In Light of Faith

In Light of Faith

By Barbara Hughes

Barbara Hughes is an author, retreat facilitator and spiritual guide. She lives in Virginia Beach and can be reached at

November 19, 2018

Remember, ‘The Lord made us, we belong to him’

In his book, “The Road Less Traveled,” M. Scott Peck begins the first chapter with the words: “Life is difficult.” That fact should be self-evident but, as the author points out, most people have a preconceived sense of entitlement regarding the life they deserve. As a result, they remain frustrated and disappointed, an illusion that runs contrary to holiness. Peck’s observation seems to validate a response St. Mother Teresa made during a television interview years ago in which she was asked how she could remain happy while surrounded by suffering and the endless challenges of her work. Without a second’s hesitation the saint explained she didn’t place expectations on others. As a result, she was happily surprised when they did good things but was not disappointed when they didn’t.

Her disposition, which some might consider contrary to the virtue of hope, is exactly the opposite. In fact, her attitude was not so different from that of St. Teresa of Avila who regarded her work with what she called holy indifference. The 16th century Carmelite explained that if she put forth every effort and things didn’t work out as she planned, she was able to let go of prior prospects, trust in God’s providential care and move on.

The other day as I listened to the readings at Mass, the responsorial psalm “The Lord made us, we belong to him” (Ps 100:3) reminded me of the wisdom of those saints. Every good thing we enjoy is a gift from God. Nothing we have belongs to us. We neither merit them nor do we have a right to expect them. Therefore, gratitude is the only appropriate posture for people of faith.

The theme of our indebtedness to God is worth keeping in the forefront of our minds as we prepare to celebrate Thanksgiving with all that it entails. The planning, shopping, cooking and gathering are all as much a part of our giving thanks as the celebration itself.  

Thanksgiving is about sharing the fruits of our labor, the work of our hands and the relationships we nurture along the way. It’s also about giving thanks by sharing the gifts we have received with those who remind us that it is in giving that we receive. 

“The Lord made us, we belong to him” calls those who have been abundantly blessed to accountability, which means we are to partner with those who have less. Like the God in whose image we have been created, we are called to be living examples of divine generosity. 

In his wisdom, not all receive from God’s abundance equally. This is not an indictment against God’s generosity, but an invitation for us to be stewards of the earth’s goods and partners in the cause of justice. The mandate leaves no room for discrimination, false notions of entitlement or judgments based on the motives or plight of others. 

Consider the under-employed who work two or three part time jobs to put food on the table, or victims of war who flee the terror and bombs of a dictatorial regime. And what about people born with disabilities and chronic illness, victims of violence and racial discrimination? Our ignoring their needs and cries for justice may well be our undoing when we stand before God who is Father and Creator of all.

“The Lord made us, we belong to him.” What thoughts come to mind when reflecting on those words? Do I think of me instead of us, I instead of we? Or do I imagine all of God’s children coming before the Lord, rejoicing and singing songs of thanksgiving, for we are all beneficiaries of his goodness?  

We are indeed the sheep of his flock, but as we travel the road to Christian maturity, we are called to be shepherds as well. This is a role reserved not only for clergy or religious, but for all who are willing to proclaim Psalm 23: “Shepherd me, O God, beyond my wants, beyond my fears, from death into life.” Do we understand the irony of praying for peace while we supply weaponry to half the world and applaud a 400-plus billion-dollar arms sale to a country with human rights violations? 

With an abundance of blessings comes responsibility. As we gather to give thanks around tables laden with the goods of the earth and the work of our hands, let us pray that the gifts we have received as individuals, as families and as a country will be shared prudently. Pray, too, that our generosity will be guided by wisdom rather than by greed so that people everywhere will know: “The Lord made us, we belong to him.” 

November 5, 2018

Answer call to be compassion of Christ in the world

A few weeks ago, Nike surprised Justin Gallegos, a member of the University of Oregon track team, with a contract naming him an official Nike athlete. The occasion made news not because Justin excelled in athleticism, but because, despite having cerebral palsy, Justin continued running, inspiring teammates and all who know him.  

It didn’t matter that Justin came in last in most races. He learned early on that running made him feel better and so he continued to run. Justin is an inspiration to many, but Nike is also to be commended for choosing to celebrate someone who would never rise to the performance level of celebrity athletes. 

Equally admirable, though perhaps more controversial, was Nike’s decision to name Colin Kaepernick a company spokesperson. Despite the controversy surrounding NFL players who take a knee during the National Anthem, Nike decided Kaepernick’s decision to risk a lucrative career on behalf of a cause he deemed worth fighting for deserved recognition.

The decision by Nike executives to reach out to these two athletes could not have been easy. Not unlike Gerber, who chose an infant with Down syndrome as the face of Gerber baby products, Nike’s willingness to choose those whom society often marginalizes and elevate them to a position of esteem is noteworthy. 

Standing in sharp contrast with the negative image of corporations that cater only to profitability, the willingness of these companies to highlight unconventional contenders as role models reminds us that goodness exists in the world at large, often in places where we might least expect it.

In reflecting on the celebration of the Solemnity of All Saints, I was struck by the many good and even holy people who may never be canonized, and yet help make the world a better place. There are many such saints, and not all are sitting with us in the pews.  

Last month the doors to a state-of-the-art homeless shelter opened in Virginia Beach. During the dedication ceremony, people from numerous faith traditions who had been working tirelessly behind the scenes on behalf of the least and often most alienated members of society witnessed a dream come true. 

In addition to being offered a place to call home, residents receive job counseling and assistance in navigating services that will help lift them out of poverty. The facility stands as a beacon of hope in a world that for many seemed like an endless series of roadblocks.

It’s also a testimony to the fact that when government officials and people of faith work together, great things can and do happen. The dedication of visionaries who see the world not as it is but as it could be is proof that there is   intrinsic goodness in people everywhere and in every age.

As Catholics, we come from a rich tradition of saints who took to heart the words of Jesus, “… whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me” (Mt 25:40). They are saints not because of what they have accomplished but because of the One in whose name they served. Some have paid the ultimate price of martyrdom, others have been reformers who founded religious congregations, hospitals and institutions of learning in the name of God. 

But there are also ordinary lay people who have done extraordinary things, many whose names will never be celebrated. While not everyone may be called to heroic levels of sanctity, we are all called to be the compassion of Christ in the world. 

It’s been said that heaven begins here on earth, which is why Jesus repeatedly told his followers that the Kingdom of God was in their midst. How and whom we serve depends on our life situation. Caring for a sick child or an aging parent, or supporting a neighbor during a time of crisis, might not make the news, but it makes the love of Christ visible to those being served.

Opportunities abound, but we need to be willing to move out of our comfort zone and act on them. It may not always be the easiest or most appealing path, but the joy and peace that God gives makes it well worth the effort. 

St. Teresa of Jesus wrote, “Keep your eyes on the crucified One and everything else seems small.” When we focus on the love of Christ shining through those who need us, even the most trying situations carry with them the peace and forbearance that help us press on and do what some might consider impossible. And in the process, we just might become saints.

October 22, 2018

Why the Mass of Atonement is for all Catholics

Can you imagine a bride showing up on her wedding day in a stained and torn wedding dress? Most brides take every precaution to ensure their gown is not only stain free, but wrinkle-free as well. As a result, many churches now provide a room where the bride can dress, complete with a full length mirror, an iron, and an emergency sewing kit in the event of an unexpected wardrobe mishap.  

But, suppose no such room was provided and an unexpected storm erupted, soiling the bride’s dress and reducing the carefully ironed fabric to a heap of wrinkles? How would the groom respond? Would he turn away in disgust or would his heart go out to his beloved standing at the entrance of the church in disheveled array? Would he long to wipe away her tears as he reassured his bride that his love for her could not be altered by a soiled wedding garment?

The analogy is worth pondering as the Church, which is the bride of Christ, comes together to celebrate the Mass of Atonement in response to the current sexual abuse crisis. The Church’s wedding garment has been soiled and reparation needs to be made. 

As the Church continues its 2,000-year journey to celebrate the eternal wedding banquet in the heavenly kingdom, it is only fitting that we come before Jesus, the Bridegroom of the Church, and ask forgiveness for failing to take proper care of our wedding garment.

During a recent conversation, I was asked why the laity, who have had nothing to do with the sexual abuse crisis, should participate in the Mass of Atonement. As always, we need only look to Jesus for the answer. When the self-righteous wanted to stone the adulterous woman, Jesus responded by saying, “Let the one who is without sin cast the first stone” (Jn 8:7). 

Excusing our personal sins while pointing to the sins of others is nothing new. It’s why Jesus chastised his followers for trying to extract the splinter in another’s eye while ignoring the beam in one’s own. 

While we may not have been guilty of the crimes committed by members of the clergy, we have all been affected. Sin corrupts the Body of Christ, of which we are all members. We have all sinned against the spotless Bridegroom who waits patiently for us to celebrate the wedding feast with him for all eternity, for we are all called to the marriage feast.

St. Bernard of Clairvaux wrote more than 80 sermons likening the individual soul to a Bride of Christ, longing for the Bridegroom.  St. John of the Cross wrote, “Every human being is invited to the mystical marriage with God. God sets forth his marriage proposal and patiently awaits the response of the bride.”   

Each of us has a standing invitation to the wedding feast.  We were issued the fabric for our bridal gown when we were baptized, but the garment in which we were clothed on that day has been soiled by sin. As individuals, we repair damage through the sacrament of reconciliation and receive the Eucharist as a means of grace in anticipation of the day when we will behold our Bridegroom face to face. 

On our wedding day in eternity, every tear will be wiped away, and we will hear our Bridegroom greet us with the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant. Enter into the Kingdom that has been prepared for you since the beginning of time.”

As an institution, the Church, clergy, and laity gather for a Mass of Atonement. It is an opportunity for all members to make reparation to God, whom we have wounded by our sins, and to pray for healing for those who have been sinned against, either directly or through scandal that sin has caused. 

No one is without guilt. However, the Good News is that just as the Father eagerly awaits the return of his prodigal sons and daughters, so the Beloved Bridegroom’s deepest desire is to be one with us in a relationship so intimate that the marriage metaphor of two becoming one is the only one fitting. In anticipation of this heavenly union, Jesus gave us the Eucharist and reassured us: “If anyone hears me calling and opens the door, I will enter his house and have supper with him and he with me,” (Rev 3:20).

May we never lose sight of the Bridegroom to whom we offer atonement in anticipation of the day when we stand spotless before the Bridegroom of our soul. 

October 8, 2018

Let Christ’s light shine, no matter what caused darkness

There is nothing concealed that will not be revealed, nothing hidden that will not be made known. Everything you have said in the dark will be heard in the daylight; what you have whispered in locked rooms will be proclaimed from the rooftops” (Lk 12:1b-3).

The words of Jesus addressed to the crowds more than 2,000 years ago served as a warning against hypocrisy. For much of my life, this Gospel passage evoked images of the Last Judgment. In my mind’s eye I would imagine myself standing before God and, much to my shame and regret, every sin that I had ever committed would be made public. However, with current revelations about sexual abuse in the news almost nonstop and the “Me Too Movement” gaining momentum, the words ring true regarding current disclosures.

Sins that were committed in secret are now being exposed on a regular basis as more and more women come forward with charges of abuse that took place years, even decades, ago.  Accusations and denials have become part of the daily news cycle. Attacks and counterattacks fuel headlines while the abused and accused are tried in the court of public opinion. 

It’s difficult to know where it will end, but one thing is certain. The process is painful for the victims and the alleged perpetrators, particularly when the accused and the accuser become political footballs and victims of a media frenzy that have little to do with victim advocacy or justice. 

I was reminded of this a few days ago during a conversation with a friend who is an advocate for victims of sexual trafficking. Her heartfelt compassion for these women has been a source of inspiration.  Her one desire for them is that they come to believe they are loved and loveable. This is no easy task for those who were robbed of their personhood, treated like an object to be used for another’s pleasure, and then cast aside. 

As I reflect on her words and the mission to promote healing and wholeness she feels called to embrace, I wonder about the women whose names and stories are paraded across the television screen day after day. 

What goes through their minds when the first response to their coming forth is suspicion rather than concern for their well-being? What effect will the public frenzy have on them and their families? What would it take to hold those who do harm to admit their wrong doing?  

We can’t change the past, but we can learn from it. Hopefully, the pain that has brought us to this point will lead to greater transparency, no matter the cost.

In the Lukan passage quoted above, Jesus goes on to reassure the crowds they have nothing to fear. He tells them not to be afraid of those who harm the body, but only those who harm the soul. He reassures them they are loved by their Father in heaven, who is mindful of even the hairs on their head. 

When people have been used, abused or wrongly accused, such reassurances fall on deaf ears unless words are accompanied by compassion and acceptance. When cries for help from victims of sexual violence are met with doubt or blame, silence and shame become life-long companions.  

We might not be able to take their pain away, but neither can we remain silent bystanders. We might never meet the victims portrayed in the media; our paths might never cross, but we can pray for them and we can work for restorative justice within our own communities. 

We know God hears the cry of the poor. We trust that God can heal deep-seated pain, regardless of the cause. Nelson Mandela once said, “The chains that bind the body are wings that set the spirit free.” His words are not simply spiritual platitudes; they remind us of the invincible power of God’s love and that we are called to let the light of Christ shine, no matter the cause of the darkness.  

In his book, “Nine Essential Things I Learned about Life,” Rabbi Harold Kushner wrote, “God answers our prayers not by giving us what we ask for, but by helping us realize that we already have it.” 

What we have, dear readers, is the love of God. As St. Paul so aptly reminds us, “Nothing can separate us from the love of God” (Rom 8:35).

May we draw strength and encouragement from his words during times of crisis and pain, and may we lead others to do the same.

September 24, 2018

Listen to voices of our better angels

We hear a lot about listening to our better angels. Amid attacks and counterattacks surrounding politicians and Church leaders, I am reminded of the illustration that depicts an angel clad in white, sitting on a person’s shoulder, whispering into an attentive ear.

On the opposite shoulder is the devil, pitchfork in hand, offering conflicting advice. The effect is enhanced by the cautionary expression on the angel’s face, which stands in sharp contrast to the devil, whose cunning smile offers a more relaxed and enticing invitation.

The message is clear: choosing good over evil is not always easy. St. Paul described it as a battle that was taking place within his members and lamented the fact he often did what he did not want to do and failed to do the good he wanted to do.

It’s a dilemma we all face, which is one reason why God has given every person a guardian angel. Angels and archangels are a gift from God. They serve as friends and companions on the journey, and their role should not be taken lightly.

The Church marks the presence of these noble patrons in the life of every Christian by celebrating the feast of Archangels Michael, Gabriel and Raphael on Sept. 29, and the feast of the Guardian Angels, Oct. 2.

Angels have always been part of the Judeo-Christian tradition, with some having their names recorded in Scripture multiple times. Michael is mentioned in the Book of Revelation for defeating Lucifer, casting him, along with the angels who defied God, from heaven.

As protector and champion of the Church, we call upon the wisdom and valor of Michael to guide and defend the institution from those who wish to diminish the Body of Christ.

Gabriel’s announcement to Mary that she had been chosen to be the Mother of the Messiah reminds us the Incarnation of Christ ushered in a new day. And we look to Raphael, who accompanied Tobit on the journey, confident each of us has been given a guardian angel to travel with us and protect us.

Jesus spoke of the existence of angels on several occasions. In defending the children whom the disciples were trying to keep from him, he told them, “In heaven their angels continually look upon the face of God” (Mt 18:20).

As spirits, angels are not bound by limitations of space. Therefore, the popular picture of an angel hovering over a small child does not contradict Jesus’ words. In addition to protecting us from physical harm, guardian angels are entrusted with our spiritual well-being.

St. Basil wrote, “Besides each believer stands an angel as protector and shepherd leading him to eternal life.”

In his sermons on the Song of Songs, St. Bernard of Clairvaux explained that angels act as messengers carrying our prayers to the throne of God and in turn deliver messages from God to us. Not unlike the angels that Jacob saw in his dream ascending and descending the staircase to heaven, they serve as intermediaries.

Books have been written, television shows produced, and songs have been sung about angels. However, the English fable about a flower dubbed “The Snowdrop” is a legend about an angel that I find comforting and enchanting.

The legend portends that when Adam and Eve were expelled from the garden, their punishment was to dwell in an eternal winter. However, knowing God was about mercy not punishment, an angel who had witnessed the verdict intervened.

As the snow began to fall, the angel turned a snowflake into a snowdrop, a tiny white flower indigenous to England that blankets the ground every February. The floral carpet that covers the English countryside is regarded as a symbol of hope, reminding people spring is coming, and love conquers all.

Clearly, the presence of angels does not negate free will. What we do and how we respond to everyday situations remains a personal choice, which returns us to the image of competing voices whispering on our shoulders.

Amid the noise of continuous opining in the media, we do well to turn our attention to the voices of those who reflect our better angels — voices that call us to rise above the clamor. Taking the high road may not always be easy, but we can be certain that in the end, our better angels will never disappoint.

September 10, 2018

For assurance, read God’s love letter to us

Its been said that Scripture is a combination of history, myth and poetry. The collection of accounts from the Hebrew Scriptures and the New Testament have been referred to as the Bible, the Word of God, the Good Book, and Christianity’s Holy Book. 

There are others, but my favorite title is: “God’s Love Letter to His People.” Referring to Scripture as God’s love letter does more than identify the book by name and content. It elevates it to a unique status which engages the imagination, informs us of its purpose and alerts us to a living truth. 

Consider the fact that no one receives a love letter and reads it only once. Be it in the form of an email, a text message or a handwritten note, words of endearment touch the heart of the receiver. 

We guard such communications and keep them in a special place, savor the words and return to them often. Not only is the message carefully gleaned from the page, but we try reading between the lines, lest any subtleties or hidden meanings escape our notice. 

We might imagine the person who is writing to us. What was the person doing, experiencing at the time and how should we respond? 

It may happen that after reading and re-reading the words often, we are able to quote phrases or entire paragraphs. Repetition unconsciously enables us to commit treasured messages to memory, allowing us to call them to mind at will.  

Aren’t those the same dynamics that should accompany our reading of Scripture?  Likening Scripture to a love letter from God invites us to spend time with it, reading it for the head and again for the heart because both are important.

This became increasingly clear to me during these past months as I prepare for an upcoming adult education series on the City of Jerusalem. 

Having read Scripture and numerous commentaries, I thought I had a pretty good idea of how to proceed. But as I began to look over my work, I knew something was missing. It read more like a history lesson than a love story.

Scripture is our family history, so when we read about our ancestors and their relationship with God, we do well to ask: How are we like them? What were the obstacles they encountered, what can we learn from them, and what do they teach us about God? When they strayed, how did God intervene and how does that reveal God’s unconditional love? 

Unlike them, we have the benefit of knowing the end of the story. We know, “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son” (Jn 3:16). We’ve heard this Scripture passage quoted often. However, if we are to understand the full impact of those words, we must allow them to seep into our heart because hearing them once, twice or even a hundred times is not enough.

Reading and rereading a passage from Scripture from the heart makes all the difference. The practice is referred to as Lectio Divina. It involves choosing a passage from Scripture, reading it once for the head and a second time for the heart. A third reading may consist of choosing a sentence from the passage for reflection and finally allowing a single word or phrase from the sentence to become one with your breath so you can return to it throughout the day. 

Over time, those who faithfully practice this prayer form discover that words are no longer needed. Like lovers who enjoy the presence of the other without having to say a word, the presence of God is experienced in the heart on a conscious and unconscious level.

Reading Scripture as a love letter from God is as challenging as it is comforting because it’s not enough to simply bask in the consolation of God’s love. Knowing we are loved requires a response. There is a reciprocal dimension when it comes to human love relationships, but our relationship with God is of a higher order, and therefore requires a response on a personal and communal level. 

We know this because when Jesus was asked about the greatest commandment, he replied: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself” (Mt 22:38-39). 

We can love God and neighbor only because God loved us first. The best way to reassure ourselves of his love is by spending time with God’s love letter to his people. 

August 27, 2018

People of God, pull together during current crisis

The topic comes up when talking with friends, family members and those who come for spiritual direction. To ignore the topic would be to avoid the elephant in the room. 

At a time when too many people have already left the Church, the horrific practices by some priests and the cover-up by some bishops have added fuel to a fire that we have not been able to extinguish. 

In addition to the pain perpetrated on victims, the consequences are considerable, including a rationale for some who have left the Church, and a justification for others who may be tempted to leave. 

However, to interpret the horrendous scandal as a reason to do so is to confuse the Church with God. The Church is a human/divine institution guided by the Holy Spirit with Christ as the head, but it is composed of flawed human beings who bear the footprint of sin.  

We are the Church, the People of God, whose identity extends beyond the ordained or those who serve in leadership roles. More than ever the Church needs all of God’s people, ordinary people who fill the pews and build the Kingdom of God in ways great and small. We are the Body of Christ and although parts of the body are diseased, we cannot abandon it and allow those who have degraded it to infect the entire body. 

The behavior by those who have committed disgusting and vial acts on children either directly or by turning a blind eye to the needs of the victims is the work of Satan, an attempt to destroy the Church. In the end we know that God and good will always triumph over Satan, but God works through the human process. 

As Church, we are part of the process. We have been commissioned by Christ to overcome evil, and so we need the sacraments, particularly Eucharist and reconciliation. 

Purification is a painful process, but to walk away from the Church because of the sins of some is to give into Satan whose aim is to destroy the fabric of the Church. Walking away from the Church harms the entire Body of Christ. It weakens it and in so doing, we harm ourselves. We deprive ourselves of the life blood of the saints, those who worship with us and those who have preceded us. 

During times of crises such as these, we need all of the faithful to pull together, praying for one another and interceding for faith-filled clergy who continue to steer the ship in turbulent waters.

We need to pray for victims whose lives have been destroyed and for those whose faith in God and the Church has suffered unimaginable pain. We need to encourage priests who take their vocation seriously, and for those who are being called to the priesthood, who may be having second thoughts because of the scandals. And we need to pray for Pope Francis, Christ’s Vicar who carries this burden on his shoulders.

As the Body of Christ, we are more than the Church on earth. We are united as one body with the saints in heaven and the suffering souls in purgatory. When the fullness of these voices unites in prayer, we are a mighty force, a living act of reparation. 

Scripture tells us God hears the cry of the poor. Therefore, we can be certain the power of God will be unleashed and good will triumph. In the meantime, there are lessons to be learned and wrongs to be righted.

When Jesus was on earth, he publicly confronted hypocrites and religious leaders. No one was above the law. The time has come to begin anew. Healing is needed on many levels. 

We can’t undo the past, nor can we ignore the pain of those who have been victimized. Disclosing the crime is a beginning, but more is needed. The root of the problem must be addressed for real change to occur, which is possible. 

Under the guidance of the Holy Spirit and with a sincere effort by the entire Church, lay and ordained, pain can give birth to a more vibrant, Christ-like Church where all the People of God stand together as pillars not only of the Church, but for the entire social order.

August 13, 2018

Assumption foreshadows what might await the faithful

When I was young and first learned about the Assumption of Mary into heaven, the image of Walt Disney’s Sleeping Beauty would come to mind. I was in awe of our Blessed Mother who was only asleep rather than dead, and one day God, not unlike Prince Charming, woke her with a kiss and had his angels carry her up into heaven where she now reigns as Queen of Heaven and Earth. The delightful image fueled my youthful imagination, but from a theological perspective it left much to be desired.

However, as St. Paul so aptly wrote: “When I was a child, I used to speak like a child, think like a child, reason like a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things” (1 Cor 13:11). 

Although I am certain that the apostle didn’t have the Assumption of Mary in mind when he penned those words, they could easily be applied to my childlike musings about the dormition of Mary. With the Feast of the Assumption of Mary into Heaven on Aug. 15 upon us, the topic of Mary’s dormition is timely, particularly since I’ve discovered that Church teaching about Mary’s end of life experience has often been misrepresented. While I don’t claim to be an expert on the subject, research has led me to understand that the Church has not reached a definitive answer on the topic.

The Assumption of Mary into heaven was declared a dogma of faith in 1950 by Pope Pius XII. It means that Mary’s body did not undergo corruption, but it was miraculously taken into heaven shortly after her life on earth ended. 

However, in declaring the Assumption of Mary an article of faith, Pope Pius XII stopped short of saying that Mary did not die. Therefore, the question remains: Did Mary die or simply fall into a deep sleep before she was assumed into heaven?

In 1854, Pope Pius IX declared that Mary was born free from original sin, thereby adding the Immaculate Conception of Mary to the deposit of faith. Given the magnitude of that doctrine, it makes sense that Mary’s body would not undergo decay.  

Not only was Mary free from sin, but her womb served as the first tabernacle for Jesus, earning her the title: Ark of the Covenant. However, as St. Pope John Paul II explained, “being free from original sin and its stain is not the same thing as being in a glorified, deathless condition. Jesus was also free from sin and its stain, but still experienced death” (L’Osservatore Romano, July 2, 1997).

According to the 20th century theologian Ludwig Ott: “Mary’s death was a consequence of her being human, not a punishment of sin.” He explained, “Mary’s death was in conformity with her Divine Son, who was also subject to the law of death.” Numerous theologians concur with Ott’s explanation.

Although the Assumption of Mary is the most recent declaration of faith by the Catholic Church, belief in her assumption into heaven can be traced to theearly Church. The “Transitus Maria” or the “Crossing over of Mary” was commemorated from the earliest days by the Church in the East. 

In the writings of Psuedo-Melito of Sardis, dated 165-175 A.D. there is evidence of the belief that Mary’s body was lifted to heaven: “By the power of Your grace, it has appeared to us, your servants that as You have overcome death, do reign in glory so that You should raise up the body of Your mother and take her with You rejoicing into heaven.”

The term dormition, when applied to Mary, means that Mary died without suffering and in a state of spiritual peace. Some would liken that to falling asleep. Whether Mary died or fell asleep is not as important as the fact that, according to Christian tradition, those who visited her tomb three days after she was thought to have died, her body was no longer there nor was it be found elsewhere.

From a theological and faith perspective, the Church celebrates the Assumption of Mary as a foreshadowing of what the faithful may look forward to after the final Resurrection when our body and soul will be reunited to live forever in a glorified state. “Mary already shares in the glory of her Son’s Resurrection where she anticipates the resurrection of all the members of his Body” (CCC 974).  

Therefore, we proclaim Mary, our mother, a sign of certain hope. The assumption of her body and soul into heaven is a comfort to the pilgrim people of God, which leads us to pray with confidence, “Mary, assumed into heaven, intercede for  us!”

July 30, 2018

When tempted to give up, there is reason to hope

As the last of the 12 soccer players and their coach were rescued from the cave in Thailand, people around the world celebrated. For 18 days the global community held its breath as the drama, which had a dubious outcome, unfolded.

The survival of all 13 people against monumental odds was a testimony to the invincibility of the human spirit and the good that can be accomplished when multinational resources and expertise unite to help others. More importantly, it gave credence to the importance of hope.

With so much negativity in the news, the world was desperately in need of an injection of joy, which the smiles and thumbs up from these young people provided. In a world that is often too quick to give up on miracles, hope was restored in copious amounts.

No sooner had the success of the rescue mission been announced, another story made headline news. An airplane had crashed on a mountainside in Alaska and miraculously only minor injuries were sustained by the 11 passengers and crew aboard.

Then, as if that wasn’t enough, on the very same day, a 5-month-old infant, abandoned by a kidnapper and left to die in a wooded area, was found. The search and rescue unit admitted later that they began the mission with little hope of finding the child. One person said the search was like looking for a needle in a haystack until they heard the cry of an infant, which led them to the baby’s makeshift grave.

All three stories share one thing in common. When we think we know the end of the story, we don’t, and when we are tempted to give up, there is reason to hope.

Life is a process and it’s not for us to say when or how it will end. That’s God’s job and applies not only to people but to every living creature.

I am reminded of a story in “Waldon” by Henry David Thoreau that offers a wonderful illustration of this reality. According to Thoreau, there was a kitchen table in a farmhouse that had been made from the wood of an apple tree. After a number of years, a soft gnawing sound was heard coming from one of the table legs.

The sound was later attributed to a bug whose egg had been deposited in the tree while the tree was still alive. Over time, the warmth of the kitchen and heat from objects placed on the table acted as an incubator, the egg was hatched, and the insect was seen flying away after making its exit through the table leg.

Miracles happen every day. They surround us in nature, call to us through the predictable and unpredictable, and surprise us when we are on the brink of despair.

This is the beauty of hope. It is one of the three theological virtues, but it seems to me the virtue of hope is too often relegated to the afterlife. The Catechism of the Catholic Church defines hope as “the theological virtue by which we desire the kingdom of heaven and eternal life as our happiness” (CCC 1813).

Hope flows from faith and charity, and just as acts of faith and charity bring about the Kingdom of God on earth, so events that restore hope in temporal matters point to the presence of the Kingdom of God on earth. This is the purpose of miracles, but without faith we fail to recognize them.

Just because people are involved in helping to bring about a rescue effort or science can explain why an insect flew out of a table leg doesn’t make such happenings any less miraculous. After all, what could be more miraculous than God inviting the smallest of creatures and flawed human beings to be part of the miraculous process we call life?

The presence of an egg dormant in a table leg, the infant found in the woods, the rescues in Thailand and Alaska all speak to the human-divine partnership that is present and being revealed when the time and the right conditions dictate. How, when or why a miracle happens at a given time may not be for us to know.

Like the changing of water into wine at the wedding feast at Cana, some miracles are simply meant to gladden the heart, not unlike the sight of 12 young soccer players smiling for the television cameras. These 21st century miracles brought joy to the hearts of millions, gave the world a much needed injection of joy, and, in the process, turned tears of sadness into the wine of celebration.

July 16, 2018

Those seeking asylum have a right to life

Last week our usually tidy guest room looked as if a bomb had exploded in it. The cause? Our teenage granddaughters, ages 14 and soon-to-be 16, were visiting. Since they live in separate states, and get together only a few times a year, a joint vacation minus parents and siblings had been on their wish list for several years.

As it turned out, this was the summer that destination Virginia finally materialized. I’m not sure who was more excited, the girls or my husband and I. But as we look back on our time together, I must admit it’s the best staycation we ever had.

We went to the beach, Busch Gardens, and bicycled on the boardwalk. We ate out, had family in and hung out at Barnes & Noble while Callie and Olivia hit every store in the shopping mall. That was an actual goal.

It was a fun-filled and exhausting week, but the best part was spending time just chatting and getting to know our granddaughters better. While listening to the girls talk about school, their friends, their likes and dislikes, we were given a window into their lives that we are rarely privy to when the whole family gets together.

Their visit also provided an opportunity to tell stories and to listen to theirs, with the caveat that what is said in Virginia Beach stays in Virginia Beach. Our days together, now precious memories, were a time to bridge the generational gap and shrink the miles that separate us.

However, lest I give the wrong impression, let me admit up front that our family is far from perfect. Like every family, we have our share of struggles. As everyone knows, family life is a mixed bag where we learn to be tolerant of one another’s quirks, learn to forgive and let bygones be bygones.

The combination of good times and bad helps keep things in perspective — kind of like closing our eyes to a messy room when teenagers visit. Looking at the totality rather than focusing on what we find disturbing helps us to pick and choose our battles wisely.

In a prominent place in our home is displayed a framed print that our daughter Stephanie gave us after she was married. It reads:

Our family is a circle of strength and love.

With every birth and every union, the circle grows.

Every joy shared adds more love.

Every crisis faced together makes the circle stronger.

There is a great deal of wisdom in those words, especially when family life is under assault by many. The print stands as a clear reminder to appreciate challenges as well as good times, because both enrich our lives.

A few days after our granddaughters departed for home, we found ourselves in the emergency room with our son Andrew, who was injured on the job. As his wife, her parents and my husband and I took turns being with him, I realized how blessed our son was to have such a wide circle of support.

Having the support of family and extended family makes a difference. It is a reminder that blessings come in many ways. Having family to lean on helps put things in perspective.

Bearing with and leaning on one another lightens the load and strengthens us for the journey. We never know what the future will bring, which is why the family is different from any other unit.

It is a blessed and holy institution that mirrors the covenant relationship between God and the people of Israel, which was brought to fruition by Jesus and the covenant relationship he has with the Church.

With this understanding as a foundation, it becomes increasingly difficult to watch families being treated as a casualty when children are taken from immigrant parents with little thought or regard for the impact such trauma will have on young lives.

Decisions made in haste, driven by fear and the economy, fracture the very fabric of family life and will lead to further decline for every nation that turns its back on those who are seeking asylum, for they too have a right to life.

When Jesus said the poor will always be with us, he was not advocating that we throw up our hands or turn our back to the needy. He was warning his followers that to live by his teaching means poor will be with us because the poor is where we will find him:

“I was hungry, and you gave me to eat, thirsty and you gave me to drink, naked and you clothed me. I was a stranger and you welcomed me” (Mt 25:25-35).

Could it be any clearer?

July 2, 2018

July 4th time for introspection, self-evaluation

As our country celebrates another birthday as an independent nation, it seems we have yet to discover the true meaning of freedom. We pledge our allegiance to one nation under God, but are we really?

Current divisions along lines of ideology, religion and ethnicity seem to suggest otherwise. The motto, “In God we trust” is exhibited on our currency, but is that really where our trust lies? Given the endless growth of the defense budget, we seem to place more trust in weaponry than in the peace that only God can give.

When natural disasters or man-made tragedies strike, sentiments such as: “Our thoughts and prayers are with you” tumble from the lips of leaders, even as social services to the poor are the first to go on the chopping block. Infants are murdered in the womb. Refugees of war and violence are left to fend for themselves. People with mental illness often end up homeless and those with addictions are incarcerated rather than rehabilitated.

Fortunately, this is not the only profile of our country. Consider the first responders who rush into burning buildings while others are escaping. Medical personnel, teachers and social service workers dedicate their lives and place the well-being of others before, or at least on par, with their own.

Countless NGOs and religion-based agencies and institutions stand as powerful witnesses to the divine DNA that exists in every human being. Our country has multiple profiles, and that gives us reason to celebrate. It’s not my intention to rain on Fourth of July parades, but to reflect on the noble aspirations of our Founding Fathers, who set aside differences and envisioned a path for the common good.

The birth of our country is a time to celebrate, but it should also be an occasion for introspection and self-evaluation. Our national heritage is rooted in a fundamental belief in God. It is incorporated in the Pledge of Allegiance, printed on the dollar bill and written into the Constitution. References to God serve as standard bearers reminding us that America will become great only when the law of God that is imprinted in the hearts of all becomes the law of the land.

For people of faith, who profess to believe in God, our country’s birthday should be about more than flag waving and fireworks. We who enjoy bounty and privilege are charged with a responsibility to respect life and the environment, promote peace, and help the most vulnerable members of our society.

All the world religions hold these beliefs as major themes. Jesus healed the sick. He reached out to the poor, the marginalized and public sinners. The Old Testament reminded Israelites that at one time they were aliens in a foreign land and, therefore, are to look with kindness on the foreigner in their midst. Almsgiving is one of the five pillars of Islam, and Buddha taught there is power in weakness.

These noble truths are easier to profess than to live, but as one nation under God, we are not alone. God is with us, but our relationship with God is not an exclusive one. There are no walls in the Kingdom of God, only bridges. When Jesus’ mission on earth was ended he charged his followers to continue what he began:

You have heard it said, “You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.” But I say to

you, “Love your enemies and pray for those

who persecute you, so that you may be

children of your Father in heaven,” for he

makes his sun rise on the evil and the good,

and sends rain on the righteous and on the

unrighteous (Mt 5:43-45).

The current and increasing climate of isolationism is cause for alarm. God’s love has never been exclusive, and neither should ours. As citizens of the world we have a global responsibility.

Our faith should transport us beyond national borders. We must be willing to reach across the political divide, especially when it feels more like the Grand Canyon than an aisle separated by a few feet of carpet. Jesus told us that nothing is impossible for God, and so we hope, we pray, and we must take action. (Thanks to the Virginia Catholic Conference action is only a click away at

As our nation celebrates its birthday, let us join hearts and voices with people of every color, race and creed to make our country truly great, a shining city and a beacon of hope — not only for Americans, but for all God’s people. Only then will we truly be the land of the free and the home of the brave.

June 18, 2018

Transform your soul from weed patch to beautiful garden

One of my favorite, though admittedly more unlikely outdoor activities is weeding the flower bed that borders our backyard. Not only does it provide me with an excellent excuse for spending time outdoors, but it is one of the few partnerships with nature that produce instant results.

Unlike sowing seeds or bedding plants that require water, sunshine and time to transform an unsightly space into a symphony of colors, pulling weeds ensures instant results. It’s one of the few areas in nature that I can control with minimal time and effort.

With so much in life beyond my control, transforming a garden overrun with weeds into a tidy flower bed not only provides me with a sense of satisfaction, but the process invites reflection and prayer.

Being close to nature engages the senses, inviting us to better appreciate the work of God. The feel of the soil becoming one with our hands, the earth worm burrowing its way to safety, and the cacophony of sounds from birds and insects contribute to the sweet scent of nature in ways that are simple and profound.

Inevitably, as I set about pulling weeds, I am reminded of the parable of the weeds and the wheat in which Jesus urged patience, lest the wheat is mistaken for weeds.

Reflecting on the parable invites me to consider the events and, at times, the people in life who seem more like weeds than wheat. It reminds me that first impressions are rarely accurate, and that it takes time to get to know people. Thoughtful assessment and graced wisdom are required to see beyond immediate impressions and results.

As I tug on weeds whose roots run deep, requiring a trowel to remove, I am reminded that old habits die hard. I am reminded of the times I made snap judgments about others, only to learn I was wrong.

Roots that reach deep into the soil remind me that we are all formed and deformed by the events in our life, and in need of forgiveness. When I take the time to listen to the struggles of others, I can become the wheat of compassion rather than another weed in the garden of their life.

Just as challenging situations, when allowed to mature to their full potential, often turn out to be a blessing in disguise, so patience and understanding are vital to spiritual maturity. They are as necessary as water and sunlight are to flowers and fruit-bearing plants.

As I pluck the weeds from the soil, I am reminded that unlike plants that make their way to the trash heap, God does not dispose of us when we fail to bloom. In reflecting on the parable of the weeds among the wheat, I can acknowledge that even on my worst day I am surrounded by more flowers than weeds. God continues to plant flowers of every color and during every season to brighten my day, if only I take the time to look around and count my blessings.

After an hour or so of pulling weeds on my knees, I stand back and view with delight the transformation that has taken place. It serves as a reminder that spending time on my knees in prayer is just as important. If my relationship with God is to continue deepening, the inner work must be ongoing.

Unless I am vigilant, the weeds in my life will take over the garden of my soul. Vigilance requires honest self-examination. The obvious weeds I need to eradicate are not the faults of others, but my own faults, which seem to spring up when and where I least expect them.

St. John of the Cross compared removing obstacles that stand in the way of our relationship with God to cutting a weed off at the top. He explained that if we are to be perfect as our heavenly Father, we need to dig deep, and pull the weeds out by their roots; we need to discover the cause.

A prayerful examination of conscience helps to unearth the cause of our faults and failings, which are rooted in the seven deadly sins of anger, greed, sloth, pride, lust, envy and gluttony.

Once identified, the sacrament of reconciliation frees us from sin and allows us to start anew, knowing that only with God’s grace can the garden of our soul be transformed from a patch of weeds to a place of exquisite foliage.

During the summer months, when we have been blessed with an abundance of flowers, let us not lose sight of the fact that our inner garden deserves even more attention so that virtues may flower every day, all year long.

June 4, 2018

Sacred Heart of Jesus is full of love for us

The letters “MOW” appear on my desk calendar on the second Thursday of every month. “MOW” stands for Meals on Wheels, reminding me of a commitment my husband and I made several years ago.

As part of a cadre of volunteers, we deliver meals to people who are no longer able to prepare their own meals, but we rarely get to meet the recipients. We are often greeted at the door by a caregiver or instructed to place the meal in a cooler on the front porch because the person inside doesn’t wish to be disturbed. There are exceptions, of course, and last week was one of those days.

As I got out of the car, I was greeted by a sprightly woman, whom I had learned from a previous conversation was 91 years old and proud of it. As I got out of the car, she gingerly descended the front steps and called out, “Wait a minute; I’ll meet you half way.”

Thankfully, she was the last person on the route because I could tell she was in the mood to chat. Once she started, there was no stopping her. She told me about the farm where she grew up, about her deceased husband, and how happy she was that the flowering trees and perennials they planted early in their life together bloomed year after year with little effort on her part.

The delight she took in her yard was obvious. It wasn’t just the flowers, but the memories and the people that she associated with them. Before I left, she reminded me that I could help myself to any of the flowers or take cuttings from the bushes that turned her yard into a garden of delight.

The exchange I had with this dear woman came to mind the next day while reading about the Sacred Heart of Jesus. In the book, “Circling the Sun,” Father Robert Pelton wrote, “God revealed his heart and that heart is Jesus.”

Jesus is the visible image of the invisible God, the heart of God made incarnate forever in human flesh. He suggested that in the person of Jesus Christ, who is both human and divine, we are already half way to God.

According to Father Pelton, we would not seek God if we had not already found him. I had to think about that for a moment. The priest based his theory on the fact that God is always seeking us even when we are unaware. Salvation is universal, yet each person must make the journey to God individually and collectively as a member of the Body of Christ whose head is Jesus and whose heart is sacred.

As I reflected on the joy that was exhibited by my elderly friend, so young at heart, I could see Jesus shining through her smile as she called to me. I could almost hear him say, “Wait a minute; I’ll meet you half way.”

I am reminded that Jesus calls to us every moment of every day, and that each call invites a response. So, how do I respond? Do I approach him eagerly and joyfully or am I distracted or mired in the mud of doubt and disbelief?

Do I hear God reassuring me that I do not have to make the journey alone? Does knowing that fill my heart with gratitude?

The Father has given us his own heart in the person of Jesus and Jesus has given us his Body and Blood. Every Eucharist is an encounter with Jesus. He comes to us and we go to him.

When we receive him, we meet in a sacred embrace, a holy Communion that opens our eyes and gradually we begin to see him everywhere. We see Jesus in the people and in the events of our life because we understand God is always with us, and that we were never meant to make the journey alone.

We are participants in a human-divine partnership that respects human will. God never forces himself upon us, which means the relationship is our responsibility too.

God has given us the sacraments and Scripture and the heart of Jesus whose heart is inflamed with love for us. When we grow weary, or doubt our capability, which we all do, Jesus says, “Help yourself to the flowers in my garden. The graces in Scripture and the sacraments are yours for the taking.”

And when we get a little too big for our britches and think we can meet God on our own, we may just hear Jesus say, “Wait a minute; I’ll meet you half way.” Then he sends his Holy Spirit to remind us of Jesus’ words: “Apart from me you can do nothing” (Jn 15:5).

May 21, 2018

Wait, pray and be led by the Holy Spirit

Waiting is never easy. We look for the shortest lines at the checkout counters, drum our fingers against the steering wheel waiting for the traffic light to turn green, and scan the number of people ahead of us in the waiting room at the doctor’s office.

Although such occurrences can be annoying, they are mere inconveniences, nuisances we tolerate because we know that eventually we will make our way to the front of a checkout line, the light will change, and we will see the doctor.

However, when the outcome involves uncertainty, waiting can be stressful — even frightening. Consider students waiting to hear if they’ve been accepted at the college of their choice, the unemployed person waiting to hear from a prospective employer, or the patient waiting for the results of a biopsy.

Depending upon the seriousness of the situation, and the level of uncertainty, waiting in such instances is not merely an inconvenience. When faced with results that could be life altering, prayer quickly becomes part of the process. As people of faith, we typically pray for a positive outcome, and when the outcome is less than favorable, we pray for strength to meet the challenges that lie ahead.

It was no different for the apostles as they waited for the coming of the Holy Spirit. Before Jesus ascended into heaven, he told them they were to preach and baptize in his name, but first they were to remain in Jerusalem and wait for the Advocate whom the Father would send.

How or when this would happen was not revealed, but we know from the Acts of the Apostles that the apostles, along with Mary and a few women, returned to the Upper Room where, amid so much uncertainty, they waited and prayed.

They probably wondered and discussed what Jesus’ parting words meant. Who was this Holy Spirit and how would its coming impact their lives? It would seem there were plenty of questions but few answers, not unlike the questions Christians ask today.

As descendants of the apostles, we too have been entrusted with the mission to evangelize, but how and when to do that appropriately and effectively can create uncertainty. Therefore, prayer and waiting on the Holy Spirit is important, lest we run ahead of the Advocate.

Before Jesus began his public ministry, he spent 40 days praying and fasting. While engaged in ministry, he often spent the night in prayer or awoke early to be alone with the Father. Given the importance Jesus placed on prayer, it should come as no surprise that when he instructed the apostles to wait for the Advocate, they returned to the Upper Room and prayed.

Prayerful discernment has always been part of the Christian journey. Without prayer, we fall prey to the fallacy of our own ego strength, hide behind walls of good works or the safety of our own intelligence. Like the Pharisees in the Gospels, the false-self imagines it sees the face of God when it is merely gazing at its own self-will, a smoking mirror that blinds us and leads to self-righteousness. Evangelization is never about us.

In his first letter to the Corinthians, St. Paul wrote that not all are called to be prophets, teachers, miracle workers, or have the gift of tongues, but we are all called to love. To love is our primary mission, but love is no mere human activity.

Only the Holy Spirit can fill us with the fire of God’s love; like the apostles, we must prepare by waiting and praying. We come before God with empty hands, owning our sins because humility is the fuel God desires to set our hearts ablaze. When the Spirit fills us with the fire of God’s love, we can be certain we will receive the gifts needed to share that love with the world.

As modern-day disciples, it is not enough to believe in Jesus’ message, and then do as we please. We must follow him into the desert and into the quiet places of our heart. We gather with community and watch and pray with him in the Garden of Olives so we can follow him to Calvary.

Life is filled with challenges and uncertainties, and we will never have all the answers to all the questions, but if we wait and pray, “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done,” we will be given the strength and wisdom to go forth, led by the Spirit, confident of God’s love and blessed by his presence.

May 7, 2018

Blessed Mother does for children what we fail to do

Do you remember what day it is?” queried the voice on the other end of the phone.

My mind drew a blank, but the caller, whose voice broke under the weight of emotion, reminded me that it had been one year since she delivered her baby and placed him for adoption. My heart went out to this mother who was only 16 years old when she gave birth to her son.

Stacey came to live with us when she was in the fifth month of her pregnancy. During the months that followed, she quickly won her way into our hearts. As her labor coach, I was able to be with her during her delivery, watch her hold her son, kiss him and then let him go.

One year later, with memories of her son’s birth etched deep in her heart, she picked up the phone and told me, “I just needed to talk to someone who was there.”

Nothing I could say would ease her pain; all I could do was listen. I was sorry that I had not remembered. I should have called her, but as I look back on that day I realize that it was that special bond between Stacey and her child that impelled her to call. It was the love of a mother that surpasses any other love.

During a recent tribute in honor of the late Barbara Bush, I was reminded once again of the many ways mothers demonstrate that unique bond of love. In 1990, while speaking to the graduates at Wellesley College, Bush reminded the women that life is full of choices. Then she cautioned them about priorities and values that will impact those choices.

The renowned matriarch noted that at the end of life, we will not regret missed academic or career opportunities, but we will regret not having spent quality time with family and those we love.

Both mothers, one a 16-year-old teenager and the other a 92-year-old great grandmother, gave witness to the choices they made, decidedly different and yet each embodied the wisdom that comes with being godly women. Not unlike the mother in the story of Solomon, who gave up her son rather than have him killed, Stacey chose her son’s well-being over her desire to cling to him.

Bush, whose appearance at Wellesley was protested because her only claim to fame was her role as wife and mother, required a different set of choices. Both women demonstrated the sacrificial love that is required within the context of a mother/child relationship.

There are times when letting go requires more heroic virtue than holding our children close. Few mothers experience letting go the way Stacey did, but as we accompany our children through various stages of development, knowing when to let go is a sign of wisdom.

No relationship demonstrates this conundrum more clearly than motherhood, which binds mother and child emotionally, physically and spiritually. It is little wonder then that the prophet Isaiah used the analogy of a mother’s love when speaking of God’s love for us:

“Can a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget you, I will never forget you” (Is 49:15).

No one can appreciate these words more than mothers. As I reflect on this passage, I realize there are times when my love has been less than perfect, less than I would have liked it to be, which causes me to turn to our Mother Mary, God’s own mother, and place our children in her care. I take comfort in asking her to do for them what I fail to do, not willfully, but because of my human limitations.

As a mother and grandmother, I realize that I will not always be able to protect those whom I love or be there for them, which is why I go to Mary, who is the perfect model of motherhood. Just as Jesus knew we need to look to God as Father, so he understood our need for a mother who is always attentive and able to intercede for us and for those we love.

Although Mother’s Day was instituted as a secular holiday, it need not end there. It seems providential that Mother’s Day is celebrated during May, the month dedicated to our spiritual mother.

As we honor our earthly mothers, let us never lose sight of our heavenly mother, whose love for us is but a reflection of the love God has for each of us — a love that can only be compared to, and alas exceeds, the love a mother has for her children.

April 23, 2018

We continue to learn from, be inspired by Rev. King

In celebration of the 50th anniversary of the death of Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., much was written about the vision, courage and commitment of this formidable man of God. Rev. King was not simply a great American, he was a prophet and martyr, and I suspect that if he were Catholic, the process for his beatification leading to canonization would already be underway.

In advancing the Kingdom of God, Rev. King aligned his life with Gospel imperatives of justice and peace, and consequently paid the ultimate price. Half a century later, we continue to learn from his example and are inspired by his words and his life.

When the civil rights leader emerged on the national stage, the racial divide was not part of my life. I was a young adult living in a predominantly white city in the north and viewed the movement from a distance, tacitly watching as scenes from cities across the southern United States made the evening news.

Like many Americans, I lamented Rev. King’s assassination, but it is only recently that I am beginning to grasp the depth of his passion and commitment to the poor and marginalized. Rev. King’s vision took him beyond the racial divide and into the plight of all who are held hostage by bigotry, economic dominance and racial supremacy.

His life and death, like the Master in whose footsteps he walked, stand as a stark reminder that rejection, betrayal and death continue to be the price that some are asked to pay, but never in vain. Rev. King’s legacy serves as a testimony to the Paschal Mystery as an ongoing event, not only in the life of Christ but in the life of every person of faith.

Amid racial tensions, ongoing violence and the plight of the working poor, much remains to be done. The mission continues as a clarion call meant to energize rather than depress people of faith because building the Kingdom of God, initiated by Christ on earth, did not end with him. It was only the beginning, a cause to rejoice, as the Easter season proclaims, because our Redeemer lives and is calling his followers to don the mantle of justice and peace in his name.

The Acts of the Apostles testify to the post-Resurrection mission, and those who have seen the movie: “Paul, Apostle of Christ,” can appreciate the suffering and persecution that the early Church endured.

The Church on earth may be referred to as the Church militant, but it is not a mission that can be won through violence and munitions. True evangelization is about peaceful confrontation with all that is anathema to the Kingdom of God.

As evidenced by his “I Have a Dream” speech, Rev. King understood the power of peaceful resistance. Decades later, his words echo, immortalized in the hearts and minds of young and old alike, but they cannot simply remain Rev. King’s dream. Until his dream becomes the dream of every American, it will have little effect.

During the past month I have read and reflected on Rev. King’s words, those spoken at the march in Washington, D.C., and those from the speech he gave the evening before he died. His proclamation — that he had been to the mountaintop and seen the Promised Land — was more than oratorical eloquence. The scriptural imagery was profoundly mystical.

The mountaintop has long been associated with the place where people encounter God. Moses viewed the Promised Land from the mountaintop though he knew he would never enter. Less than 24 hours after Rev. King said he may not enter the Promised Land, he was dead.

Against the advice of friends, and knowing his enemies were growing in number, Rev. King went to Memphis to stand on the side of justice with sanitation workers. Surely he knew death was inevitable, just as Jesus knew that crucifixion would be his lot when he went to Jerusalem.

When Rev. King first donned the mantle of justice and peace, he could not have imagined where his passion would take him. In retrospect, his appearance at the first civil rights gathering in Atlanta was providential. He went because he learned, after the fact, that it was being held at Ebenezer Baptist Church, where he was pastor.

When he addressed the people that evening, little did he realize that he would become the voice of justice and nonviolence for generations to come. Rev. King understood that to be passionate about God means being passionate about God’s people — a passion that gave birth to a dream that ignited a nation.

As beneficiaries of that dream, people of faith cannot ignore the obvious questions: How far will I allow my passion to take me and what price am I willing to pay? Dreams inspire, but action makes them happen.

Rev. King embraced both, inspiring all who long for a better world to stand with this faithful disciple of Christ and say:

“I have a dream that all God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, ‘Free at last! Free at last! Thank God almighty, we are free at last!’”

April 9, 2018

Share the Good News that Jesus lives

Human interest seems to have a penchant for the sensational, which means headlines matter. They beckon from newsprint, websites and bookshelves that brandish the latest best seller. Their bold print captivates our attention and, before we know it, we are well into the story.

Words are powerful, so when we examine the Easter narratives written by Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, the existence of four different versions surrounding the most sensational event of all time can be problematic. The simple explanation is: They were written by different people at different times and for different audiences, but Scripture scholars suggest another theory which invites a closer look.

Consider that the Gospel of Mark offers two accounts. In the first he tells of three women who went to the tomb to anoint the body of Jesus. Upon arriving they find the stone has been rolled away and are so startled by a man, clad in a radiant garment, sitting to the right of the empty tomb, that despite his instruction to go tell the disciples and Peter that Jesus has been raised, they are paralyzed by fear and do nothing.

In the later account, Mark has Jesus appearing to Mary Magdalene, who runs to tell the disciples that Jesus is risen and is going to Galilee, but she is not believed.

Luke’s account has a group of women traveling to the tomb where they find two men in dazzling garments who ask them why they are seeking the living among the dead. The men remind them of Jesus’ teaching that the Son of Man would be crucified and rise on the third day. They leave immediately to tell the apostles what they have witnessed, but alas, their story is dismissed as an idle women’s tale.

Then there is Matthew, who has Mary Magdalene and another Mary at the tomb witnessing an earthquake and an angel descending from heaven, who rolls the stone away. The guards who were stationed at the tomb are so shaken that they faint dead away.

Meanwhile, the angel invites the women to go tell the disciples that Jesus who was crucified has been raised from the dead and goes ahead of them to Galilee. On their way, Jesus appears to them. They embrace him; he tells them, “Do not be afraid” and repeats the angel’s instruction to tell the disciples they are to go to Galilee where they will see him.

The final account is offered by John, who places Mary Magdalene alone by the empty tomb. She runs to tell Peter and the others; Peter and John hurry to the tomb, where they discover the burial wrappings from Jesus lying in the empty tomb and they believe. Peter and John leave, and Mary stays behind weeping. Moments later, Jesus appears as a gardener whom Mary recognizes only when Jesus calls her name.

So what actually happened? Which account is true? In order to extrapolate the truth from the story, it is important to understand the art of storytelling among ancient Jews. The incidentals were superfluous to the main event.

Jesus, who was crucified and raised from the dead, is the story. Everything else is parabolic, meaning they may or may not have happened as described, but provide insights about how the event was received.

I admit that for a long time I thought the women in the resurrection story got the short shift. I couldn’t see past the fact that while the men remained in hiding, the women went to the tomb, and yet were not believed.

The problem with that perspective is that I was viewing the accounts through the lenses of women’s rights issues and our uphill battle to be taken seriously. I was allowing incidentals to stand in the way of the main event, which was that through his resurrection, Jesus’ death was vindicated and good triumphed over evil.

By today’s standards, the headline for Easter Sunday would read: Jesus Is Raised from the Dead and Is Lord of Heaven and Earth! Clearly, the Easter pageant is about Jesus. The others are merely supporting actors in a drama they were slow to understand.

The various accounts represent human blind spots that are part of every faith journey. The take away for Christians is not who was first to arrive at the tomb, who was believed and who was ignored, or whether Jesus appeared first in Jerusalem, Galilee or Emmaus. The incidentals tell us as much about ourselves as they do about the early disciples. They tell us we are all slow to believe at times, and that each person comes to believe differently and at different stages along the way.

The stories were not written as biographical accounts about the holy women who went to the tomb, or about Mary Magdalen, Peter or John. They were written for believers of all ages who struggle with the same obstacles the first followers of Jesus encountered. They remind us that grief, fear and doubt can keep us from recognizing Jesus.

All the people mentioned in the Easter event eventually came to believe in the resurrection of Jesus, each in his or her own way, and so do we. Like the disciples of old, we walk by faith, seeking Jesus who is risen. Once we find him, we too are called to share the Good News that Jesus lives!

March 26, 2018

Celebrate, because our Redeemer lives!

Can you imagine what it was like for the followers of Jesus to witness his last days in real time? With everything they hoped for falling apart, it must have been a heart-wrenching experience.

Jesus’ closest followers were simple people, mostly uneducated fishermen, a tax collector, and some relatives, along with a few women of means and a woman from whom seven devils had been cast out. The best thing they had going for themselves was that they dropped everything to follow the Lord.

They could never have imagined the kind of life Jesus was calling them to embrace. They didn’t understand his healing ministry was a precursor for healing humanity’s wounds, or that the multiplication of loaves was a foretaste of Jesus, Bread of Life.

Yet, amid doubts and uncertainty, they continued to walk with the Master, amazed by his miracles and mesmerized by his message, veiled though it was.

As Jesus became increasingly confrontational toward religious leaders, his followers must have grown uneasy. Peter tried to discourage Jesus from going to Jerusalem, but to no avail. Instead, Jesus called him Satan, and entered Jerusalem amid cries of Hosanna, knowing that Roman authorities were quick to crucify anyone who posed a threat to Caesar.

The early disciples braved unchartered terrain where little made sense. The language of the Old Testament prophets was cryptic, and the words of Jesus were increasingly obscure. How different it is for us!

As the liturgical drama of Holy Week unfolds, and Calvary reaches its zenith in Easter glory, I can’t help but wonder how I would have responded if I had been among those faith-filled men and women. Would I have left everything to follow the Lord or would I have watched from a distance, cautiously avoiding his gaze?

Would the initial excitement about Jesus’ healing power have worn thin when danger seemed immanent? When confusion came knocking, would I have sought his counsel, or would I have been among those who walked away?

What would I have said about his preference for the poor, the marginalized, the sinners and when he asked, “Who is your neighbor?” how would I have responded?

The only way any of us can know how we would have reacted in biblical times is to examine the way we live our life. As Christians, we like to think we would have embraced the Master’s teachings when he traveled the roads of Galilee.

But how are we doing? When I read the Gospels that describe Jesus’ passion and death, bold assumptions fade, and doubt sets in amid a sea of mea culpas.

St. Teresa of Avila advised her nuns, “Fix your gaze on the Crucified and everything else becomes small.” The wisdom behind her proclamation holds true for every age, for when I behold our dying Lord, concerns and anxieties disappear under the shadow of the cross.

When I scan the hill outside the walls of Jerusalem, an area that served as a garbage dump, where the Savior of the world was hung, I am humbled and horrified by what my eyes take in. Apart from the Mother of Jesus, the beloved disciple and a few holy women, only the Roman soldiers and a few self-righteous Jewish leaders were left standing, privileged to gaze upon the Crucified. I wonder if I would have been among them.

I ponder the words “Ecce Homo” (Behold the Man) that were uttered by the Roman procurator who also ordered the epitaph: “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews” nailed to the cross, and wonder why God used him to proclaim so profound a truth.

Beneath the tree of life, blasphemers cast lots and were awarded Jesus’ seamless garment, a thief was promised paradise and a soldier responded to Jesus’ cry, “I thirst.” When Jesus breathed his last, and the temple veil was rent, it was a Roman centurion who declared, “Truly this was the Son of God” (Mt 27:54).

Jesus had a penchant for choosing the most unlikely people to surround him in life, so it should come as no surprise that it was to non-believers that he extended the privilege of surrounding him in death. Throughout his life, Jesus overturned conventional wisdom, and did the same when he was dying, forever reminding us that just when we think we understand all there is to know about God, we have only just begun.

I am at a loss to explain such merciful inclusivity except to know that God is Father of all. In God’s family, there is no room for jealousy, condemnation or sibling rivalry. Everyone is invited to draw near.

Times have changed, but human nature has not, nor has the tendency to create God in our own image, and according to our likeness. Amid wars and famine, natural disasters and violence, we turn to lesser gods to deaden the pain. We lose sight of God’s eternal reach, washing humanity’s soul in a sea of love that transcends time.

Unlike the early disciples of Christ, we know that Jesus’ death was only the beginning; more than 2,000 years later, we stand on the shoulders of those early disciples, pondering the great mysteries that bridged the chasm between humanity and divinity, love and hate, hope and despair. And so, we celebrate because our Redeemer lives!

March 12, 2018

For St. Patrick, life was about faith, not luck

I don’t claim to be an expert on national folklore, but it seems as though no other country or saint is surrounded by as much mystique and widespread celebration as Ireland and St. Patrick’s Day. From shamrocks and casting out snakes to leprechauns and kissing the Blarney Stone, stories and legends abound. That might explain why my induction into Irish culture took place in the Bible Belt while living in Savannah, Georgia.

The unlikely mix of Irish humor and Southern hospitality could be attributed to the fact that Irish clergy have long enjoyed an impressive footprint in the South. For centuries, Irish bishops, who were blessed with an abundance of clergy, sent priests to the southern United States, where Catholicism was all but unknown. Today, Irish priests still maintain a viable presence, especially on St. Patrick’s Day, when the celebratory mood invites people, regardless of their heritage or religion, to claim a wee bit of the Irish in their family tree.

However, unless we separate fact from fiction, we do a great disservice to the saint whose love for God inspired an entire country. And who better to set the record straight than the saint himself who penned the “Confession of St. Patrick” more than 16 centuries ago?

Like the “Confessions of St. Augustine,” it serves as a confession of faith more than a confession of specific sins, and it provides a brief account of Patrick’s early life and conversion. He was born into a Christian family in the western part of Roman Britannia. The date of his birth is unknown, but the saint wrote that he went to Ireland as a missionary in 430 or 431. He began writing his confession by introducing himself as a “sinner, very rustic, least of all faithful and very contemptible.”

Patrick acknowledged that although his father was a deacon, as a youth, the future saint was not interested in God. At age 16, he was kidnapped and taken to Ireland as a slave, where he remained for six years tending sheep. During those years of isolation, Patrick turned to God, whom he realized he had offended.

Becoming aware of the presence of the indwelling Trinity, he spent long hours in prayer. He wrote that, at 22, he was told by a voice to return to his homeland and that a ship awaited him a short distance away. Whether he was awake or asleep is not clear, but Patrick, convinced that it was the voice of God, escaped, found the ship as he had been told, and was granted free passage.

After several days at sea, Patrick was reunited with his family, who were filled with joy. Embarking on the clerical path, he was schooled in the faith and made a bishop, but just what the studies entailed is uncertain. Patrick described himself as an unlettered man, crediting his knowledge of God to the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, rather than to any human source.

He noted that his decision to return to Ireland was not without interior struggles and external trials, which he concluded was God’s way of freeing him from being overly concerned about himself. Once his sole concern was focused on the salvation of others, he embraced his mission and announced, much to the displeasure of his parents, he would return to the land of his captivity to convert the pagans.

Despite his lack of learning, the saint was able to teach the great mysteries to those who had never heard of God. He is perhaps best known for his use of a shamrock, which he used as a visual aid in teaching about the Trinity.

Patrick wrote that he baptized thousands of people, but credited God with their conversions. He established multiple communities of consecrated virgins after a woman told him she wanted to dedicate her life to God. Recognizing this as a great grace, he encouraged other women to do the same.

His praise for the Trinity runs throughout his writings and, despite his works being criticized for their lack of rhetorical style, his words seem more poetic than prose at times.

Working tirelessly until the end of his life in 461, St. Patrick testified that he never accepted any gifts that were given to him because he wanted to give freely the gift of faith that had been given to him. This saint, who asked nothing for himself, gave without reserve because he saw Christ everywhere and in everyone. The “Breastplate of St. Patrick,” one of the prayers that is credited to him, bears this out.

Christ with me / Christ before me /Christ behind me / Christ over me / Christ to the right of me / Christ to the left of me / Christ where I lie down / Christ where I sit / Christ where I rise / Christ in the heart of everyone who judges me / Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks to me / Christ in every eye that sees me / Christ in every ear that hears me.

This prayer could serve as a breastplate for Christians everywhere. We are indeed indebted to this great saint for his contribution to the Church, which had nothing to do with luck.

February 26, 2018

Trust God that all will be well

I hung up the phone and breathed a sigh of relief. I had just canceled a surgical procedure that had been scheduled for the end of March. It was semi-elective surgery, a hip replacement, which the surgeon decided was in my best interest. That was last November.

However, between his schedule and mine, the end of March was the earliest possible date upon which we could agree. He had an opening in February, but that’s when my life got extremely busy. With several Lenten retreats and parish presentations on my calendar, there was no way I could commit to a procedure that would require several weeks of rehabilitation.

On the bright side, I joked with my husband that my Lenten penance had already been determined. My real concern was whether I would be able to honor commitments I had made, especially those that involved travel. Trusting in the Lord, I decided that if God wanted me to do his work, he would provide. He did.

A notice in our parish bulletin announced that a healing Mass with the sacrament of anointing of the sick would take place on Dec. 6. With surgery pending and my symptoms becoming more problematic, I decided to attend. I prayed for the strength to honor commitments I had made long before my hip became an issue. When I came forward to be anointed with holy oils and the priest prayed over me, I was at peace.

It wasn’t until a day or two later I realized the pain had decreased dramatically. I was able to lift my leg in a normal fashion, whereas prior to receiving the sacrament I had been unable to lift it more than an inch off the ground. With each passing day the pain lessened; within a week, my symptoms had disappeared. At that point, I questioned the need for surgery, but was still reluctant to say anything.

As Catholics, we tend to emphasize the spiritual healing and inner peace that accompanies the sacrament of the anointing of the sick. Physical healings, though possible, are not the norm, nor are we taught to expect them. I certainly didn’t.

Yet, there was no doubt my healing also had a physical component. I decided to take a wait– and–see position. However, after more than two months of being symptom free, I knew it was time to let the doctor know I no longer needed a new hip.

In recent months, I’ve had time to reflect on whether I should share this experience in so public a venue. To date, only my family and a handful of people knew about the healing. But the more I prayed about it, the more it seemed that sharing what God had done was not only appropriate, but a Gospel imperative.

As a whole, Catholics tend to hold their faith a bit too close to the chest. I admit I am guarded when it comes to disclosing the way God is working in my life, and choose carefully what I will share with others, be it in conversation, writing or during presentations.

Perhaps through this healing, God is nudging me to be a bit more forthcoming in proclaiming the power of God in our midst, and that miracles happen every day.

Another reason I was reluctant to share what God had done was my concern for others. How would those who attended the Mass and received the same sacrament feel if they continued to suffer? But the more I prayed about it, the more I understood that God gives each person what is needed at any given moment.

I can’t say for sure why my symptoms disappeared. It may have something to do with my writing and retreat ministry, which places me in a position to reach more people. Or, it may just be that my faith is weak, and God decided I needed a miracle to strengthen it.

We will never have answers to every question that arises, and as my surgeon’s assistant noted when I related all that had transpired, “Sometimes it’s best to not ask why and just be grateful.” Her words echoed one of my favorite sayings from St. Francis de Sales, who counseled against asking why some people receive one gift and not another.

In his typically easy-to-understand fashion, the saint wrote, “Why is a strawberry small and a melon large? Why is rosemary not a rose, or a dianthus not a daisy? Why is a fig sweet and a lemon sour, or a peacock grander than a bat? Such questions are absurd.”

The fact is we can never fully know the designs of God or understand when or why divine power is unleashed. Some things are simply beyond our knowing. For now, the best line of questioning is that of St. Paul who wrote, “Who has known the mind of the Lord or who has been his counselor? Or who has given a gift to him so as to receive a gift in return?” (Rom 11: 34-35).

Clearly, everything we have is a gift and every gift is given, not because we are deserving, but because of the generosity of God, whose wisdom is unknowable and whose love is without end. For this reason, we place ourselves in God’s hands and trust that all will be well.

February 12, 2018

Fast or celebrate on Feb. 14? Do both

This year, Ash Wednesday presents a bit of a dilemma for Catholics, or does it? With the first day of Lent falling on Valentine’s Day, some may wonder whether they should fast or celebrate. However, a closer look at both days reveals how one compliments but enriches the other, since both have their origin in the Garden of Eden.

In Genesis, we are told Eve was created to be a companion for Adam. Theirs was to be a love relationship modeled after the love relationship of the Holy Trinity, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness” (Gen.1:26). They were instructed to bear fruit and multiply, a natural response because when authentic love is mutual, it becomes life-giving.

God also instructed our first parents to fast and abstain. They were told they could eat from all the plants in the garden, but were to abstain from fruit growing on the Tree of Knowledge.

The intimacy Adam and Eve enjoyed with one another was a gift from God, but it was subject to the law of God. More than satisfying the human desire for physical pleasure, they were being called to a higher standard — one that involved obedience to the Divine Creator.

We know how that ended. Blinded by pride, Adam and Eve believed the great lie that they could become gods. In deciding to have it their way, they fell from grace and took all of humanity with them. Granted, the story is not to be taken literally, but it symbolizes a truth we must take to heart.

The physical law is subject to the Spirit, not the other way around. When that order is usurped, we become less than we were created to be. We experience this in ourselves and witness it in the world at large. Whenever human passion reigns supreme, love becomes perverted and our relationship with God is thwarted.

Given the rise of secularism within our culture, distorted versions of love seem almost normative. Therefore, Lent offers the opportunity to reorder priorities and inject a spirit of repentance and sacrifice into our relationship with God so that we can better celebrate human love relationships.

The choice between celebrating Valentine’s Day and respecting the injunction to fast and abstain from meat should be a no brainer. The two are not adverse; rather one illumines the other.

When we come forward to receive ashes on our forehead, we are reminded of our origins and of the length to which God went to reverse humanity’s alienation from God. John’s Gospel says it best: “God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son” (Jn 3:16). Our salvation depends on the sacrificial love of God, which serves as the model for all love relationships.

Sacrifice is an important part of every authentic love relationship. It’s what elevates love from a self-serving, feel good kind of experience to an act of self-giving that becomes a life-giving reality.

The Church’s understanding of Valentine’s Day has always been rooted in the sanctity of marriage and the sacrificial dimension of love. Although there is much legend surrounding St. Valentine, most hagiographers (those who study the lives of saints) note the feast honors the life of Father Valentine, a third century priest who was imprisoned and martyred on Feb. 14, somewhere around 269, for marrying couples according to the Christian Rite. This was in violation of Roman law.

With this as a backdrop, it makes sense to celebrate Valentine’s Day with those we love, while remaining faithful to the Church’s injunction to fast and abstain from meat. I’m not suggesting that dining on lobster or your favorite sea food instead of steak fulfils the Ash Wednesday obligation. A candle light dinner over a tuna sandwich can be just as romantic when the relationship, not the food, becomes the focus of the celebration.

In fact, it becomes even more meaningful because in being faithful to fasting and abstaining, our relationship with God is a viable part of the celebration. Given the fact that this year the observances share the same day, it could well be the year when we allow the Church calendar, rather than the retail industry, to guide our understanding of the true meaning of love.

Rather than sharing a box of chocolates for dessert, why not indulge your spouse, children or a close friend by sharing stories and memories about special moments? Dusting off your wedding album could be one way to begin.

Or how about reliving a favorite event or vacation with the children by looking through family photo albums, or sharing stories about a parent or grandparent who is no longer with you?

Although Lent takes on a somber tone liturgically, it need not be a gloomy time. Given the fact we know the end of the story, that we have been saved through the death and rising of Jesus, Lent should be a time of hopeful anticipation. It’s a time to express our heartfelt gratitude for all the graces received and for the people in our lives.

One way to do this is by offering small sacrifices in union with the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross. In so doing, we unite our heart and the hearts of all those whom we hold dear, lifting them to the heart of God, our Valentine for all eternity.

January 29, 2018

Accept your role in living, spreading Word of God

Do you feel depressed after watching the news? If so, you’re not alone. The negative effects on the human psyche from excessive news consumption have been well documented. With satellites circling the globe, acts of terror, natural disasters and political discord are transmitted via the media all day, every day.

When talk show hosts and guests opine over the latest “breaking news” event, I find myself wanting to inject the line 1950s television character, Detective Joe Friday, immortalized: “Just the facts, ma’am, just stick to the facts.”

The words became a signature phrase of the “Dragnet” series whenever those being questioned tended to editorialize or embellish a situation that was under investigation.

Oh, how I long for the days when those who were prone to sensationalize or over simplify were reminded in no uncertain terms that opinions carry little weight. But that was then, and this is now, which means that each person must take control over their viewing habits.

Some have given up watching news altogether, though I’m not sure that’s the solution. Rediscovering the off button on our TV sets, computers or hand-held devices is one way to moderate our news intake. Another is by keeping an eye on the clock to know when enough is enough.

Being informed about current happenings is one thing, but being enslaved by them is quite another. By far the most helpful approach is to strike a balance, and nothing counters bad news as effectively as reflecting on the Good News Jesus preached and commanded us to spread.

The word “Gospel,” literally translated “Good News,” was eventually applied to the writings attributed to Matthew, Mark, Luke and John about the teachings and life and death of Jesus. However, anyone who is familiar with the four Gospels knows there are discrepancies in the detailing of accounts the evangelists offer. But let’s be clear: this is not about alternate facts or fake news. It is about symbolism and thematic emphasis.

The Gospels were never meant to be historical or biographical accounts. They were written for those who already believed in the Resurrection of Jesus and had accepted the faith. Some were Jews, others were Gentiles, but all were part of an emerging Christian community that ironically expanded in a world rife with bad news.

Gospel and New Testament writers wrote for specific audiences. In today’s lexicon, we could say that each was playing to his base. However, having four Gospels was not about cultural bias, nor was it a way for one writer to include what the other three left out.

Each Gospel is distinct. Taken together, the Gospels provide a testament to the fullness of Jesus’ relationship to the Father, to the people of his time and to people everywhere for generations to come.

The letters in the New Testament were written as teachings and exhortations directed to Hebrew Christians and to Christian communities in Rome, Corinth, Ephesus and elsewhere. These early believers struggled with many of the same issues that confront us, which makes the New Testament timeless.

Regardless of the audience or the details which were included or omitted, the message of Scripture is the same: God loves us, God is with us and the Kingdom of God is in our midst. Unlike mere human offerings, Scripture is the Living Word of God, inspired by the Holy Spirit to guide Christians.

During the apostolic and post-apostolic era, becoming a Christian meant putting your life at risk. While this is still the case in some parts of our world, most Christians will not face physical martyrdom. Nevertheless, internal and external temptations abound and cultural mores that contradict Christian values continue to challenge and threaten our spiritual well-being.

Therefore, the Gospels and letters in the New Testament remain invaluable to Christians of every age. They instructed and supported the newly-formed Christian communities that struggled to keep the faith within the context of their culture, and they serve the same purpose for Christians today.

Christianity is not about providing an alternate view of reality, nor is it meant to serve as an escape from the world. Jesus came into the world to redeem it, not to condemn it. Therefore, it is up to each person to discover the sacred within the secular, the extraordinary within the ordinary and the supernatural within the natural.

If we truly believe the Kingdom of God is in our midst, then we know we have only begun to realize the fullness of what that means. But for those who have eyes to see, God’s Kingdom is being revealed daily — not only in churches, but in hospitals and soup kitchens, in refugee settlement houses and in the hundreds of buses that gather annually every January in Washington on behalf of the unborn and the most vulnerable members of society.

As people of faith, we can’t afford to get bogged down by bad news, especially when the Catholic media industry is doing its part in conquering bad news with the Good News all day, every day. And the good news is: we all have a role to play in living and spreading the Word of God.

January 1, 2018

Our only real failure is failure to love

On the first day of January, as Americans ushered in the New Year with noise makers, parades and football games, the Catholic Church took a different approach — the one it takes annually. It began 2018 with the Feast of the Solemnity of Mary, the Mother of God who ushered in a new age for humankind.

Mary’s fiat was a new beginning for humanity, the dawning of a new age, one which reversed the act of disobedience by our first parents. In response, Catholics gather for Mass to praise and give thanks to God for the gift of Mary, who is called Blessed among Women.

In the recently published book: “In God’s Hands: The Spiritual Diaries of Saint John Paul II,” the saint referred to the Mass as the “Sacramentum Messiae” (Sacrifice of the Messiah), a phrase which invites ongoing reflection. The sacrifice of the Mass is not limited to the Upper Room or to Calvary, but commemorates the act of redemption which began with the promised seed of a woman in the Garden of Eden, was acted upon through the Incarnation, and completed through the death and resurrection of Jesus.

As the title of the book suggests, the collection of reflections, written in the saint’s own words, provides an account of the man’s personal faith journey through notes and ongoing commentary. It also offers theological insights that serve as windows into St. John Paul’s soul about his relationship with God and his deep devotion to Mary.

In one of his early entries, while reflecting on the Mass, the pope was taken with the image of Jesus “alone with the Father and before the Father,” but he didn’t stop there. He included Mary in this privileged inner circle, attributing to her the distinct honor due the person who made the redemptive act possible.

Mary participated in the act of redemption through her fiat. Her total gift of self to God prompted her every thought, word and action, and ultimately defined her life. In a similar way, Mary invites us to participate in the act of redemption in ways that are both simple and profound. All of us are called to discipleship, and who better to lead us than Mary, who was closer to Jesus than any person on earth.

Little is known about the life of Mary, but reading between the lines of what is recorded in Scripture, we can imagine that as a young mother, Mary’s life was quite ordinary, not so different from ours. Mary understood that it is not what we do, but the love with which we perform the duties of our life that lead to holiness.

It is worth noting that the last words of Mary recorded in Scripture were: “Do whatever he tells you.” One small sentence that has the potential to transform the world if only we would heed her counsel.

As we look at our world, it is easy to become discouraged, but there is nothing holy about giving in to cynicism or despair. Instead, we turn to Mary, whose hope never wavered despite her many trials.

Mary knew what it was like to live under foreign occupation by a pagan government. She knew what it was like to flee to a strange land for safety, to witness corruption among religious leaders and to watch as they schemed to put her Son to death. Through it all, Mary held fast to her belief and trust in God.

Mary understood that peace is a process, and that it requires reconciliation more than weapons. The peace of God is not the peace the world gives. It is a gift from God and is available to all who ask for it.

Mary triumphed over evil, not with a sword in her hand, but with a sword through her heart. And so, we take comfort in Mary, Queen of Peace, knowing that if our heart breaks at the sight of victims of war, genocide and persecution, we are in good company because Mary’s heart breaks, too.

It is fitting that the day dedicated to the Mother of God is also designated as World Day of Peace. This year, Pope Francis asked the faithful to contemplate the plight of migrants and refugees of the world, and to gaze upon them with love.

But the Holy Father noted contemplation should lead to action. Therefore, he asked us to embrace all those fleeing from war and hunger, forced by discrimination, persecution, poverty and environmental degradation to leave their homelands.

The pope asked us to welcome the stranger by expanding pathways to immigration and protect them by recognizing and defending human life. He asked us to provide access to education and cultivate dialogue. Finally, he asked that we help with the integration of immigrants and refugees by advancing their participation in society through enrichment programs.

When I contemplate Mary, these are actions I can imagine she performed in her own small way. With the help of God’s grace, we can — and must — do the same. If at times it seems we fail, Mary reminds us that the only real failure is a failure to love. And so, we pray: Jesus, living in Mary, come live in us now and forever. Amen.

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