Last week, I had the honor of attending the funeral of a young man I never had the privilege of meeting. Dominik Liam Pettey, a senior at Gonzaga College High School in Washington, D.C., died tragically and suddenly in the early morning of November 1, All Saints Day (click here to read a Washington Post article about the accident). During his funeral liturgy, held at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception and attended by over 3,500 people, Dominik was described as a faith-filled young man who was joyfully committed to his family and friends. We were told that he loved to play hockey, endured suffering with humility and patience during health issues last year, and gave of himself selflessly.
As an alumnus of a Jesuit high school and the brother of hockey players, I felt compelled to attend the funeral liturgy of a young man whose story hit very close to home. I could not help but shed several tears as the funeral progressed. As those in attendance held each other close, both physically and in prayer, I could sense their immense sadness at the loss of a child, a brother, a friend, a classmate, a teammate, a student, a beloved and devoted follower of Jesus Christ. During the month of November, we remember the souls of all the faithful departed. As we pray for the deceased, we remember that for the Lord’s faithful people, life is changed, not ended. Those who have died in Christ have entered an eternal life that is fuller and more glorious than anything we have ever experienced on earth. We who are left behind feel the emptiness of their going from us, but for them there is no more sadness or suffering or pain. If we live in the light of hope, the sadness of parting will be followed, at the end of our own lives, by a reunion in which God will “wipe away every tear from our eyes” (Revelation 21:4). We who remain will be brought together with all those who have died and see the Lord face to face. Together in heaven, we shall always be with the Lord. In a particular way, during this month dedicated to praying for the faithful departed, I have been praying for Dominik, that he may be remembered among those who have been raised by God to the fullness of life. Please pray for Dominik, and continue to pray for all the faithful departed. May Jesus Christ, who is goodness and mercy, intercede for all those who mourn the loss of Dominik, and may the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Into your hands, Father of mercies, we commend our brother Dominik in the sure and certain hope that, together with all who have died in Christ, he will rise with him on the last day. We give you thanks for the blessings which you have bestowed upon Dominik in this life: they are signs to us of your goodness and of our fellowship with the saints in Christ. Merciful Lord, turn toward us and listen to our prayers: open the gates of paradise to your servant and help us who remain to comfort one another with assurances of faith, until we all meet in Christ and are with you and our brother for ever. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen. -Prayer of Commendation, Order of Christian Funerals Alex R. Boucher is Program Consultant for the Catholic Apostolate Center and a seminarian studying for the Diocese of Portland, Maine. Follow Alex on Twitter at @AlexBoucher.
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Recently, I joined a Catholic group for young adults in my parish. Once a month we have a group dinner and host a guest speaker to talk informally about certain topics in our Catholic faith. One of the speakers discussed the importance of community prayer, a topic that stuck with me so much so that I wanted to share the message.
First, prayer is essential for our spiritual growth and personal well-being. God does not intend for us to bear our crosses alone. In Matthew 11:28-30 Jesus said, “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.” Being a part of a faith community serves as a support system for us. We rarely like to be alone. Don’t we all crave sharing meals with friends and family? In fact, Jesus shares the source and summit of our faith with us over a community meal. Community strengthens and unites us in our faith. Our community even prays for our intentions at Mass. Therefore, community prayer is another way for us to become closer to God through others. The communion of saints and angels are also a part of our community. Saints and angels can pray on our behalf, with us and for us. The Catechism of the Catholic Church states, “[the saints’]intercession is their most exalted service to God’s plan. We can and should ask them to intercede for us and for the whole world.” We are never alone in our prayers. Instead of trying to figure out how to pray for the intercession from every saint, our speaker suggested picking a few we feel really close to and sense a calling toward to ask for prayers on our behalf. Family prayer is the first place of our prayer education, also mentioned in the Catechism. Prayers over meals, memorizing prayers of the rosary, praying for a good grade on a test, and the list goes on. Our introduction to faith and prayer begins in the community of our home. This is why it is so important to make family prayer a priority. St. Augustine says, “For he who sings praise, does not only praise, but also praises joyfully; he who sings praise, not only sings, but also loves Him who he is singing about/to/for. There is a praise-filled public proclamation in the praise of someone who is confessing/acknowledging (God), in the song of the lover (there is) love.” The Mass, the Liturgy, is the ultimate community prayer. This is one reason why attending Mass is vital to our faith. Liturgical prayer is a public prayer following prescribed ritual intended to unite individuals with God through Christ. We are renewed each week in community prayer by attending and participating in the Mass. As always, it is necessary to have individual structured prayer time every day. This is something I struggle with and have to continually be reminded of myself. To remember the time to share with God, setting a routine of prayer and remaining disciplined in that routine can help. One of the sisters who taught at the Catholic high school I attended said for us to hide our shoes under our beds so in the morning we kneel to get them and remember to pray! Take some time today to remember to pray, and to look at the different prayer communities in your life! Dana Edwards is a recent graduate of the University of Florida. She currently resides in Tallahassee, Florida where she volunteers as a lector and with communication outreach at her local parish, Good Shepherd Catholic Church. “Fall in Love, stay in love,
and it will decide everything.” (attributed to Fr. Pedro Arrupe, SJ) In college, discernment was easy. “Discernment” meant prayer and discussing possible vocations with friends and spiritual guides. The experiences cemented friendships and built spiritual foundations that will hold me throughout life. However, I found that discernment is truly practiced when we make a decision and carry it out. At the end of my undergraduate career, the time came to make important decisions about what to do after graduation. At the moment of making a big decision, I looked back at the small decisions made in the past few years. How did I choose groups of friends, extracurricular activities, or even classes? To my mind came the prayer quoted at the beginning of the post. To quote it in full: “Nothing is more practical than finding God, than falling in Love in a quite absolute, final way. What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination, will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning, what you do with your evenings, how you spend your weekends, what you read, whom you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in Love, stay in love, and it will decide everything.” This time, my discernment led me to conclude three things with which I have come to love in a quite absolute, final way: God, service, and math. My schedule consistently prioritized these three, and throughout my senior year, I saw that God opened doors for me. I had options, but this also meant I had to make a decision. Through the Alliance for Catholic Education (ACE) program at the University of Notre Dame, I made my way to sunny Jacksonville, Florida where I am teaching high school mathematics. Denial in discernment was comfortable because it allows us to remove the panging doubts that come with making decisions: How will I know if I made the right one? One message that is clear from the Gospels is that God is always with us, and He will let us know when we are on the right track. Jesus says, “It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit that will remain,” (Jn 15:12). My first confirmation that God chose ACE for me was the moment I found out I was accepted. As I read through the email, joy and excitement came bursting out in a series of shouts, hollers, and jumps. Looking back, that extreme emotion did not have its source in me or an email but solely in God. Other signs came, but from that moment of acceptance I had confirmation that I was putting my feet on the correct path. Now, with a year of teaching under my belt, I can list the further confirmations that this is God’s plan for me. As I read through the prayer above, I think of how teaching mathematics in a Catholic school has seized my life. I get out of bed to meet with the student who needs to review before a test, and I choose to spend many evenings and weekends excitedly planning my lessons or meeting the grim realities in grading. My free time is consumed by reading over teaching blogs or swapping lesson plans with colleagues. Now what breaks my heart is the student who has barely passed his previous math courses and continues to flounder in mine despite his best efforts. Now I am amazed in gratitude when a student is able to lead the class in prayer. Though I still have a year of teaching left with ACE, I know the time for more decisions will be here soon. This realization has led me to more fully understand another essential nature of discernment: it never ends. Fortunately, we can take part in continual discernment because we have a God who continually acts. What is He making me notice today? What seized my attention this week? Where have I felt moments of great joy this year? “Fall in Love, stay in Love, and it will decide everything.” Tim McEvoy is a teacher through the Alliance for Catholic Education in Jacksonville, FL. A few nights ago, I had the great joy of attending my final university-wide Mass as an undergrad at The Catholic University of America. The Church was packed for this 9pm liturgy, and it ended with a final blessing of the graduates. Amidst my tears as I looked out to the full chapel, I was overcome with gratitude for the ways that God has worked in my life the last four years. Above all, I was overwhelmed with the reminder that God is bigger.
Life isn’t always easy, that’s for sure. And I’ve definitely had my fair share of difficulties these past four years. College is one big learning curve – classes, friendships, discernment about the future, and wondering how much caffeine your body can really hold. I have learned so much about myself and my relationships with others, but more importantly I have joyfully resigned myself to the fact that no matter the difficulties, God is bigger than anything that we face. God is bigger than the 3 a.m. writer’s block, bigger than the failed friendship, and certainly bigger than our own human weaknesses. We are steeped in a world that tries to tell us that we can do it on our own—that we don’t need each other and that we definitely don’t need God. The reality is this—none of my successes or failures over these last four years have been done on my own, and nothing I hope to accomplish in the future will be on my own. I have been blessed with an incredible community of family, friends, teachers, and spiritual mentors who have encouraged and supported me in ways that I don’t deserve. But most importantly, I have been graced with the knowledge that we serve a God who is bigger than all of it. It is all too easy to get caught up with day-to-day minutiae, to become so concerned with what is happening in our own lives that we forget to take a step back and remember that we aren’t the ones who are really in control. I know in my own life I often focus on the difficulties in the world around me and in the lives of those that I love instead of remembering that the promise of the Incarnation is that God chooses to never leave us. He is bigger than our relationship problems, bigger than our sin, bigger than life’s difficulties, bigger than the sad stories that we hear on the news, and bigger than anything we have planned. Most days I’m overwhelmed with this knowledge, and overwhelmed with gratitude that the promise He made to His disciples 2000 years ago to “remain with us always, even until the end of the age” still rings true for us today. God is bigger, and He is a mighty God indeed. Lauren Scharmer is a senior at the Catholic University of America studying Social Work & Theology and is active in both retreat and youth ministry in both the Archdiocese of Washington, D.C. and Diocese of Arlington. Lent is a time of reflecting on how to better ourselves in our relationships with our friends, our family, and our God, as well as a time to reach out to those less fortunate than us and show them the love of Christ. Most people probably do not think of this Lenten journey as a time of joy, but I do, for not only does Lent allow us to refocus ourselves on Christ, but it also calls us to share in the suffering of Christ.
During Lent we hear how Christ’s ministry unfolded and how people came to see him as the Son of God, our Savior and Redeemer. Christ’s journey was not easy. He endured pain and suffering for our sins in order that we might be reborn to new life through the sacrifice of his body and blood. St. Francis of Assisi wrote in “True and Perfect Joy” that the sick could be healed and the whole world could be evangelized, yet true joy comes in a mutual suffering with Christ on the cross. But how can suffering be joyful? Here on earth, in this life, the greatest and most intimate experience with Christ comes from our participation in the Eucharist. However, by also sharing in Christ’s suffering our relationship with him grows even more intimately. Indeed, taking part in Christ’s suffering allows us to more deeply share in the mystical Body of Christ. St. Paul wrote in Colossians 1:24, “Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ on behalf of his body, which is the church.” During Lent each of us is called to share in Christ’s suffering in a unique way, whether that be sacrificing our usual daily donut, praying a rosary each day, or taking time to serve meals to the less fortunate. We need to recognize that in these sacrifices we share in some small way in Christ’s suffering, and thus are brought infinitely closer to him. How can this not bring us joy? Since Pope Francis recently released Evangelii Gaudium, “The Joy of the Gospel,” it seems prudent to also reflect on how we are called to live out his concept of joy this Lent. In the introduction of this exhortation, Pope Francis talks about rejoicing in the cross, “The Gospel, radiant with the glory of Christ’s cross, constantly invites us to rejoice” (Evangelii Gaudium, 5). The joy of which Pope Francis speaks, joy coming from the Gospel, is a joy that radiates from our love for Christ and our willingness to serve Him and others. It is through our ability and desire to follow the Lord’s commandments and our attempt to imitate Christ’s relationship with the Father that we are able to share in this joy. There could not be a better message this Lent as we try to refocus our faith and to better ourselves before our Lord! I have challenged myself this Lent to live out these two conceptions of joy each day: sharing in Christ’s suffering and my continued desire to serve Him. It is through each of these that we not only build up our own faith and discipline, but also have the ability to share it with others. We can bring Christ’s joy and peace to His people here on earth. Through this participation in Christ’s mission, we get a small glimpse of Christ’s infinite love for us. Pope Francis says it best as he reminds us of what joy should look like in our lives, “Joy adapts and changes, but it always endures, even as a flicker of light born of our personal certainty that, when everything is said and done, we are infinitely loved” (Evangelii Gaudium, 6). Nicholas Shields is a senior and the Grand Knight of the Knights of Columbus at The Catholic University of America We have all had those moments – those moments where we feel stuck, whether it be not being able to beat a certain Candy Crush level (guilty!) or feeling like a certain situation we are in has brought us far from God. It is in these moments that we often plea for some sort of guidance and feel a wave of relief when whatever it is is resolved. The clarity that we receive is something being revealed to us – a type of epiphany.
It is common to hear the word “epiphany” thrown around – it can be used to describe anything from someone declaring that they have some great insight about their future to something as simple as discovering a quicker route home. As with anything, the word can lose its meaning when constantly used in such a variety of circumstances. In any instance, we use the word to acknowledge that we have received some sort of newfound clarity. In the case of The Epiphany, which the Church celebrates on January 6th, the three Magi received a sign that they were to go and worship the newborn Jesus. In that moment, God revealed Himself to the Magi in a very real way and they were never the same. This event that transpired some 2000 years ago means one very important thing for us: God is continually revealing Himself to us. The reality of Epiphany gives us the privilege of seeking God, just as the Magi sought (and found!) Him so many years ago. Although most of us will never receive a bright star in the sky, we all have a Savior who not only came to us as a baby, but from the beginning of His life chose to reveal Himself to all who choose to seek Him. For us, this means having the courage to seek God in these everyday epiphanies. The reality of the Gospel is that God is constantly revealing Himself to us – in our relationship with our friends & family, our work, and the world around us. We are called to do what the Magi did – to take in our experiences, look up and see how God could be using it to change our hearts. Part of the beauty in the story of the Magi is that they were forever changed because they chose to not only follow the path that had been set out for them, but they were willing to let the presence of God change them. This us something that we can learn from – no matter what state we are in life, the promptings we receive from God will always be clearer when brought to God in prayer. Everyday epiphanies are meant to remind us that God is working in a real way not only in our lives, but in our world. And just as the Magi travelled in a pack of three, we will find these everyday epiphanies with the companionship of others. God uses whatever He can to show us His will for our life, and this great feast of the Church is proof that the Christian life is often clearer when walked with other people. The challenge for us is to go forward as the Magi did – not following a star, but choosing to seek and find God in every part of our lives. By actively searching out these everyday epiphanies, we will receive that clarity we so desire, as well as accomplishing one of the most important tasks of the Christian life: putting ourselves in the presence of God. Lauren Scharmer is a senior at The Catholic University of America and is active in retreat and youth ministry in both the Archdiocese of Washington and the Diocese of Arlington. Year after year, Fr. Francis Nelligan, the longtime pastor of St. Mary’s Church in Houlton, Maine, would give the same homily on New Year’s Day. For over 20 years, Fr. Nelligan would tell his parishioners to cherish the upcoming year, because it could be their last year on earth. He told them to treasure each and every day, because it could be their last.
“Each day is a gift from God,” Fr. Nelligan would say, “so it needs to be cherished and savored. The heartaches of the past year may weigh us down, but the joys of the next help us to persevere with the grace of God.” Fr. Nelligan would tell his parishioners that they should ready themselves through the sacrament of confession and prepare to meet the Lord, should their day to meet the Lord face-to-face come in the upcoming year. “Each day is a gift from God.” His parishioners could almost repeat this homily verbatim. After preaching his customary homily at his usual schedule of Masses on New Year’s Day in 1971, Fr. Nelligan passed away suddenly from a massive heart attack. Without a doubt, Fr. Nelligan was prepared for death. The words Fr. Nelligan spoke for decades to his community of faith certainly apply to us as well. With 2014 now upon us, the world celebrates the past year and the new beginnings that a new year has to offer us. Years are marked by the birth of a child, the death of a loved one, a fun-filled family vacation, the loss of a job. These “hallmarks” of the year help to define the span of time between January and December. With the ebb and flow of daily living, it can be quite easy to not also reflect on progress in relationships with friends and loved ones or in the spiritual life. Where were we a year ago? Six months ago? Last month? Yesterday? May the year ahead be filled with deepened relationships with those we love, and may the peace and joy of the Christmas season energize us in our resolve to grow closer to Christ. Alex R. Boucher is the Program & Operations Manager for the Catholic Apostolate Center. Follow Alex on Twitter at @AlexBoucher. Thank You, Lord, for Socks
Before Thanksgiving meals at my grandparents' house in Cincinnati, we participated in a special Thanksgiving grace. This prayer was based around the invitation to have everyone "go around the table and say something you’re thankful for.” In this situation and others like it, I became stressed out by the pressure to come up with “something good” – i.e. some prayer that makes me seem adequately grateful to God in the ears of those I pray with. Therefore, I try to avoid being the first person to offer to the room the reason for which I'm grateful. I need time enough to think of something esoteric; something that justifies to my family or friends the amount of time I have spent in post-secondary theological studies; something that gives evidence of a decent prayer life; some prayer that shows that I have recognized God's work in a place where not many may have recognized it. As long as I'm given enough time before the table gets around to me, I might show my "advanced spiritual depth" by deciding to give thanks to God for something like "the ability even to give You gratitude, which is sourced in You." Of course, the pressure to give thanks for a "smart" reason is entirely self-imposed, and fairly egotistical. G.K. Chesterton, an author noted for his joy and sense about the world God gave us, offers us this practice to chew on: “You say grace before meals. All right. But I say grace before the concert and the opera, and grace before the play and pantomime, and grace before I open a book, and grace before sketching, painting, swimming, fencing, boxing, walking, playing, dancing and grace before I dip the pen in the ink.” There's no word on how complex Chesterton's "grace" is, and I imagine it's simple enough that spoken words may not always be necessary... a breath of gratitude. Children are more likely to practice this sort of gratitude than adults, which is probably one reason why Christ says we should be more like them. It's the "silly" things, the gifts spoken by the smallest children in these table prayers, which are endearing and ultimately demonstrate the right conception of gratitude - a child saying "Thank you, God, that I get to wear my favorite socks today." I could have legitimately said "thank you" in this prayer for anything that popped into my head. My socks are also gifts from God, and I may rejoice in them. Sure, it is good to take the time to step back and reflect on what areas of God's gifts we may have recently missed in our lives. It is not a bad thing to realize that even our ability to give thanks to God comes from the free will he has bestowed upon us. However, remembering to give glory to God for whatever we happen to be doing at this moment is an even better spiritual habit. Do me a favor and read Psalm 136 today, which ends, "Give thanks to the God of heaven, for his steadfast love endures for ever." Happy Thanksgiving. Laura Berlage serves as Director of Religious Education for Incarnate Word Parish in the Archdiocese of St. Louis. “Remain in me, as I remain in you. Just as a branch cannot bear fruit on its own unless it remains on the vine, so neither can you unless you remain in me…As the Father loves me, so I also love you. Remain in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and remain in his love. “I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and your joy may be complete. This is my commandment: love one another as I love you.”
-John 15:4, 9-12 I spent all morning getting ready for the ceremony, which didn’t start until three in the afternoon. My hair was swept into an up-do and my makeup was carefully applied. Once I arrived at the church, I stepped into my dress and my dear friend zipped up the back as a photographer snapped pictures. I walked down the aisle carrying a beautiful bouquet. And then, I proudly stood beside my dear friend as she married the love of her life. This June marked the official start of “wedding season” for my friends and me. As an engaged woman myself, I have seen first hand how the wedding industry can sweep a girl (or guy!) off her feet and give her a false sense of what is really important on her wedding day. Just recently, however, I got a glimpse of what a wedding is truly meant to be about: it is about a community of disciples coming together to support and celebrate two of their own as they commit publicly and permanently to living the greatest—and toughest—commandment God has given us. In his farewell discourse as recorded in the Gospel of John, Jesus gives his disciples the last, and the most important, instruction of his earthly ministry: “love one another as I love you.” For Jesus, this love took the form of the incarnation, the passion, and the resurrection. And he asks us, his lowly disciples, to love in the same way? It seems like a nearly impossible task. Jesus recognizes the enormity of what he asks us to do when he says, “Just as a branch cannot bear fruit on its own unless it remains on the vine, so neither can you unless you remain in me.” In other words, we must stay connected to the very source of love—God—in order for us to be able to live out the command to love as God loves. Because Jesus understands that we, as fallen humans, need help in this regard, he sent the Holy Spirit among the disciples and established the sacraments for us, so that we can always have access to the grace that transforms our efforts to love each other into something truly divine. This was evident at the wedding I witnessed this June. My dear friend and her new husband have rooted their relationship in God, which has made their love for each other pure and strong. Both husband and wife were positively glowing throughout the entire day. My dear friend never looked more beautiful, and I’m certain it wasn’t just her gorgeous dress or fabulous hairstyle. There was something inside of her that she simply couldn’t contain: joy. And that joy was contagious. Because they “remained in God’s love,” the marriage of my dear friend and her husband inspired joy in the community that surrounded them that day. As I stood beside my friend as her maid of honor, it felt like my heart was pumping happiness through my veins rather than blood. I’m certain that you will see me smiling from ear to ear in the background of many of her wedding pictures. Seeing someone I love so happy made me happy in return, and gave me twice as many reasons to praise God that day. Moreover, seeing someone I admire receive the grace that she will need to live out her vocation to marriage has made me all the more confident that my fiancé and myself will be able to answer the same call courageously on our own wedding day. Because we are fed by the Holy Spirit in the sacraments, remaining in the community of disciples in the Church will not only keep us connected to the very source of love, but also will multiply our joy so that “it may be complete.” There is a reason why we gather to celebrate when two people who have decided to commit themselves to loving each other as God loves us, and it’s not only because a great party often follows that commitment. When two or three are gathered in his name, God is present and grace and joy abound. Who wouldn’t want to be a part of that? Catherine Wisniewski will begin working as a religion teacher and campus minister at Notre Dame Preparatory School in Towson, Maryland this fall. There are many places in life where we find joy. Often times, I find joy in my family – going home for holidays and being with the people that I love the most. I find joy in my friends – a second family that arguably knows me best. I find joy in my work – encouraging others to support an institution that means so much to not only me, but also to the Church in the United States.
When I think of my Catholic faith, I can only think of joy. This was especially evident during the recent election of a new Pope when I saw the entire world rest its eyes on our Church. It gave me great joy to answer people’s questions about my faith, help them to learn more about what it means to be Catholic, and strengthen my own faith. Joy in our faith can be found in a variety of different contexts. The one place where I find the most obvious joy, however, is within the hymns and songs of praise that are sung so beautifully in churches throughout the world. Over this past Triduum and Easter Sunday I heard magnificent music that brought people to tears.. One thing which astounds me every time I attend Mass is that it doesn’t matter if you can sing or not – liturgical music is meant to be sung by anyone. The entire congregation is meant to join in and sing their praise to God. You can see visually the people around you either belting their notes or perhaps listening intently to those around them. Whichever way one chooses to participate, there is no doubt that you can find Joy within the music both sung and played. One of the things I like to do immediately upon entering a pew is to figure out what hymns are going to be sung as the processional and recessional. If I don’t know the hymns, I try to hum the notes to myself in an effort to learn before the music starts. When the organist starts playing, I am transported – if only for a few brief moments – to a place of Joy. The people singing around me are all focused on one thing: praising God, saying thank you for giving us this day, and joining together to start off their week on the right foot. As I was writing this post, I stopped to go to Mass in downtown Washington, DC. Again, the music chosen immediately brought me into the moment. Each liturgical season brings with it an amazing group of hymns. Everyone I’ve spoken to have their favorites, especially at Christmastime. As for me, I’m a sucker for Easter hymns. Whatever the case may be, liturgical music has a way of bringing us closer to God in so many ways. Next time you’re at Mass, take it in – notice that everyone around you is all focused on the same thing: praising God and thanking him for giving us this day. What’s my favorite hymn? Too many to choose from, but I’ll leave you with this beautiful piece of music that I think anyone can appreciate – especially when you least expect it. Chris Pierno is the Associate for Media and Marketing for the Catholic Apostolate Center. 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. Katherine Biegner recently graduated from Assumption College and is currently serving as a tutor and mentor in the Christian Appalachian Project in rural Kentucky. Without a doubt, the Gospel of John is my favorite book in the Bible. I love the mixture of philosophy and poetry in Jesus’ monologues. It is beautiful how it captures the whole of Salvation History. And it seems that it has quite possibly some of most quotable and recognizable verses in all of Scripture such as Jn. 3:16. Yet the simplest reason is that it contains the profound dialogue that Jesus and St. Peter have post-Resurrection in the 21st chapter.
The scene is simple: Jesus and Peter are sharing a meal on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. Jesus asks a seemingly simple question especially for a man who is supposed to be the “rock” (Mt. 16:18) of the Church- “Do you love me?” Peter affirms his love for Jesus and then Jesus proclaims, “feed my sheep”. This sequence happens two more times, which shows Jesus’ mercy and sense of humor. As you probably know, Peter denied Jesus three times rather than stand up for his faith and Savior. This is Jesus allowing Peter to make up for his threefold denial with a threefold affirmation. Unfortunately, the English translation does not fully capture the drama of this story and thus, we must look to the original Greek. The Greeks had three words for our word, “Love”: Philia (Friendship), Eros (Sexual Love), and Agape (Selfless, Gift-Love). In the context of this story, Jesus asks Peter, “Do you Agape me?” In his shame, Peter can only respond, “I Philia you” or “I am your friend.” While Jesus loves Peter with his whole heart, Peter is a wounded human. On the third try, Jesus meets Peter at his level and asks if they are friends. To this, Peter can agree. From November 5 to 17, 2012, I had the tremendous opportunity to be part of a pilgrimage to the Middle East. What made the trip special was that I got to spend the time with my mom, who has been a great role model and exemplar of sacrifice and faith. And while seeing the Pyramids in Egypt and Petra in Jordan were great, the part that I was most excited for was the Holy Land. One of the places that we went to was the Church of the Primacy of St. Peter, where it is said that Jesus and St. Peter had this final conversation as told in Jn. 21. Like many of the other churches that we went to in Israel, I automatically felt the sacred presence of the Spirit. I went into the Church first to say a prayer and then walked along the shore of the Sea. I was so utterly moved to be standing on the ground and touching the water where Jesus and Peter shared this intimate moment. I was speechless to be present there and just gave thanks for this blessing. The words that I kept praying were the words of Jesus’ command to Peter: Feed my sheep. All my life, I viewed my Catholic faith as an opportunity to be a role model for others. I participated in parish ministry through the Echo Program and taught high school Religion for two years. Now, I am taking a year off to discern my next step in my life journey and where exactly God is calling me to serve his people, to “feed [his] sheep”. Wherever I end up, I will be grateful and remember the incredible time that I spent on the shore of Galilee. The place that Jesus asked Peter a simple question for all of humanity, “Do you love me?” Tae Kang has his MA in Theology from The University of Notre Dame through the Echo Faith Formation Program and has worked both as a Lay Ecclesial Minister in a Parish and as a High School Religion Teacher. As a young adult active in the life of my parish and diocese, I am often asked why I “do what I do.” The even better question I am frequently (but usually jokingly) asked is, “What is wrong with you?!” These questions are typically posed by the “church ladies” that will often comment on my bright red hair and then go on to lament the fact that their children or grandchildren do not attend Mass on Sundays.
I find these conversations to be great times for evangelization, and I try to respond with a question of my own: “When was the last time you asked them to come with you?” A blank face usually stares back at me. As Catholics, inviting someone to go to Mass with them is often a foreign concept. For many of us (myself included), faith is a very personal thing, and the thought of wearing it on our sleeves is not necessarily the most comfortable. Perhaps the Season of Advent that we will begin on Sunday is the perfect opportunity to invite a friend, family member, or neighbor back to the practice of their faith. As we wrestle between the Season of Advent and the secular Christmas season, it might be helpful to view our lives as Christians as a perpetual Advent, as a constant rebirth. The Advent that we seek is something new, something filled with the grace of rejuvenation through the working of the Holy Spirit. The mission of baptized Christians is to believe, practice, and teach the truths of the faith. Responding to this call in a responsible and proactive way is often the problematic or challenging part to living out the task of evangelization. The picture of faith that we often paint for ourselves is frequently an illusion of what we desire out of our own human weakness. If faith lacks substance, Pope Benedict XVI has said that our individual faith “will not be big enough to cope with reality.” If we believe that a sign will fall from the heavens with the answers to our questions of faith, then we are missing the signs that God provides for us each and every day. In its authenticity, true faith should be given out of love for God and with the confidence that God does not need our praise and thanksgiving. Although we trust in a God that we cannot see, we believe in the Advent of a renewing and fulfilling redeemer whose Church should be compelled to evangelize and spread the message of salvation. My challenge to you as we begin this Season of Advent is this: Invite someone to go to Mass with you. Smile. Listen to some Christmas music. Put some pocket change in the bell ringer’s bucket for charity. “Prepare the way of the Lord” (Mk 1:3) and “be vigilant at all times” (Lk 21:36). A blessed Advent to you and yours! Grant your faithful, we pray, almighty God, the resolve to run forth to meet your Christ with righteous deeds at his coming, so that, gathered at his right hand, they may be worthy to possess the heavenly Kingdom. Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. -Collect, First Sunday of Advent Alex R. Boucher is the Program & Operations Coordinator for the Catholic Apostolate Center. Follow Alex on Twitter at @AlexBoucher. On Sunday, November 4, I couldn’t help but smile as I opened my hymnal for the opening procession. “Here in this place new light is streaming, now is the darkness vanished away.” The lyrics came so easily from my heart, words that I had sung as a little girl in the pew and now as a young woman working as a catechist for a parish community. From my first days settling into the rhythm of work in a parish office and transitioning from life as a student, I’ve made some new and unexpected friendships that have reflected this new light.
These unexpected friendships are those of the saints. Peter Kreeft writes, “A saint is a little Christ. Not only do we see Christ through His saints, as we see a light through a stained glass window, but we also understand the saints only through Christ...” At this stage in life, a state of transition, I have yearned for Christ in a new way. How do you become who you are in faith and Christ? That burning question has led me to the lives of extraordinary people who acknowledged their own light and sinfulness and transformed it in the light of Christ. I’ve grown to know Christ better through the face of Blessed Teresa of Calcutta, Therese of Lisieux, and Bernard of Clairvaux. I see him in Francis of Assisi, Francis de Sales and Elizabeth Ann Seton. These are only a handful of people who reflect what we call a communion of saints. The Catechism states, “We believe in the communion of all the faithful of Christ, those who are pilgrims on earth, the dead who are being purified, and the blessed in heaven, all together forming one Church” (CCC 962). The saints come together in union as the Body of Christ, each bringing their own sinfulness, challenges, joys and earthly life to the table. How amazing it is to know that there is a whole family in heaven feasting and praying for us on our own journeys! Their personalities and similarities to our own experiences remind us that we too are unique lights, finding our true selves in Christ. “For me to be a saint means to be myself,” writes Thomas Merton. And the message is echoed again in the song, “Gather us in...and we shall arise at the sound of our name.” Communion and sainthood begins with listening to Christ say our name and becoming more who we are meant to be in Him. Pope Benedict noted in his address on this past All Saints Day, “…being united to Christ in the Church does not negate one’s personality, but opens it, transforms it with the power of love and confers on it, already here on earth, an eternal dimension.” Saints are intimately bound to both heaven and earth, in their love and actions. I had to remember in my own transition how the journey of holiness is one set a part. None of these people were sinless, they struggled just like me, but the way that they rooted themselves in faith made all the difference. They lived a dynamic life, a faithful life with intensity as Pope Benedict remarked. The saints gathered, lived as “little Christs,” and beacons of light, because they knew of their final dwelling place in heaven. Live in the moment, because life is a constant transition. Trust that God carries you through that moment, and submit to his will in faith. Be fully alive, be fully yourself. We ask God to gather us in communion and holiness with these messages, remembering our friends, the saints. Sophie Jacobucci serves as an Echo Apprentice in the Diocese of Manchester, New Hampshire. This past weekend, I had an opportunity to lead a day retreat for liturgical ministers at a local parish. It was a wonderful time of discussion, reflection and most importantly prayer. At one point amid our large group discussion I asked the question (much like Brett Garland in a recent post), “why are we Catholic in today’s society?” It was an unscripted, off-the-cuff question, but one that I thought would shed light on the importance of evangelization among the lay faithful. The answers were varied, but one stuck out in particular: an older woman said, “Because my parents were Catholic and raised me this way.” I challenged her to explain the answer by asking if her parents were the only reason she remained Catholic. Her answer was short and to the point: “No, my children are.”
The responses that this woman gave are two of the most basic, yet important teachings of our Catholic faith: “no one comes to faith alone” (CCC 166) and “we can’t give what we don’t have” (CCC 425). Throughout the history of the Church, we have seen time and again, that people bring others into relationship with God. Very rare are the days of the burning bush, but not so rare are the days of ordinary people leading others to the extraordinary truth that God exists. In my own life, I can credit my parents, campus ministers, members of my community, friends and now, my students, for helping me to discover God working in and throughout my life. It is with their witness (good and bad), their encouragement and their prayers that I have come to live my faith. What is even more telling, however, is that the faith we have is not ours to hoard. Our faith - that is our belief in a perfect, triune God who loves us unconditionally and is made present to us in the sacrifice of the Mass - is meant to be shared. For more than 2,000 years, the faith of our fathers has been handed on from generation to generation. Christ urged his disciples: “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age” (Matthew 27:19-20). If every Sunday we profess belief in an ever-present God and we leave Mass with the intention to live our life transformed by His Word, then it is our obligation as baptized Catholics to share what we have been given. I’m reminded of a pertinent thought by Thomas Merton: “God has willed that we should all depend on one another for our salvation and all strive together for our own mutual good and our own common salvation.” Our faith and the faith of those around us should not be self-centered or self-contained, but rather, by virtue of our baptism, shared joyfully with every person we encounter. So, consider these thoughts: who has helped bring you to this point in your faith life? Have you thanked them for their witness, encouragement or prayers? And, when was the last time you shared your faith in an authentic and joyful way, so as to bring about “mutual good and our own common salvation?” Jonathan Jerome is the Director of Catholic Campus Ministry at the University of Pittsburgh Johnstown. |
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