I believe that I shall see the good things of the Lord in the land of the living. -Ps 27:13
The three of us sat around the dining table and cried—a toddler, a little boy, and a pregnant mom. A pitiful orchestra unleashed after a season of transition, a day of disobedience, and the moment that broke the camel’s back: a bowl of yogurt.
The toddler had insisted on finishing the yogurt with his hands—which he was told would result in that being his final serving. He looked me in the eye and dipped his little hand in the bowl once more, using it as a makeshift spoon. The yogurt was taken. The wailing ensued.
After what felt like 1,000 moments of defiance that day, after consecutive days of a 6-months-pregnant woman chasing small boys in the summer heat with little rest, and after racking my brains out to creatively navigate sibling rivalry, whining, and toddler grumpiness, I put my head on the table and started crying too.
My 5-year-old joined in for moral support.
After a few minutes of this little concert, I couldn’t help but laugh at the pitiful scene. What must it have looked like to the outside world? Two children and a grown woman competing for the loudest sobs.
My husband came in a few minutes later from working in the yard and took over. “Go and rest,” he said. “I’ll take care of the boys.” I shuffled up the stairs, sniffling in defeat, for a few minutes to reset.
And I knew I needed to see Him. I knew once again I needed to spend time with my Creator and regroup.
Meditating on today’s Psalm from the daily readings reminds us of a beautiful truth: “I believe that I shall see the good things of the Lord in the land of the living.” Whether or not I felt it in this moment of exhaustion and despair, God’s goodness is always there. He stands ready to bestow on us His strength, His mercy, and His love in the here and now—even in the midst of suffering. The Lord never promised the removal of suffering from our lives (which any of us can note by listening to 30 seconds of the news cycle), but He did promise to sustain us and be with us “even to the end of time.” And it is for this reason that I can join the psalmist in choosing to see “the good things of the Lord” right here and now “in the land of the living.”
This Psalm is particularly close to my heart because it has been turned into a lovely song by the ecumenical Taize community in the Burgundy region of France. The music of the Taize community was instrumental (no pun intended) in my reversion at the end of my college career and became an easy way for me to “pray without ceasing.” I have come to sing the song inspired by Psalm 27 for nearly a decade: “I am sure I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living,” the chant goes. “Yes, I shall see the goodness of the Lord. Hold firm, trust in the Lord.”
There have been many days in this last trimester of pregnancy when I have had to cling to this belief and hold firm in trusting the Lord. My third pregnancy has brought with it the usual physical demands on the body, as well as the benefit of chasing two toddler boys around in the summer heat. Perhaps I can blame the extra dose of female hormones from my baby girl for the extra emotional complexity I’m experiencing. In my weekly women’s group in which we are reading “This Present Paradise: Spiritual Reflections from Elizabeth of the Trinity,” one of the questions for reflection was “do you ever feel small and insignificant?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “All the time!” I answered, especially now in a season in which I am grappling with my physical and emotional limitations. The independent woman who has always done things on her own, found a creative solution, and seen life in the glass half full perspective can barely walk to the playground, cook a meal, or lift a laundry basket. My easygoing nature has given way to my temper more times than I can count, and my patience is wearing thin.
I’ve realized I can’t do anything during this time but cling to God. I am small. I am insignificant. But I am His. The Lord knit me in my mother’s womb, called me by name, and looked at me and proclaimed: “She is good.” The Lord worked throughout time and space to bring me into the fullness of redemption and sent His only begotten Son to die for me. And He continues to pour out His grace, mercy, and blessings on me through His Church, the sacraments, and my loving friends, family, and community.
So yes, I am one of billions. I can only do so much. And though I may feel small and insignificant and overwhelmed these days, I can still see and experience the goodness of the Lord right here and now—in the land of the living.
Hold firm. Trust in the Lord.
For more resources on Marriage and Family, please click here.
What is collaboration? Recently, during a virtual conference this question arose as it has many times in the past. People use the word, but often mean something different when they say it. For some, it is “collaboration for” –where everything is done by one person who then asks for others to help accomplish things. For others, it is “collaboration with” –which is akin to committee work, often led by one or two people, but others are asked for their opinion and input.
Collaboration from the perspective of Pallottine spirituality is what St. Vincent Pallotti called “holy cooperation.” We are in collaboration with God and with each other. This form of collaboration is called “collaboration from the beginning.” Care is taken about who is present and a part of the process includes discernment. The group discerns together in “trialogue” –the Holy Spirit and the group – the issue at hand, a way forward, and then moves together. This way is that of the Cenacle, the Upper Room in Jerusalem, where the early community of the Church discerned together. It is the way of the Sent! Moving forth from the Cenacle for Christ, each with a role, all co-responsible for the mission of Christ and the Church!
Some may see this way as idealistic and unachievable. For human beings alone, it is. With the grace of God, though, “all things are possible” (Mt. 19:26).
May the Charity of Christ urge us on!
Click here to learn more about Pallottine Spirituality.
Click here to learn more about Collaboration in Ministry.
2020 was a difficult year for so many people; it is safe to say that we all were impacted in some way. To me it felt like the entire world stopped and everything started moving in slow motion. March 2020 was my senior year of college—what was supposed to be the best semester of my life, the beginning to the end, the start of a new chapter. Yet, there I was, driving back to my family home in Massachusetts to study and then graduate in the home that I grew up in. I felt so crushed, defeated, and overwhelmed.
I remember that Easter, only a few weeks into the pandemic, feeling so overjoyed that some of my friends and parish community decided to come together and celebrate our Risen Lord. We had a drive-by celebration in the parking lot where our pastor blessed each of us and we waved at our friends from the safety of our car. I felt so overjoyed to see their faces and to get a glimpse of normalcy. I remember that Easter morning being filled with joy, possibly the Lord’s way of showing us that there is a light at the end of the tunnel.
Yet, around that same time, we found out that school was cancelled for the rest of the semester and Zoom became our new normal. I remember thinking, “The last time I stepped into a classroom was the day before spring break and all I wanted to do was get out of there, but now, I’ll never be able to go back.” While that may have been a bit dramatic, it truly was a time where my faith was the only thing that was able to guide me.
While I was upset over the loss of my senior year and the loss of long-anticipated memories, I was so thankful and blessed to have my health, my family, and my faith. There were so many people grieving the loss of family members, enduring financial difficulties, and risking their lives on the frontlines of the pandemic. It was hard not to laugh at myself for crying over my difficulties when faced with the reality of what was going on throughout the world.
The Lord guides us on a path. Though we may not know where or how it ends, we know He is there. I knew this time in my life would already be difficult—saying goodbye to friends, trying to find a “real” job, and trying to balance new responsibilities. Adding to that the uncertainty of a pandemic only exacerbated the overwhelming anxiety I knew was around the corner. I kept repeating this phrase over and over in my head: “it is all part of God’s plan.” The phrase kept rekindling faith in my heart when things began to feel difficult. It can be seen as a silly, trite phrase. But for me, the impact it had on my life was so important. It helped me to have a conversation with the Lord daily—whenever things felt tough or I felt defeated or just lost. After repeating the simple phrase over and over in my head, I felt the Lord’s presence like a hand on my shoulder continuing to guide me throughout life. I couldn’t help but exhale.
Graduation came and went. I wore my cap and gown in my childhood living room surrounded by my parents trying to figure out how to set up Zoom on the T.V. It was an underwhelming experience compared to the grand festivities I had imagined, yet I was very thankful to be able to celebrate with my parents.
Trying to navigate through “adult life” during the pandemic proved to be difficult within itself. It felt so easy to isolate myself from those around me and to disconnect from everything. Everything seemed big: applying for jobs, getting my first apartment, living in the city. It often felt easier to give up when things got difficult. But that is exactly the opposite of what the Lord calls us to do. The Lord wants us to call upon him during the difficult times and to remember that everything is part of his plan. He is there to walk with us through the ups and downs and invites us to lean upon his strength in times when ours fails.
While the road ahead seems uncertain, there is one thing that we can count on - the love and support of the Lord. Over the past year, what I have found is that everything is part of His plan; every small step we take, every thought that enters our mind, every mundane task—it all will fall into place.
Sometimes sanctity feels like an impossible goal. I can admire and love the holiness of the saints but, like the achievement of the professional athlete or Nobel prize winner, I know that it is not something readily within my reach. It seems to be a rare gift or a special privilege, so it is easy to console myself with the seemingly humble admission of how far I fall short of such a lofty ideal.
Being a saint is a gift and a privilege, so we would be right to attribute such holiness to God’s grace! But drawing closer to the saints themselves reveals something more about holiness and the quiet daily struggle of love. Saint John Eudes, whose Memorial we celebrate today, is remembered chiefly for his devotion to the hearts of Jesus and Mary. But this devotion wasn’t an abstract concept or merely a personal predilection. It was a concrete way of expressing God’s transformation and transfiguration of humanity through the event of the Incarnation. And in the image of the heart, the fullness of human sanctity is revealed.
Saint John Eudes, like so many other saints, wrote many wonderful spiritual works. What stands out in his thought, however, is the intertwining of a meditation upon the holiness of Christ’s life and the necessary holiness of life to which all Christians are called. If I feel intimidated by the holiness of the saints, then I feel infinitely more intimidated by the challenge of truly imitating Jesus’ life! And yet that is exactly what Saint John Eudes encourages us to do. Union with Christ through faith and the sacraments is not a nice sentiment or empty metaphor, but rather a concrete connection to the reality of his Incarnate life. Taking inspiration from Saint Paul’s affirmation that “in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ on behalf of his body, which is the Church,” (Col 1:24), Eudes argues that every Christian is joined to Christ’s life in a similar way through grace:
“Thus, when a Christian prays, he continues and accomplishes the prayers of Jesus Christ. When he works, he continues and accomplishes Christ’s laborious life. When his relations with his neighbor are inspired by charity, he continues and accomplishes Christ’s public life. When he takes his meals or his rest in a Christian fashion, he continues and accomplishes the subjection to these necessities that Christ willed to have in Himself.” (The Life and the Kingdom of Jesus in Christian Souls, pg. 6)
Like Saint Paul, Saint John doesn’t mean to imply any deficiency in Christ’s earthly life or the efficacy of his Passion, Death, and Resurrection. Rather, he reminds us that Jesus’ true humanity sanctifies ours in a radical and comprehensive way. As the Catechism of the Catholic Church puts it, “Christ enables us to live in him all that he himself lived, and he lives it in us” (§521).
Does this make holiness seem any more achievable? Saint John Eudes, while still recognizing the difficulty, saw it as a means of drawing the ordinary in our lives (prayer, work, meals) into the realm of Christ’s true human life of ordinary holiness. In his further meditations and exercises, Eudes encourages all Christians to sanctify every action of each day, each week, each month, and each year. Every moment of our lives is changed by Christ’s life, because Christ is truly human and truly divine, the “Word made flesh” in all the specificity of what it means to “dwell among us” (John 1:14). Every moment of our lives is potentially transfigured because God has lived our life even in its quiet struggles and hidden joys.
This is sometimes hard for me to remember, when life seems too complicated, too busy, or too ordinary. But drawing close to the saints reminds me of their humanity and, through them, the humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ. As Saint John Eudes teaches us, this shouldn’t be a way of excusing our sinfulness and limitations as merely human. Instead, it should be a way of seeing even the least things in ourselves as a continuation of Christ’s transfiguring love.
“He placed himself, in the words of Saint John Chrysostom, “at the service of the entire plan of salvation”. With praise as high as this, Pope Francis described Saint Joseph and his unique place between the Mother of God and the Son.
If Saint Joseph occupies a pivotal role in the divine plan, then his role in my family is just as special. Both of my godsons have the middle name of Joseph - as do I, and my father, his brother, and their father before them. In our family, Joseph is first and foremost a protector.
In the Apostolic Letter declaring the Year of Saint Joseph, the Holy Father describes St. Joseph in this way: “Joseph was the earthly shadow of the heavenly Father: he watched over him and protected him, never leaving him to go his own way.”
A fundamental element of being a godfather, born from the promises made at Baptism, is the obligation to watch over my godchildren. The daily exercise of this responsibility occurs through prayer. Since the start of the pandemic eighteen months ago, it’s been next to impossible to see my godchildren in person or to be a physical presence in their lives. Consequently, my responsibility to keep them in daily prayer has become doubly important.
Morning prayer for my three godchildren is a cornerstone of my daily routine. That prayer has been a constant for me, even when other elements of my routine undergo the dry spells that are part and parcel of the spiritual life. This steadfast but gentle responsibility - prayer for my godchildren - has been a source of sanctification for me. In this, I am privileged to follow in the footsteps of Saint Joseph, who had the unique grace to help raise the Son of God and to be shaped and formed by this responsibility.
Beyond protection, Saint Joseph is a model for godfathers by dint of his vigilance. While not strictly a virtue, this watchfulness is closely related to the virtues of prudence, fortitude, and temperance. The Gospel of Luke puts it thus: “Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit” (Lk 12:35). Matthew relates the command of God in even more explicit terms: “Get up, take the child and his mother” (Mt 2:13). While taking nothing away from the Blessed Mother’s incomparable “Fiat”, Joseph exemplifies the ability of responsiveness to God’s call in the face of uncertainty. For me as a godfather, this means living in such a way that I can be responsive to my own godchildren. That might mean being prepared to travel long distances in order to make a sacramental celebration or a birthday. As my godchildren mature and explore their faith, it may also mean being an additional source of counsel (or a source of comfort to stressed-out parents!). Whatever the call may be, the response is the same: be prepared to answer without hesitation, as Saint Joseph did.
I would be remiss by not mentioning that Joseph’s care for the Blessed Mother is an example of paramount importance for any godfather seeking to advance his own spiritual life and that of his godchildren!
One final element of contemplation for me as a godfather is the title of Saint Joseph the Worker, particularly as it relates to the life of Christ. Through his steady and diligent work, Saint Joseph was a model and example for Our Lord, who himself spent the first thirty years of his life laboring as a carpenter and preparing for his ministry. In the words of Pope Leo XIII, writing in the encyclical Rerum Novarum:
“This is enforced by what we see in Christ Himself, who, ‘whereas He was rich, for our sakes became poor’; (18) and who, being the Son of God, and God Himself, chose to seem and to be considered the son of a carpenter - nay, did not disdain to spend a great part of His life as a carpenter Himself. ‘Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary?’(19)”
To this, let me add the words of the Holy Father in his apostolic letter, Patris Corde: “Joseph is certainly not passively resigned, but courageously and firmly proactive. In our own lives, acceptance and welcome can be an expression of the Holy Spirit’s gift of fortitude.”
Saint Joseph is an exemplar not only of the ability to respond immediately to God’s call when it comes, but also of the fortitude and diligence to work patiently and well until that call comes. Through his example, we godfathers are reminded to “trust in the slow work of God”, confident that in prayer, labor, and - above all - openness to God’s voice, we can strive to be as Saint Joseph was: “at the service of the entire plan of salvation.”
On my birthday this year I began a habit of reading or listening to the Bible chronologically in the hopes of reading the Bible before my 30th birthday. It has been a beautiful addition to my life, providing hope, consolation, and joy through so many different circumstances. There are many different reoccurring themes, and one of them is “remembering” the Lord. God knows our hearts can be easily distracted or forgetful, and so he gives us reminders all throughout the Bible to remember him. How do you remember the Lord? Deuteronomy Chapter 6 is a beautiful call and encouragement from Moses to the Israelites on how to live out remembering the Lord in their lives. It is my hope that you can use my reflections below as a guide to remembering the Lord and putting this habit into practice in your own life and with your family.
Hear, O Israel! The LORD is our God, the LORD alone! Therefore, you shall love the LORD, your God, with your whole heart, and with your whole being, and with your whole strength. Take to heart these words which I command you today. (Dt 6:4-6)
When I think of taking the call to love the Lord with my whole heart, being, and strength, I think of Mary, who so beautifully devoted her life to the Lord, and who also reminds us to “[keep] all these things, reflecting on them in [our hearts]” (Lk 2:19). Mary surely learned this practice and was inspired in prayer by these ancient teachings that had been passed on to her. When I think of loving the Lord like Mary did, I think of seeing God in others, so that in each opportunity presented before me, I embrace it as a chance to love the Lord. Every action, every word, can be a prayer, and Jesus is in every person I encounter. When I joyfully greet my children upon waking, when I take the dog outside for the millionth time that day, when I sit down to pray instead of sitting to scroll on my phone, when I exercise, when I make a lesson plan for my students – all can be given and devoted to God as an act of love.
Keep repeating them to your children. Recite them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you get up. (Dt 6:7)
This verse is really encouraging to me regarding building rhythms of prayer and love for both me and my children. My husband and I have a two-year-old and a four-year-old, and we’ve learned that even at a young age, it is never too early to hear of Jesus and his goodness. We pray before meals and before bed. We sing hymns as lullabies. We say a Hail Mary whenever we hear emergency sirens. We talk about how God made all living things and we list the things we are grateful to God for in casual conversation. We read stories about Jesus, Mary, and lessons from the Bible. We model asking for forgiveness when we make mistakes. We celebrate Baptismal anniversaries with ice cream and tell the story of their baptism. We find opportunities to keep talking about Jesus with joy and remember him with our children, no matter how simple.
And while no Sunday is ever perfect, we bring our children to Mass with us and use each moment to whisper what we are learning about Jesus into their ears. We may not hear the day’s homily, but we practice a lot of Catholic calisthenics: learning to genuflect, making the Sign of the Cross and walking amongst the statues of saints! Be encouraged that this, too, is teaching your children to remember! The Eucharist is the ultimate remembrance: “Then he took the bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them, saying, ‘This is my body, which will be given for you; do this in memory of me’” (Lk 22:19). Jesus even tells us to let the children come to him (Luke 18:16)! Be patient with yourself and your children and keep bringing them to Mass, knowing that each memory shared in love will bear fruit in eternity.
When we remember Jesus, we are embracing his love in our life and can more readily share this with others. We can remember with the saints. We can remember in a pew. We can remember wherever we are. A month or so ago, our son’s godfather was pushing him on the swing in our yard. Our son asked him, “Will you push me all the way to heaven?,” and although we knew he wanted to go higher, we couldn’t help but laugh and be filled with joy, because isn’t that remembering? Helping each other and ourselves go to heaven? Don’t forget to remember! Take the time to strive for heaven. Living in the memory of the Lord will not be wasted.
“It is well done. Turn me over!”
No, that’s not a joke that starts “what did one steak say to the other steak?” Those are some of the final words attributed to St. Lawrence, deacon and martyr, whose feast we celebrate today. St. Lawrence was a Deacon during the pontificate of Pope St. Sixtus II and, along with some other clerical companions, was martyred just days after Pope Sixtus II himself was put to death.
St. Lawrence has two great stories attributed to him by tradition. Lawrence, being a deacon, was entrusted with the care of the poor and the material goods of the Church. Knowing that he would likely face a fate similar to Pope Sixtus II, Lawrence began to give away all of the money that he had to the poor. He even went so far as to sell sacred vessels to give the money to the poor. When the prefect of Rome heard of what Lawrence was doing, he ordered him to bring the money and goods that he had to him so that the prefect could be rich. Lawrence heeded the request of the prefect, asking for some time to gather the riches to give over. When he returned, he brought with him the sick, orphaned, widowed, and more, presenting them to the prefect. He famously said to the prefect, “these are the treasure of the Church.”
As you can imagine, this action did not endear Lawrence to the prefect and he ordered Lawrence killed—which leads to the second story. As is the story of many early martyrs, the death that Lawrence was to endure was not a simple one. The prefect, angry as he was, had a massive grill prepared upon which Lawrence’s body was placed. Imagine the pain of searing hot metal and the flames beneath it. Instead of struggling to be free or trying to convince the prefect not to kill him, Lawrence famously said after some time, “It is well done. Turn me over!”
Other than funny anecdotes, what does the life of St. Lawrence have to teach us? It teaches us two very important lessons.
The first lesson is this: the wealth of the Church is not in its gold reliquaries, its beautiful art, or even in the collection basket, but is in the poor, the hungry, the oppressed—the children of God for whom we should care the most. It is easy to get caught up in the societal reaction which looks upon those most in need as those whom we should avoid. St. Lawrence reminds us that these people—the poor, the hungry, the oppressed—are not a body of persons, but are individual people. They are people, not for us to take advantage of or look upon with scorn, but people who are the riches of the Church. St. Lawrence reminds us to always look at the poor, hungry, and oppressed as such and to love them with all of our hearts.
The second lesson is to live with joy overflowing. Imagine the pain and suffering which Lawrence endured in his martyrdom, yet he responded with humor. There is no way that would have been possible without a life of joy which can only come from a deep and intimate relationship with Jesus Christ. We will always face hardship, Christ assured us of that, but how do we respond to that hardship? We are not called to be exactly like Lawrence, to respond with humor when we have no humor to muster, but to live with joy which can only come from a deep relationship with Christ.
St. Lawrence, deacon and martyr, pray for us!
To learn more about St. Lawrence, please click here.
Pope Francis eloquently writes in his post-synodal exhortation Christus Vivit, “After this brief look at the word of God, we cannot just say that young people are the future of our world. They are its present.” In the last decade, and especially since Christus Vivit was promulgated in 2019, the Church has sought to help the Church’s youth become protagonists in their own right. This is seen in many parish, diocesan, and archdiocesan initiatives to form young Church leaders. Some examples of this include creating new diocesan offices for youth and young adult ministries and the growth of many high school and collegiate campus ministry offices. Nevertheless, young people crave young role models for the Faith. Pope Francis recognized this and listed many examples, including Mary, St. Francis of Assisi, and St. Joan of Arc. In this blog, I wish to discuss three saints in particular--Bl. Carlo Acutis, St. Jose Sanchez del Rio, and St. Therese of Lisieux—and how their witnesses are a model for young people (especially youth leaders) who wish to dive deeper into a relationship with Christ and his Church.
Young people everywhere crave to see an aspect of themselves in the people they look up to, and Bl. Carlo Acutis is a soon-to-be saint who allows young people to see commonalities between themselves and the saints. Carlo was a typical Italian teenager who played soccer and video games. Nevertheless, he also made great strides for God in his work, uploading Eucharistic miracles to a website to spread devotion to the Body and Blood of Christ. He was called “an influencer for God” by his mother in an America Magazine article. Bl. Carlo stands as a soon-to-be saint accessible to the Church’s youth because of his young age and his connectedness to 21st-century culture. Bl. Carlo Acutis models for youth leaders how evangelization must occur within the culture and modern media, not from an ivory tower of formal theology and scholarship. The Gospel must be spread in a way that all generations can appreciate, and Bl. Carlo accomplished that with the creation of his website.
Another young person who bore witness to the Faith in the context of his own time was St. José Sánchez del Rio. Saint José was a young man growing up in Mexico during the Cristero Wars. The Cristero Wars were a series of conflicts between the Mexican President Plutarco Calles's secularist government and Cristero fighters (formally known as the National League for the Defense of Religious Liberty). The Calles government imposed the 1917 Mexican Constitution, which contained anticlerical policies and sought state atheism. Catholics across the country opposed this and began resisting through liturgical services and military resistance against the Mexican army. Saint José was a young man during the war and wanted to fight to defend his Faith. His mother, however, refused to let him formally join the Cristero Movement. This made St. José contribute to the movement indirectly and attend Mass whenever possible. Nevertheless, when a Cristero General lost his horse in battle, young José offered his, and this led to his imprisonment by the Mexican army. After being tortured to renounce his Faith, José refused and was martyred. St. José Sánchez del Rio’s witness to the Faith is one of the best examples of what a Catholic is called to do by Christ: witness the Faith within your own culture and times while not renouncing our Lord. Despite his young age, St. José believed in Christ’s love and graces, and that gave him the strength to be countercultural and stand with Jesus instead of with the popular culture and the government that stood against Him.
Finally, St. Thérèse of Lisieux remains one of the most commanding forces in the Church’s lexicon for youth witnesses. Becoming a Carmelite at age fifteen, Thérèse began to pray incessantly and pioneered her famous “Little Way” for the spiritual life. St. Thérèse’s “Little Way” seeks to help people encounter Christ in their day-to-day activities and pray to Jesus with childlike dependency. St. Thérèse of Lisieux’s powerful devotion to the Eucharist, prayer, and a joyful attitude allow many to realize that one can be close to Christ no matter what they are doing. St. Thérèse stands as a strong role model for young Catholics since her relationship to Christ reached such profound depths at her young age.
Young people crave role models in the Church, and older generations can find powerful witnesses and wisdom from young Catholics as well. The Church has been and must remain dedicated to telling and promoting the stories of young saints to inspire every generation to become protagonists in the Church and saints for Christ’s kingdom. Young people can be inspired by these saints since they can “…offer the Church the beauty of youth by renewing her ability to ‘rejoice with new beginnings, to give unreservedly of herself, to be renewed and to set out for ever greater accomplishments’” (Pope Francis, Christus Vivit).
As we begin this month of August, we trudge into another month of Ordinary Time in the liturgical calendar. That doesn’t mean, however, that we don’t have much to look forward to with feast days this month. August is filled with feast days from saints who lived less than a century ago, all the way to saints from the early Church—from religious to laity, from saints I’ve learned about my whole life, to saints I had never heard of before. Let us take time throughout this month of August to learn about the Christ-filled lives of these powerful saints.
Saints who Founded Religious Communities:
There are many saints this month who founded religious communities—all of which have had a great impact on the Church. St. Dominic founded the Dominicans, also known as the Order of Preachers, which is a religious order known for their preaching and rich intellectual history. St. Clare of Assisi worked with St. Francis of Assisi and helped found the Poor Clares, a group of contemplative nuns and the second branch of the Franciscans to be founded, just after the Order of Friars Minor. Back in the time of the early church, St. Augustine wrote the Rule of St. Augustine, which became the foundation for the Augustinians. In the 12th century, St. Bernard of Clairvaux helped spread the Cistercian Order, an order of monks and nuns that branched off from the Benedictines and remains strong today. St. Cajetan helped found the Theatines which became a religious order with many bishops and intellectuals in the Church. With the help of St. Francis de Sales, St. Jane Frances de Chantal founded the Visitation Order which was a religious order open to women who had been turned down from other orders for poor health or similar reasons. The French mystic St. John Eudes founded two religious orders in the 1600s, both following St. John Eudes’ special devotion to the Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary. More recently, in the 18th century, St. Alphonsus Liguori founded the Redemptorists, a religious community with a special devotion to Our Lady of Perpetual Help. In the 19th century, French priest St. Peter Julian Eymard helped found two religious orders, both with a special devotion to the Blessed Sacrament.
At first, I found this list quite overwhelming. These saints founded and/or helped spread their religious orders, something I can’t even fathom, especially in our pandemic-affected world today. But then I recognized the beauty that comes to the Church as a result of this wide range of religious communities. Each community is called to follow their own unique charism, all while growing closer to Christ and bringing Him to others. After sitting with this, I realized that there is beauty in the lives of each of these saints and in how the Church works in many ways, through many charisms, to help lead everyone to a life of holiness.
Martyrs in the Month:
In a six day stretch next week, we will celebrate three well-known martyrs in the Church. Back in the early Church, St. Lawrence was killed and is famous for his quips as he was being grilled to his death—showing his faith in Christ to the end. Much more recently, St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross was a Discalced Carmelite nun who was killed at the Auschwitz concentration camp during World War II because of her Jewish heritage. Similarly, St. Maximillian Kolbe was martyred at Auschwitz, giving his life in place of another prisoner, and was thus bestowed the title “martyr of charity”. While we may not face martyrdom like these saints, we can learn from how they trusted Christ and pray for their intercession in our lives.
Saints and Their Country:
Later this month, we will celebrate the feast days of three saints who are known by their primary locations: St. Stephen of Hungary, St. Louis of France, and St. Rose of Lima. These saints all lived incredible lives, all very authentic to the community in which they lived. As we progress through this month, these saints can serve as role models for us in how we can follow Christ and bring others to Him in whatever region we find ourselves.
As we walk through this August, let us look to the lives of the saints to learn to be saints right where God has called us to be through whatever charism He calls us to.
To learn more about the saints, visit our Catholic Feast Days Website by clicking here.
To view a calendar of the feast days in August, and each month, click here.
There are only a few people whom I look at in biblical history and identify with on an average-human-level. It can be hard to find personal connections to many saints and holy people for me. Some were ordinary and humble, but others were so extraordinary and left big shoes to fill. It can be challenging to wrap your head around their sanctity—I know it is for me. When I hear about St. Martha though, I think, “Yes, she’s my girl.” Martha had close friends and pesky siblings, and when important company came over, she was mad no one was helping as she cleaned and cooked herself into a tizzy. She was so human, so relatable.
St. Martha, her sister Mary, and their brother Lazarus were close friends of the Lord. We hear about them from Luke’s Gospel:
As they continued their journey he entered a village where a woman whose name was Martha welcomed him. She had a sister named Mary [who] sat beside the Lord at his feet listening to him speak. Martha, burdened with much serving, came to him and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me by myself to do the serving? Tell her to help me.” The Lord said to her in reply, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things. There is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part and it will not be taken from her.
This is such a great passage. It shows the humanity of these average people. It contrasts Martha, the burdened preparer and host for the occasion, with Mary, the one who sat with and listened to their wise friend, Jesus. It is a chance for those of us who get frazzled to stop for a moment and listen to the Word of God. It is a chance for us to not only let Jesus into our homes, but also into our hearts as well. Martha is so relatable.
In a later moment in John’s Gospel, we hear about Martha taking a completely different approach to the Lord’s arrival. This time, he is met with her sadness but also her faith. This is a big moment for Martha. She seems to have learned to trust and believe, and thus Christ’s arrival brings hope for her even after the death of her brother. She tells Jesus that if he had been here, Lazarus wouldn’t have died, but has hope and faith that everything will still be okay. Jesus responds,
“Your brother will rise.” Martha said to him, “I know he will rise, in the resurrection on the last day.” Jesus told her, “I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” She said to him, “Yes, Lord. I have come to believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world.”
From this we hear St. Martha echo her own “fiat” with the words, “Yes, Lord.” This is when we see her inner beauty emerge. Her old self, prone to complaining and anxiety from hosting, has been replaced by faith.
I find a lot of comfort knowing that St. Martha was imperfect and struggled—even when Jesus was in her home. Her feast day is July 29th, the day before my birthday, and I feel more connected to this saint than ever before. It wasn’t the first time that Jesus entered her home or that she listened to his words. It also probably was not the second or third time she had interacted with him, being close friends. But when the moment came for her to have hope in the Lord, she did. Patience and sitting with Christ, like her sister Mary did, might be another way to sainthood, but for Martha, her heart was not as ready to accept Him then. Her human imperfections kept her from that. Her path to sainthood was a journey comprised of moments of faith and trust, as we saw in her conversation with Jesus after Lazarus’ death. She shows us that, though we can’t always be perfect, our call to sanctity begins with the words, “Yes, Lord. I have come to believe...”
During my formative years, I had the distinct privilege of spending time with my grandads and even one great-grandad. In the late 1950’s and ‘60’s, our pace of life and activities was very different from today. We attended school and church, but a lot of our time was centered around our home. Even more unique were our regular visits with extended family on a weekly basis. This afforded me time to be in the company of my grandparents frequently. I listened to their talk about work and how they solved problems and the things that occupied their time. I enjoyed accompanying my dad’s dad on outings to pick blackberries and then had the pleasure of helping in the process to make wine in his cellar.
My Grandpop was a nuts-and-bolts kind of man, always busy with his work as caretaker of the cemetery, keeping their only vehicle (an old Ford truck) running, and maintaining the house where he and my grandmom raised thirteen children. It was fascinating learning things from him. I would follow him around and help load coal into their furnace and collect items from the cool cellar that housed their canned vegetables and held Grandpop’s workbench. He liked to show any of us grandkids the things he did for work, as well as the projects he worked on, such as building cedar benches for anyone who wanted one and making wine from the fruits he picked. They lived a hop, skip and a jump from the monastery church and school where they walked to 6am daily Mass. By society’s standards, Pop was minimally educated and made a meager wage that kept them in the lower economic level their entire lives. The gifts we received were hand-made and simple, but lots of time was invested in being family together. I loved being in Grandpop’s shadow and considered the cemetery near their house to be the most magical place in my world with its little streams and bridges and huge fir trees and rolling hills. Amongst those resting in peace, my dad and his twelve siblings grew up under the tutelage of my grandpop’s calloused hands and the soft-spoken voice of my grandmom.
My grandmom’s parents lived just three blocks away, and my great-granddad was a successful stone mason with a shop full of heavy, rough-hewn tools that carved important information into big pieces of granite for the deceased. As an adult, I realize how fortunate I was to have enjoyed weekly visits to my great-grandparents. Great-granddad was a tall, polite, and loving man. He would sit me atop a piece of stone and include me in the conversations with my dad and other family. He had two framed pictures over the desk in his shop – the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary. As a kid, I always felt that they were watching me. These images hanging in a prominent place in his shop spoke volumes about the faith my great-granddad had. No matter how busy he was, he had a way of making me feel cherished when we came by. And a visit never ended until he sent us up to the house to get a drink and a slice of cake from great-grandmom.
My mom’s dad was another wonderful grandfather with whom I spent much time while growing up. (I never met my grandmom because she died suddenly only three months after my parents were married.) Pop was a tall, handsome man who always wore a suit, and I mean always! He was retired from the phone company and had raised five children through the Depression era. His parents and aunt lived with them in a small but comfortable row home. Most of my time spent with Pop was at our house where he would come most days in the afternoons and stay through dinner. Sometimes we would pick him up at his apartment and I loved seeing his stuff. He was an avid follower of the Baltimore City Fire Department and had a squawk box to hear all the fire calls. He had boxes with index cards full of information on the different fire houses, calls, and each fireman. When my mom was growing up, he would pile the kids in his car and they would go watch the firemen fight fires. He supported the firemen with visits and gifts and had a deep respect for what they did for the community. I loved sitting at his feet in our living room listening to him tell stories of growing up in Baltimore and of his family. He was a regular member at our dinner table in his later years and always took an interest in my studies and in the things I was doing.
When my parents would go away on their annual business trip, Pop would come take charge of our household. He made flapjacks for breakfast, walked me to the school bus stop and would meet me there each afternoon. I didn’t need an escort, but it was his way of sending me off. He played cards with us and told stories and made the best stew I’ve ever eaten! He made sure to remind me to say my prayers and he took us to church. Pop was present for all the holidays throughout the years, along with a lot of aunts, uncles, and cousins. Our house was the typical gathering place for my mom’s siblings and so I guess that’s why Pop always came over. In his later years when he could no longer drive, my parents wanted him to move in with us, but he insisted on his own independence and lived out his days, until he died at 89, in his apartment. As a kid, I never thought twice about Pop always being at our home. As an adult, I look back and see the treasure I had in being loved by a man who had all the time in the world to talk. It impacted me more than I realized. Mom and dad took care of the needs of the family, but Pop took the time to share himself with me and take an interest in what I was thinking as a young girl trying to figure out what was important in life. A generation removed, Pop made it abundantly clear how important each member of the family was to him, which instilled in me a strong desire for continued close family bonds in my adult life.
I then watched how my dad became granddad to my six children. He was busy seven days a week and lots of nights running his business and providing for our family when I was a child, but as a granddad, he learned how to switch gears and devote attention to his grandchildren through time spent together. He took his role as grand patriarch seriously and lived out sharing the gospel of Jesus with all his grands in very simple but tangible ways. He was a great encourager of all the pursuits of each one and never hesitated to share his testimony of how God helped him on a daily basis to do what he was supposed to do. He shared prayers and taught them the power of talking with God all day long. And when my parents visited for two to three weeks each Christmas season, everyone could see how he laid out his days. He would be seen in a quiet chair early in the mornings with his well-worn prayer book praying his prayers. Then he and mom would attend morning Mass with any of us who would accompany them. He joined in our family prayer time and nightly Rosary.
I have also enjoyed witnessing my husband embrace the role of Pops to our sweet grandchildren. He rejoices in the gift of each one and prays daily for them to always hear and respond to God’s call on their lives. He loves playing with them and particularly sharing his love of music with them.
The treasure of knowing my granddads and being so loved by them has been a gift in my life that I know has helped me understand the love God our Father has for me. The beauty of the continuous bond from great-grandfather to grandfather to father is powerful and assures me of my heritage. The greatest lesson I learned from these loving men was to invest yourself in others and especially to build up and encourage each member. It doesn’t seem mighty or grand, but it strengthens the foundation of our lives and nurtures deep, holy growth in our specific God-ordained purpose. The richness of a grandfather’s love and care is a gift in the family. Their patriarchal leadership and security are God’s design for how families are enjoined together through the generations and meant to relate. I have had the privilege of this delightful heritage and my prayer is that it will continue to be nourished by the fathers to come in our family.
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To learn more about the Year of St. Joseph, please click here.
What motivates us to do what we do? If it is love, then we are called to “will the good of another” (St. Thomas Aquinas quoted in the Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1766). The object of our love is not ourselves or our self-interest. It is God and neighbor. St. Vincent Pallotti universalizes love in this way:
“If we are really animated by the spirit of love, we will always treat all with love, we will look on all with love, we will think of all with love, and we will speak of all with love” (OOCC III, 338).
This type of love requires sacrifice and generosity. Of course, the greatest act of love was the sacrifice of Christ on the Cross. We see generosity and sacrifice in the Blessed Virgin Mary saying “yes” to the Angel Gabriel and St. Joseph setting aside what he wanted to do and always doing the will of God.
Sacrificing ourselves for the other, thinking not of self, but the other, is not a typical way of behaving. We seem to be able to do it on a small scale with those closest to us, which is the place to start. Bit by bit, through self-sacrifice, a generosity of spirit grows, love grows. Does this happen on its own? No, the Holy Spirit is moving in and through each of us. The grace of God gives us the ability to sacrifice and be generous, moving us toward universal love.
May the charity of Christ urge us on!
When the COVID-19 pandemic began and so much seemed outside of my control, I turned to prayer as a source of comfort, nourishment, and stability. Favorite Catholic podcasts, powerful homilies, Gospel-inspired music, Scripture reading, and devotions like the Rosary kept me grounded in a higher reality than the confusing, dark, and humbling one I faced.
Perhaps I felt the need to overcompensate in a time when I couldn’t physically receive the Eucharist. The lack of physical Communion meant I searched for spiritual, mental, and emotional communion with the Lord in other ways I found fruitful. In this way, times of trial can bear much fruit—suffering sharpens our eyes to the eternal and true. It is sobering. Surrendered to God, suffering can be the most direct path of conversion and redemption.
As the pandemic continued and I was able to adjust to my new “normal,” my sense of emergency slowly began to fade. I found ways to be comfortable and to continue meeting needs like friendship, worship, and rest. No, everything was not as it had been. Life was still a shadow of its former glory. And yet, I had found ways to cope.
As this trajectory continues with the reopening of society in many ways, I have begrudgingly found that my deep prayer life has slowly faded. Becoming more of a checklist than a time of renewal, my prayer time is filled with distraction and noise.
I’ve come to realize that I would rather fill my time with the noise—albeit good noise—of a Catholic podcast or homily instead of turning everything off and filling my time with God Himself. I’m more comfortable hearing others talk about God and their spiritual insights than talking to God. I’m also more comfortable talking AT God than WITH Him. I have a lot to say, but am not spending time listening or receiving. Finally, once I do settle down to pray, my tasks, chores, and rambling thoughts bombard me. My prayer time is filled with noise and distraction.
Why is it easier for me to scroll through a newsfeed of beautiful images and consumer goods than to thumb through my Rosary meditatively? Why is it easier to respond at all moments to the latest texts in a never-ending group thread than it is to respond at all moments to the promptings of the Holy Spirit? Why is my heart more easily captured by the words of the media than by the Word of God?
For perhaps the millionth time, I must face again a thorn in my side that prevents me from greater holiness: noise.
“Noise, the grand dynamism, the audible expression of all that is exultant, ruthless, and virile—Noise which alone defends us from silly qualms, despairing scruples, and impossible desires,” says the demon Screwtape in C.S. Lewis’ classic, The Screwtape Letters. He continues, “We will make the whole universe a noise in the end. We have already made great strides in this direction as regards the Earth. The melodies and silences of Heaven will be shouted down in the end.”
Lately in my life, it seems like Screwtape and his friends are succeeding. I’m having trouble hearing the melodies of Heaven amidst all the noise. And can’t we all admit to knowing this deep down—that much of our lives is an endless stream of noise and distraction threatening to drown out the still small voice inside?
I reflect on these things once again while reading a powerful book and meeting virtually with other women--This Present Paradise: A Spiritual Journey with St. Elizabeth of the Trinity. Elizabeth, through the author Claire Dwyer, is shaking me from my complacency and passing through the distractions to help resurrect my heart. This young French Carmelite nun who lived over a hundred years ago mastered the interior life of prayer and encourages all to do the same—regardless of their vocation in life.
I know I am called to more than what I’m filling myself up with; an hour of scrolling through items on sale or watching a home renovation show will never compare to fifteen minutes of virtual Adoration or a few decades of the Rosary. Any time consecrated to God is not returned unsanctified.
In times of greater stability, comfort, or complacency, I’m also reminded of the Scripture passage about the wise virgins at the gate. We are called to fill our lanterns with oil as we await the Bridegroom so that we will be prepped and ready for His return. I have personally found that my preference for news feeds, shows, or internet browsing fills my lantern with something akin to water rather than oil, and so I am using this season of Ordinary Time to recommit to a quieter, more fruitful prayer life.
Below are a few things I have found helpful for overcoming spiritual distraction and ensuring daily prayer:
As the world continues to reopen in ways that give us hope, I invite you to reflect on your prayer life throughout the pandemic months and set goals for yourself during this season of Ordinary Time. In the end, may we find that the melodies and silences of Heaven triumph over the noise of the world.
As I write this, my laptop is balanced precariously on my knees because there is no longer space on my lap. My baby girl presses into my belly button with each hiccup, and I can’t help but think about her arrival. In the next three weeks, I will feel her hiccups against me from the outside. I will know her hair color and her features and I will breathe in her perfect newborn scent. Until then, I cherish the last days of my two-year-old being the baby, of my family being one of six instead of seven, and the time I have to prepare for her to enter the world.
First time mothers and mothers of many can easily relay their baby preparedness to-do lists: rinse the onesies, install the carseat, visit the doctor again. Physically and mentally, we work to be ready to welcome the sweet new life we created. I’m embarrassed to admit that I did not make plans around my spiritual readiness for a newborn until the birth of my fourth child. In all of my business preparing my mind and body for labor and delivery, God’s role in this life-event has been a mere afterthought.
Confessing this to other mothers and mothers-to-be has revealed that I am not alone in this oversight. Being consumed by the physicality of what is happening to our bodies can edge out any focus on what is happening to our spirit. This time, I’m changing that.
In Jesus Calling: Enjoying Peace in His Presence, Sarah Young writes, “When you seek My face, put aside thoughts of everything else. I am above all, and in all; your communion with Me transcends both time and circumstances. Be prepared to be blessed bountifully by My Presence, for I am a God of unlimited abundance.” The process of labor, delivery, and early mothering is one of humility. I deeply desire a window into the future so I can know and prepare for the date and time this baby will come, how delivery will go, and what the outcome will be. Of course, these are things I cannot know. By seeking Truth in His face, in the Word, and in the sacraments, I am invited to rest in the peace of what I do know: my baby and I are seen and known by the God of abundance. He alone knows what is to come, and His plan for me is good.
This truth leaves me in awe of our God, and I cannot help but to praise Him. My favorite form of worship is music, and I want to bring that into the delivery room. With each contraction, I can lose myself to the words celebrating His presence in the pain. It reminds me of His strength when I feel that I have come to the end of my own. Words of praise will be some of the first my baby hears. My labor playlist is available for you here.
One of the many gifts of prayer is its communal nature. This has been a beautiful way to invite those we love into the process of preparing for the birth of our baby, and even into the delivery room. This pregnancy, we have invited our loved ones to pray a novena leading up to the baby’s due date. Our child’s godparents alongside many of the friends who witnessed our wedding, and vowed to help uphold us in our vocation to family life, will join us in the novena to Saint Mary Magdalene, praying for the safe delivery of our baby. (It starts today-- join us!) Other favorite prayers leading up to labor and delivery include:
-St. Gerard Majella Novena for Expectant Mothers
-Novena to Mary, Mother of God
-Prayer for the Birth of a Child
We invite our friends to pray for us, but we also invite them to offer their intentions so that we might pray for them. As Catholics, many of us are familiar with the phrase "offer it up." This means that we can enter into the redemptive suffering of Christ when we "offer up" our own suffering, work, or joy. The Catechism says, “The cross is the unique sacrifice of Christ, the ‘one mediator between God and men’ [1 Timothy 2:5]. But because in his incarnate divine person he has in some way united himself to every man, ‘the possibility of being made partners, in a way known to God, in the paschal mystery’ is offered to all men (618).”
It is my hope to offer up the pain of childbirth for the cares and concerns of the people we love the most so we ask: How can I "offer up" the end of this pregnancy and my labor for you?
Preparing my heart to walk alongside Jesus through the last days of pregnancy, childbirth, and recovery is the most important preparation I can make. Together with my Heavenly Father, the onesies will be cleaned and the hospital bag packed. In His presence, this child will come into the world with praise. My life and hers, our being, our all, are in Him and with Him, and for Him. And so, Amen.
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We come in all colors, shapes, sizes. We come with many different names: Papa, Gramps, Granddaddy, Baba, Nonno or maybe even Skipper. The one thing we all share is our unconditional love for our grandchildren.
One of my earliest memories of my grandfather Tony (Gramps) was sitting on his lap as he prayed the rosary. As l tried to pull it from his hands, he clutched his beads even tighter. I guess that was my first memory of prayer. When my wife and I had our first child, Gramps told me the 3 greatest things a grandfather can give his grandchildren are love, spoiling them rotten, and memories. I cherish the memories of Gramps to this day: sleeping over at my grandparents’ house, having my picture taken with him at my First Holy Communion, cutting his grass and him giving me a quarter, him asking me to sit next to him at his and grandma’s 40th anniversary dinner, and even taking my then-fiancée when I went to shovel his snow. These are some of the memories he created for me.
My dad and father-in-law enhanced the grandfather experience for me as I watched them with our children and their cousins. Birthday parties, school plays, receiving the sacraments or graduations, grandpas were always there. At his grandkids’ Confirmations, my father-in-law would say “Another soldier for Christ”–adding more memories to my collection. l wonder what memories Jesus had of His grandfathers Joachim (the Patron Saint of Grandfathers) and Jacob, St. Joseph’s father. Did He pull on their prayer beads, sleep over at their houses, sit next to them at special occasions? As it becomes my turn to make memories, I pray to St. Joseph that my 4 precious grandchildren will have memories: a picture of us at their First Holy Communion, attending Mass together, me walking them to school or picking them up after school (well maybe after the pandemic), me telling them a corny Papa joke, them giving me a running hug, me spoiling them rotten or maybe even them tugging on my rosary. The aforementioned men have set the bar very high; it is my goal to follow in their footsteps. I remain extremely grateful every day that l have been entrusted to be the Papa of Mabel, Anna, Teddy and Lucy. In the year that Pope Francis has declared the Year of St. Joseph, my best hope would be that St. Joseph gives me the strength to teach them the ways of the Gospel and lead them down the path towards Christ.
To me St. Joseph was like an unsung hero. His devotion must have been unwavering. Asked to be the earthly father to Jesus and husband of Mary, WOW!! what a responsibility. Teaching Jesus his trade as a carpenter, teaching Him to pray, preparing Him for manhood, things that many may overlook. St. Joseph simply did the things asked of him by God. God’s love shows through in picking Joseph for this oh so important role in Jesus’ life and the life of the Church. The more I read about St Joseph, the second J of the JMJ (Jesus, Mary and Joseph) I wrote at the top of my school papers long ago, the more awesome I think he is. He did so much without questioning his role. Thank you, St Joseph, for being an inspiration and guiding light as I navigate the waters of being a grandfather.
St Joseph, pray for us (especially us grandfathers).
To learn more about the Year of St. Joseph and our Fatherhood Series, please click here.