As the ongoing coronavirus pandemic eventually allowed for opportunities to leave the home, one of the most meaningful greetings which welcomed my return to Mass were the familiar words, “Peace be with you.” The calming presence of the parish priest eased the troubles of my mind, soothed the restlessness of my heart, and enlivened my soul to sing, “Let us go unto the House of the Lord!” While the celebration of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass and the reception of our Lord in Holy Communion immediately made up for the lost time during the pandemic, there were other reminders that we had been away: new priest assignments, reminders to exchange the weekly offering envelopes, many parishioners enthusiastically greeting each other in happy parking lot reunions, our pastor sporting a new beard, and someone even observing, “You’ve lost some weight, Father!”
The place our parish priests hold in our hearts is a treasured one. We depend on them to teach us through homilies, expose the Blessed Sacrament, listen to our sins and offer absolution, preside over the nuptial Mass, baptize our children, anoint the sick, and console us through times of death. And that’s just the minimum. While the rest of us are busy at work, school, or caring for our households, our parish priests are meeting with the church leadership, making rounds at schools or hospitals, organizing retreats and special services, offering spiritual guidance, and working at the rectory. But caring for the spiritual needs of hundreds of parishioners does not end at 5 PM. Starting from the sacred occasion of ordination, a priest is always on-call. Who rushes to the side of the dying, cares for those who have lost everything, counsels those in conflict, or ministers through any number of crises? Who faces the mounting expenses and bills of the parish, limited Sunday collections, possible stagnation of new family registrations, and who perhaps lacks as many helpful hands as he would like to keep the place running smoothly? Especially through this pandemic, the parish priest again and again is called to bring us into an encounter with Jesus Christ as best he can with whatever resources are at his disposal. If caring for our household’s needs presents a challenge, just imagine how the parish priest feels overseeing his parish! As the Church celebrates the feast day of St. John Vianney, we can see how so many of the priests in our lives emulate the example of the Curé d'Ars, who himself followed the example of the priesthood of Jesus Christ. The French Revolution resulted in an increase of the population’s ignorance of and indifference to religion. As a result, St. John Vianney went about his priesthood by spending at least 11 or 12 hours a day in the confessional in the winter; longer still in the summer. The simple piety of this holy priest not only brought about many conversions for the Church, but reinvigorated the faith in areas where secularism had long dominated the culture. Likewise, by immersing themselves into the daily lives of our communities, our parish priests “serve ‘in the trenches,’ bearing the burden of the day and the heat (cf. Mt 20:12), confronting an endless variety of situations in [their efforts] to care for and accompany God’s people.” Pope Francis continued, in his 2019 letter to priests commemorating the 160th anniversary of the death of St. John Vianney, to express his closeness and solidarity to priests. He also expressed personal gratitude “for your fidelity to the commitments you have made… [and] for the joy with which you have offered your lives.” The Holy Father concluded his letter by praising the witness of their shared vocation: For I am confident that “God takes away even the hardest stones against which our hopes and expectations crash: death, sin, fear, worldliness. Human history does not end before a tombstone, because today it encounters the “living stone” (cf. 1 Pet 2:4), the risen Jesus. We, as Church, are built on him, and, even when we grow disheartened and tempted to judge everything in the light of our failures, he comes to make all things new.” … May we be men whose lives bear witness to the compassion and mercy that Jesus alone can bestow on us. Let us strive to show the priests in our lives our gratitude and support. May many men continue to discern and answer the call of our Lord to the sacred work of ordained ministry. As we answer the universal call to holiness in our own lives, may we also support those who have dedicated their lives to answer, “Here I am. I come to do Your will.” To learn more about Holy Orders, listen to our latest podcast here.
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The principle of God’s Infinite Love is consoling in prayer, encouraging in our personal darkness, and a bright light for preaching and teaching. But when it comes to pastoral care, this Infinite Love can feel overwhelming, idealistic, and impossible. On a more personal level, Infinite Love care can lead to feelings of guilt at not having done enough and shame at not being enough. Consequently, the idea of accompaniment can quickly appear to be wishful thinking. How am I to walk with people when I am just one person with one sunrise and one sunset each day? There are dozens or hundreds of people who need care in my community, but I can barely finish my homily, or you can barely get the kids to school on time. The problem is with two false thoughts. First, we are not God. We are not the source of Infinite Love, and we shall never be. Second, accompaniment does not mean that I have to walk with each person all day. This is impossible. Honestly, many good Catholics have difficulty letting go of control. The worst example of this is the savior complex. We are not the saviors, Jesus is. The reality is that the Lord God is the principal Accompanier, not us! And, out of His goodness, He has chosen myriads of intermediate accompaniers. In other words, and hear me well, WE do not, nay, we cannot try and do it all on our own. And isn’t it ironic that right after we priests preach and teach that to people that they cannot do it on their own, then, as spiritual caretakers we immediately set aside our theological principle of interdependence and try to do it all on our own. Thoughtful accompaniment lies in deploying a sophisticated network of groups and individuals to care for, to check on, to talk to, to bring communion to those in need. God doesn’t expect us to be perfect, just saints. Let the lesson of accompaniment be your lesson today: just do what you can, but don’t go at it alone. Only God is Infinite Love. “Joy is prayer, joy is strength, joy is love, joy is a net of love by which you can catch souls.” -St. Mother Teresa of Calcutta Throughout history, mankind has endured plagues, wars, and all sorts of crises that threaten our existence and make the day to day seem unbearable. In these past several months, the world has experienced the global effects of the novel coronavirus pandemic. Our country is also facing ramped up civil unrest. However, as Christians we are called to persevere with joy. As James 1:2-4 exhorts us: “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance and perseverance must complete its work so that you will become fully developed, complete, not deficient in any way.” We can look back over two millennia and witness the hope that has always been present in the darkest of circumstances. Over and over, God our merciful Father remains with us, equips us with strength, and encourages us to dwell with Him in order to endure all things with joy. Furthermore, we have many examples of holy men and women who have stood steadfast in faith through great trials as joyful ambassadors of God’s love and mercy. During these times, I have felt the pangs of doubt, discouragement, and fear. I am completely aware of my smallness and my vulnerability. I keenly recognize that I need help so that I can find peace amidst hardship and uncertainty, and I daily choose to pray for guidance and courage to walk in faith. I am grateful for parents who raised me in the Church, taught me the power of prayer, and nurtured me in an environment of faith. I am grateful for my parish family who stand together to build up the Body of Christ in our community. I am grateful for a stalwart husband who shows me daily how to immerse myself in the loving arms of Jesus by attending Mass, reading Scripture, praying devotions, and asking for the divine blanket of protection and provision that only comes from Him. I am grateful for my married children who witness their sacramental love to all by living their marriage covenant. I am grateful for children who share their gifts to fill our home with laughter, creativity, and beauty. I am grateful for grandchildren who are joyful and full of curiosity and excitement and so easily make me forget about the troubles of the world. I know that I am puny, weak, and small, but God made me for love and reminds me through all these people—and many more—that He is always with us, giving us what we need to gallantly march through the nitty gritty of life. This gives me cause for great joy! How we behave determines the success of our mission as ambassadors for Jesus. We are told in Scripture to remain in God and to use the gifts of the Holy Spirit to navigate the messiness of this life. We are commanded to love God, others, and ourselves no matter the circumstances. The fruit of living in love is a joyful countenance. When we practice surrendering our doubts and fears and choose to act in faith and love, peace is a direct outcome. When we live out of an attitude of peace, we are unbound and able to exhibit joy in all things. St. Teresa of Avila encourages us: “Let nothing disturb you, nothing frighten you, all things are passing, God never changes. Patient endurance attains to all things. Whoever possesses God is wanting in nothing; God alone suffices.” As Christians, we are called to be the living reflection of our Lord and Savior. As we traverse this particularly troubling time, we strive to be beacons of hope to those despairing, lost, and without a foundation of faith. We are all commissioned to share the love and mercy of God to all we come in contact with. It is not a suggestion, but a mandate from our baptism. No matter how inadequate we think we are, if we surrender to God’s will, He will supply all we need to make any situation bearable and even joyful. There may be uncertainty, strife, devastation and hardship around us, but the heart of Jesus, who is all love, is within the soul of each of us. We are called to make it manifest through our acts of kindness, gentleness, patience, forgiveness and service. Each of us, one individual at a time, has the power to bring peace and joy to others as we continue to navigate the day to day. Below are some practical tips for remaining steadfast in faith and witnesses of joy:
Together, each of us mere mortals can build an environment of joy—a joy which will make all the difference in our hurting world. When I was a senior in high school in the diocese of Joliet, then-Bishop Peter Sartain came to celebrate one of our monthly school Masses. I was asked to assist the Bishop for the day, and throughout the day he and I had many warm conversations. I received a piece of mail a few weeks later from Bishop (now Archbishop) Sartain containing a handwritten note and several prayer cards with Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati’s image on them. Little did I know that the young Blessed would soon become one of my dear patron saints. In my opinion, anyone who offers their life as an apostle on mission—including lay and ordained ministers, Catholic school employees, catechists, and all spiritual guides—should keep Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati as their patron saint and their example to combat despair and to joyfully share the Gospel. Blessed Pier Giorgio shows us the Christ-like demeanor and personality that the Church and her ministers and missionaries should possess as they evangelize the world. Blessed Pier Giorgio makes an excellent spiritual guide and mentor because he was an ordinary young man with a profound commitment to the poor and to justice. There are countless books and articles that describe how Pier Giorgio spent hours serving the poor and the homeless, often giving away the money he had for bus fare and even his own jacket! His parents misunderstood his great actions of charity, and often scolded him when he returned home late without his coat. He was never distracted from the missionary imperative of the Gospel. Instead, he served those on the margins as Jesus commanded. Archbishop Wilton Gregory of Washington D.C. recently stated in a webinar, “The Church lives in society. The Church does not live behind the four [walls] of the structures where we worship.” Just as Pier Giorgio Frassati befriended the poor and sought justice as a “man of the beatitudes,” we too must go beyond the four walls of our churches, homes, and offices into the margins of our society to serve our brothers and sisters and work for justice. Blessed Pier Giorgio also accompanied others in their pursuit of God. He maintained unlikely friendships and was neither bound up by cynicism nor weighed down by scandal. Instead, he actively worked against these in his interactions with all. Many stories detail his love for pranks, making bets with his friends over games and making the stakes be attending Mass or Adoration. Like this soon-to-be-saint, we must live in the world while encouraging others to return to Christ in the spirit of friendship. As apostles on mission, we must live, work, and play with a renewed spiritual vision, driven by the practice of spiritual accompaniment. The quality I most admire in Blessed Pier Giorgio is his ultimate trust in God’s plans. He did not try to take control of his life’s plan nor did he envy God’s authority. Rather, he allowed God to guide him as he discerned his future and his mission in life. Pier Giorgio brought Church doctrine to life through his service and actions. He lived with a gospel-inspired freedom. He spent time in deep prayer, contemplating the mission God had laid before him, discerning to serve the poor as a lay man with expertise in mechanical engineering rather than as a priest. Pier Giorgio trusted God. As Alfonso Nebreda, S.J. wrote, “We must not forget that man cannot nourish his spirituality with orthodoxy alone … there is more to Christianity than this … for faith is life” (Kerygma in Crisis?, Nebreda). Blessed Pier Giorgio embodied the Gospel, and he lived it out according to his mission from God. As we consider the life of Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati, I invite those who serve the Church as lay or ordained ministers, catechists, educators, and spiritual guides to adopt this young saint as a guide for our spiritual lives and our ecclesial missions. Let us invite the same Spirit who lived in Blessed Pier Giorgio and who makes the Church vibrant to renew our hearts, minds, and missionary efforts. Blessed Pier Giorgio, pray for us! Interested in learning more about becoming an apostle on mission? Click here to learn more. During our engagement, we were told several times to expect that something would go wrong during our wedding no matter how much we planned. Well, neither my husband nor I expected a pandemic to be that unexpected surprise! For me, getting married during COVID-19 has been a spiritual journey. I’ve learned a lot throughout the wedding planning process – namely, to embrace flexibility, be open to changes in my expectations, find gratitude in every situation, focus on what’s most important, and trust in God as well as our family and friends. The biggest lesson for me has been to more fully understand that we don’t control our lives as much as we think we do. My family, friends and colleagues know me as detail-oriented, prepared and a planner (who probably strategizes too far in advance). I’m not a fan of surprises, I’m cautious, and I like to meet or exceed expectations at all times. Growing up, my friends nicknamed me “Mom” because I always made sure to have the extra snacks, hand sanitizer, suntan lotion, an umbrella, etc. for wherever our adventures would take us. When it came to wedding planning, I wasn’t the type of person who had everything planned out since childhood. But when it became clear that my husband was “The one,” I read Catholic wedding websites and would run ideas by him. The day after his June 30, 2019 proposal, I went to our church to find out about the process and everything we needed to do to select a spring date in 2020 that would then determine all our other vendor options. As more and more reports popped up in March that the novel coronavirus had made its way to the U.S., my then fiancé (now husband) remarked with a laugh, “I knew things were going too smoothly with our wedding planning!” We hoped and prayed that all would be clear by the time our May 23, 2020 wedding would take place. Initially we prayed that we’d still be able to go on our European honeymoon. Oh, how quickly those naïve prayers turned into “Lord, please let us still be able to get married in the Catholic Church on May 23!” Our priest assured us that he’d do anything in his power to ensure our sacrament could happen, even if our wedding didn’t necessarily look the way we or the church had planned. For this, we were so grateful. In addition to our desire to be together legally and in the church, a lot was riding on our decision to marry on this particular day – including job offers and job relocations, home sales, moving me to a new location since we were in a long distance relationship, and more. We gave it all to God to handle. As our priest said in a recent homily, “I can’t. God, you must.” We planned for several different wedding options (a tiring effort!). As one of my bridesmaids put it, we had “Plans A, B, C, and X, Y and Z!” Many times, I found myself reflecting on what Jesus said to Martha in Luke 10:38-42, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things. There is need of only one thing.” By focusing on our sacrament of marriage and making sure that it could happen above all things, we grew closer to God and one another in handling the first big cross of many crosses that will come with marriage. When our home state opened for Phase 1 in early May, anything we could do that was originally planned we saw as an extra blessing. I found gratitude in the smallest of things, like getting a manicure for our wedding. Thankfully, we were able to have our nuptial wedding Mass on May 23 with a small celebration of less than 25 people to witness our marriage vows. We had a reception at the restaurant of a fellow parishioner, where we held a Zoom call with our relatives and friends so they could see our first dances and toasts. Our best man and maid of honor were out of the state and not able to attend in-person, so they gave their beautiful speeches virtually. Our nuptial Mass was the first time since the second week in March that both my husband and I received the Eucharist and attended Mass in person. The amount of gratitude I felt during the Liturgy of the Eucharist and receiving our Lord left me feeling as though love was overflowing. I appreciated every moment of the Mass like I was listening to it for the first time; being fully present and not taking any part of the liturgy for granted. I had prayed every day for a wedding day and marriage more beautiful than I could ever imagine, and our nuptial Mass and special day were certainly that. I wouldn’t have it any other way. We’re just a few weeks into married life, and we are looking forward to a lifetime to go! 6/30/2020 Living the Mission of Jesus: Overcoming Racism by Entering In, Listening, and AccompanyingRead NowThe din of breakfast time in a house full of little ones required that I practically yell to my husband to be heard over requests for more milk: “I just feel so sad for our country. I feel sad that so many people are suffering. I’m sad about how devastated God must feel.” Before he could respond, my sweet, sensitive 5-year-old hugged my legs. “It’s okay to feel sad, Mom. But, why are you sad for our country?” And so our dialogue began. I gently told him about the injustices being faced by our Black brothers and sisters. I reminded him that God made each of us in His image, and that we are each deeply loved by Jesus. I reminded him that racism is a sin, and that Jesus conquered our sins by His death on the Cross. We love Jesus and honor His sacrifice by turning away from sin. And then I told him that we have work to do: as Catholics, we get to be like Jesus by fighting against racism. As believers, we are called to make the world more loving and just. So together, we enter this mission of Christ. Our baptism calls us and sends us out, equipping us to live as members of the Body of Christ. The Catechism calls us “members of each other, (CCC no. 1267)” and as such, we have a responsibility to live that way. Using the life and love of Jesus as the guiding principal of our faith, we are invited to acknowledge the suffering of those around us. Saint Paul writes in his letter to the Corinthians, “If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it. Now this is the body of Christ” (1 Corinthians 12:26). This is unity as the Body of Christ: a people not positioned as ‘left’ or ‘right,’ for only the unborn or for only Black lives, but positioned at the foot of the Cross. Our Church, informed by the Gospels, calls us together to this work to uphold the dignity of the person, letting Jesus show us the way. Jesus was moved with compassion. At the death of Lazarus, he wept. At the woman’s desperation for healing, he allowed himself to be touched by her. He entered into the woman at the well’s loneliness and shame and met her with mercy. Jesus showed up heart first, revealing how we might accompany each other. As a white woman, I cannot know the suffering of the Black community. I can, however, emulate Jesus by allowing myself to hear and see hurt and be moved deeply by it. Instead of rationalizing, self-aggrandizing, or refusing to acknowledge the pain of another’s story, I open my eyes to see the brokenhearted—even when it challenges me, even when it hurts. Like Jesus, I weep for the loss of Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, Rayshard Brooks, and so many others. I allow myself to feel and enter into the pain. I lean in until it makes me want to do something. Jesus stood with the vulnerable. God made flesh dwelled among us and was moved with compassion for his people. Seeing the suffering of Martha and Mary, he raised Lazarus from the dead. At the ailing and fear of the bleeding woman, he extended healing and peace. He saw the shame of the woman at the well and revealed himself as God to her, declaring her worthy of His life-giving water. In these examples and countless others, Jesus reveals himself as unapologetically for and with the least of these. As Catholics, we are called to this mission. In response to the just anger of our Black brothers and sisters, we stand in solidarity with all who experience the sin and effects of racism . Moved by this pain, we cry out to our Father for healing and peace. Using our voices, votes, and dollars, we stand for and with the Black communities and all affected by the sin of racism, declaring the value of each life and the dignity of each person. I am tempted to avoid this work. Showing up heart first the way Jesus did requires a vulnerability and humility I often lack. I become disproportionately concerned about being comfortable and being right. I am tempted to keep my head down, refusing to be moved and challenged by new voices and stories. Yet, I am called to look up. When I pridefully insulate myself from the pain of a hurting person or community by my refusal to enter in, openhearted, I deny the dignity of their personhood by not validating their experience. By guarding my hardened heart, I fail my baptismal calling. Jesus concerned himself more with loving the low in spirit than the repercussions of caring. He entered in, listened, and loved each person—especially the marginalized. So today I seek to live like Jesus. I choose to sit in sorrow for the pain of my Black brothers and sisters. I lift up my voice in prayer, confident that God sees and cares deeply about justice, unity, and life. I choose to look to the mission of Jesus to remember my own. Join me.
If you’re used to communicating with others via text message, then you’ve probably, at some point, received a message and interpreted it out of context. A curt reply with a period at the end could be misinterpreted as either passive aggressive or as an irritated response. This happens to me occasionally, and I always have to remember that without hearing a person’s message verbally, it can be difficult to understand what they’re really saying or implying. Maya Angelou’s quote rings true here: “Words mean more than what is set down on paper. It takes the human voice to infuse them with deeper meaning.” Our voices add a unique depth and fullness to our communications by revealing emotions, nuances, and subtle meanings more sharply than words alone can communicate. On this feast of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist, I am struck by St. Augustine’s words from this morning's Office of Readings: “Today we remember that Zechariah’s ‘tongue is loosed because a voice is born.’” St. John the Baptist was born to be the final prophetic voice who proclaimed the Word made flesh. Like the Old Testament prophets, John foretells the coming of the Messiah and calls sinners to repentance with words that cut to the heart (Luke 3:1-29). But, unlike the Old Testament prophets, John identifies the Messiah for the first time in salvation history. John points Jesus out and encourages his followers to pursue him (John 1:29-37). He is confident that his cousin is the foretold Christ, and by his proclamation John fulfills the mission of all the prophets as he straddles the boundary of the Old and New Testament. John’s historical mission of giving voice to the Word is also our mission. At our baptism, we were anointed as a priest, prophet, and king. We share uniquely in Jesus’s ministry, and we are called to be lay prophets who proclaim the good news of repentance and redemption. We must, like John the Baptist, spend time coming to know the promises of the Messiah so that we can recognize Him when we see him. And when we see Him present in the sacraments, or when we encounter Him as we are accompanied by a spiritual mentor, or when we experience Him through the fullness of our prayer, we must point Him out for all to see. To fulfill our baptismal call to be prophets of the Gospel of Christ, we must give voice to our experiences of God. John’s words must be our words to the world, “Behold, the Lamb of God.” With everything going on in the world, it can be hard to focus on having shared and special time with a spouse. I encourage you to view this time as an opportunity to focus on making special time together a part of your schedule. When have we ever been confined within the same walls for longer than a couple of weeks? When have we ever found ourselves spending this much time with our loved one? During this quarantine, it is very easy to feel stuck in the rhythm of getting up, going to “work” in areas of the house, or even sitting in the same places on the couch day after day. You may be bored of this quarantine, but you don’t need to be bored of your spouse! Below are some ideas for you to try to make sure you don’t fall into boredom in your marriage!
My hope for you all is that you continue to seek each day as a new beginning together. You’ll fight and argue, there may be tears, there will be emotions, and you may not agree. But know that through God, all things are possible and even a joyful marriage in quarantine is possible if you work at it each day. Marriage is no picnic, but you can go on picnics together. Best of luck, I’m praying for you! For more resources on Marriage and Family, please click here. In the past few months, most of us have had to confront loss. Some of those losses have been very visible and salient, costing us our jobs, loved ones, and financial security. Others have been less tangible, and yet still impact large parts of our lives: important events have been placed on hold or canceled, relationships have been strained due to distance, and the feeling of having things to look forward to has dissipated. In the aftermath of stay-at-home orders and the pandemic, those of us with these less visible losses might find ourselves minimizing the pain or disappointment we feel. We might compare our smaller losses with those who have undoubtedly encountered more suffering than we have. We may feel that compared to others who have lost jobs, loved ones, homes, or security, we have no right to feel sadness, anger, or disappointment. We might even be preventing ourselves from experiencing grief. Grief is something natural to our human journey. Like other emotions and emotional processes that we experience as human beings, grief provides us with information to our minds and bodies so that we can survive. In the face of loss, grief serves the purpose of communicating to us that we have encountered a lack of something that was formerly present and available to us. Whether it is the loss of a loved one, job, role on a team or in a workforce, friendship, feeling of security, or a sense of hope, grief helps communicate to us what is most important in our lives. In other words, grief helps inform us regarding what we set our hearts on and what brings us joy and safety. Grief not only touches the realm of the emotions and the psyche; it also is essential to our faith tradition. In Scripture, the words of grief are especially echoed in the psalms: “My tears have been my bread day and night, as they ask me every day, “Where is your God?” Those times I recall as I pour out my soul, When I would cross over to the shrine of the Mighty One, to the house of God, Amid loud cries of thanksgiving, with the multitude keeping festival. Why are you downcast, my soul; why do you groan within me? Wait for God, for I shall again praise him, my savior and my God.” (Psalm 42: 4-6) We even see Jesus grieve several places in the Gospels, such as at the death of his friend Lazarus (John 11:35), and even at the suffering he was to experience to carry out our salvation (Luke 22:44). In Catholic funerals, we name and acknowledge the reality of grief in our prayers during our liturgical rites—an important part of believing in and living with Paschal hope. Grief is not just an emotional process for death or large losses. While it is important to keep a clear perspective about the magnitude of the losses we experience in comparison to the suffering of others, grieving the less tangible and visible losses we experience is an important step to healing and cultivating our mental and emotional health. Additionally, ensuring that we allow ourselves to experience grief, even in response to comparatively smaller losses, can help us grow in holiness. Experiencing grief can help us to find new meaning in our faith, deepen our relationship with God and others, and continue to grow in knowledge of ourselves before God. So, how are we to allow ourselves to grieve the smaller losses we have experienced in recent months? What are some ways to grieve the rescheduled or canceled graduations, weddings, and festivals, or the lack of opportunity to do the things we enjoy or to spend time with people whom we love? Emotional Processing vs. Emotional Bypassing Instead of dismissing ourselves or invalidating the emotions we are experiencing (also known as emotional bypassing), we can allow ourselves to grieve more fully by feeling our emotions and asking questions about what we feel, otherwise known as emotional processing. For example, instead of dismissing how we feel by thinking, “It could be worse!”, it is more helpful to our healing to ask questions such as “What is my sadness and anger telling me about what I love or what’s important to me?” In acknowledging our pain and asking ourselves questions about how we feel, we can grow in self-knowledge and self-understanding about the way in which God has created us. We can also engage in processing with a trusted friend, mentor, or mental health professional. Allowing Physical Release Grief, like other emotions and emotional processes, makes itself known in our bodies. Physical pain, muscle aches, clenched jaws, and a racing heartbeat can all be caused by grief, stress, and anxiety. It is important to process these emotions physically so that they do not remain stuck in our bodies. Breathwork, exercise, crying, and movement allows us to feel grief and allow it to process through our body. Journaling, since it requires movement of the hands, is also a helpful tool for engaging grief through our bodies. Authenticity in Prayer We are the beloved children of God; God looks upon us with love, care, and concern with whatever we bring to prayer. Talking to God honestly about our disappointment, sadness, or anger brings us closer in relationship with God. In prayer, God is not judging us for what we do or do not say. For this reason, we can be totally authentic with God in prayer. We might feel like we should have a different emotional response to our losses from what we are experiencing, but God’s love is unconditional and infinite: we don’t have to worry about appearing perfect before God. Grieving the large and small losses of the last few months is not only important, it is human. How can we enter more deeply into our grief to find healing? What in our lives do we need to grieve?
To become a person of prayer, we need to make every effort to live always in the presence of God. If we so live, there is every reason to believe that our life can gradually become one of ongoing prayer. St. Paul urges Christians to “Pray without ceasing.” The Holy Spirit makes this possible, and such a manner of praying becomes a way of life. If the presence of God is acknowledged through a constant spirit of inner prayer, we should find ourselves ever more prepared to enter into the more structured forms of prayer that are part of the Christian life. The Holy Spirit urges us to pray every moment. Faith is crucial to our prayer life. I think of the Gospel in which the father of the possessed boy says, “I do believe; help my unbelief.” We should enter into every moment of prayer recognizing our need for deepening our faith and acknowledging that God is Who He is and we are not God. We can pray, “Lord help remove my lack of trust, my lack of faith. If, Lord, you still find an unresolved cause for discouragement within me, some doubt, take it away and instill in me unquestioning faith.” Each day, my prayer life consists of four forms of prayer: The Divine Office, personal prayers and devotions, a daily rosary, and meditative prayer. I pray to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, the Holy Spirit, and Mary Immaculate by way of a prayer that truly reflects my devotion to each. My purpose for entering into such prayer is not only to give praise and honor to the person to whom I am praying at the moment, but also to use this time to pray both for people who have asked me to pray for them and also for oly SD people whom I know need prayer. Of course, I pray for myself and my own needs as well. God wants us to take a very personal approach to prayer; in other words, He wants us to be ourselves when we speak to Him. Meditative prayer asks us to do our best to select an appropriate time and place so that we might move out of the hustle and bustle of our daily routine and give the moment exclusively to God. It invites us to sit quietly in a comfortable position that still enables us to be alert. Choose an appropriate time for meditative prayer by scheduling it when you find yourself ready for a break and for spending meaningful time with God free from distractions. Then, clear your mind of thoughts running through it haphazardly. After all, we are taking a moment to discover Christ who dwells within us. In order to show our sincerity in making this effort, we must first come into conscious contact with and recognize the person we are at the moment. There are no masks allowed in the presence of God. Christ wants to encounter us as we truly are. Meditative prayer takes practice. We must acquire a taste for it if we are to decide to continue to use it to deepen our relationship with Christ. We will be willing to enter into meditative prayer regularly and consistently if we arrive at the conclusion that it Is truly a worthwhile method to help us grow in our relationship with Christ who calls us “friend.” I have found it helpful for my prayer life to establish a set time and place for prayer according to my living conditions and personal daily schedule. I have also allowed myself to be flexible if these change or if I come to discover a place and/or time more suitable for contemplative prayer. Try to give at least fifteen minutes to this prayer experience. If you choose to continue with this approach to prayer, you will eventually come to discover that you are better able to freely enter into this prayer. It is the Holy Spirit who teaches us how to pray, accompanies us throughout the prayer experience, and also makes it clear to us when it is time to conclude. I personally find a half hour of quiet prayer to be a meaningful experience. However, be open to praying for shorter or longer amounts of time depending on your conversation with the Lord. Be aware of your mood when entering into prayer. Again, we are entering into the Presence of the Lord just as we are. It is important to acknowledge our mood and disposition, knowing God see us and accepts us as we are. Furthermore, do not try to rate any meditative experience. It is prayer that we are talking about and not a moment of self- evaluation. God always accepts our effort as a gift as long as it is offered with sincerity. To begin meditation, I attempt to get in touch with what is going on in my life, placing myself in the presence of God. From there I select a word or phrase from the daily Gospel reading. I tend to read the Gospel passage a couple of times and look to find myself in the reading. It might be that something is going on in my life— a challenge, a problem, a confusing situation, a memory from the past. If so, I try to bring this to the Lord in connection with the Gospel passage. Perhaps at such moments, I will deliberately choose a passage from Scripture that speaks to me concerning the situation at hand. How will Jesus speak to me in and through the chosen text? If you wish to meditate on the entire Gospel scene, one way to do this is to put yourself into the scene and focus on what Jesus is doing and saying and how this speaks to your life. It is of course true that our power of concentration can be rather limited. We face the challenge of distractions in meditative prayer as we do in every experience of prayer. Once we realize the presence of a distractive thought, we need to let it go and get back to focusing upon what we hope will lead us to a deepened sense of the presence of Jesus within. Meditative prayer is our invitation to the Lord to speak to our heart as He would: “Speak, Lord; your servant is listening.“ This element of listening is essential to a proper meditative experience. Otherwise, such prayer can become the prayer of the Pharisee in the temple with the publican, what Jesus called a prayer about oneself to oneself. By sharing some of my prayer practices above, I hope to have helped guide you deeper into an understanding of the life of prayer that makes every effort to live in the presence of God. Our prayer life is a constant journey of growth in which we seek to spend time with and grow closer to the Lord, already present within us. May we grow this year in our ability to pray without ceasing, and in so doing, embrace prayer as a way of life. As a child, I was perplexed by the three in one nature of the Trinity. It was a mystery that was hard to fathom, but so much about my day to day Catholic faith was steeped in the Trinity that I simply believed and accepted it without question. Everything, from grace before meals, the beginning and ending of our prayers and devotions, the opening of the liturgy of the Mass, and the reception of the sacraments of Eucharist and Reconciliation, began “In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” In my mind as a child, I considered the Trinity the divine family who created and loved me unconditionally. I felt a strong sense of security under the umbrella of the love and protection of the Almighty, the Savior, and the Helper – as I learned to refer to them. Now in adulthood, I have a deeper perspective on the Holy Trinity – my ‘divine family’ –as being the basis for Christian living. I have been fortunate to grow up in a loving family with a father who lived his life reflecting the divine love of the Holy Trinity. Being nurtured in a very tangible way through the example of my dad’s faith helped me understand and appreciate the gift of family. As a young teen, I remember my father’s admonition from Exodus: “Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land your God is giving you.” It wasn’t a suggestion; it was a command that came with a promise. My dad had a quiet countenance, but when he spoke, I listened! He appealed to my sense of what was right and encouraged me to be good. Just as God the Father instructed His people and led them on the right path, even amidst great suffering, my dad led our family with a confidence that being good and doing what is right would bring us to eternity with our divine family. Throughout several millennia, God has watched over His creation with providential love. Through the ministry, death, and Resurrection of Jesus, He has shown us mercy very personally. The indwelling of the Holy Spirit in each of us guides us on the daily path of truth. What is so magnificent is how God ordered the human family to live out His wise and benevolent plan. In the Holy Trinity we are given the totality of all we need to live a holy Christian life. I join St. Paul in praying: “This then is what I pray, kneeling before the Father, from whom every fatherhood in heaven or on earth, takes its name. In the abundance of his glory may he, through his Spirit, enable you to grow firm in power with regard to your inner self so that Christ may live in your hearts through faith, and then, planted in love, with all God’s holy people you will have the strength to grasp the breadth and the length, the height and the depth, so that knowing the love of Christ, which is beyond knowledge, you may be filled with the utter fullness of God.” (Ephesians 3:14-19) In Familiaris Consortio, John Paul II shares how earthly fathers “reveal and relive on earth the very Fatherhood of God.” Through my dad’s prayerful and faithful commitment to his role as husband and father, he led us to walk with God. His daily choices to pray and seek wisdom, to act charitably, and to put the welfare of my mom and his kids foremost taught me what the love of the Trinity looks like. By embracing his vocation as protector, provider, and teacher, my father made God’s love manifest in our domestic family. The older I get, the more I treasure this rich heritage I’ve been nourished in! Pope Saint John Paul II also wrote that “a man is called upon to ensure the harmonious and united development of all the members of the family… by exercising generous responsibility for the life conceived under the heart of the mother, by a more solicitous commitment to education, by work which is never a cause of division in the family but promotes its unity and stability, and by means of the witness he gives of an adult Christian life which effectively introduces the children into the living experience of Christ and the church.” This type of earthly fatherhood is the embodiment of the divine being of God the Father in the most Holy Trinity. As the national day to celebrate fathers follows shortly after the Solemnity of the Holy Trinity, it seems fitting to reflect with gratitude on the gift of our divine Father and our human fathers—as well as the rich heritage we may possess through them. My dad lived a full ninety-four years and made it his mission to evangelize us to his last breath. He never ceased to serve his children and was a witness to the importance of a personal relationship with the Trinity. He shared with us his prayers to his ‘daddy’ in heaven and to his favorite saints. He encouraged his grandchildren and great grandchildren to talk to God throughout the day and beg Him for help. He exhibited an abiding hope in gaining something good from every experience, good or terrible. His favorite expression to everyone he encountered was “everything is beautiful!” His peaceful, positive countenance is what everyone remembers of him. This countenance comes from his life lived closely under the protection of God our Father, his devotion to the Sacred heart of Jesus, and his willing surrender to the wisdom of the Holy Spirit. My earthly father was a gift who made the love of God real for me; I will be forever grateful. “Out of darkness, God has called us, claimed by Christ as God’s own people. Holy nation, royal priesthood, walking in God’s marvelous light.” -Christopher Walker, Out of Darkness At some point or another, almost everyone lives in one kind of darkness. For some, that darkness can come with the loss of a loved one or a job. For others, darkness can creep into our lives when we move for a job, start college, have an unexpected medical diagnosis, or just seem to have everything go wrong in our lives. Right now, we are all living in the shadows and darkness of another kind—one that includes loss of life and jobs, but that is also much more. The current pandemic seemingly brought darkness upon the world just as we got ready to celebrate the Sacred Triduum, three days that culminate in our proclamation that Christ is the light of the world. The darkness, for many, is made even darker without being able to go to church, without a physical community of faith, and without the reception of the Eucharist. And yet, as St. Peter said in his epistle, we are all “‘a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people of his own, so that you may announce the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.” (1 Pt 2:9). We are called to live in the light, not in the darkness that we find ourselves in. Right now, that may seem impossible. The light seems to be out without a definite end in sight. , I have been lucky over the past few months to be not only living in community, but to also have regular access to the celebration of the Eucharist. Mass is celebrated daily at the seminary, so my own personal darkness does not include the absence of a community or the sacraments. For me, darkness creeps in as a result of not being with those I love. I couldn’t go to visit my family in New York in between the end of the semester and the beginning of my summer assignment. I am limited to phone calls here and there with those I love, and the occasional FaceTime video with my goddaughter and her brother. This has been my own personal cross to bear, but it’s one that I know has made me appreciate the people in my life more than I did before the outbreak of the novel coronavirus. But there are other things that are hard too, especially right after Archbishop Aymond suspended public Masses in New Orleans. Other things such as this have entered into my own darkness and tried to snuff out the light of Christ. In the Eucharistic liturgy, right before the distribution of Communion, the priest, holding the Body and Blood of Christ, says “Behold the Lamb of God. Behold him who takes away the sin of the world. Blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb.” But, right now, those called to the supper of the Lamb can’t come. To pray this prayer, to hear this prayer every day, is not easy to hear while many of the people of God aren’t able to be nourished through the Eucharist. This chosen race is wandering in the desert, seemingly alone. And yet, Jesus is there with us in our tombs. He is there with us in our darkness. He is there with us--waiting to bring us out of that darkness into the wonderful, marvelous, light. God is with us even if we can’t seem to pray right now. God is with us even if we can’t receive him physically right now. God is with us even if all we can do is yell and cry with despair and loneliness. God is always with us, preparing the dwelling place for us, his chosen race, his royal priesthood. And so, as we dwell in our darkness, let us remember that we are made for more. We are made to live as the children of the light, not as the children of the darkness. Jesus entered the tomb as a dead man and walked out of it alive. Let us pray, in a special way, asking Jesus to enter our darkness. That we, his chosen race, his holy people, his royal priesthood, may no longer dwell in darkness, but in his wonderful light. Out of the darkness of missing the Eucharist, God is calling us. Out of the darkness of loneliness, God is calling us, for we have been claimed by Christ. Out of the darkness of uncertainty, God is calling us, for we are his own people. Out of the darkness of sadness, God is calling us, for we are to live in his marvelous light “Out of darkness, God has called us, claimed by Christ as God’s own people. Holy nation, royal priesthood, walking in God’s marvelous light.”
“What can I do?” The question reverberates within us while we stay home during the COVID-19 pandemic. To stay home often implies inaction, disengagement, fear. However, staying home during this unprecedented time is one of the most charitable actions we can make. To stay home is not to surrender or turn inward, but to care so much for the greater good that we are willing to make sacrifices to our daily life in order to protect our neighbor. This calls for a radical mentality shift. As human beings, we have a tendency toward action. Even on a scientific level, the world is constantly in motion. Human beings want to do something with the hands given us and the breath in our lungs. We want to act. And in times of crises, we want to help. Perhaps this is more urgently felt by people of faith; it is intertwined in our very identity as baptized persons and is a living, breathing part of our spiritual life. We live out of the reality that “faith…if it does not have works, is dead.” So during a time when one of the greatest acts of charity we can physically do is stay at home, we still find ourselves asking “what can I do?” The good news is, we can still “do” a lot. With the corporal and spiritual works of mercy as a guide, I’ve compiled a list of ten ideas for alleviating suffering and spreading the Gospel during the novel coronavirus pandemic.
There are many ways we can live the corporal and spiritual works of mercy during this outbreak of COVID-19. What are some others ways you have shared the Good News and brought love and joy to others during this time? Click here to learn more about the Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy. Last week, one of my good friends sent me a funny video of a six-year-old girl who was upset at not being allowed to go to the pub. Her father manages a local Irish women’s soccer team that her aunts play on, and they were going to the pub for their Christmas party. The little girl, who feels like the team’s mascot according to the video, wanted to celebrate with her family. After laughing and laughing at the little girl’s arguments, I realized that the impulse to share something that brings such joy is a way the Holy Spirit can work through us, bringing us together even now.
After watching the video, I started thinking about how this little girl's sense of injustice is instructive for us, too, on a deeper level. In the video, she feels deprived from good times and togetherness.; denied celebration with loved ones; frustrated at restrictions that make no sense to her; and not allowed to make her own choices. Her every plea meets with rejection and her whole world feels wrong. Could this be how many of us are feeling today as a result of the coronavirus pandemic? Are we feeling isolated, lonely, trapped, or frustrated? Do we feel unheard or rejected by God? What stark contrast we experience right now between this inner despair or frustration and the emergence of spring all around us. Spring arrives nonetheless, unaltered in its processes. I think too of how Christmas still came to Whoovile in "How The Grinch Stole Christmas"--still it "came without packages, boxes, or bags!" In the movie, Christmas comes in spite of great deprivation and loss, in spite of so many unmet expectations and plans ruined, in spite of the Whos' demonstrated vulnerability. They responded by joining hands and refusing to deny the cause for celebration that they still knew inside of them, something no one or no thing could take away. We can't literally join hands right now (well, we shouldn't!) but we absolutely can remember that God has always been in control, and will always be in control, of all creation. We can remind ourselves this Easter season that His unbounded love for us remains our source of life here and our destination eternally. We can practice countering the appearance of threats with choosing to believe God walks with us and accompanies us in the midst of our suffering. We can accept His reality as our truth and in those moments that we do, we'll know in our hearts that all will be well. We can dare to trust in the power of the resurrection—the grace and new life that Christ wants to bring into our lives even today. I'm grateful to be hanging in here with all of you. We're stronger than we know, especially when united in prayer. Although I'd be quite content not to take on any more strength training at the moment, I know that the trust I'm developing is a higher good. I hope you will find that sense as well. May we continue on in hope, inviting the life of the Resurrected Christ to flourish in our hearts and homes Donna Green resides in the Archdiocese of Milwaukee. It was not too long ago that I learned the extremely valuable lesson of not worrying about things outside of my control, as they keep me from enjoying the good. And what great timing it was to learn this before a global pandemic. There are so many aspects of life that are outside of our control now due to the virus, and after I learned that lesson I found myself quickly trying to take control over the parts I could and make them worth every minute. After all, I did just learn this great lesson that, essentially, seems to solve many problems. I started to take time out of my day to plan the goals I wanted to reach, making sure I would have every second filled so I would not succumb to the quarantine lag. I started waking up excessively early even though classes were not until noon, made sure I would be outside every day for exercise or a breath of fresh air, started eating three meals a day when I would never eat breakfast before, and even spent three hours practicing Calculus so I could “be ahead of the game when college comes in the fall.” At night, I would not allow myself to relax with any screen time—if I was on a screen I was either practicing Spanish on Duolingo or putting reminders in my phone for things to do the next day. Each day was just a constant cycle of doing. Obviously, it felt great to know that I had learned the lesson of taking control of the things I could and not worrying about anything I couldn’t. However, what I neglected to realize is that, while this lesson is effective on any regular day, my life was no longer normal anymore. Essentially what I was doing was taking my life in quarantine and creating a façade of normalcy. It was such an attempt at fake normalcy that I was doing things I wouldn’t even do during my pre-pandemic life. I soon learned to embrace quarantine not as my only chance to get ahead of life, but rather an opportunity to actually relax with virtually no repercussions. While I believe many of us can take this time to step away from our preconceived notions of success and normalcy , it is still important to do activities to keep your mind, body, and spirit stimulated as long as these activities do not take over your day. Try out prayerful meditation, pick up that hobby that you always wanted to do but never had time for, talk to your family, take time to reflect, but most importantly make sure that whatever you’re doing is for YOUR health and betterment—not for your grades, your job, or your friends. The world has no choice but to resume slowly, and you will have time to get your normal obligations taken care of. I encourage you to use this time to step outside your comfort zone and do things that fill up your mental, physical, or spiritual tank. Then, when we begin to reembrace normalcy, we will be better prepared to share what we’ve learned and who we are with our world. |
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