simple events that make up their days, they are able to see the awesome newness all around them: a colorful beetle in the garden, a new color made when mixing paints, sounding out a new word for the first time. It is true that as adults there may be fewer things for us to discover and learn; we've figured out how most things work and generally know what to expect from an event or situation. But, what if we still let ourselves be open to the wonder around us and approached situations with more curiosity? When we have conversations with friends, we can marvel at their goodness and how God is working in their lives. When we take the dog for a walk, we can leave our phone at home and soak in the sights and sounds around us. We can take time to cultivate a hobby or learn a new skill. These events might not be novel, but they can offer us an opportunity to slow down and see what newness God may be speaking into them. This sense of wonder can be cultivated in our spiritual lives, too. God wants us to wonder at Him, to be captivated by Him, to enter the mystery of His presence among us. The great mysteries of the Church arenāt matters to be solved or rationally understood; rather, they are truths meant to be pondered ever more deeply. What better disposition than one of wonder with which to enter into these mysteries? We can give our ārapt attentionā and āastonishmentā to Jesusā True Presence in the Eucharist or to contemplating the ways God has worked in the lives of people throughout scripture. Like children encountering the newness right in front of them, we can ask God to fill us with a spirit of wonder when we go to pray or experience the sacraments. In this way He can transform the parts of our spiritual lives that may just feel routine and ordinary into moving encounters of His perpetual newness. In the Gospel of Mark, we hear that Jesus “went up the mountain and summoned those whom he wanted and they came to him. He appointed twelve [whom he also named apostles] that they might be with him and he might send them forth to preach and to have authority to drive out demons.” (Mark 3:13-15) Among these twelve was the apostle Thomas, an apostle whom we often characterize by his doubt alone. However, if doubt is all there was to Thomas, I am fairly confident Jesus wouldn’t have chosen him as one of his closest friends and coworkers for the Kingdom. While the Gospels don’t reveal too much about Thomas, let’s reflect on the lessons he can teach us about how to be Jesus’ disciples.
First, Jesus desires to use our whole selves. As God, before ever having met him, Jesus knew all that Thomas had done and all that he would do. He already knew Thomas would question whether the other apostles really saw the resurrected Lord. We might wonder why Jesus would still choose Thomas in spite of this. But if we look at Jesus’ other apostles and those He chose to spend time with we see sinners, doubters, and deniers. We see fully human people that, though imperfect, always sought after and returned to God. Jesus didn’t call men and women who had it all together and never messed up; he called imperfect people who through their very imperfections glorified Him and revealed what the Kingdom of God is like. What imperfections or mistakes have you made that the Lord has been able to use for His glory and your sanctification? Second, discipleship requires boldness. Being a disciple requires boldness as we walk with and follow after the Lord. Sometimes this boldness looks like Thomas bravely encouraging the other disciples to follow the Lord into Jerusalem to “go to die with him.” (John 11:16) Thomas may not have fully understood what he was proposing, but in his proposal we see a real desire to go where the Lord goes and take up the Cross. I think we can see that same boldness in Thomas’ doubt, too. It takes a certain amount of courage to be honest with the Lord (and ourselves) about our doubts, struggles, and imperfections. However, it is only when we present ourselves fully and imperfectly to Him that He can speak into those places and guide us. Where might the Lord be inviting you to boldness in your witness or your prayer? Third, discipleship grows from our encounters with the Lord. Everyday Jesus gives us opportunities to encounter Him personally: when we receive the Eucharist, when we spend time with Him in prayer, when we experience His presence in the midst of our day. Thomas encountered Him as they broke bread, prayed, and ministered together. Thomas got to know the Lord by remaining close to Him and spending time with Him. It was this closeness and intimacy with Jesus that fueled Thomas’ ministry. If we want to have the zeal and courage to spread the Gospel, then we too must remain close to Jesus and receive His grace. How have you encountered the Lord in your life recently? How has that equipped you to go forth as a disciple? We might first think of Thomas and his doubt, but there is much more to this apostle of the Lord. As we celebrate his feast and the fruitfulness of his mission, we can ask for his intercession to offer ourselves fully and entirely to the Lord, to be granted boldness in our spiritual lives, and to more deeply encounter the Lord so as to more deeply share Him with others. St. Thomas the Apostle, pray for us! |
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