 Lately, it has been a personal goal of mine to be outside more often. With spring upon us in the Washington, D.C. area, there have been many new and bright, shiny opportunities to enjoy the weather. My four-year-old is often my outdoor buddy, and we have enjoyed finding new parks, revisiting old ones, and looking for exciting ways to explore. We have had so many laughs and special moments while enjoying our little piece of the world that I sometimes get emotional thinking about how blessed I am and how wondrous the world is. It is humbling to consider how massive and stunning, yet how perfectly planned our Earth was made to be. In celebration of Earth Day on April 22nd, I have decided to focus on the beauty of nature through the adoring eyes of my son and reflect on how to instill more wonder and awe into my everyday “grown-up” life. Who among us is yearning for connection? Just about everyone! As humans, we are built and intended to need other people, it is how God intended for us to be: communal people. The solar eclipse on April 8th brought so many of us in North America together, outside, to view a celestial event take place that has not happened in totality in a long time. The awe that took place, from people of all walks of life, backgrounds, beliefs, and cultures to view something so wondrous is humbling. The feeling of being part of something so much bigger than oneself is truly a holy experience for some; for others it was a chance to participate with those around them - a true shared experience. In Pope Francis’ 2015 encyclical letter, Laudato Si: Care for Our Common Home, he cautions us about the dangers of not caring for the Earth, reminds us that we are all interconnected, and provides steps to take in order to be a productive and intentional steward of the Earth we share. There are so many practical ways to care for the world around us, that even young children are often taught about recycling, waste, planting new growth, sustainable choices, and conservation of resources - all in an effort to better our common home. Whether it is my class of preschoolers or my own son, every day serves as a chance to teach and encourage our upcoming generations to do their part as members of our planet. As I close here, a prayer from Salt and Light titled, A Prayer for Our Environment from Pope Francis' Laudato Si', seems like a perfect synopsis of my reflection here on the wonder and awe of our Earth we share: All-powerful God, you are present in the whole universe and in the smallest of your creatures. You embrace with your tenderness all that exists. Pour out upon us the power of your love, that we may protect life and beauty. Fill us with peace, that we may live as brothers and sisters, harming no one. O God of the poor, help us to rescue the abandoned and forgotten of this earth, so precious in your eyes. Bring healing to our lives, that we may protect the world and not prey on it, that we may sow beauty, not pollution and destruction. Touch the hearts of those who look only for gain at the expense of the poor and the earth. Teach us to discover the worth of each thing, to be filled with awe and contemplation, to recognize that we are profoundly united with every creature as we journey towards your infinite light. We thank you for being with us each day. Encourage us, we pray, in our struggle for justice, love and peace. Amen.
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 “For the infinite glory of God.” St. Vincent Pallotti pondered greatly about God as infinite love and that all that we as human beings should do all for the infinite glory of God. He would even put the initials AIDG at the top of his letters to others. Of course, his use of this term is an expansion of “for the greater glory of God” of St. Ignatius of Loyola whose spirituality influenced Pallotti. Due to being in Rome, Pallotti had access and involvement with many Catholic spiritual traditions and borrowed freely from them, often modifying aspects of them. Pallotti was clear that all that he did was for the infinite glory of God, not his own glory. He had numerous opportunities to have glory of his own, but he set them aside to focus on God and show the infinite love of God to others. It is well worth our asking the question of ourselves, whose glory do we seek? Is it our own, or that of another human being, or of God? When we do all for the infinite glory of God, we come to know the peace that the Risen Christ offers his disciples. When we go forth as his apostles, as St. Vincent Pallotti called all the faithful to be, we are called to do so for God alone. As we celebrate the 229th anniversary of the birth of St. Vincent Pallotti on April 21st, may the charity of Christ urge us on to do all that we do for the infinite glory of God. 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.**
 “She said yes!” is commonly heard in engagement stories, echoing the excitement and joy of making the decision to have one’s life forever complemented with another in marriage. As we prepare to celebrate the Solemnity of the Annunciation on Saturday, the Church rejoices in Mary’s acceptance of God’s place for her in His divine plan of the salvation of mankind. Of course, Mary’s “yes” to God is not the only such instance in Scripture; on the contrary, each protagonist’s story within its pages involves his or her responding to the will of God throughout history, from God’s command to “be fruitful and multiply” to Adam and Eve through his instruction to the exiled St. John the Evangelist to “Write, therefore, what you have seen, what is now and what will take place later.” Just like each person in Scripture, we too can share in the delight of accepting God’s will for us through our faith and the surrendering of our personal desires and wants to Divine Providence. Every book of the Bible recounts at least one instance of God calling a prophet, judge, king, or another figure, no matter their status, to a higher purpose. I particularly enjoy the story of the boy Samuel, whom God called three times before the future judge and prophet, finally understanding Who kept waking him, answered. All of these accounts are more than nice stories—they serve to illustrate the different ways of answering God’s call as well as how God continues to guide us after we answer. The biblical theme still rings true today: “I have called you by name, and you are mine.” On the occasion of the Annunciation, Mary’s “yes” undoes Eve’s “no” to God. Through Mary, the Word was made flesh and she became the new “Mother of the Living” (CCC 489). This motherhood extends to us all! As a result of Mary’s “yes,” she became a tabernacle of the living God now made man. Christ’s complete embrace of humanity during His earthly ministry still affects us today. We are called to allow Him to more fully enter into our lives just as He did in the Virgin’s womb. By creating space for Christ, as Mary did, we are enabled to fully surrender to the Divine Will; our “yes” to God can then echo Mary’s crucial response, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.” How shall we respond? At the Archdiocese of Washington’s Rite of Election this past month, I was blessed to observe over a thousand adults, teens, and children be presented to the Cardinal in order to be baptized or confirmed as Catholics in the Archdiocese of Washington this Easter. They, like Mary, have said “yes!” to God’s invitation. It’s a beautiful witness to see the participants’ formal expression of their desire to become Catholic before their loved ones, sponsors, and the Church. The Rite of Election kicks off a final period of intense spiritual preparation much like our experience of Lent, in which they are called to follow the Lord. As baptized members of Christ’s Body, we are called to offer our support, love, and prayers for these catechumens and candidates as each continues his or her faith journey, that all may strive to remain close to the Lord Who has called them to Himself. Our “yes!” does not occur in a vacuum. Even the already baptized are called to be a light for each other as each of us experiences darkness in our lives. No matter our insecurities or doubts, no matter our past failings or unworthiness, God still continuously calls to us, ever lovingly, ever patiently, ever gently, ever earnestly. Mary had her own questions when the archangel Gabriel dramatically announced God’s plan for her. If you’re like me, you want all the details before making a decision! But, as we read throughout scripture, one’s trust in God is never misplaced. God can—and does—do great things through us if only we allow ourselves to be like “a little pencil in the hand of a writing God.” May we, then, always share the Good News of Christ’s Resurrection, the hope that we share as we receive Communion, as we journey to the Cross, and as we profess—and experience—God’s love. By the grace of God and the support of each other, may we, at every moment of our lives, join with the whole Church and the heavenly host to praise God for His mercy and goodness: “‘Our Savior, Jesus Christ, has destroyed death, and brought us light and life!’ No wonder we [reply], ‘Alleluia!'” (Cardinal Timothy Dolan) **This blog was originally published on March 23, 2017.**
 In St. Peter’s speech at Pentecost he proclaims, “But God raised him up, releasing him from the throes of death, because it was impossible for him to be held by it.” (Acts 2:24) The truth of St. Peter’s words is made manifest in the liturgical rhythm of the Church year. Just as our Lord could not be held by the grave, the celebration of Easter cannot be held to just one day. In her beauty, the Church does not stop at the Octave of Easter either, but offers the faithful an entire liturgical season—50 whole days—to glory in Jesus’ resurrection. As Pope St. John Paul II declared, “We are an Easter people.” But once the beautiful liturgies of the Octave are behind us, the Easter lilies are removed from the churches, and the carrot cake has all been eaten, how are we to be an Easter people? One good place to begin is entering into the celebration of the liturgy. I have a distinct childhood memory of attending Easter Sunday Mass while my family was away on spring break. During the homily the priest invited everyone to exclaim ‘alleluia!’, and then do it again because we weren’t enthusiastic enough. As an unobservant and not-the-best catechised child, the purpose of this exercise was lost on me. But now, as a frequent daily Mass attendee I am much more aware of the forty long, alleluia-less days of Lent and more fully appreciate the significance of proclaiming alleluia together with renewed vigor on Easter and in the days that follow. During Lent many of us are motivated to make more time for Mass or prayer in our lives, which are beautiful practices to continue through the Easter season and beyond. Throughout the Masses of the Octave, the Victimae paschali laudes, an ancient chant, may be recited before the Gospel. Whether you attend Mass and hear the chant or simply take time to meditate on it each day, it is a beautiful tool for reflecting on the Paschal mystery in our lives and offering extra praise to the Lord: “The sheep are ransomed by the Lamb; / and Christ, the undefiled, / hath sinners to his Father reconciled.” Just as Lent is a time of remembering our mortality, Easter can be a time of remembering our Eternal life. Another liturgical tool to draw on is the Liturgy of the Hours, the communal prayer of the Church. In Morning Prayer throughout the Octave, we use the same psalms and canticle of Easter Sunday morning for all eight days. Particularly striking is the Canticle of Daniel (Daniel 3:57-88, 56), in which we pray that all things on Heaven and Earth bless the Lord: Let us bless the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Let us praise and exalt him above all forever. Blessed are you, Lord, in the firmament of heaven. Praiseworthy and glorious and exalted above all forever. Whether you are able to pray Morning Prayer, or any of the other hours, in community or humbly pray them alone, you are still raising your prayers with all the faithful throughout the Earth and elevating them through Jesus to the Father. Throughout the Easter season, the first readings at Mass are taken from the Acts of the Apostles. Practically this makes sense since Acts recounts the events following Jesus’ death and resurrection. But there is also a spiritual significance to reading from this book during the Easter season. Just like His first disciples, we aren’t meant to keep our alleluias and joy in the Lord’s resurrection and salvation confined to our churches or to ourselves, but to proclaim them to the world. It took a little encouragement for the apostles to do this, and so it may for us, but we too can say with St. Peter: “He commissioned us to preach to the people and testify that he is the one appointed by God as judge of the living and the dead. To him all the prophets bear witness, that everyone who believes in him will receive forgiveness of sins through his name.” (Acts 10:42-43) The Easter season is a grace-filled time to unite ourselves to this age-old mission of the Apostles and share the Good News of Jesus. The Catechism of the Catholic Church tells us that, “Beginning with the Easter Triduum as its source of light, the new age of the Resurrection fills the whole liturgical year with its brilliance.” (Paragraph 1168) At the Easter Vigil, the faithful are invited to renew their baptismal promises and remember the light of Christ that is within them. As we make our way through the Easter season, let us glorify Christ in the liturgy and let the brilliance of the Eternal Light shine forth from our churches and our hearts.
 Holy Week is one of my favorite weeks of the year; each of the days builds with anticipation and I get excited just by the thought of Easter Sunday. Lent is almost through and it’s almost time to be joyful in the Risen Lord. When I was little, I felt this anticipation and excitement too. I would spend Holy Week letting people know that Easter was only a couple short days away—it felt like spring would officially be here as soon as we woke up on Easter Sunday! “The very best holiday of the year” was coming, and I had to get ready for it! Did I fully understand it was Christ that I was waiting for or did I just want to wear my new white shoes for church? Looking back, although it could have been the new Easter shoes, I think my 10 year-old-self would have agreed that I really was waiting for Holy Week as the final stretch to the finish line on a journey that began on Ash Wednesday. In today’s Gospel reading, we read about moments of betrayal and loyalty. Judas leaves the Last Supper to betray Jesus while Peter in his humanity says that he will never deny him. I find it to be one of the most powerful Gospels of Holy Week. Here’s why: Like Peter, we are called to be disciples whose repentance leads to an experience of God’s forgiveness. Jesus knows that his friends will betray him and that he has limited time left on Earth. On one hand, Judas tries not to be obvious about his deception as he leaves the table, and on the other hand, Peter publicly tells Christ that he will stand by him and never fail him. Ultimately, both men betray Jesus, but it’s Peter who seeks forgiveness and allows himself a second chance. Judas, on the other hand, is overcome with guilt and despairs that his sin is beyond the reach of God’s mercy-- eventually taking his own life. We are like Peter in so many ways! We say we love Christ and that we could never deny him, but at the first sign of pressure we sin and turn our backs on him. How often have we chosen to do something that pulls our hearts from Jesus? It is during Lent—especially during Holy Week—that we recall the pain we’ve caused Christ. This week and each day, Jesus gives us another chance to say to him, “Forgive me; I have sinned.” When Christ meets his disciples after his Resurrection, he asks Peter, “Do you love me?” Let us respond with Peter this Easter, “Yes Lord, you know that I love you!” As Easter approaches, we remember how much we are loved by Christ in his Passion, death on the Cross, and soon to be Resurrection. In these next few days, I challenge you not to say, “Lord I could never deny you!” but instead, “Forgive me Lord, for I have sinned.” Last year on Good Friday, Pope Francis said, “Lord Jesus, always grant us the grace of holy repentance...the spark of hope is lit in the darkness of our despair, because we know that your only measure for loving us is to love us without measure.” This Holy Week, in this time for “holy repentance,” let us make sure to spend these last days in Lent with our hearts preparing for Easter. May we use these remaining days in the desert as a time for forgiveness and allow our hearts to be loved by Christ. May all of our hearts gleam with anticipation for Holy Week and better knowledge of the Risen Lord! **This blog was originally published on April 16, 2019.**
 As we continue through this “Year of St. Joseph” as proclaimed by Pope Francis in his Apostolic Letter Patris Corde, one cannot help but reflect on St. Joseph: adoptive father of Jesus, spouse to the Blessed Virgin Mary, and Patron of the Universal Church. These lofty and impressive titles have been given to a man who in many respects is seen as humble, consistently in the background, and having no words come from his mouth in Scripture. His example of what it means to be a man and a father is one men can strive for. As a father of a precocious one-year-old, I cannot help but look for examples of how to be a father. Of course, we often look to our own fathers, grandfathers, friends, and perhaps even godfathers and spiritual fathers through the priesthood. There are many qualities that we can emulate from these father figures in our lives, indeed very practical ones. How to change diapers without a mess; how to look good while carrying an undersized backpack filled with wipes, pacifiers, and a change of clothes; or at what posture to best steer that not-tall-enough stroller? What prayers should we be introducing to our young family? How can we strive to provide for our child both practically and spiritually? However, I would suggest another figure to look to: St. Joseph. When my son was baptized, a friend of ours – who happens to be named Joseph – gifted to him (and to us) a statue of St. Joseph. At the time, I considered it more of a funny coincidence, and a nice gesture. As I continued to reflect on it, I really began to see it as providential. Admittedly, as a new father, I was scared and anxious (I still am). St. Joseph undoubtedly faced many of the same anxieties. However, throughout Scripture he is portrayed as a man who sorts out problems and comes up with solutions in practical and brave ways. It is this particular quality that I think we, as fathers, should take as a noble example. There will be times throughout our fatherhoods when we will come to face challenges, confusion, and doubt. St. Joseph protected the Holy Family and trusted in the word of God when it was easy not to trust. As fathers we are called to protect our own families, not necessarily always from harm or danger, and also to provide an example of kindness, love, and humility that so often is characterized as weak. Instead, I invite you to seek St. Joseph’s noble example and see these qualities as a strength. We also need to trust in God. Pope Francis says in Patris Corde, “The greatness of Saint Joseph is that he was the spouse of Mary and the father of Jesus. In this way, he placed himself, in the words of Saint John Chrysostom, 'at the service of the entire plan of salvation.'” Let us as fathers follow in St. Joseph’s noble example to place ourselves at the service of God’s plan for us. Then we will truly be able to serve our families without fear or anxiety. For more on St. Joseph, read our blog post: “Ite Ad Joseph: 10 Quotes to Celebrate the Year of St. Joseph.” **This blog was originally published on April 15, 2021.** **This photo is from: https://cmmb.org/st-joseph-devotions-your-weekly-reflection-from-cmmb/**
 The time of the Paschal Triduum and the Easter season are almost upon us. How has the time of Lent been? It is meant to be one of ongoing conversion to Christ – metanoia. The Triduum offers us a deeper time of conversion. The Gospel readings of those days give us much to reflect on our own discipleship of Christ. On Holy Thursday, during the Mass of the Lord’s Supper, we experience table fellowship, the first Eucharist, and the witness of Christ in service to his Apostles through the washing of the feet. It is an example that we are called to follow. During the Commemoration of the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ, we hear of the betrayal of Judas, the denial by Peter, the suffering of Jesus, and the grief of those at the foot of the Cross, especially the Blessed Virgin Mary. In what occurs, we consider the ways in which we have not lived for Christ and how we can unite our suffering to his on the Cross. At the Easter Vigil, in the announcement of the angel to Mary Magdalene and the women at the tomb, we learn about the possibility of eternal life given to us all through the Risen Christ. On Easter Sunday, we see and believe, as the disciple whom Jesus loved did, the hope of the Resurrection. In this hope, we proclaim the Risen Christ as Savior of the world! Metanoia, ongoing conversion, is a patient journey that leads to our true joy, deeper encounter with the Risen Christ! May the charity of Christ urge us on! May you have a blessed Paschal Triduum and a joyous Easter! In God, the Infinite Love, Fr. Frank
 In college I was lucky enough to spend a semester in Cork, Ireland. In my Irish folklore class, my professor, a charming little Irish woman, introduced us to ‘tír na nÓg.’ Fundamental to Irish folklore, she described tír na nÓg as a liminal space, the betwixt and between. It is the thin veil that separates the supernatural world of the fairies from our natural, human one. In these places, there was much less of a divide between the supernatural and natural worlds. While Ireland is well known for its Celtic spirituality and folklore, it also has a strong Catholic tradition. As Catholicism took root in the country, the ancient traditions and rituals were maintained and incorporated into the Christian spirituality. In her book, Braving the Thin Places, Irish Catholic author Julianne Stanz draws out this connection. Just as tír na nÓg is the place where the mystical is believed to be closer at hand, we also have these “threshold places” in our own spiritual lives. Instead of thinking about the supernatural in terms of fairies, we can consider the way that God descends into our world and the places where we have a deeper sense of His mystical presence and action. Our personal thin places are those where “God is felt and near” (Stanz, 2021, p. xvii). But as most people who have desired to develop a deeper relationship with God will know, it can take time to become attuned to this nearness and let Him break through. For some, this breaking through can be spurred by beauty. In seeing a striking rainbow over the Irish countryside or beholding a newborn child, we can have an overwhelming sense of God’s power and work in our midst. In other cases, this breaking through may be the result of a personal difficulty or interior struggle. As Christ himself revealed, “For human beings this is impossible, but for God all things are possible” (Matthew 19:26). It is when our own powers fail, whether in comprehending the immensity of God’s goodness or in overcoming the difficulties we encounter, that we approach the threshold where God, with His strength and love, awaits us. Throughout the Old Testament, God revealed his nearness to his people: “What other nation is so great as to have their gods near them the way the Lord our God is near us whenever we pray to him?” (Deuteronomy 4:7) God approached the threshold of our lives and invited us to draw near to Him in return. In the Incarnation of Jesus, this nearness is made even more real to us. If tír na nÓg is the veil that separates the supernatural from the natural, Jesus fully pulls back this curtain. By descending into our world, He made space for the divine within the human. We call this grace; divine life within us. Grace works in our threshold places and enables us to discern God’s work and act upon His promptings. In concluding her book, Stanz speaks of the mysticism we must have, “an abandonment to the adventure of living with ‘holy worldliness’ as we try to experience in the thin places the wild things of God” (p. 169). Far from recklessness, this abandonment is a surrender to God and a trust in the ways He is working in our lives. It is “the free response of the human person to the initiative of God who reveals himself” (Catechism of the Catholic Church § 166). If we know God is near and for us, how can we not cross this threshold and rely on Him? The beloved Irish saint, St. Patrick, in his famous lorica or breastplate prayer models this reliance on God and belief in God’s nearness and power to cross the threshold of his humanity: I arise today Through God's strength to pilot me; God's might to uphold me, God's wisdom to guide me, God's eye to look before me, God's ear to hear me, God's word to speak for me, God's hand to guard me, God's way to lie before me, God's shield to protect me, God's hosts to save me. May we all have the grace to enter into our threshold places and be open to the powerful work of God in each of our lives! Stanz, J. (2021). Braving the Thin Places. Loyola Press. **Photo from Erin Donn.**
 Last year, I wrote a blog about my confirmation saint, Saint Felicity. I wrote how her life was inspirational towards my own life and how proud I was to have her as “my” saint. I really enjoyed the experience of learning more about “my” saint, and I thought it would only be fitting to continue on my self-discovery journey through the saints. This time, I set out to learn more about Saint Frances of Rome. When I was younger, I always disliked having to tell people my middle name. You see, my given name is Sarah Marie Frances (intentionally two middle names). I would always just tell people my middle name was Marie. In my naivety, I felt like Frances was a boy's name and just never found that it stuck; I swore to remove it once I turned eighteen. I knew that the name Frances was chosen for me after my Great Aunt, and I understood the sentimental reason as to why my parents chose my name, but it just didn’t feel “cool” to tell my peers that my middle name was Frances, so just Marie would have to suffice. As I’ve gotten older, I’m disappointed in my past self for believing this. I’m so honored to bear the name of my Aunty Frannie, as we called her. She passed away when I was around four, and I seldom have memories with her when she was alive, but I cherish the few that I did have. Since I was old enough to go on the internet, I would research various names and whether they had an impact on history (can you tell that I studied history in college?). I would search Sarah and read about her journey in the Old Testament, Marie is a diminutive of Mary, the Blessed Mother, and Frances is known as Saint Frances of Rome. Saint Frances of Rome was born in 1384 in the Papal States to a wealthy family. She was always interested in religious life, but was soon forced into an arranged marriage, yet she always yearned for a life of service and prayer. Together with her sister-in-law, Vannozza, she began to minister to the poor in Rome. After a few years, Frances lost her son and daughter to a plague that was sweeping across Italy. In an attempt to help the suffering, she donated all her money and possessions to those who were in need. Even after the plague had ceased, she continued her work for the poor and later founded a religious society for women with the goal to offer themselves to God and be of service to the poor. She continued her work for many years and, after the death of her husband, she moved into a home with the members of the society she created. Saint Frances really is an inspiration to us all! She serves as a reminder to help those who are in need, to prioritize our relationship with the Lord, and to persevere through the challenging moments in our lives. I am so honored to bear her name and I hope to use her story as a model for my own and to be more like her each and every day. To learn more about St. Frances of Rome, visit our feast day site. **This image is from https://www.franciscanmedia.org/saint-of-the-day/saint-frances-of-rome/**
 I’m not much of a poetry person. I did what I could to avoid it in middle and high school, as well as college. But there is one poem that I like—in fact, that I love. It goes like this: “Hope” is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all - And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - And sore must be the storm - That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm - I’ve heard it in the chillest land - And on the strangest Sea - Yet - never - in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of me. That is “Hope is the Thing with Feathers” by Emily Dickenson. I always liked the poem, the way it rhymes and the way it rolls off the tongue. It became even more important to me when my father became ill. I clung to this poem because it reminded me that hope is always with us; that even in the greatest storm, hope remains and remains without ceasing. As Christians, we cling to hope. This season of Lent which we find ourselves in right now is a period that prepares and leads us to that ultimate instance of hope in the Christian life: the Resurrection. Much like the hope that Dickenson writes of in her poem, the hope of the Resurrection remains with us at all times. It never stops, it remains with us in our souls, and it is, if I may create a word, “unabashable.” The thing is, it can be hard to see this hope in our lives, regardless of its unceasing presence. Pope Francis dedicates two paragraphs of Fratelli Tutti to the virtue of hope. He writes: Hope speaks to us of a thirst, an aspiration, a longing for a life of fulfillment, a desire to achieve great things, things that fill our heart and lift our spirit to lofty realities like truth, goodness and beauty, justice and love… Hope is bold; it can look beyond personal convenience, the petty securities and compensations which limit our horizon, and it can open us up to grand ideals that make life more beautiful and worthwhile” (Fratelli Tutti, 55). Hope transcends our ups and our downs, our individual trials and tribulations, not because they are insignificant, but because the Resurrection, in the end, is greater than every one of those. The hope of the Resurrection doesn’t minimize our trials, or even our personal convenience and petty securities, but it is the light which illuminates the darkness and allows us to move past them on our journey with Christ. The hope of the Resurrection, the hope of Christ perches in our soul and it sings the tune of Alleluia (pardon my use during Lent) without ceasing. This hope, much like the little bird that Dickenson describes, is in fact sweetest in the gale, in the storm, because we are called to recall that Jesus Christ will provide for us in ways that no other person or thing ever can. In the midst of Lent, much like through all of our sufferings, hope can be heard as a melodious tune above the groans of those trials which we face. May we look to hope, the thing with feathers, the Resurrection, this Lent and always. For more resources to accompany you during your Lenten journey, please click here. **This blog was originally published on March 16, 2021.**
 Taking up our cross and following Christ is not only for the Lenten season. It is the everyday life of a missionary disciple of Christ. We follow Christ and are sent by him into the world. The weight of our cross may be burdensome, but we are not alone. We are together with the community of faith, other followers of Christ who accompany us in prayerful solidarity. This is missionary discipleship. This is apostleship. We are sent by Christ to others, even while carrying our cross, accompanying them into his infinite love and mercy. Over the last weekend, members of the Catholic Apostolate Center team focused on missionary discipleship and accompaniment during presentations at the Archdiocese of Los Angeles Religious Education Congress. It is one of the largest Catholic gatherings in the United States with around 20,000 attendees of various ages and cultures, deeply committed to their Catholic faith and desiring to witness Christ in their lives. While there, we met collaborators and friends of the Center, and came to know new ones. It was a beautiful and uplifting experience. As you continue on your Lenten journey, may it be one of taking up your cross, following Christ, and going forth on mission for him! May the Charity of Christ urge us on! In God, the Infinite Love, Fr. Frank
 “Peter and his companions had been overcome by sleep, but becoming fully awake, they saw his glory and the two men standing with him.” -Luke 9:32 Twice in the Gospels we hear of the trio of disciples sleeping at pivotal moments in Christ’s life and ministry: at the Transfiguration – in this Sunday’s Gospel – and in the Garden of Gethsemane during Christ’s Agony. Both times, Christ is in deep prayer. And both times, Peter, James, and John are “overcome by sleep.” I get it. The group of men have just hiked up a mountain. It would have been normal to rest after such a grueling endeavor. Similarly, in the Garden, Jesus took the three disciples to pray after the Feast of the Passover—a long, filling meal complete with wine. I think of all the times I’ve napped after a holiday meal and sympathize with Peter, James, and John. In these scenes, they are so human. They become tired and rest their eyes. And yet, because of their physical tiredness, they miss out on God’s glory. In this week’s Gospel for the Second Sunday of Lent, Jesus is transfigured and his three beloved disciples are offered a glimpse of the glory to come—not only the glory of the Resurrected Christ, but the glory that awaits all men and women who allow themselves to be transformed by his grace. This Lent, I find myself asking, “Am I asleep with his disciples? What’s causing me to shut my eyes to God’s glory?” These questions are what have guided my Lenten journey as I discern how to grow in holiness this season. Each year, the Church in her wisdom asks us to reflect on what is making us spiritually sluggish and helps us prepare for Easter through prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. By ramping up in these three Lenten tenets, we can grow in our ability to see God’s will and the Holy Spirit at work in our lives. Had the Apostles been awake throughout the entirety of Christ’s Transfiguration, they would have basked longer in this glory—fear and confusion would not have gripped them. Lent calls us to wake up, to be alert, not only for the Easter celebration, but for God’s invitation to greater holiness throughout our lives. Pope Francis highlights Lent as the continuation of the “journey of conversion.” This journey is a lifelong one. And yet, seasons such as Lent, which focus on an even greater attention to prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, often spur us deeper and further on this journey towards Christ. As Pope Francis encouraged in his 2019 Lenten message: Let us not allow this season of grace to pass in vain! Let us ask God to help us set out on a path of true conversion. Let us leave behind our selfishness and self-absorption, and turn to Jesus’ Pasch. Let us stand beside our brothers and sisters in need, sharing our spiritual and material goods with them. In this way, by concretely welcoming Christ’s victory over sin and death into our lives, we will also radiate its transforming power to all of creation. The goal of Lent is not only Easter, but Christ Himself. This Lent, may our participation in prayer, fasting, and almsgiving help us shake off the drowsiness that shuts our eyes to God’s glory. For more resources to accompany you throughout your Lenten journey, please click here. Questions for Reflection: Am you asleep with Christ's disciples? What’s causing you to shut your eyes to God’s glory?” **This blog was originally published on March 12, 2019.**
 “Jesus, let there be more of you and less of me.” This is the short prayer I was once encouraged to pray as a penance by a wise, older priest. As we find ourselves at the start of Lent, these words once again come to mind, and I would like to offer them for your contemplation. The Church offers the season of Lent as an opportunity to prepare Her children well for Christ’s resurrection–both at the celebration of Easter (March 31 this year) and at His Second Coming. These preparations take the form of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving; the spiritual, penitential, and charitable practices we take up and the worldly things we put down. For forty days we walk into the desert, just as Jesus did, to humbly open ourselves to temptations and more fully offer our lives to the Lord. So what does that prayer–letting there be more of Jesus and less of me–have to do with Lent? Well…everything. In the first reading at Mass on Ash Wednesday, the prophet Joel extols us: “Rend your hearts, not your garments, and return to the LORD, your God” with your whole hearts (Joel 2:12). The Lord does not want to see what we can do of our own strength or will during this season; He wants us to see what He can do through us and the transformation He can work within us. Lent certainly calls for a degree of testing the limits of our comfort zones. More than this, it is an invitation to leave behind our will and consider the offerings and changes that will help us become more like Christ. As you reflect on your Lenten practices, consider asking yourself: “What can I offer to Jesus? How can I make more room for Him in my life? What can I let go of that will help me on this journey?” Approaching Lent in this way necessitates an act of surrender. It requires us to focus less on the material outcomes and more on the spiritual. This might mean to not give up ice cream like you do every Lent and instead, or additionally, prayerfully consider what areas of your life you have been keeping the Lord out of. St. John Henry Newman speaks to this in a sermon for the First Sunday of Lent: “...fasting is only one branch of a large and momentous duty, the subdual of ourselves to Christ. We must surrender to Him all we have, all we are. We must keep nothing back.” This, admittedly, is a challenging invitation, but remember that we are not doing Lent on our own. We are doing it with Jesus. This act of surrender necessitates reliance. And this reliance requires humility; an admission of our own weakness and powerlessness compared to Christ’s great strength. When you want to snooze your alarm and eschew the morning prayer time you’ve committed to, offer that to the Lord. When you are tempted to join in the office gossip, ask for Jesus’ strength. Ordinary as these offerings may be, that does not mean they are easy. If we have chosen to subdue ourselves for Christ’s sake, we can trust that He will provide the grace and strength we lack. As Catherine Doherty writes in Season of Mercy, “Mortification and penance are a passionate response of a man to a Passionate Lover who is God.” In humbly striving to more fully do the will of the Father, we naturally make more room for Jesus. As you surrender yourself to Him this Lent, also rely on Him. He wants us, and the attachments that bind us, to shrink away only so that His mercy and love can reign more completely. “Jesus, let there be more of you and less of me.”
2/8/2024 St. Anthony of Egypt and the Importance of Our Witness to Faith in a Secular WorldRead Now "The devil is afraid of us when we pray and make sacrifices. He is also afraid when we are humble and good. He is especially afraid when we love Jesus very much. He runs away when we make the Sign of the Cross." -St. Anthony of Egypt When St. Anthony of Egypt first ventured into the desert to become a hermit and devote his life entirely to God, he did not think that he would start the first monastic community–a tradition that would grow to be one of the life veins of the Church to this day. But St. Anthony inspired hundreds of men to follow him into the desert, living a life of simplicity and complete dependence on God. While at first this might seem ironic, that a man desiring to live alone would instead have hundreds of men following him and desiring to live in community with him, this story is seen time and time again throughout the lives of the saints. St. Anthony, St. Francis, St. Dominic, St. Clare, St. Teresa: each of these saints moved in a way that was completely contrary to the world when God called them to do so, and through their action inspired thousands of Christians to follow them and live lives of radical faith. We can often fall into the belief that our lives as ‘normal’ Catholics are not going to have an impact on the lives of others in any significant way, but as we see through the life of St. Anthony, every decision we make impacts and influences those around us. The men who followed St. Anthony into the desert did not do so because he was incredibly charismatic, or publicly performing great miracles, or telling them to follow him or they would go to hell. They followed because they saw that St. Anthony was joyfully living his life in a radically different way and they wanted to know what could possibly be going on so that their lives could be fulfilled like St. Anthony’s was. When we have a moment of conversion and the Lord calls us to be living saints, we are called in some way to radically change how we live our lives, no matter how big or small that change is. When we step into the change and choose to follow the Lord, we begin living as missionary disciples, our way of life witnessing to the reality which we live for. In the example of these saints, we see just how important it is that we live out these changes in a public way–that we live our lives in a way in which people can meet us and know that we are followers of Christ. Despite how small or big we may be in the mystical body, our unique charism matters and was created to help bring others into the fullness of the Christian life. When we look at the way we live our lives, what stands out as being unique to life as a missionary disciple? When we interact with a cashier at a store, do they experience an encounter with the Living God and the joy that comes with knowing Him? Are we willing to publicly live out our faith as an invitation for others to come and follow Christ, to have conversations with people about Jesus and invite them into the hope that we know? Do we stand for our morals and beliefs or do we allow others to conform our beliefs to this world? These are hard questions to ask ourselves, but we must take the time in prayer to reflect on whether the way we live brings others to follow the Christian faith, because others will follow our example. Thankfully as we see in the quote by St. Anthony at the beginning, the life of a Christian living for heaven doesn't have to be complicated, but is rather one of simple love for God and neighbor lived out through prayer, sacrifice, and faithfulness. Let us take the example of St. Anthony and live our lives in a simple, faithful way that shows those who encounter us that we are living for Christ, and that if they follow Christ they will find the same hope, peace, joy, and love that we witness to in the ways we live out our faith everyday. **This image is from: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Anthony_Abbot_Tempted_by_a_Heap_of_Gold**
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