When the disciples saw [Jesus] walking on the sea they were terrified. “It is a ghost,” they said, and they cried out in fear. At once [Jesus] spoke to them, “Take courage, it is I;* do not be afraid.” Peter said to him in reply, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” He said, “Come.” Peter got out of the boat and began to walk on the water toward Jesus. But when he saw how [strong] the wind was he became frightened; and, beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus stretched out his hand and caught him, and said to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” -Mt. 14:26-31 I often close my eyes and am transported to the rough waters. I look down at my shaking feet and trembling hands. Only moments ago, I had boldly called out to my Master, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water” (Mt. 14:28). My quick strides out of the boat are now feeble in the choppy waters. I begin to sink, “Lord, save me!” (Mt. 14:30). I find myself reflecting on this passage in moments of confusion, storms, and desolation. Peter’s example gives me great consolation, for it reveals the rough fisherman’s humanity. Peter– the impetuous, bold, and quick-tempered disciple who often speaks too quickly or acts without thinking. He requests something impossible by human standards only to be affirmed to “come.” His pride must have crept up quickly as he began an endeavor worthy of bragging rights among the other disciples. It was a lack of faith in Christ, an over-estimation of his own abilities, and a doubt in Christ’s power that led to Peter’s downfall. He began to sink, crying out, “Lord, save me!” Have you ever cried out these words from the depths of your heart? I say those words repeatedly throughout my life whenever I’ve felt myself sinking in choppy waters. The entire Christian life a response to God’s invitation to step out of the boat. I have learned more deeply in this past year that this invitation is the only one that I need to respond to if I want to attain sanctity, if I want to walk on water. I, like Peter, am so human. And yet, Jesus beckons me, he beckons all of us, to walk on water. This gives us hope, for we do not need to be perfect to answer his invitation. We need only to have faith and to be willing to answer when he proposes something different than what we think we need. The Lord never beckons us to impossible waters. While the journey towards sanctity would be impossible on our own, God gives us the grace, the sacraments, the Church, the community, in a word, the extended hand that we need to answer his invitation to “come” (Mt. 14:28). God knows we may never be fully ready to step out of the boat and complete the journey on water towards him. It is for this reason that Jesus calls us with an outstretched hand. Sometimes his hand seems further away than we can handle, but God is never out of our reach. “Come,” Christ says to us all, “experience my glory. Come, live in my love. Come, be like me. Come, walk on water.” Will you step out of the boat?
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We are often our own harshest critics. This is the case in my own life, and sometimes I look up in exasperation at God and tell Him I’m tired…of myself. In our culture of busy-ness and perfectionism, high achievement and the constant thirst for more, it’s tempting to balk at our deficiencies, cringe at our weakness, run from our blemishes. How could I have said that? Why did I fail at that again? How have I not learned? These thoughts run through our defeated minds if we forget in this Jubilee of Mercy to be merciful to ourselves. So often, we turn to shame, annoyance and frustration when we fall, sin or come face-to-face with our humanity. I imagine this is how the woman at the well felt as she went to get water at the hottest time of day. Divorced and remarried multiple times, she was seen as unclean by her Samaritan kinsmen. She avoided the other villagers at all costs in order to protect herself from their condemning gaze. There was one gaze, however, that she was powerless against: His. It was a gaze far more surprising than all others. A gaze not of condemnation, but piercing in its persistence and compassion—the gaze of love from God Himself. What must it have felt like to look up in the noon day heat and meet His gaze? What must it have felt like to be seen, known, and loved by the Son of Man? This is Christ’s eternal gaze upon all of us. If you’ve already experience it, you can relate to the Samaritan woman. If not, I invite you to look up from your well and meet Him there. How He waits for us—the Christ! How He goes out to our man-made wells of sin and shame, of selfishness and pride, of indifference and bitterness to meet His children, to remind them that they are loved! He comes to you, to me. The Lover pursues His beloved. The Shepherd pursues His sheep. The Father pursues the prodigal son. God desires us. Encountering this love and mercy leaves no room for indifference or fear. We long to reciprocate this love, as the woman at the well did. She left her jar, the very reason she came to the well, in order to proclaim the Christ to her entire town—the town she had avoided at all costs (cf Jn 4:28-29). This is radical. This is the conversion that results from the beautiful and delicate balance of love and justice, mercy, and truth. We are loved even when we have deemed ourselves unlovable. We are desired even when we remain indifferent. We are sought when we hide. And today we are being called and sent forth to bring His gaze to the nations. Why? Because we were created for greatness, though we are pilgrims living in a fallen world. We were created for life with God Himself; to live blameless, spotless, white as snow. Yet we live in a world in which we are often warring against God, ourselves, one another, and nature. In this Jubilee of Mercy, we are reminded that our scars or weaknesses should not scandalize us to the point of paralyzation or despair. We can no longer be imprisoned by our sin because we have a Savior—one who calls us to transfiguration and gives us the hope of the Resurrection, which we celebrate in 10 days. The piercing love of God elevates us to be salt of the earth, light to the nations. If we live in the certainty of being loved, we cannot refuse to be gentle and merciful to ourselves. Only in receiving His merciful love each day will we be able to love ourselves purely in the way that enables us to purely love our fallen brothers and sisters. Rather than cower at our weakness, going to the well at noon, let us embrace it—giving ourselves fully and completely to the One who can transform our weakness for His glory! May we cling to Him, not to ourselves, surrendering our folly to His wisdom, our sin to His perfection, our indifference to His love, our brokenness to His wholeness. Leave your jar at the well and go forth. For more resources to guide you throughout this Jubilee of Mercy, click here.
I am a social monastic. On the Myers-Briggs test, I score almost evenly as an extrovert and introvert. I need my personal, quiet time of reflection, as well as quality time with family and friends. Those who know of my profound love of all things monastic chuckle over my role as the Social Media Coordinator at the Catholic Apostolate Center, while those who know my social side nod their head in understanding. It is this relationship between my introvert and extrovert sides that I feel can be deepened and strengthened in order to promote effective communication and evangelization as the Church envisions them in our world today. In our modern world of social media and globalization, silence and communication seem to be at odds. The two, however, are completely intertwined. As Pope Benedict XVI wrote, “silence is an integral element of communication.” This connection between silence and communication is beautifully portrayed by the fact that we spend nine months in our mother’s womb—in silence and yet in continual communication. It is here that we begin to learn the meaning of communication and what it means to be human. Pope Francis went as far as saying that the womb “is the first ‘school’ of communication.” Anthropology then, shows us from the beginning of our existence that silence is fundamental to communication. Silence enables us to communicate with God, within ourselves, and with the outside world. Our communication must include these three aspects if it is to be effective and fruitful. Pope Francis wrote that the modern world needs “to recover a certain sense of deliberateness and calm. This calls for time and the ability to be silent and to listen.” If we are called to dialogue as witnesses of the Gospel, we must be effective listeners. We must be able to listen to the promptings of the Holy Spirit in our day-to-day lives, to listen to the stirrings of our hearts within us, and to listen to the needs, fears, hopes, and joys of the people around us. May silence and the practice of listening be our foundations for promoting a culture of encounter! This encounter is the entire point of the Christian life, of what it means to be human. In a word, “communication is really about realizing that we are all human beings, children of God,” Pope Francis wrote. We cannot live closed in on ourselves, but must be open to encountering the gifts of those around us. As the Social Media Coordinator at the Catholic Apostolate Center, I believe that social media and technology can help us bring the Gospel literally to all the ends of the earth. Social media fails, however, if it foregoes encounter, if it diminishes dialogue. Our achievements in the world of media are inadequate if they do not call to action, stir hearts, promote dialogue, or champion the true, the good and the beautiful. On January 24th, we received Pope Francis’ message for the 50th celebration of World Communications Day. This day was established by Pope Paul VI after the Second Vatican Council and is celebrated each year on the Sunday before Pentecost, which falls on May 8th this year. This day is meant to help us ponder the significant role of communication, technology, and social media in our world today. It is the fruit of a Church that is willing to read the signs of the times, step outside of itself and engage with the modern world—all of which are embodied in a special way in the papacy of Pope Francis. The Holy Father challenges us to use our communication efforts and channels as bridges that create unity and a space for encounter. He writes: “Let us boldly become citizens of the digital world. The Church needs to be concerned for, and present in, the world of communication, in order to dialogue with people today and to help them encounter Christ. She needs to be a Church at the side of others, capable of accompanying everyone along the way. The revolution taking place in communications media and in information technologies represents a great and thrilling challenge; may we respond to that challenge with fresh energy and imagination as we seek to share with others the beauty of God.” Let us go forth boldly! To learn more about Catholic Media, please visit our resource page here. “I will wait; I will wait for you.” Call it my theme song. It’s a chorus I’ve been repeating to God for months now. Whenever I get impatient or frustrated, I begin to pray with these words from the Mumford and Sons song. It’s less of a prayer that implies God is not working in my life and more of a concession to not knowing exactly how. It’s a surrendering of control, a transfer of the ego away from the self—and trying to be alright with the process. The past 10 months have been a time of both joyful anticipation and relinquishing control. I am engaged and will be getting married in about one month’s time. For the majority of our relationship, my fiancé and I have been praying about where to live, discerning everywhere from Denver to San Antonio to Washington, D.C. We’ve been doing all of this in the midst of something most find insane: long-distance. It’s a journey we felt called into rather than one either of us would have chosen. There are times when I’ve felt like the Israelites wandering the desert sands. I’ve looked up at God and shouted, “where are we going!?” I’ve picked up the flakes of hoar frost on the ground, this food from heaven, and said to Him, “what is it?”—the literal translation of the Hebrew word manna. I haven’t always liked the manna the Lord has given me, nor can I claim to have responded with the confidence and joy that Our Blessed Mother had in her “fiat” to God at the Annunciation when she said, “Let it be done to me according to thy word.” (Lk 1:38). Most of the time, I have to fight the temptation to join the hungry and tired Israelites’ grumbling. I have to fight to say words that don’t come naturally to me as a human being: “I will wait,” “thank you,” and “fiat.” Jesus and Mary teach me the appropriate human posture in response to God’s plan: surrender and thanksgiving in the midst of the unknown or in times of suffering. The most beautiful example of this occurs right before Christ’s Passion. At the Last Supper, knowing fully of his impending torture and death, Christ gave thanks, blessed bread and broke it (cf Mt. 26:27). Moments later, at the height of his spiritual and emotional passion in the Garden of Gethsemane, Christ uttered words akin to those of his mother about thirty-three years earlier, “not my will, but yours be done” (Lk. 22:42). Meditating upon Jesus and Mary’s examples throughout my engagement and long-distance relationship has enabled me to say many, many times, “I will wait,” “fiat,” and “thank you”—sometimes feebly, sometimes resolutely. I have come to learn that these words are the foundation of the Christian life. They are the manna which helps move us forward in our desert wanderings. They enable the waiting period, the time of desolation, to be not only bearable, but fruitful, joyful. They are the wellsprings of life, the oases in the desert that refresh our souls. Living eucharistically and receptively has given me the strength to say, “Yes, Lord. I will wait; I will wait for you and your plan for my life. I will wait joyfully, with hopeful anticipation as your plan unfolds—knowing that through suffering you lead me to resurrection. And I will live attempting always with your help to give thanks in the midst of the waiting, just as Christ gave thanks before his Passion. I will say ‘your will be done’ with Mary. I will wait for you to turn the desert before me into the Promised Land. I will wait; I will wait for you.”
In my adult years, I have often turned to St. Teresa of Avila as a spiritual mother. I love her courage, her passion, her wit, and her boldness. Throughout her life, she was always on the go. She was a reformer who brought the Carmelite Order back to its original roots. She got things done, founding over fifteen monasteries. And yet she was a great mystic--a woman who received beautiful graces, revelations and experiences of God in profound ways that are hard to tangibly explain. She went into ecstasies as a result of her deep relationship with the Lord and wrote a book called The Interior Castle about the journey of faith leading to union with God. I love the synthesis of the practical and the mystical in her personality. This synthesis becomes more compelling in our lives today, for it reveals that we are capable of a deep interior life and relationship with God in the midst of the busyness of life.
There is a story about Teresa of Avila that has caused me to laugh in genuine appreciation of her character. According to tradition, Teresa fell off her donkey while journeying to visit one of her convents--causing her to land in the mud and dirty her Carmelite habit. With her quick, fiery Spanish temper, Teresa looked up to heaven and said to God, “If this is how you treat your friends, no wonder you don’t have many.” I love this story because it beautifully depicts St. Teresa’s humanity and honest relationship with God. It is a raw, unfiltered moment of frankness that I believe is an example of both true prayer and transparency in our relationship with God. If prayer is ongoing dialogue with God through words, thoughts or actions, what is Teresa’s statement if not prayer? She talks to God with confidence and trust. She is bold about her feelings, knowing that God can handle her honesty. Notably, where does Teresa turn first in her day to day life? To God. He is her crutch, her foundation, even in times of frustration and annoyance. He is at the forefront of her mind. When I first heard this anecdote, I could completely relate to St. Teresa. Like her, I fall down on the road towards holiness. Furthermore, I often catch myself blaming God for different moments of hardship and frustration. What we sometimes miss as we lie there in the mud is the hand that’s in front of us--the extended hand of Christ that I often imagine in the story of the woman caught in adultery who Jesus saves from being stoned. God is not the one who pushes us down, but he is the one who picks us up. How quick are we to reach for the outstretched hand? Do we even reach out for it? Or are we too proud, choosing to try to get up by ourselves? What did St. Teresa do? In one of her reflections, she writes, “I praise the mercy of God, for it was he alone who gave me his hand.” (Life, Ch 7, The Collected Works of St. Teresa of Avila, Volume One, ICS Publications, Washington D.C. 1987) Do we turn immediately to God in our day to day lives? This is a question we can all reflect upon. Taking our reflection a step further, do we respond to the situations in which we find ourselves with joy or a sense of humor? I believe Pope Francis and St. Teresa would have been great friends. In his homily at the canonization Mass of Junipero Serra, Pope Francis reminded us of St. Paul’s command to “rejoice always.” If we forget this call, we fall into the temptation of becoming “sourpusses”--to use Pope Francis’ term. We are called to be people of joy in the midst of suffering, not in the absence of it. It is this type of transparency in our relationship with God, this type of outlook on the life of faith, this sense of humor that helps us move forward in answering the universal call to be missionary disciples who witness to the Gospel through their encounter with those around them. Like St. Teresa, may we always have a sense of humor. May we be bold and honest in our dialogue with God. May we be apostles of joy. And may we join in saying the phrase very often attributed to her, “God protect us from sour-faced saints”! After the Holy Father’s first visit to the United States, the Catholic Apostolate Center would like to share some of our favorite quotes from his time here. This is a two-week series where we will share 10 quotes each week. We invite you to use these quotes and images as you “Move forward! Siempre adelante!” in your journey of faith.
1. "Love is shown by little things, by attention to small daily signs which make us feel at home. Faith grows when it is lived and shaped by love." (Homily, Mass on Benjamin Franklin Parkway) St. Therese of Lisieux championed the “little way” of attaining holiness by doing small things with great love. Today, Pope Francis reminds us that it is in doing little things with great love that we can achieve sanctity. Try this week to incorporate the “little way” mentality into your work, your home, your parish or your school. 2. "I encourage you to be renewed in the joy of that first encounter with Jesus and to draw from that joy renewed fidelity and strength." (Homily, Mass with Bishops, Clergy and Religious, Cathedral of Sts Peter and Paul) It is the personal encounter with Jesus Christ that is at the heart of our journey to holiness. All of us are invited to have the “for me” moment of Mary after the Annunciation, who proclaimed to her cousin Elizabeth, the “Almighty has done great things for me” (Lk 1:49). This “for me” statement is the result of God’s work in our personal lives—it is the distinct relationship that each person has with God himself. Spend some time reflecting upon your personal encounter with Christ. When did it happen in your life? What great things has the Lord done for you? If you feel like you haven’t yet encountered Christ personally, ask him to open the eyes of your heart so that you may know how much you are loved. 3. “What about you? What are you going to do?” (Homily, Mass with Bishops, Clergy and Religious, Cathedral of Sts Peter and Paul) In his homily during Mass at the Cathedral of Sts. Peter and Paul, Pope Francis talked about the story of St. Katharine Drexel when she spoke to Pope Leo XIII about the needs of the missions. After listening to her, Leo XIII wisely asked her, “what about you? what are you going to do?” Rather than pointing out the needs of your community, parish or school to others, why not try to fill the void or start a positive change yourself? What if we contributed constructive ideas and did some of the hard work instead of pointing out weaknesses or problems in our institutions? Many in our world today misunderstand Catholicism and the Church. Pope Francis asks us the same question today, “what about you? What are you going to do?” 4. "We are sought by God; he waits for us." (Homily, Mass on Benjamin Franklin Parkway) Sometimes, we may feel lost or abandoned. Friends, family members or co-workers may let us down. Our lives may seem plagued by suffering, loss or confusion. In whatever situation you may find yourself in today, you are sought by God. You are loved. You are pursued. You are waited for. God, who is greater than time, is completely present to you and your life. He awaits only for your invitation. You are sought by God. Today, we invite you to seek him in return. 5. "Jesus seeks us out." (Visit to detainees at Curran-Fromhold Correctional Facility) Jesus seeks us out personally. We see this in a very real way in the account of Jesus and the Samaritan woman. Jesus goes to the well and waits for the woman there. She goes in the middle of the day, the hottest time, in order to avoid other people in her community because she is living a life of sin. At first, the woman is defensive and even rude to Christ, but by the end of their dialogue, she proclaims that he is the Messiah and goes off to tell the whole town. Jesus is not scandalized by our sin in the sense that he will never abandon us to it or fail to seek us out in the midst of it. Christ seeks you out today at whatever well you find yourself standing by. 6. "May you make possible new opportunities; may you blaze new trails, new paths." (Visit to detainees at Curran-Fromhold Correctional Facility) We are given our mission at Baptism. This mission leads us down news trails and new paths that are meant to bring us back to God and bring others along with us towards him. All of our lives have a divine purpose. We can change and sanctify the world from wherever we find ourselves. These words from Pope Francis are made more powerful given their context: he is speaking to detainees in prison. What Pope Francis is reminding them of is the importance and dignity of their lives. Regardless of the fact that they are behind bars, they can still blaze new trails and new paths. They can still pursue holiness and make new opportunities. They can still sanctify the world by their actions. Pope Francis says these words also to me and you. 7. "Do not be discouraged by whatever hardships you face." (Address for the Meeting for Religious Liberty at Independence Hall) We are a people of Resurrection, a people called to join in the victory of Christ. If you’re going through hardship, you’re not alone. Everyone is impacted by sin, suffering and death—but Christ has given us the hope of eternal life and joy. After his Passion, when the Resurrected Christ appeared to his disciples, he told them, “Peace I leave you, my peace I give you” (Jn 14:27). He promises peace that the world itself cannot give. If you’re feeling discouraged, ask Christ today for his peace. It is the peace that surpasses all understanding, but it is peace that remains despite sin, suffering and death. 8. "Let us preserve freedom. Let us cherish freedom." (Address for the Meeting for Religious Liberty at Independence Hall) Freedom entails serving the common good. What frees us completely is self-sacrificial love. For this reason, Jesus was completely free, as was his mother Mary. They were unencumbered by selfishness, living instead for others. Our nation was built on the principles of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Pope Francis reminded the United States of this foundation in his address at Independence Hall, calling us to preserve and cherish freedom. We do this day by day when we imitate Jesus and Mary by living for others. 9. "Go out, again and again, go out without fear, go out without hesitation. Go out and proclaim this joy which is for all the people." (Mass at Madison Square Garden) We are called to be witnesses of the joy of the Gospel daily. One act of love or service is not enough. We can often get complacent with our good deeds and actions—a temptation the Pharisees fell into. Instead, we are called each day to ask, “what more can I do for Christ? How can I continue to grow? Are there people that need my love, respect or attention?” Pope Francis’ words revitalize us. Go out again and again in hope, with joy and with courage to proclaim the of Christ. 10. "Go out to others and share the good news that God, our Father, walks at our side." (Mass at Madison Square Garden ) Part of the good news is that God walks at our side. We are never alone in proclaiming the Gospel or in pursuing holiness. God is with us—giving us everything we need through other people, prayer, his grace, the sacraments. When we fall, he picks us back up. When we are weak, he carries us. We live in the joy of knowing we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us (cf Philippians 4:13). This joy impels us to proclaim this good new to others. For more resources from Pope Francis' Papal Visit to the United States, please visit http://www.papalvisit2015.us. n the wake of the Holy Father’s first visit to the United States, the Catholic Apostolate Center would like to share some of our favorite quotes from his time here. This is a two-week series where we will share 10 quotes each week. We invite you to use these quotes and images as you “Move forward! Siempre adelante!” in your journey of faith.
1. “In prayer, God keeps calling us, opening our hearts to charity.” Prayer is nothing more than lifting our hearts or minds to God. God, the Eternal Present, is at all times beckoning us towards deeper union with him. Pope Francis reminds us that the fruit of prayer is charity—selfless love. We cannot spend true time with God in prayer and remain untransformed by his charity. It is this encounter with Charity itself—with God—that impels us to respond with charity towards others. 2. “Joy springs from a grateful heart.” As Christians, we are called to be a witnesses of Christ’s love and the Father’s mercy. Joy is the fruit of holiness, of unity with God. May we be joyful people of Resurrection whose light reflects the unquenchable light of God. Choose joy. 3. “Rejoice in the Lord always! I say it again, rejoice!” As Pope Francis said in his homily during the Canonization Mass of Junipero Serra, St. Paul practically orders us to rejoice. What a beautiful “commandment.” What often strikes people, Christian or not, about Pope Francis is his joy. Pope Francis radiates the joy of the gospel. It is precisely this joy that he exudes which attracts so many to him. This joy comes from the Lord. Only by rejoicing in Him, will we be able to rejoice for Him and invite others into this joy. 4. “God bless America!” This statement from Pope Francis throughout his visit is short but powerful. Pope Francis, the Vicar of Christ, is calling down God’s blessings upon the American nation. In so doing, he is blessing our roads, our work, our families, our very existence. May we be a people of blessing. May we be a blessing to others—living signs of the ultimate blessing of God. 5. “If we want life, let us give life. If we want opportunities, let us provide opportunities.” In his address to Congress, Pope Francis cited the Golden Rule as a solid foundation for promoting the common good. In our individualistic society, we often forget our vocation to promote the common good. It’s difficult to see how our actions impact others. Pope Francis reminds us to “do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” (Matthew 7:12) 6. “In the face of unjust and painful situations, faith brings us the light which scatters the darkness.” Our world is wrought with injustice, suffering and hardship. The seeming lack of logic regarding suffering leads many to reject the notion of a benevolent, loving and present Creator. Pope Francis spoke the words above to a group of homeless individuals at Catholic Charities in Washington, D.C. In doing so, Pope Francis does not try to excuse injustice or suffering, but affirms that God does not abandon us to face it alone. 7. “Jesus keeps knocking on our door in the faces of our brothers and sisters, in the faces of our neighbors, in the faces of those at our side.” Oftentimes, it’s tempting to love humanity as a whole and become frustrated with people in particular. This could mean being short with our co-worker, impatient with a roommate or ignorant of the impoverished we pass by on the street. Pope Francis reminds us that Christ is present in each and every one of us. He is knocking on the door of our hearts, asking us to invite him in in the face of those we reject, overlook or avoid. Let us start by loving people in particular in order to love humanity as a whole. 8. “God is present in every one of you, in each one of us.” Each of us is made in the image and likeness of God, which means that we all carry inherent dignity. Humanity’s status as the epitome of God’s creation means that we are called to treat others respectfully and be treated thus. By reminding ourselves not only that God is present within us, but in each one of us, we can begin to live according to our dignity and honor the dignity of every human life. 9. “Prayer makes us brothers and sisters.” When we pray, we pray to the same Father. Through his death and resurrection, Jesus opened the doors of heaven to mankind after the Fall and enabled us to call God “our Father.” Because we are now made sons and daughters of God, when we pray, we join the whole of the Church. May we live as a family, as brothers and sisters striving to return to our true home with God our Father in heaven. 10. “Forward! Keep moving forward!” As Christians, we are called to always move forward in our journey of faith, on our mission of love. Pope Francis reminds us that the way forward requires encountering Christ so that we may encounter him in others. Though our world oftentimes is filled with darkness, the Christian goes forward boldly towards the light of Christ. May we go forward each day in our pursuit of God himself, in our pursuit of holiness and love. The first time chant roused my senses occurred on a 5 day Ignatian Silent retreat. I remember being entranced by the music—the repetition, the words, the rhythm. We were allowed to sing only for Mass and during the Stations of the Cross. It was a small chant from the ecumenical Taizé community that mesmerized me as we walked in the candlelit night from station to station. I remember singing it to myself over our winter break and in the weeks after. What was this Taizé community? I researched Taizé online and, to my surprise, was bombarded with YouTube videos and hundreds of songs from the community located in the Burgundy region of France. I ordered two of their CDs online and soon listened to nothing else. I grew more and more in my love for anything monastic: silence, routine prayer, chant, the Divine Office. I began starting my days with silent prayer, going to daily Mass and listening to chant rather than my usual list of Top 40 Hits. The music had a way of easing my heart, elevating my soul, transporting me to a higher world. I remember telling my bewildered roommate once as I got ready for the day, “You just don’t hear music like this anymore. This brings you to contemplate something bigger than yourself!” I continued to intersperse monastic spirituality into my days throughout the rest of my college experience and thereafter. While in Paris the summer after graduation, I stopped into the Church of St. Gervais for evening vespers and got lost in the beauty of the chanting of the Monastic Fraternities of Jerusalem, an order which entered the old church in white robes that glimmered underneath the stained glass windows. From there, I spent a week at the Taizé community I had come to love. My spiritual quest continued that summer after I flew back to the United States and spent a month at a Benedictine monastery who chanted the Divine Office in Latin. The music became the breath and heartbeat of my prayer life, an easy medium through which I could converse with God. The chants enabled me to praise and thank God with phrases that frequently came straight from Scripture, giving me words often better than my own and breathing new life into Word of God. Gregorian chant takes its name from Pope St. Gregory the Great, whose feast we celebrate today. Though historians argue over his precise role in the history of chant, Gregory the Great has been named a Doctor of the Church—joining St. Augustine, St. Ambrose and St. Jerome. Gregory, who entered a Benedictine monastery in Rome and eventually became an abbot, was the first pope to be elected from a monastery. During his life, he founded 6 monasteries on his estate. Though Gregory’s association with Gregorian chant is disputed, his love of the monastic life cannot be. (American Catholic) I can’t help but connect with Gregory’s monastic background; and I understand his love of it. I spent much of my summer after graduation as a pilgrim or guest at several spiritual havens because my soul yearned to spend time with God amidst nature, the sacraments and routine prayer. The music and chant were the glue that held these beautiful pieces together during my journeys—adding an almost mystical quality to my prayer life. As a result, I learned what St. Paul meant when he wrote, “pray without ceasing.”(1 Thess. 5:17). The words of chant often stuck in my head, I learned how to sing, to pray, unceasingly without ever having to open my mouth. Chant has a way of ingraining itself into your very heartbeat. We can learn much from the monastic life, which has guided thousands of men and women like Pope Gregory the Great towards holiness. By incorporating silent prayer into our days, we are better able to dialogue with God. I invite you this week to start or end your day with 5 minutes of silence in the presence of the Trinity. Rather than asking God for anything, try instead to simply thank, praise or accompany Him. Below is a link to one of my favorite songs from the Taizé community. May it help you in your journey towards praying unceasingly.
We walk amidst the shadows and call them life. We’re so accustomed to the dimness of this world that light is too abrasive. It burns rather than warms, offends rather than illuminates. We stumble around in the fog, thinking we are dancing. It’s like looking in the mirror and confusing the reflection with the person. Many things prevent us from truly seeing ourselves—from knowing who we are, from where we’ve come and where we are going. We’ve convinced ourselves that we are comfortable. “Comfortable” is our best friend. It doesn’t demand much of us, doesn't pry, doesn’t ask us to change. It leaves us quite alone, minds its own business. Comfortable—a makeshift refuge amidst the vast discomfort of the world we face each day. Comfortable—the often elusive goal of our lives. Comfortable—a concession to a fate that is not our true end.
Peter, James and John were comfortable in their lives before a rabbi from Nazareth invited them to drop everything and follow him. Their lives were not inherently sinful; their occupations were worthy. Life seemed good. These men were comfortable until they met the Christ who called them to something more. While the high calling Christ invited these men into was glimpsed throughout Jesus’ entire ministry, it is most fully revealed on earth in an apocalyptic way in the Transfiguration of Christ. As the Gospel tells us, soon after Peter’s profession of Jesus as the Messiah, Jesus takes Peter, James and John to the top of Mt. Tabor. Once there, Jesus is transfigured before them, “his clothes became dazzling white. Then Elijah appeared to them along with Moses, and they were conversing with Jesus (Mk 9: 3-4). His apostles are terrified. They have seen something almost greater than they could physically behold. Next, they hear the words of God the Father, “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him” (9:7). They have been confronted by light, the Eternal Light of God himself, and are roused out of any makeshift comfort they had created for themselves. The apostles were uncomfortable, puzzled, amazed. What does the Transfiguration tell us? First, that this luminous state is our destiny. As baptized Christians, we are called to be fully transfigured into Christ himself, shedding anything in our being that does not reflect his light and love. This capacity is already within us, though we diminish it with sin. Second, the Transfiguration shows us that comfortable is not enough. It is neither the goal of the Christian life, nor what we were made for. The Transfiguration instead shows us that we were made for greatness and excellence even amidst the discomfort of our world. We were never made to settle, just as we were never made for the fog, darkness or failure many people accept as daily life. Instead, Christ invites us to love. The Transfiguration is a testament to this love, for this transfigured destiny is only made possible because of his sacrifice of love on the cross. The Transfiguration is pure gift and mercy. And we can begin to be transfigured now, today. To be transfigured, we are called to imitate Christ’s love. This is an uncomfortable love that demands all of who we are. It is love that evaporates our egotism, that hurts, that pushes us out of ourselves and into the lives and well-being of others. Love that we have to practice, and will fail at, again and again. Love that is, and will be, crucified. But love that is worth it. Love that reminds us who we are and why we’re here. Love that takes us from the shadows and actually calls us to dance. Love that breaks through the fog and never diminishes. Love that is the true light. Love that transfigures. As today’s reflection from Magnificat says, “The Savior begs: ‘Become what you behold!’” Kate Flannery is the Social Media Coordinator for the Catholic Apostolate Center. I remember the first time I felt true repentance. It was not because I got caught making a bad decision; not because I simply felt guilty; not because I thought about what others might think of me—all of which might be gateways to repentance, but not sufficient in and of themselves. I remember the first time I felt true repentance out of love of Christ and sorrow for the rejection of His love through my sin.
I was in a small chapel in the hills of Los Gatos on a five-day Ignatian Silent Retreat. The assignment on this particular afternoon was to spend time praying over and reflecting on your past sin, on how you had rejected God’s love and, in so doing, on how you had contributed to His pain on the Cross. It was a heavy day. I took a deep breath in the chapel and started remembering and reflecting on past sinful decisions. Some, I knew blatantly. Others seemed inspired by the Holy Spirit. I had not even realized how past decisions might have affected other people more than myself, and I was illuminated in such a way that I saw how my sins spread out like a web contaminating the lives of others. Tears flowed unguarded from my eyes. How could I have done such things? I placed myself within the crucifixion narrative and saw that I had joined the Roman soldiers with their whips, their taunts, their hammers. I had pierced my Lord. I felt terrible—like the scum on the bottom of a lake in the darkness. And then I felt Him. I felt His gaze from the tabernacle. He beckoned me, inviting my eyes to meet His own. “I can’t look back at you, Lord,” my heart said. “I’m too broken, too ashamed, too unworthy.” I kept looking down at my lap, afraid to meet His gaze. But the feeling of being looked at persisted, gently. After a few moments, I could no longer bear it. Anything, even Christ’s condemnation, would be better than avoiding Him. I looked up. And I met Love. I felt Christ’s presence in the tabernacle and saw Him looking at me as a bridegroom looks at his bride on their wedding day: joy, peace and love filling his face, eyes brimming with pride and tears and awe. The gaze with which Christ looked at me turned my blemishes into radiance. I became a spotless bride because of the overflow of His love. I knew, in the midst of my sin and ugliness, perhaps the ugliest I had ever felt, that I was inherently and infinitely loved, that my dignity was in Him. And so the tears flowed evermore—tears of humility, peace and joy. I had been given yet another chance, which I used to further receive the Sacrament of Reconciliation. I assume the joy and freedom I felt after this experience and after going to Confession is how Mary Magdalene felt when she met the Christ and was freed from seven demons. We know with certainty that Mary Magdalene had been cured of seven demons, that she was a follower of Christ and that she was present at the crucifixion. We also know Mary Magdalene, like all of us, was a sinner. When Christ met her, she might have given up. She had been plagued by seven demons and thought that perhaps she would never be free. Christ offers her another alternative: freedom. As a result of our encounter with Christ's forgiveness--both by encountering His love and by being reconciled to Him--we can live in the joy of the Resurrection. For this reason, it is fitting that Mary Magdalene is cited as the first witness of the Resurrection. St. Augustine called her the Apostle to the Apostles. We find Mary Magdalene in John's Gospel weeping by the open tomb of Jesus three days after His burial, for she thinks His body has been stolen. When Christ meets her, she mistakes him for the gardener. “Mary!” Jesus exclaims to his forlorn disciple, calling her by name (John 20:16). “Kate!” He exclaimed to me in the chapel. He meets us in our despair, our sorrow. Only then can we join Mary Magdalene in looking at Christ, recognizing Him and meeting His gaze. I imagine she grasped her bridegroom’s feet, kissing them in thanksgiving and bowing before Him. We cannot stay there in gratitude. Christ called me to go out from the chapel and to go out after receiving the Sacrament of Reconciliation, as he did Mary Magdalene: “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers” (John 20:17). The repentant sinner becomes the Apostle to the Apostles. This can only be so after we have encountered the love of God. Today, I invite you to an examination of your own sin, of any time you have rejected God’s love. Do so in a sacred place: a chapel, a Church, a reverent place in your house. I invite you to this in order to surrender these moments over to Christ and to allow Him to transform them by His love. Allow Him today to gaze at His beautiful creation, which has become broken or tarnished by the Fall and by sin, and allow Him to meet you where you are at, to love you there. Only by knowing how infinitely you are loved will you be able to “go to [His] brothers,” to go out to all the world in love—radiant, joyful and renewed. Kate Flannery is the Social Media Coordinator for the Catholic Apostolate Center They bought into the lie—that nothing had changed, that their dreams were stifled, that death prevailed. The locked doors reflected their locked hearts. Like anyone, they were afraid, inconsolable, at the point of despair. Save one—a virgin. She continues to model to us today what it means to live faith, what it looks like to be a disciple.
The fear of the disciples in the upper room is understandable. They had abandoned the man whom they had left everything to follow for three years. The same man they had pledged to follow unto death had been tortured and killed as their backs were turned, as they cowered for their own lives. Their hopes of a restored Jewish kingdom, a glorious king from the line of David, freedom from Roman rule and the return of God’s presence to the Temple seemed to be nailed to a cross on Golgotha, laid in a tomb hewn from rock. They had yet to see God’s plan amidst the perceived failure. How could this be God’s plan? It was so unlike their own. Their fear is our own. It is the fear of unmet desires, of unworthiness, of death, of uncertainty, of perceived silence. Like the disciples, we often fail to see God’s plan in our lives. We look around in despair and sense that He is silent. We live the reality of death, confusion and suffering and say, “nothing good can come from this.” But as the disciples quickly realized, our ways are not God’s ways. Our wills are not yet one. Much stands in the way: selfishness, greed, egoism, materialism, pride. All changes with the coming of the Holy Spirit. What makes a law-abiding Jew abandon his persecution of Christians in favor of joining them and proclaiming the Christ to Jerusalem and Rome? What makes uneducated fisherman leaders of the universal Church and martyrs for the faith? What makes the son of a wealthy Italian merchant the begging founder of a religious order and a friend of the poor? What makes a cloistered nun in Lisieux a Doctor of the Church? What makes a German priest in Auschwitz volunteer to die in place of a father? What makes a modern day Italian mother and doctor offer her life for that of her child? The Advocate, the Holy Spirit. It is the Holy Spirit who is the game changer for the Church—what will now set the disciples apart from the whole world and what continues to set Christians apart today. The Holy Spirit is the active agent of conversion in man, the third person of the Trinity who opens up the Scriptures and sets our hearts on fire. It is the Holy Spirit who enables us to live our mission. The Holy Spirit, God’s love, is the difference between the fearful men in the upper room and the on-fire disciples of Christ preaching the Gospel and converting thousands in a single day. In the Gospel today, Jesus prays for his followers in the Garden of Gethsemane while also speaking directly to you and me. He prays for something seemingly impossible: “that they may all be one” as the Trinity is one. Christ speaks these words not to frustrate his followers but to call them to a perfection possible through God alone. He utters these precious words knowing he will be sending the Holy Spirit to enable man to do this. The goal is outward. This communion—the call to unity—must lead to mission: “that the world may know that you sent me and that you loved them.” God’s love is efficacious. It cannot be contained but must be proclaimed to the world. Only God could deign to give man so dignified and impossible a call. And only God could enable man to fulfill it. This high priestly prayer of Jesus (which encompasses John 15-17) is one of my favorite parts of Scripture. It is so imbued with Christ’s love for us. The purpose of the Incarnation is about to be revealed. Christ is living his last moments and wants to remind his followers, you and me, why he came: to reveal the Father, to invite man to eternity with Him and to assure man of his lovable-ness in the eyes of God. This love of God is meant to abide in us and reach out from our hearts to the hearts of others. This is only possible through the Eucharist, which physically is Christ’s love present in us and which is made possible through the Holy Spirit. God himself calls us, but God himself equips us…with Himself. It is astounding to what we are called: to holiness, divine love. This is the Christian destiny, but not our inclination. Like the disciples, so quickly do we turn inward. So quickly do we lock the door in fear. God calls us to sanctity, which can only be achieved after an experience of the fire of God’s love. We call this Pentecost, the same outpouring of the Holy Spirit that we receive in Baptism and Confirmation. The same outpouring of the Holy Spirit that we receive every Sunday in the form of the Eucharist. Are we being transformed by this grace or do we remain in the upper room? I challenge you to go back to your own story, your own moments of conversion. When did you fall in love with God? Have you? Only armed with the certainty of being loved will we be able to love others and live out the communion and mission Jesus calls us to. And so we call upon the Holy Spirit, the love of God Himself, who was breathed out upon the disciples at Pentecost in tongues of fire. We ask the Holy Spirit to breathe new life within us, within the Church. We ask the Holy Spirit to transform us with the fire of God’s love. This results in unlocked doors, an empty room. The disciples emerged, transfigured. Will you? Kate Flannery is pursuing a Master's degree in Leadership for the New Evangelization at the Augustine Institute in Denver and graduates in May. It has been just over a week since Easter Sunday. Some of you may be enjoying sipping lattes again, hitting the snooze button, reaching for another doughnut or taking warmer showers. Some of you may be looking back on Lent with relief because you got through it. Others may be exasperated by promises broken, while still others rejoice quietly at another season of growth with the Lord. Regardless of how you perceive your Lenten journey, rejoice! We remain in the Easter season! We continue to sing praise and proclaim the victory of the Lord!
We rejoice, despite the traffic jam. We rejoice, despite fickle weather. We rejoice, despite the world’s indifference.. We rejoice, despite news of ongoing persecution. We rejoice, because death is conquered. We rejoice, because Christ is Risen. In last Thursday’s Gospel, Christ asks his disciples, “Why are you troubled? And why do questions arise in your hearts?” He poses the same questions to us today. Why are we troubled? We often fret, watching the news, getting up for what seems like another monotonous day, finding a stain on our clothing or cleaning up the fiftieth mess of the day. We are often tempted to wonder if Christ’s Resurrection really has an effect on our day to day lives. Mentally, we understand that this moment in history is what makes our lives possible. It is why we are redeemed, why Christianity has any meaning. But how has the light of the Resurrection seeped into the “ordinariness” of your day? Can you say your life looks different before and after the Lenten season? The Resurrected Christ, whose glorious body is transformed and yet still pierced, asks us: What troubles you? Why is your heart wrought with questions? Has not my life, death and Resurrection shown you at what lengths I was willing to go to prove my love for you? Have you not seen I have conquered your greatest foe—death? Rejoice with me, my little one! Your life has been made anew! Christ’s death and Resurrection were God’s answer to fallen man’s question: “am I lovable?” His answer--spoken in Jesus’ life, laughter, miracles, scourging, Crucifixion--is a resounding “YES.” This is the glory of the Resurrection that gives meaning to the “ordinariness” of each day and makes each moment of our lives something miraculous and spectacular. As Christians, we rejoice always—for we are a people of Resurrection living in the certainty of being loved and forgiven. During the Easter season, we rejoice in a profoundly heartfelt and thoughtful way. We have walked forty days with Christ in a season of prayer, penance and service, and we have crucified our weaknesses and imperfections with Him in order to emerge from this time freer and more beautiful than before. Our steps may have faltered. We may have failed along the way. But our aim this past Lent was to grow closer to Christ, even but half a step closer. And our attempt to do so, even small and imperfect, is cause for rejoicing. Throughout this Easter season, I invite you to continue to reflect on your Lenten journey in the light of Christ’s Resurrection. Continue to incorporate the spiritual practices you took on or offer up small forms of sacrifice in your day to day lives on the path of holiness. The more we welcome Christ in our hearts, the more his light can penetrate our very being to illuminate the world. Try to “look” different after each Lenten season so that at the end of your life, you may look like Him—the Crucified, but also, the glorified, the Resurrected. Kate Flannery is pursuing a Master's degree in Leadership for the New Evangelization at the Augustine Institute in Denver and graduates in May. While we cannot have the Church without having community, I have realized that a lot of my spirituality also depends on my own initiative and personal relationship with God. I am learning to see God everywhere in the world, but particularly in frequent mass, exercise, music, the Rosary, art and silence. As persons of faith in our society, it is important to have strong foundations that enable us spread the love of our work to those most in need.
Here are a few elements I find crucial: 1. Prayer - Prayer is the foundation of faith and spirituality. The beauty of prayer? There’s no right or wrong way to pray. While some of us turn to more traditional forms of prayer such as praying the Rosary or praying with Scripture, exercise, meditation, writing or service work can also be forms of prayer. Every morning, I like to say a prayer offering up everything I will do, think and feel up to God. This even includes my weaknesses and anxieties. The key is to set aside regular time for prayer in whatever way you most connect with. What kind of time do you have? Do you have 20 minutes? 10? Five? One? Whatever time you can, set that aside for regular prayer. See what happens. Spiritual Tip: Have a smart phone? Check out the “pray as you go” section of the free Laudate app. It’s an Ignatian podcast of daily scripture, song and reflection that is only ten to fifteen minutes long and is great to listen to on your commute to work! 2. Silence - This one is often overlooked….or seemingly impossible. But silence enables us to truly think and to let those thoughts mature. Just like prayer, think about how much time you can set aside for some moments of silence, even if that just means closing your eyes and taking a few deep breaths during your work day. Spiritual Tip: “We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature - trees, flowers, grass- grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence... We need silence to be able to touch souls.” -Mother Teresa 3. Spiritual direction - I like to think of a spiritual director as a type of faith-based therapist. I’ve learned that I can think and pray and meditate all I want, but it’s helpful to have an outside perspective that enables me to see outside of myself. This can be a priest, religious, trained spiritual director or leader in your community. It’s helpful to have a spiritual director you trust that isn’t necessarily a friend or family member. That way, this person can bring in a fresh, outside perspective to guide and direct you along your spiritual journey. Spiritual Tip: Browse spiritual directors they way you would browse for shoes for an important occasion. Spiritual directors, like shoes, are not “one size fits all,” so be sure to have some preliminary discussions with several people before settling on one. 4. Retreats - It’s typically recommended that we do a retreat per year. Retreats are exactly what the name implies: a retreat from the world, from our lives or from our typical schedules. They are important in allowing us to focus our thoughts and energy on the divine in a way that our regular schedule hardly permits. The beauty of retreats is that they can vary greatly. There are silent retreats, community retreats, family retreats, staff retreats, yoga retreats, weekend retreats, day retreats—you name it. Think about what one may be right for you at a certain time. Spiritual Tip: This once a year thing sounding impossible with your schedule? Try a daily three minute retreat from Loyola Press by clicking here. 5. Eat, sleep and exercise - Seriously. God gave us minds and bodies as well as spirits. So make sure to take care of all of you! We can’t be of much help to others if we ourselves are not being taken care of. Shut off your laptop or TV at least 30 minutes before getting to bed; studies show that the light from these screens can keep you up or leave you restless. Read a book instead. Take a ten or fifteen minute walk during lunch. Add some more green to your life. Recycle. Do whatever you need to feel rested and taken care of. Think of the phrase, “Behold God beholding you…and smiling.” Rest with that. We are the Church. And we are called to support, love and stand with others. Our work as people of faith enables us to do this in unique and beautiful ways, but we need to make sure we are healthy and strong in our own spiritual lives in order to truly be living, breathing instruments of God. How will you commit to living intentionally today? Kate Flannery is a former Catholic Volunteer Network Communications intern. This post was originally written and posted on the Catholic Volunteer Network Blog. For more Catholic Volunteer Blog Posts please visit the CVN Blog. The Catholic Apostolate Center is proud to partner with the Catholic Volunteer Network by developing faith formation resources for volunteers and alumni, assisting in its efforts to provide and advocate for faith-based volunteerism and collaborate in many additional ways. “Where’s Matt when we need him?” I thought. Our roommate had been gone less than 48 hours and already the kitchen of our intentional community was suffering neglect. The counters were speckled. The dishes were grimy; the dishwasher full. I assumed this would happen when our neatest roommate moved out (his weekly chore was, after all, kitchen duty). I didn’t think about beginning to fill some of the void. Yet there I was, stacking plates, running the dishwasher, scrubbing the pans, cleaning the counter.
I did the dishes today. That wouldn’t exactly make me a hero. But here’s the thing: I didn’t want to do the dishes today. Every once in a while, I get in these pious moods where I take joy in doing small things for others. I blush to admit it, but this was not one of them. All I wanted to do when I got home after work was get cozy and watch my favorite Jane Austen novel turned movie. But there they were, two skillets, one pan, a crockpot, plates and utensils, mocking my weariness in all their oily glory. It’s a good thing I didn’t see them all at once, otherwise I probably wouldn’t have had the courage to take the sponge in my hand and turn the hot water on. The dishes and pans came at me from all sides: next to the stove, in the kitchen corner, by a towel—littering our kitchen counter, collecting grime from the meat grease, dotted with crumbs.They smelled too. This was no prim affair. Soapy, clear water instantly turned black and brown. The blue sponge was quickly camouflaged. Unidentifiable particles swam sloppily, drowning one moment and resurrecting the next. Sometimes I hummed a holiday tune. Sometimes I sighed exasperatedly. The internal struggle continued. Did these dishes know what kind of day I had? No, they didn’t. All they cared about was getting clean, being put away, getting reused.And thank God for that. The dishes made me step outside of myself and serve others. I wasn’t in a soup kitchen. I wasn’t in a nursing facility or hospital. I was in my own home, serving the people I see almost every day—the people who often get forgotten in my quest to serve, the people who may not even remember to thank me. Brother Lawrence, however, reminds us in The Practice of the Presence of God, "We ought not to grow tired of doing little things for the love of God, who regards not the greatness of the work, but the love with which it is performed." So maybe my act of service wasn’t particularly glorified or heroic on a worldly scale. But doing it with love was. Because love involves serving others, even if it's not exactly first on our to-do list. By doing the dishes, I was serving a hodge-podge group of people that I’ve come to love, even though I’d had a long day. And that’s all that matters sometimes. I got every single plate—even the ones I hadn’t accounted for. And before I knew it, I was pulling out the counter cleaner and scrubbing the stove. I don’t know where God gives us this energy or drive…or even why. I don’t know what made me go above and beyond, nor do I know how I got there, in the kitchen of my intentional community in Washington D.C., scrubbin’ away. What I do know is God has a funny way of answering prayers for growth and holiness. And it’s swimming somewhere amidst the dirty pots and pans. Kate Flannery, Catholic Volunteer Network Communications Department. This post was originally written and posted on the Catholic Volunteer Network Blog. For more Catholic Volunteer Blog Posts please visit the CVN Blog Page. The Catholic Apostolate Center is proud to partner with the Catholic Volunteer Network by developing faith formation resources for volunteers and alumni, assisting in its efforts to provide and advocate for faith-based volunteerism and collaborate in many additional ways. |
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