 On September 14th, we celebrate the feast day of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross. In the Gospel of John, Jesus tells us: “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life from one's friends” (John 15:13). That love is never more evident than our Lord's passion and death on the Cross. By that Holy Cross, we have been redeemed. Jesus Christ foretold his Passion to the Apostles, instituted the Eucharist at the Last Supper, and fulfilled God's plan for human salvation at Calvary upon that Holy Cross. This, my friends, is the greatest love ever known to humankind; by the grace of God, we will come to know the fullness of God's love in eternity. The promise of eternal salvation was made possible upon that Cross and we, as Catholics, are called to pick up our cross and follow Christ daily. This is a very hard thing to accomplish in today's world. Jesus gave us the Holy Spirit at Pentecost to guide and strengthen us while following his commands. Paul tells us: “I have the strength for everything through him who empowers me” (Philippians 4:13). Jesus Christ empowers us with the Holy Spirit today just as he did with the Apostles. It is exactly that God-given power that we need in today’s often secular world to preach Christ crucified and “fight the good fight,” as St. Paul says. For if we profess Christ without recognizing and living his sacrifice on the Cross, we cannot be disciples of the Lord. Peter found that out when Jesus admonished him after the foretelling of his passion and death. I keep written on my desk calendar in my office and in my daily liturgical calendar, a Latin phrase that I think summarizes this idea: Lex orandi, Lex credendi, Lex vivendi - As we worship, So we believe, So we live. As we worship, so we believe, so we live. We must, through worship and prayer, “Love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind” (Matthew 22:37). We must believe all that Jesus has taught us, that he is our Lord and Savior, and that he suffered and died so that we may live. We must live out our faith in what Jesus has called us to do by spreading the good news and picking up our cross and following our Lord. This is not an easy task. It isn't easy being a Christian. Christ never said it would be easy. Being a Christian is not just being a member of a religion, it is our way of life. We live the faith Christ gave to us. When we struggle with this, when we get lazy or complacent with our prayer time, or if we need a reminder of just how much we are loved and what our calling is, we need only to gaze upon the Holy Cross. We can also reflect on the Prophet Isaiah, when he told us exactly what Christ has done for us and for the salvation of man: "Yet it was our pain that he bore, our sufferings he endured. We thought of him as stricken, struck down by God and afflicted, but he was pierced for our sins, crushed for our iniquity. He bore the punishment that makes us whole, by his wounds we were healed" (Isaiah 53:4-5). Brothers and sisters in Christ, we celebrate the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross.” Remember, worship, believe, and live in the glory of Christ crucified. *This post was originally published on September 11th, 2014* AuthorMark A. Straub Sr. is a member of the Knights of Columbus and president of the parish council of Our Lady of the Woods Parish in Woodhaven, Michigan.
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 There are a few guarantees in this life. Some say it is death and taxes. Purdue basketball fans, such as myself, will add Matt Painter. But there is another guarantee in life, and it is one that is as uncomfortable and taboo as death: suffering. Death, taxes, Matt Painter, and suffering. The suffering we think of most often is typically connected to death - the suffering of a cancer patient or of someone who has been in a tragic accident. This suffering is very real, but also extraordinary. I do not mean that this suffering is somehow alien to the human experience; it is deeply real and personal to those who experience it and their loved ones, but that it is truly extra (outside of the) ordinary. Ordinary suffering comes in many forms: the lack of sleep felt by new parents, the inability to pay one’s bills after being laid off, the end of a relationship that seemed to be perfect, the inexplicable change in direction from the Lord after following a path that seemed ordained by that same God. These, and countless other examples, are the suffering of the day-to-day life of the human person. There is a human tendency to compare suffering. “Well, their suffering seems so much worse than mine, so mine must be insignificant, and my response to my suffering is somehow overblown or distorted.” But this reaction is what is distorted. Suffering is, as I said at the start of this blog, guaranteed in life. That is a pretty undesirable guarantee. All we have to do is look out into the world, or just rewatch the movie of our own lives to find some sort of suffering, whether great or “small.” The question is not if we will suffer, but how we handle suffering and what it does in our lives. I am personally unable to understand how one can endure suffering without some sort of conception of God, and more specifically a personal relationship with the God who became man and who suffered and died for us. It is just that relationship that has gotten me through the traumatic death of my father just over five years ago and the daily suffering that is thrown my way. Suffering can easily make a strong person crumble, so the first thing we should do is realize that we are not strong, but weak. We are the sick that Jesus professes need a physician in the Gospel of Matthew. The physician is the only one who can prescribe the medication of grace needed to help us through our suffering. The grace is dispensed to us not through pills or syringes but through prayer. It is only through constant prayer, which is the reception of the transformative love of God, that suffering has meaning and can be endured. Sr. Ruth Burrows says in her book Essence of Prayer that God’s touch in our lives, “however lightly, means I suffer,” (Burrow, 38). Prayer opens us up to the fact that we are nothing, we are weak, we are in great need and, “it is then that I really experience that I need Jesus and everything depends on my living this out, letting go of the controls, handing them over to him and accepting to have no holiness, no achievement of my own, to be before God as nothing,” (ibid, 39). This is the bottom line of suffering. It is not gratuitous, meaningless, or completely nonsensical; it is the process of being stripped of all of our egotistical and self-seeking tendencies that leave us closed off to God’s healing touch. Patient endurance of the suffering we experience is the way that we are prepared for life with God. How do we know this? Because Jesus Christ took on human form and lived in perfect obedience as the Apostle to the Eternal Father. Jesus’ life found its highest fulfillment in obedient suffering and sacrifice in the Garden of Gethsemane, at the Pillar, on the road to Calvary, and on the Cross. In his suffering, Christ took on all of ours - from the suffering of a broken heart to the suffering of death - and brought them meaning. In fact, it was the signs of his suffering that he kept after his resurrection as trophies of his victory over death. It was these same signs of suffering, Jesus’ wounds, that proved the resurrection to Thomas. Our wounds, our suffering, participate in the suffering and wounds of Christ. Thomas experienced the Risen Christ in His wounds, and we too experience Him in our wounds. Suffering is a guarantee, but it does not end as pain- it leads us to victory, to intimacy with God, and brings us to God as empty vessels for him to fill with his glory.
 God provides. Relying on Jesus means that we trust that God provides. Provides what? Not everything we want, the way we want it, and when we want it. No, God provides what we need, the way we need it, and when we need it, even if we cannot see it at the time. Living life for a length of time often teaches us to see and trust in this way. The alternative is simply reliance on self which can lead to bitterness and damage to ourselves and others. Relying on Jesus means that we trust that he, as God, is working 100%, offering us the grace to persevere, even during times of great challenge. He laid down his life for us on the Cross, so that we might experience the fullness of God providing for us, the opportunity for Eternal Life. We are called to trust in God who provides. While presented here as seemingly simple, it is not. We like to feel as if we are in control of our lives and destiny. It is hard to surrender ourselves to Christ and rely on him. Faith gives us the ability to do it. The charity of Christ offers us the grace of faith, since God always wills our good in ways that we often do not expect or imagine. God provides. Let us rely on Jesus Christ. May the charity of Christ urge us on! In God, the Infinite Love, Fr. Frank
 I think there is something special about a cover—about taking a song, a painting, or a movie and recreating it within the modern frame of mind. Aretha Franklin’s bold and unapologetic “Respect” is a perfect example, as she interprets the song as a Black woman in the 1960’s. As is Jimi Hendrix’s “All Along the Watchtower,” in which he narrates the song with hauntingly beautiful guitar riffs. In visual art, Andy Warhol recreates the portrait of Mao Zedong with a messy array of bright colors—an unusual depiction of the dictator. Finally, modern movies, headlined by the Cohen Brothers’ True Grit, give life to old characters and stories, recreating them for new audiences. However, even the Beatles, the most covered band of all time, cannot compete with the millions of interpretations of Jesus Christ. Thousands of artists have painted Christ crucified or the Madonna and Child. Everyone from Van Gogh, Basquiat, or da Vinci have painted Jesus Christ, each in their own manner. It can be mind-numbing to try to flip through them all, viewing each painting, alien to the others, and, oftentimes, to us. There are always two questions to ask when discussing art: “What is this artist trying to say?” and “What do we think he or she is trying to say?” These questions matter much more when investigating faith. In a special way, how artists of all disciplines—including sculptors, writers, or directors—interpret Jesus will affect us. Every Catholic, no doubt, thinks of Jesus through some piece of art or another, but Jesus is more than just a collection of paints, words, or images. Jesus is alive. It is tempting to trap Him in a Caravaggio, an El Greco, or even in the Passion of the Christ—to prevent Him from challenging us. Jesus as represented in art cannot call us out in our sins; He cannot tell us the hard truths we need to wrestle with. Even further, we should not trap Jesus in the Church or solely in the Mass. Yes, we are oftentimes challenged in specific ways during the Mass, especially when a priest gives a difficult homily. It can be easy, however, to selectively hear the priest, interpreting him and hearing only what we want to hear. We often want a sanitized Jesus, one that affirms us and makes us feel good. But while Jesus resides in the tabernacle and comes to meet us in every celebration of the Eucharist, He cannot be left there. Jesus wants to encounter us personally in order for us to help others encounter Him. Jesus always challenged His disciples to worship, act, and believe in accordance with truth. Jesus was not “sanitized” or acting in the “proper way” when He overturned the tables of the money changers; He was not “sanitized” when He described the narrow way; and He surely was not clean and tidy when He died on the Cross. Jesus defied our expectations. He was filled with passion for God’s truth. While He is Beauty itself, Jesus often made His listeners look away as they were unable to embrace the unsavory truth that can be hard to swallow. I enjoy going to Washington’s National Gallery of Art or New York’s MET, but next time I see Christ there, I will be reminded that He is not trapped in the golden walls of the frame. Jesus is alive, living in the Eucharist and in others. While it is beautiful to witness Jesus in the arts, we must remember that Christ lives in the audience, the museum goers. While the beauty of the art itself is mesmerizing, Christ is alive in flesh, both on the altar and in people who remind us that, while beautiful, Christ’s message is a challenge. **This blog was originally published on April 13, 2021.**
 Walking into the endzone of FedEx Field of the Washington Football Team made everything feel real—not some fantasy about playing professional football, but the reality of graduating college and entering into a new stage in life. In the middle of May, I graduated from The Catholic University of America at FedEx Field. It was an experience filled with much joy, but also some uncertainty. The joy and happiness were palpable throughout the stadium. It was rewarding seeing four long, hard years of work and late nights come to fruition. I felt a happy sense of relief that we had made it through the chaos and craziness of the past three semesters amidst the pandemic. It was exciting getting to celebrate with our friends and family—a truly special ceremony. Later that day, I began to feel some uncertainty mixed in with my joy. Friends were moving back home or across the country. Some friends were starting new jobs while others were going to graduate school. Some friends were younger and would still be at school another year while other friends had full-time jobs. There was a lot still up in the air. Over the past couple of weeks since graduation, I have reflected on that uncertainty and realized that it relates to a lot going on today. There’s uncertainty in starting a new job, in moving, or any type of new beginning. There’s uncertainty in returning to work in person maybe for the first time in a long time. There’s even uncertainty about traveling and going on vacations with differing restrictions. As I reflected on the uncertainty I felt from graduating college, I was comforted by one simple fact: the same Jesus who was present and working in my life before will be present throughout the uncertainty. During the Nicene Creed, we say, “I believe in one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church.” In these four marks of the Church, catholic is referring to the universality of the Church. This is what I found comfort in. Even though I wouldn’t be going to Mass at Catholic University anymore, Jesus would be present at Mass at my new parish community. Even though I wouldn’t have the ability to go to a chapel as frequently, Jesus would still hear my prayers throughout my workday. I found this realization comforting and encouraging – I knew Jesus would be present throughout the uncertainty and the change. I began to think of ways that I could actively embrace the uncertainty by welcoming Jesus into the small day-to-day actions that I knew would come about because of the changes. I set two goals for this uncertain time:
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