Past Bulletin Columns

On the Miraculous Medal

He Knew We Needed a Mother

When Jesus Christ descended from Heaven to earth, He entered into the darkness brought on by sin. Taking on frail flesh, He saw our brokenness. He saw violence, He saw how lost we could become. He knew right away that we would need a mother.

He who as a little child ran into the arms of His mother for comfort, knew that His broken creation needed the arms of a mother to hold them when they were lost in darkness and afraid. He who stretched out His pierced hands towards His mother standing below the cross knew we needed the embrace of a mother when we were wounded by this fallen world.

And when His mother died, He waited for her at the gates of Heaven. And looking on His mother, who through all His earthly trials loved Him so much, He drew from His back a crown. He said to her, "I am going to give the world the greatest gift I can, that the love you gave to me may now be given to the whole world." Placing it on her head, He declared before all the angels and the saints, "Behold, your mother! Behold, your queen."

Christ knew we would need a mother. But over the centuries, too many of His creatures thought themselves orphans. Too many failed to realize that they had such a loving mother. And so while Mary longed to pour out graces on her children, many never noticed her, never knew she was there and so never knew her motherly love. And as the centuries went on, the darkness grew darker. In 1830, Our Lady was about to make herself known once again.

Our Lady Reveals the Miraculous Medal

On November 27th, 1830, St. Catherine was making her evening meditation in a convent chapel in Paris. She was a mere novice in the Daughters of Charity and had only been in the convent a few months. Suddenly, Our Lady, dressed in a golden gown appeared next to a picture of St. Joseph. She was standing on top of half a globe and in her hand held another globe. The Lady spoke: “This globe which you see represents the world, especially France, and each person in particular.”

Then St. Catherine saw Our Lady’s fingers covered with rings and precious stones, and from those rings, rays of dazzling light darted out from them. The jewels and the rays varied in size and some emitted no light. Our Lady spoke again: “Behold the symbol of the graces which I will bestow upon all those who ask for them.” The key phrase here was, “on all those who ask for them.” Those fingers which emitted no light were the graces God wanted to offer to souls that no one asked for.

The vision changed. An oval frame surrounded the Blessed Mother, her fingers still radiating light, and around the edge of the frame the words surrounded her: “O Mary conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee!” The Lady spoke again: “Get a medal struck after this model; those who wear it when it is blessed will receive great graces, especially if they wear it around their neck. Graces will be abundant for those who have confidence.”

Finally, the oval seemed to turn around and saw an M surmounted by a cross with a cross bar beneath it. Below the M were the Holy Hearts of Jesus and Mary, Jesus’ heart crowned with thorns and Mary’s heart pierced with a sword.

“Get a medal struck after this model; those who wear it when it is blessed will receive great graces.” The miracles that would follow would only confirm Our Lady's promise. The graces were abundant and this medal became known as the Miraculous Medal.

Why the Miraculous Medal

A lot of you at St. Mary of Redford have gotten Miraculous Medals from me. Why do I give out so many? Because the Miraculous Medal is powerful. As Christ hung the cross, He turned to St. John and said, “Son, behold thy Mother.” Then He turned to Our Lady and said, “Woman, behold thy son.” At that moment, He wasn’t just talking about St. John. Christ gave us the greatest gift He had: that the love Mary had given Him would now be given to the world. He made Mary the mother of the whole human race.

The Miraculous Medal is a sign of Mary's motherly love for us and she gave it to us herself. See those rays that radiate from her fingertips on the Miraculous Medal? Those are rays of grace being poured out through her intercession for her children. She is constantly praying for us before the throne of her Son. See the serpent under her feet? That’s the devil: she’s stomping on his head. All the dangers and afflictions we face she drives away so that nothing will keep us from her Son. See how on the back there’s an M and a bar through it with a cross on top? That’s Mary calling us to the altar, to be fed by an intimate union with her Son in Holy Communion.

We all need a mother sometimes: someone to care for us, someone to guide us, someone to pick us up when we fall. I know in my life Mary has been just that mother to me. The word “miraculous” wouldn’t be unfair to describe the way she has come to through to me. A miracle may not be what you need right now, but I suspect there are times when all of you do need a mother. It’s not that your own mother’s not adequate, but you will need the love of your mother in Heaven. Simply kiss the medal and she will comfort you when you are down. Kiss the medal and you will find guidance when you're lost and confused. Kiss the medal and the most determined and powerful intercessor will be praying for you in Heaven: the mother of the King of Kings and your mother. In the words of Mother Teresa, "Mary, mother, be mother to me now!"

On Christian Joy

“And if we knock again, and the porter come out in anger to drive us away with oaths and blows, as if we were vile impostors, saying, `Begone, miserable robbers! to the hospital, for here you shall neither eat nor sleep!' - and if we accept all this with patience, with joy, and with charity, O Brother Leo, write that this indeed is perfect joy.” - St. Francis of Assisi

It has often been noted that one of the oddest things about the saints is their constant and enduring joy. Even while being roasted alive, even while enduring poverty and rejection, the Christian remains joyful. To the outside world this is crazy. Beatings and persecutions are not fun by anybody’s standards. It would all seem absurd, except for the God-man who is the source of their joy.

I remember being in middle school and thinking myself a relatively happy person. I had a good family, I got good grades, I was a competitive swimmer and a good pianist, what more could I want? But then I was at Mass one day and for the first time in my life, I encountered Christ. I heard a sermon preached on the real presence of Jesus in the Eucharist. The idea that what appeared to be mere bread could be the actual body and blood of Jesus shocked me and at first I refused to believe it. But for just a moment, I considered the possibility that maybe, against all laws of nature and reasoning, what Fr. Ted said was actually true.

In that moment, I experienced what I suspect the two disciples on the road to Emmaus experienced: I recognized Him in the breaking of the bread and my heart burned within me. Suddenly I felt overwhelmed by this burning love, this joy that seemed to radiate from the tabernacle. I was brought to tears by it. I felt like my heart was on fire and that warmth was radiating out to my fingertips. Suddenly I knew as a matter of simple observation what before I had only guessed at intellectually: that He was the one my heart was longing for, that He brought me a joy that I could never have imagined, and everything else paled in comparison. To be continued.

“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant searching for fine pearls. When he finds a pearl of great price, he goes and sells all that he has and buys it.”- Matthew 13:45-46

Herein lies the secret to the joy of the saints: that Jesus Christ is the pearl of greatest price and they would sell everything they have in order to spend eternity with Him. And it would be worth it.

Of course this sounds absurd. The conventional wisdom is that nothing is worth selling everything for. When we were kids, our mothers scolded us promptly for giving away our lunches for a Pokémon card. As adults, selling the family homestead for tickets to the Super Bowl game would be met with righteous fury. Nothing is worth selling everything for.

Except Jesus. Every Christian who has encountered Our Lord, from the disciples on the road to Emmaus to the elderly woman at daily Mass, knows by matter of simple observation that Jesus is worth leaving all behind for, because He alone offers a joy that makes all else pale by comparison. Only in light of His love and the joy that it brings can the lives of the saints and the message of the Gospel be made intelligible.

“Go into the whole world and proclaim the gospel to every creature.”- Mark 16:15

Christ calls us to evangelize, the Christian claim that happiness consists in poverty, meekness and persecution, is not easy to believe. Those who hear us have to know that what we say, however counter-intuitive, is real. This is why our example is crucial. When they see this life lived with joy greater than they have seen before, then they know that the Risen Lord whom we preach is real.

Fortunately for us, Christ’s joy is contagious. When a person has a deep encounter with the love of Jesus Christ, it is impossible for him to keep it to himself. It is too intense. Mother Teresa often commented that following the Annunciation, Our Lady, having been given an unimaginable grace, went immediately to her cousin Elizabeth, to share Jesus with others. It is in the nature of God’s love that when we are set on fire with it, when it most consumes us with joy, that then the fire must spread and that love must be brought to others.

You might object that not even the saints were always in a state of perpetual joy. You would be right. What drove the saints was not joy but love. Because of their encounter with the amazing love of Jesus, they knew a great joy. But also because of that love, they knew great sufferings. Because they loved, it hurt them to see Jesus despised and rejected by others, it hurt them to see their neighbors in pain, it hurt them to be separated from Christ even for a moment, and when they willingly sold everything to follow Him, that process of purification hurt. Love was what they pursued at all costs, joy was merely a byproduct of love.

However, notice that even the suffering saints radiated a joy that ordinary people don’t. Mother Teresa suffered terribly in darkness. Yet everyone who encountered her commented on the love and the joy she radiated. She radiated Christ even though the cross she voluntarily took up meant sacrificing the feeling of His love and joy.

How do we become like these saints? How do we authentically witness to Jesus Christ and the joy He brings? Through prayer. We abandon ourselves to the God who loves us. We ask that we, in our littleness, may decrease and He may increase so that His love and His joy that first brought us to faith might in turn radiate out to other people. This is at the heart of evangelization. Apart from this interior conviction, apart from His grace, our words will ring hollow. Only if we radiate Him and His joy will others know the greatness of the God whom we preach.

The Importance of the Resurrection

When you boil down Christian belief, it all hangs on one historical event: in 33 AD, a man died and rose from the dead. It was not a private event. There were people who saw it happen. First they saw the grave was empty. Then over and over again they saw the man who was buried in it up and walking around. For 2000 years people have testified that they have met that very man. He is alive and out there to this very day. So why does that matter? Why did the witnesses go to the far corners of the world to proclaim that He was alive? Why did they go to their death insisting that the resurrection happened?

First, if Jesus rose from the dead, it confirms that He is who He says He is: God. Who but God has power over life and death? Every other creature on earth is subject to death, but God is eternal and not under its power. If Jesus could overcome death, it confirms that He is God. If He is God then we ought to worship Him and obey His commands.

Second, if Jesus is alive, then you can meet Him. You can meet Him and be healed, just like all the blind men and the lepers. You can meet Him and be converted just like Mary Magdalene. You can meet Him and know the Truth just like Nicodemus. Now that He is risen, He will never die again which means He's not going away.

Third, if Jesus is alive, then He has power to conquer death. If He has power to overcome death, then He can give us what He promised: eternal life. The apostles could go their death for Him, because they knew for certain that He could make good on His promise. Death would not be the end for them. Through Christ, they would also rise again.

If the resurrection happened, then all of these things logically follow. This is why it was so important that those who saw Him rise should go and tell the whole world. Some of you have probably encountered Him too. You meet Him every Mass in the Blessed Sacrament. So now it is for us to do like the apostles did and proclaim to the whole world: Jesus Christ has risen!

Devotion to the Passion

My Sins Crucified Jesus

My dad grew up in a Irish Catholic household. His grandmother was an extremely devout woman and embraced all the devotions that you'd expect from traditional Catholic piety. My dad remembers going to her house and seeing religious images all over the place, not a few of which would be a little scary for a small child. Bleeding hearts, bloody crucifixes, the face of Jesus on the shroud of Turin all have a bit of a creepy quality to a small child who doesn't understand what it's all about.

Because of his grandmother, my dad was familiar with devotion to Jesus' passion but never quite understood it. To this day it still just seems kind of creepy to him. You can imagine, when I started bringing home bloody crucifixes and asking my dad to watch the Passion of the Christ with me, a few eyebrows were raised. Why are we watching a movie that depicts Jesus' suffering so graphically? What's the point? I think a lot of people are in my dad's shoes. In this series of articles, I hope to explain a little bit about why the sufferings of Jesus matter and how they show His great love for us.

I was first introduced to devotion to the passion on a discernment retreat in Maine. During one of the sessions, the priest had a TV screen set up in the chapel. We were going to watch scenes from the Passion of the Christ while adoring Jesus in the Eucharist. Before beginning, the priest explained that when Jesus was in the garden, He became sin. Taking on all the sins of the world for all time was what made Him suffer so much. He then carried our sins with Him with the cross and suffered the punishment due for them.

I wasn't so sure about the movie the Passion of the Christ. I was never one for graphic violence. But this was different. As I saw Jesus sweating blood in the garden, I recognized that it was the weight of my sins that had done that. As I watched Him be scourged and nailed to the cross, I saw that it was I who had done that to Him through my sins. For the first time, I saw my sins in their full ugliness and I never wanted to sin again.

Jesus loved me even as I nailed Him to the Cross

It was a profound experience for me to recognize how terrible my sins were. For the first time, I saw what their true price was as Jesus suffered under their weight. But even more moving was realizing that Jesus would do that for me.

There were layers to this realization. First, to know that anyone would love me enough to die for me was profoundly moving. Jesus wanted me in Heaven with Him so badly, that He was willing to take the penalty I deserved for my sins.

What's more though was that He did this for me while I was still an unrepentant, ungrateful sinner. That was a whole other level of love that I had never encountered before. Jesus didn't die for me while I was in His friendship. No, He died for me when I had rejected Him, turned away from Him, ignored Him, and nailed Him to the cross without remorse. That was something deeper.

Over the next few years, the image of Christ dying for me as with each sin I nailed Him to the cross kept coming back to me. It was hard to imagine anything lower than repaying His love with further sins and hence further beatings on the way to Calvary. Yet that was what I was doing. The wretchedness of my own sins came into clearer relief. However, Jesus' love stood out all the more. Even as I nailed Him to the cross, He stayed there and paid an unimaginable price for me. Realizing that I was one of the soldiers who crucified Him with my sins and then looking up to the cross and seeing Him look on me with love brought me to tears over and over again. It was hard me to imagine any deeper love than that. There could be no greater love than the love that drove Jesus to go to the Cross for us.

I want to love Him the way He loved me

Over the past few weeks, we have been talking about the deep love Jesus has for us that led Him to die for us when we were ungrateful sinners. Today, I am going to argue that it is impossible to encounter such love without wanting to return it. For me, I knew that nothing I could ever do would adequately repay what Jesus had done for me on the cross. He had sacrificed everything to gain eternal life for me. I couldn't pay Him back, but I wanted to at least try. If I couldn't love Him the way He loved me, then at the very least I was going to love Him with everything I had.

Needless to say, being on fire with love like that makes you do some things other people consider odd. We know this on the natural level. When a young man falls in love, he would do anything if it thought it made his girlfriend happy. This is why some men have to explain their wife Jill why "I <3 Barbara" is branded on their bicep. It's a crazy thing to do, but people do crazy things out of love. When a person encounters the burning love in the heart of Jesus, they're set on fire with that and they long to do crazy things for Him. Why are you always praying? Because I want to spend time with Jesus, whom I love. Why fast? Because I can offer it to Jesus, whom I love. Why take a vow of poverty? So Jesus is my everything. Why be celibate? So that my whole belongs to Him.

What seems strange to people is that in time, you're not only willing to endure crosses for Jesus, but you begin to desire them. Why? Because crosses are the opportunity to love more deeply than you could before. It's easy to love Jesus in good times, but to love Him when it costs me is a deeper form of love. Jesus loved me to the point of giving everything, and now I want the opportunity to love Him in the same way. When you draw too close to the fire in the heart of Jesus, it catches your own heart on fire, and in time you'll be so consumed that nothing short of giving everything will adequately express your burning love for Him.

To love others the way He loves: until it hurts

I first encountered the spiritual wisdom of Mother Teresa when I was in high school. Mother Teresa has a way of setting you at peace with very calm gentle words, and then throwing a spiritual sucker punch when you least expect it. For me, that unexpected gut punch was this line: "We weren't made for this career or that career, this job or that, we were made for greater things: to love and to be loved." At that time, I really thought I was made to be successful in a career, but after wrestling with it for a while, it became clear to me that Mother was right: God made me to love. That was why God put me on earth. That was my mission. It was what I was made for. I soon discovered the more I lived for love, the happier I was because I was living out my vocation.

All that happened before I understood anything about the Passion. Coming to understand the cross introduced me to a depth of love that I didn't know existed before. The Cross showed me a totally unconditional love, one that expected no return. Jesus burned so much for love of me that it consumed Him and drove Him to sacrifice and endure everything for my salvation. God made me to be loved, and so it shouldn't be surprising that in encountering this intense, burning love of Jesus on the cross, I found what I was made for. Everything my heart longed for, I found in that encounter with His love on the cross.

I was not only made to be loved but (more importantly) to love. That was my mission in life and I could love others the way He loved me (or at least try.) The world was hungry for love, and there was a depth of love I could offer it that only He could teach. "Lord Jesus, teach me to love until it hurts." There's joy in giving to help someone we love, especially when we feel the pinch. There's joy in spending ourselves to care for someone whom we love, especially when we've owned the risk of getting sick ourselves. There's joy in being prepared to lay down your life for someone whom you love should the occasion require. We were made to love and to be loved and the deepest form of love is the one Jesus models for us on the Cross: the love that gives until it hurts.

The Fortress and the Battlefield

Part I

People are hurting. When you do a quick survey of the world, you find a lot of emptiness and pain. This isn't what God intended for us, so why is it there? The short answer is sin. Thousands of years ago, sin entered the world and with it, darkness. Sin brought division, betrayal, lust, sickness and chaos. Since that first sin of Adam and Eve, the world has been a place of shadows where, in spite of the resilience of the light, darkness and suffering remain.

But we are Christians, and so we know that not all is darkness. Anyone who has encountered Christ knows that in Him there is light and the darkness cannot overcome Him. The person who encounters Him finds healing for wounds they thought were incurable. They find consolation for broken hearts that they thought were inconsolable. They find freedom from the chains of sin that they struggled to break and never could. In Christ, the tyranny of darkness that pervades this world is broken.

Hopefully the picture begins to come into focus: we live in occupied territory and that is why people are hurting. The prince of darkness has usurped authority over this world and he oppresses those who live under him. Christ is our rightful king and life in His kingdom is one of peace and justice. The Christian is a rebel on this earth, fighting to undermine the prince of this world, to rescue souls from his grasp, and to take back the world for Christ.

The Christian life is a spiritual war and people have different places in it. Some are just being rescued, some are the soldiers who are doing the rescuing, some are nursing the wounded, some are guarding the gates to a fortress where people can take refuge. These are distinct roles and sometimes they come into conflict with each other. For the next few weeks, we'll talk about how those roles are meant to work together for the greater mission of the Church.

Part II

Last week we talked about how human beings live in occupied territory, where the devil has usurped authority over God's good earth and darkness and sin reign over our world. Many people don't know anything different, but those who have met Christ know the contrast. They know the life He's offering them is greater than anything the world has ever offered. And so they try to escape.

Of course escape isn't easy. Like any dictatorship, you learn its ruthlessness the minute you rebel against it. Satan lulls us into complacency as long as he can, but as soon as we try to escape his influence and declare ourselves for Christ, he throws everything he has against us. Those who have gone through a process of conversion will know what I'm talking about.

This means that when souls wash up on the doorstep of the Church, they're often not doing so well. Life in the darkness leaves its scars. They know where the ways of the world lead and they need some place to recover for a time. They did battle to escape, and now they need a place to take refuge.

For souls like this, the Church is a fortress. They depend on her walls (her doctrines, definitions, and traditions) to hold fast against the assault of the world that left them so broken. Maybe one day they will be strong enough to engage with the culture again and do battle for souls, but unless there is that place they can retreat to, where they can simply be with Christ and be strengthened by Him, they're unlikely to persevere.

Some might say that this fortress mentality is opposed to evangelization. After all, we have to bring our faith out into those who live in the darkness. That is true, but not everyone is equipped for it, at least not just yet. For those broken and hurting, the fortress is necessary. We might be called to leave it at certain points, but if we don't have it at all, the prince of this world will overtake us and we will not hold up under his assaults.

Next week will talk about the vocation of those who guard the Church's walls. Later we will discuss the vocation of those called to step out of the fortress to do battle on the ground.

Part III

Last week we talked about how souls, beaten down by the world, seek refuge in the Church as in a fortress. This week we'll discuss how the fortress is maintained and regulated.

In order for a fortress to be a genuine place of refuge, life within it has to be different from life outside. Why seek refuge in a fortress if life inside is as violent and cruel as life outside? Outside the fortress walls, the world operates according to the rules and whims of the enemy but inside it ought to operate according to the laws of our King, Jesus Christ. This may seem obvious, but it shows how important it is that the life of the Church be different from that of the world. If the Church starts acting just like everyone else, then the enemy has gotten within her walls and she is no longer a place of refuge.

In order to avoid this, the Church needs guards stationed at the fortress walls. If there are no guards watching the entrance to the Church and regulating what ideas, ideologies, and practices come in, she'll soon be overrun by the enemy. There need to be people within the fortress enforcing order, insisting on the laws of Jesus Christ, ensuring that within these walls, Christ reigns supreme.

However, there is a danger to this: for a fortress to be useful, the walls must be guarded but not impregnable. When a refugee flees Satan's kingdom, he asks to be allowed through the fortress doors so he can recover in safety. If he is not allowed in, the fortress has failed in its purpose. The problem is that spiritual refugees are often scruffy characters. When they show up, they carry with them the world's sicknesses, and it takes time to nurse them back to health. When the guards do their job well, they repel the enemies of the Church while letting in the refugees. But sometimes they become paranoid and attack the refugees as if they were enemies. When this happens, those on the battlefield can become desperate. The more they are attacked by the guards, the more the call to abolish the guards and the fortress grows. To be continued.

Part IV

Last week we talked about the necessity of having guards watching the fortress walls. This week we will talk about the vocation of the soldier on the front lines.

In my experience, everyone spends some time recovering in the fortress. We need that time of spiritual safety where we can grow stronger in our faith and in virtue. Some people will find their vocation within the fortress walls. Maybe they become guards, but they might also find their vocation as nurses for sick souls, or as contemplatives whose prayers form the ammo against the enemy and whose fire of love warms the fortress. Some souls will simply be looking for a spiritually secure place within which to raise their family and so will hunker down well away from the attacks of the world.

But there will be others who will be itching to go back to the battlefield. They recognize the darkness of the world, and the knowledge that souls still live in that darkness bothers them. They spend their days in training so that eventually, they can throw themselves back into the darkness to bear the Light to the souls who live in it. Of course this comes with risks. The pressure and attacks from the enemy are greater in the world. If the soul is not strengthened and armored prior to throwing himself into that battle, the enemy could very well overtake him. The deeper we reach into enemy territory to rescue souls, the more thoroughly every inch of us has to be armored with Christ. In those situations, any chink in the armor could be our undoing.

Does that mean the vocation of the soldier is foolish? Not at all. He fulfills a real need, but he must be properly trained first. He must also know when to retreat. Sometimes it's worth standing your ground after you take a hit, but sometimes you have to know when to go back to the fortress to recover before engaging again. Not everyone has the vocation of the spiritual soldier, going into the dark places of the world, bringing the gospel, but those who do must fulfill their role. To fail to do so would be to admit a sort of stalemate, where we've surrendered the world to Satan and instead choose to wage a purely defensive war. Our Lord has called us to greater things than that.

Part V

We've talked about the reason for the fortress, the guards, the refugees and the soldiers on the battlefield. We've seen the tensions between the various roles and how they can right but also how they can go wrong. Today we'll talk about the soldier's temptation: abolishing the fortress entirely.

Not surprisingly, the soldier on the battlefield gets worn down in time. The endless head on conflict wears on him. For some soldiers, that means it's time to retreat to the fortress to recover. For others, the temptation to be done with the conflict entirely grows. They grow discouraged and think there is no hope of victory. They let down their guard and begin taking in the enemy's lies. And so they call for a truce with the world.

You can see the appeal. The problem is that the devil is the father of lies and any ceasefire negotiated with him is akin to outright surrender. The solider naively thinks that the terms of the truce will be respected, that if we lay down our weapons, he will lay down his. The soldiers announce the truce to those in the fortress and insist on disarmament. But as soon as we disarm, the devil takes the fortress and we become his subjects.

You can imagine the paranoia that takes hold inside the fortress. The enemy is on the inside, disguised as a friend, and the people inside no longer know who to trust or to believe. The guards were called off, but they can see that something has gone wrong. They know they need to fight, but they no longer know whether to aim their fire outside or within. In some cases they give up completely, in other cases they just start firing. In both scenarios, the devastation is terrible.

Why have I written this column? Because I believe this describes some of the present issues in the Church today. In the last few decades, some have tried to broker a truce with the world, and adopt its ideas and values in the Church. The effect has been similar to what I described above. To solve this problem, calls to abolish both the offensive arm of the Church (the missionaries) and the defensive arm (like the CDF) have been made. Neither is an appropriate solution. The Church must have both, and I hope these articles have shown how ideally they're meant to work in harmony.

Why Do You Doubt Your Senses?

Those familiar with Dickens’ A Christmas Carol might recognize the title of this column. Scrooge sees a ghost, plainly in front of his face. One could have no stronger evidence that indeed ghosts are real than being visited by one. However, Scrooge insists that this ghost, his old partner Marley, is in fact a bit of undigested beef. “There’s more gravy than grave about you!” to which Marley aptly replies, “Why do you doubt your senses?”

It should be obvious to most of us why Scrooge would doubt his senses: it is because Scrooge is what we would call a rationalist. Rationalism is that system of thought that has the world cleaned up into nice, neat, rational categories and uses them to explain away everything else. If it doesn’t fit according to my system, it must not be real and I refuse to believe it. The weird thing about rationalism is how irrational it is. The rational thing to do in the face of meeting one’s deceased business partner would be to run screaming in the other direction rather than telling him that he is a product of last night’s dinner. When one sees a ghost, it is reasonable to accept that ghosts are real. It is precisely the rationalist who says they are not.

Why am I talking about this? Because people do this with God all the time. Miracles happen (not subtle ones either.) The rational conclusion is that God is real, miracles are real, but the rationalist cannot fit God into his neatly conceived system of natural laws and a spiritless universe. So instead, he denies it in the face of plain evidence. Of course not everybody has the privilege of seeing so clearly as did St. Thomas or those who saw the Miracle of the Sun at Fatima. But there are those who do, and it is worth remembering that in the face of miracles, the rationalist always does the most irrational thing: he doubts his very senses. 

“We were made for greater things: to love and to be loved.” – St. Teresa of Calcutta

I was talking with a friend of mine recently about working from home. I also work from home in a sense, but my home is St. Mary of Redford, so a lot of people pass through and I have plenty of room to spread out. He on the other hand has the more common work-from-home-in-your-apartment-with-only-the-company-of-your-cats experience. Naturally, he is going nuts, but what is funny is that he didn’t expect to. Rationally, working from home seemed like such a convenience. There would be less hassle, fewer people to deal with, less stress. And now to his surprise, he misses all of it, even the annoying stuff. This reminded me of an often overlooked but vitally important fact: we were made to love and to be loved. Sometimes we make the mistake of thinking all we really need in life are food, clothes and shelter. Yes, those things keep our vital organs from shutting down, but makes us truly alive is love. Even when people drive you nuts and you tell yourself that you would be so much happier off in a secluded Alaskan cabin away from all that, just try the Alaskan cabin for a month and you’ll soon discover that you even miss the drama. (Trust me, I tried a version of this in New York.) 

So who are the people God has put into our lives to love? It is first and foremost our families. Our vocation, especially for those who are married, is to love the people of our own household. If your life were a movie, the thing that would drive the plot and make it exciting was how you loved the people you lived with. Yes, it comes with drama, and struggle, but also heartwarming moments that you treasure for the rest of your life. Take away love and you take away the whole plot, leaving a pretty dull movie. Too many people in my generation tried to do precisely that with contraception. They thought by not having kids they were cutting out unnecessary stressors in their life. Now they’re waking up and realizing that their life isn’t any happier, it’s just deathly boring. We were made for love. That is our vocation. It may not always be easy, or the Hallmark card we were hoping for, but it is our purpose and therefore is worth everything. 

The Church: St. Peter's Ship

Part I

If you look up at the ceiling of St. Mary of Redford, you will see that it looks like the hull of a ship. This is not accidental. Recall that when St. Peter was out fishing, the Lord Jesus got into his boat. At Jesus' word, Peter lowered his net on the other side of the boat and caught so many fish that the boat almost sank. What was the point of this miracle? There were more fish than Peter could eat. It was a sign. Jesus told Peter in that moment, "From now on, you will be a fisher of men." Just as Peter had been casting out, trying to bring fish into his boat, he would spend the rest of his life trying to bring souls into the Church. Just as Peter's boat was tossed by the wind and the waves crossing the Lake of Gennesaret, so too would the Church be tossed about by the attacks of sin, the devil, and the world. Just as Peter sat at the helm of his ship, so too he and his successors would sit at the helm of the Church. Peter's boat is an image (or as they say in theology, a "type") of the Church.

If you want to understand what the Church is, how it operates, and why it is the way it is, it is worth digging into this analogy with the barque (i.e. ship) of Peter.

So imagine for a moment that you are living in occupied territory. A cruel tyrant has taken over your homeland and, while life under him is unbearable, it is all you know. One day you are going about your business, when someone tells you that the rightful king is organizing and preparing to retake the territory. Unlike the tyrant, He is generous, merciful and kind. He still reigns supreme in a kingdom on the other shore. You can join Him, leave the tyrant and live in happiness in this supremely just kingdom. The ship is waiting to take you there. You just have to get on board.

This ship is the Church and the journey is to God's kingdom in Heaven. We will continue with this analogy of the Church in future posts. During the next column we will talk about requirements for boarding the ship and what the journey to Heaven is like.

Part II

Last week we began a bulletin column series discussing the analogy of the Church as St. Peter's ship. Our story left off with the invitation to leave the tyrant's territory and board a ship headed for the Kingdom of the just and rightful king. This week, you have decided to board the ship, but find the process is not as easy as you thought.

Despite the invitation, you find that entrance to the ship is guarded. One must swear allegiance to the king and be branded with His mark before you can cross that plank. You must swear to obey His laws and to His commands. You must allow Him to mark you as one of His own and no longer the tyrants'. Once you have been branded, there is no erasing that mark. You can leave the ship, but you will always be known as a citizen of the King. Your ties to the tyrant are definitively broken from this moment on. This is baptism, it is the means by which you enter the Church, are marked for Christ, and begin the journey to Heaven.

When you board the ship, you discover that the King has loaded it generously with provisions. After all, the journey is long and without them, the passengers will not survive. He has given miraculous bread (the Eucharist) that has within it all the nutrients they need to satisfy their hunger and more. He has given them medicine to heal them (anointing) and a tribunal by which faults are acquitted and order restored (confession.) Everything needed for survival, for binding wounds, for strengthening the ship's company and for crossing the ocean has been provided. There are also gifts given by the King, accumulated after many visits to His Kingdom. Beautiful works of art, music, comforts that make the ship more livable. With all these things, the ship is heavily laden, and yet it is all too valuable to throw overboard. It is better that she moves slowly and has all she needs to reach the other shore than that she be quick and the passengers starve.

You're now on the ship and it has everything it needs. Now the question is how does she know where she is going? More on this next week.

Part III

Last week we saw how Christ gave us provisions for the journey to Heaven in the Church through the Sacraments. This week we will see how He provided for the navigation of the Church towards Heaven.

For a moment, there's a brief spasm of fear that no one knows how to get to this Kingdom. After all, you have never seen it and many of those on the ship have at best known people who have seen it but few have seen it themselves. Feeling somewhat emboldened, you decide to knock on the captain's door and inquire about the navigational plan. After all, if this sails aimlessly, then you will be doomed to a watery grave stranded on the high seas and such a fate is not one you want to be part of.

The captain is very gracious and invites you in and asks you what the matter is. You explain to him that you are worried that no one knows how to get to this kingdom and you would prefer to leave the ship rather than begin a blind journey out into dangerous waters. He has you sit down and he pulls out an old map (the Bible.) He explains that he is not the first captain of this ship. Others came before him and they have passed on their wisdom as they've traversed this route (Tradition.) More importantly, however, they passed on what the original crew was given by the King (the deposit of faith.)

The King, who gave them their great store of provisions, told them the secrets of preparing them and making them last. He didn't write it down, but the servants in the kitchen have handed this recipe on ever since and know how to do it without making the food spoil. This is the Mass. He also gave them a map by which they would know the way. This is sacred Scripture. Further, the King taught them how to find the north star. So long as they kept their eyes fixed on that star, they would know they were going in the right direction. This star is Christ.

You leave the captain's cabin feeling well assured. This is not the ship's first journey nor will it be her last. The captain has been provided with all he needs to navigate well and the ship has all the provisions it needs to make the long journey. All will be well.

The anchor is raised, the sails are dropped and the wind of the Holy Ghost blows and drive the ship forward, leaving behind the kingdom of Satan and sailing on to Heaven, the Kingdom of Christ.

Part IV

Weeks, months and years pass on the ship (the Church) and you have to confess your attitude towards it is not what it was at the beginning. At first you were just happy to be out of the tyrant's (the devil's) grasp. The food provided on the ship (the Eucharist) was the best you had tasted and you were starving before. The laws and structure of the ship, while they took a little getting used to, were welcome. You had seen what a lawless society was like and appreciated the structure and the harmony.

But in time, the novelty began wearing off and you started noticing things about the ship and the crew that were less than edifying. Some of the servants (the priests) were amazing and did their jobs with great joy and devotion. But some were less so and there were even some servants who were known to neglect serving the passengers at all. The ship was well appointed with food, but because of the failure of these servants, some passengers were hungry and some who were wounded were not tended to. There were also mixed reviews on the captain. There had been captains in the past (the popes) who were amazing. Their skill at commanding the ship and navigating all the problems that a voyage could bring were astonishing. The ship reached its destination with very few losses. Others were less impressive. Some were simply incompetent and had failed to heed the wisdom their predecessors passed on. Others were corrupt, much like the bad servants, and failed to steer the ship at all. Fortunately, there was usually a first mate around to take the helm while the captain was mismanaging, but those were dark and difficult times. Further, the other passengers (fellow Catholics) often didn't live up to their duties. In order to move forward, the ship needed rowers and when crew members neglected their responsibility, the burden became all the heavier on those who did row.

With all the problems on the ship, it can be tempting to think you were better off with the tyrant or would have a better shot getting there if you swam. Of course neither is true, but this ship promised to bring you to paradise and it is hard to accept that you are not there yet. More on this topic next week.

Part V

Last week we discussed all the problems, brokenness and mismanagement that those on St. Peter's Ship (the Church) experience. We finished by addressing the temptation to mutiny (schism). This week we'll discuss how mutiny in the Church often plays out.

In the face of problems, everyone becomes an expert. Without other means of small talk, people begin pontificating about how they would solve all the ship's problems. "If we just stopped using specially appointed servants and had everyone take turns in the kitchen, that would solve the corruption" (anti-clericalism). "The captain just needs to beat the lazy crew members and then we would have everyone rowing the way they're supposed to" (rigorism). "The ship is simply too heavy. We need to throw some of the treasures overboard" (iconoclasm). "The map is outdated; we should chart our own course" (modernism). On and on the talk goes.

So long as the captain is addressing issues, it remains just talk. However, when the captain ignores the problems (or contributes to them), discontent grows among the crew. Eventually mutiny breaks out and the ship divides between those loyal to the captain and those who are trying to dislodge him. Needless to say, mutiny brings out the worst in everybody and the offenses committed on both sides during the rebellion leave bitter feelings that last a long time after the fact. While battles are being fought on the ship, guns are being fired, holes are inadvertently being blown in the hull, it can be tempting to think that the ship will surely founder. But by some miracle she never has and in the end, the mutineers take one of the life boats and try to make it to the Kingdom apart from the mother ship.

The lifeboat has its appeal at first. It is lighter, easier to navigate. With a smaller crew it lacks the politics and bureaucracy of the mother ship. But it also lacks her provisions (the sacraments), her wisdom, her map. The mutineers might take some provisions with them from the main ship, but they always leave something behind, and the King loaded His ship with everything necessary to reach the Kingdom. Without those provisions, they will be hard pressed to reach the other shore.

Part VI

And so you come to the end of your journey. You did not get here alone and you did not get here by your own efforts. You were invited by the King on this journey. He supplied you with everything you needed. He told you the way. He gave you companions for the journey who would help you and for whom you would also be responsible for helping along the way.

Before you enter the Kingdom, accounts must be reckoned. The servants are asked to give an account of how they distributed the provisions of the ship. The captain is asked to give an account of how he navigated and governed. You are asked to give an account of your efforts to labor on the ship and to bring more souls into it during your journey.

As you give an account of yourself, you realize it was not enough to be on the ship in order to be admitted to the Kingdom. Your conduct was also a factor. The King is quick to grant mercy to those who repent and ask for it, but for those who justify their wrongdoing or try to hide it, justice is swift and they are sent into exile. You think of the mutineers, who thought they were going to the reach the Kingdom more quickly by leaving the mother ship. You wonder if they persevered in their journey and what they would say to the King when they have to tell Him that they left His ship and rebelled against His captain.

Now at long last, you enter into the Kingdom. It is nothing like the tyrants'. Here there is joy, here is this bountiful provisions, here the rightful King reigns supreme for ever and ever.

This is what the Christian life is like. It is a journey towards Heaven that can only be done within the Church established by Christ. It is not to say the journey within the Church is smooth. The barque of Peter is filled with human beings, and human beings are fallen. Nevertheless, we have to stay on the ship because it is our job to help those other human beings get to Heaven, and for them to help us. The ship has all the provisions need; it just needs a crew in order to reach its destination.

People Look East

If you come to a weekday Mass at St. Mary’s (7:30 AM Tuesday through Friday), you’ll notice something different. The prayers all sound like what you would hear at the 11:00 AM Sunday Mass, but Fr. Athanasius is saying Mass facing towards the altar. This is called saying Mass ad orientem or “towards the east.”

I’ve only seen this done at the Latin Mass. Why is that?

After Vatican II, a lot of liturgical changes were implemented. The hope was to make the Mass better understood and thereby help the congregation to pray through the Mass better. One of the changes that became common (although it was never required) was to say Mass facing the people so they could better see what was happening on the altar. Nevertheless, saying Mass ad orientem was never forbidden and it has some distinct advantages.

“He must increase, but I must decrease.”

In human conversation, it is natural to face the person you are talking to. One of the unintended consequences of saying Mass facing the people was that it gave the impression that the Mass was a conversation between the priest and the people. In fact, most of the prayers of the Mass are addressed to the Father. Facing towards the altar frees both the priest and the people to focus all their attention towards God. For the congregation, the priest is no longer the center of attention but rather what God is doing at the altar. For the priest, he is able to more naturally address God during the Mass. For those parts that are addressed to the people, the priest turns around.

If God is everywhere, why does it matter which direction we face?

It is said that when Christ comes again, He will come from the east. Symbolically we face east as we look for Christ’s second coming. However, Christ does show up in a very real way during the Mass. At the words of consecration, He becomes flesh before our very eyes in the Eucharist. The king of kings is enthroned on that altar and it is only natural that all our attention be drawn in that direction.

Our ultimate hope at St. Mary of Redford is that this will help you pray and come to know God better. For some it may be familiar, for others it may be new, but regardless, we hope it is helpful.

Our King, the Christ Child

"Unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven." - Matthew 18:3

Imagine for a moment being a peasant in medieval Europe. Your crops have failed and you need a loan to keep going. So you prepare for an audience with the king, to ask him for help. You have your sales pitch carefully prepared beforehand. You would tell him why you were worth the investment. You would be prepared to negotiate, knowing that the king might only give you part of what you need. You would also fully expect that there could be a catch in this deal, and maybe you come worse in the end for taking the loan. This is to be fully expected because this is how the world of adults works.

But this isn't the way the Kingdom of Heaven works. Imagine you walk into that court and instead of seeing the severe, grumpy old monarch sitting on the throne, you see the Christ child sitting there. Immediately your sales pitch goes out the window. A child doesn't care about what sort of yield he will get from his investment, or whether or not you will be able to pay him back with interest. All He cares is that you are His friend and that He wants to help you.

Jesus warns us that worldly cares can choke us and that to enter the kingdom of God, we have to become like children. Next to the St. Joseph altar is a statue of Jesus, the child king, the Infant of Prague. To honor a king, you have to lower yourself before him. To honor a child as king, you have to make yourself as little as a child. The images we see of Christ the king are often imposing and regal, and rightly so. But we can forget that the kingship of Jesus is very different from that of the kings of this earth. Yes, He is infinitely powerful. Yes, His word is law. But if we ever forget that He is the King of Love, that He is free from the plots and maneuvering that consume so much of our adult lives, we need only to look to our Child King to be reminded of what His kingdom is really like.

St. Joseph, Patron of Ordinary People

There are people in this world who make headlines. We all know these types of people. They're the movers and shakers of the world, the ones with power and influence, the ones who seem really extraordinary. The Church has these people too. Mother Teresa's life of intense poverty and charity left an impact worldwide. Fr. Walter Cizek's choice to be an underground priest in the Soviet Union (while not a glory seeking decision) was nothing short of heroic. Then there is St. Joseph.

St. Joseph made no headlines. His foster Son certainly did since He was God. His wife did since she was the mother of God and the queen of Heaven. St. Joseph was not extraordinary in the way Jesus and Mary. Nevertheless he was holy and his job was important. He was given the humble task of protecting and providing for Jesus and Mary.

Jesus would go on to shake the world to its core. He would die on the Cross for the world's sins, He would conquer death and rise from the dead. Mary would be with Him during these events. Her role would be praised for generations to come. But for these very public events, Joseph would not be around. By the time these events took place, Joseph would have played his part and gone to his rest. There are saints whose role is in the public eye and then there are saints like St. Joseph whose place, while vitally important, is in the background.

I encourage you to spend some time in front of our St. Joseph altar when you get a chance. Pay attention to how St. Joseph is present in the early of life of Jesus and how, while Jesus and Mary are the earth shaking characters, Joseph simply lives his life with them and plays his part. Such is the station of many of us. We are all called to be saints. Some of us might make headlines by our lives of extraordinary virtue. But many of us will be called to play a more hidden, humble role. For those ordinary people, look to St. Joseph and live your life, hidden as it may be, with Jesus and Mary.

Our Lady Queen of Redford

An unmistakable feature of St. Mary of Redford is the prominent statue of Our Lady of Redford, regally crowned and holding the Christ child. Some of you are probably thinking (or have thought before), "I've read the Bible. I don't see any part where Mary is crowned queen of heaven and earth." In our culture, we think of queens as the wives of kings, but in the ancient world, the queen was the mother of the king. Jesus is the king of kings. He is the rightful heir to the throne of King David, the foretold Messiah. He is the creator and ruler of the entire universe, the source of eternal laws that never change, the great just king that has always ruled and never be overthrown. And Mary is His mother, the queen mother.

What is her role as queen? It is the same as her role at the wedding feast at Cana. The bride and the groom were in need, and Mary went to Jesus and said, "They have no wine." She used to her relationship as His mother to intercede for others, to bring their needs to her son. She does that now for us in heaven.

Mary is queen of heaven and earth, but in a special way she is queen of this parish and the people of this neighborhood. We refer to that statue in the apse of the church as "Our Lady of Redford" because this whole parish and all the territory it includes were dedicated to her. That means this territory and these people belong to her. As members of this parish, you are her children in a special way.

Remember, the heights to which Mary is now raised in heaven are unlike the places from which she came. She knew poverty and suffering the same way many us do. She remembers us. She regularly descends from heaven, usually unseen, disguised, to be with her children, to mother them, and to bring their needs to Jesus. So go to her with your needs. Light a candle in front of that statue and ask her to carry your petitions to the throne of Jesus. If you need help finding words, we have made prayer cards that can be found at the back of the church.

Our Lady of Redford, pray for us!

On Lighting Votive Candles

My grandmother was a baptized Catholic, but knew very little about her faith. She was never raised going to Church and when she was married, she married a Protestant. Consequently, it was a little surprising that one of my grandmother's fondest memories was of going with a friend to the St. Anthony Shrine and lighting a candle for the repose of my grandfather's soul. If my grandmother was asked why she did it, I do not think she could have told you. But intuitively, she knew that lighting that candle meant something and that it was powerful.

I think many Catholics feel the same way about lighting candles as my grandmother did. They can't put their finger on why they do it or why it is so meaningful, but it clearly is. What is going on when we light candles? We are bringing our petitions (whether they be for the soul of a loved one or for some special grace we're asking for) and laying them at the feet of that saint. We bring our petitioins to different saints for different reasons. Mothers needing prayers for their children might go to Mary, since she knows what it is to be a mother. Men struggling with their job might go to St. Joseph who knew what it meant to work hard. Whatever our petition, whoever we are bringing it to, that candle stands as a reminder of our prayer. So long as that candle burns, Our Lady, or Jesus, or St. Joseph, has that prayer request before their eyes.

Sometimes the candle is not about asking for something. Sometimes the candle is a small gesture of thanksgiving to a saint who has been good to you. Sometimes it is an offering of love to that saint in which you say, "Dear St. _____, I love you and I thought this candle would be a nice gift to you. I hope you like it." At St. Mary of Redford, we have votive in front of all of our shrines and altars. You can even go behind the main altar and light a candle in front of the statue of Our Lady of Redford. There is a little donation basket in front of the statue that you can put money in to cover the cost of buying the candles. Lighting candles may not carry with it a sophisticated theology, but somehow intuitively, it carries with it a lot of meaning.

Welcoming the Divine Guest

A series on how to receive Communion

Over the last few weeks, I've been writing about how to pray the Eucharistic prayer. For the next few weeks, I'll be writing about how to receive communion.

The first thing to remember is that the Eucharist is Jesus. For real. It's Him. He just comes to us in a poor, humble appearance. That means when we receive communion, Jesus comes to us, and not only to us but literally into us. Our bodies become His home. But Jesus doesn't want to just be with us physically (and that by itself is powerful; see Mark 5:25), He wants to enter our hearts as well.

Jesus is saying to you, "Listen! I am standing at the door, knocking; if you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to you and eat with you, and you with me." (Revelation 3:20) Jesus is knocking at the door of our hearts and He will only come in if we invite Him. You've received Him in Holy Communion. He has come to you body, blood, soul and divinity. Now invite Him in, and open your soul to Him as His home.

As you invite Jesus in, it is worth asking, "What am I inviting Him into?" Imagine getting invited to someone's home. You show up right when they asked you to, but it's clear they haven't prepared for you at all. You're allowed to come in, but the house is trashed, no one talks to you, and you can tell your presence is at best an afterthought and maybe not even that welcome. We have to be careful that we don't treat Jesus this way. Before we receive Him, we should go to confession and clear our hearts out of all the dirt that sin brings into it. When we receive Him, we should welcome Him into our hearts and speak to Him. We should place the best of what we have at His disposal. These are all basic to being a good host. This becomes all the more important when our guest is Jesus.

Make Room for Him

During His earthly life, Jesus was the guest in many homes. Some welcomed Him, some did not. As we prepare to invite Him as a guest into our hearts in communion, it is worth looking at what lessons we can learn from these Gospel passages.

In last week's column, I told you that Jesus is knocking at the door of your heart. Now imagine Mary and Joseph knocking at the door of your heart and looking for a place to stay. Mary is carrying the Christ child and looking for a place where He can be born. Will you welcome them into your heart or is there no room in the inn?

The people who turned Mary and Joseph away were not trying to be inhospitable; they simply had no room in which to host them. The house was full. The same thing can happen with our hearts. Mother Teresa used to say, "Even God cannot fill what is already full." Our hearts can be full of distractions, noise, worldly cares and desires, and we find that with all this stuff cluttering our hearts, there is no room for Jesus.

How do we make room? By fasting. If it is noise that is preventing us from hearing God, fast from music, movies or social media. If it is attachment to food or drink or worldly pleasures, fast from those and make room for Him and the joys He intends for you. If it is attachment to sin, go to confession and resolve to begin a new life so that there is room for His will in your heart.

The Eucharistic fast (not eating or drinking anything but water or medicine an hour before receiving communion) is a bare minimum aid to this process of making room in our hearts. However, we are always free to do more to prepare. Mary and Joseph found no room in the inn when Jesus was about to be born. When Jesus comes to you in communion, will He find room in your heart?

Receive Him with Love

Perhaps the two gospel stories that best exemplify how to receive Jesus well both center around Mary Magdalene. The first occurs in Luke 7. Simon the Pharisee has invited Jesus into his home for dinner. Similarly we invite Him to come to us when we approach Him in communion. I wrote earlier about making sure your house is in order when you go to receive Him in communion by going to confession first. Simon the Pharisee's house is in order: he has not invited Jesus into a cluttered home. However, Jesus does not receive a warm reception from Him. Simon is not a terrible sinner, but He receives Jesus with a certain coldness and holds Him aloof. In the middle of the dinner, Mary Magdalene bursts into the room. She knows her sinfulness and everyone else knows it too. She breaks all social protocol, runs to Jesus, anoints His feet and bursts into tears. Between the two of them, Jesus lauds Mary Magdalene and scolds Simon the Pharisee. Even though her greeting was far from polished, she greeted Him with love. So too when we receive communion, we should do more than just make sure we're in a state of grace: we should also be sure to greet Him with love.

The second story occurs later in Luke 10. This time Jesus has come to stay in the home of Mary and her sister Martha. Martha avoids the mistake of Simon the Pharisee. She welcomes Jesus into her home and is meticulous about making sure that everything is prepared in order to host Him properly. This is all good, but there is another step: Martha forgets that what Jesus desires most is her company, her love. Mary knows better and she sits at His feet and listens. After you've received communion, take time to sit with Jesus and listen. Sometimes He'll speak to your heart, sometimes you'll just with Him and be happy He's with you, much like two friends who have known each other for a long time. "There is need of only one thing" and that is to love Jesus and be loved by Him.

Receive Him with Humility

In the last three weeks, I have written about how to receive Jesus as a guest in your heart in Holy Communion. We've seen examples from the gospels of how people welcomed Jesus into their homes and used them as examples for us on how to host Him well. The last example we will look at is that of Zacchaeus (Luke 19:1-10).

First, note the contrast between Zacchaeus and Simon the Pharisee. Simon takes for granted that Jesus would come to his home. After all, he is a righteous and observant man; of course this rabbi would want to stay with him. Zacchaeus suffers under no illusions of his worthiness before Jesus. Like the centurion who told Jesus, "I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof," Zacchaeus knows that he is a wretched sinner and his best hope is to merely catch a glimpse of Jesus by climbing a tree. To speak to Him, let alone to have Him come into his home, is more than Zacchaeus could hope for.

Nevertheless, it is Zacchaeus' humility that allows him to host Jesus well. When Jesus calls Zacchaeus down from the tree and says, "Today I must stay in your house" he takes none of it for granted. This is a total, unmerited gift. Unlike Simon the Pharisee, Zacchaeus hastens to make his house ready for Jesus and receives Him joyfully. Receiving Jesus in humility puts things in proper perspective for us. We know that we do not deserve to have the divine guest come to us, but He has chosen to come anyway. When we realize this, our response can only be one of deep gratitude.

So speak to Jesus after you have received Him in Communion. You can speak to Him from your heart or if you need help finding words, I recommend the Anima Christi prayer or the prayer of St. Bonaventure after Communion (cards are available in the back of the church.) When we receive Communion, God Himself comes to us as a guest. Be sure to welcome Him with all your heart.

How to pray during the Eucharistic Prayer

An odd thing about the Mass is that the most important part is the one where it seems like the least amount of stuff is going on. We kneel during the Eucharistic prayer and pray, but the Mass doesn’t give us much direction about what we’re supposed to be doing during that time. And yet, the consecration is the moment where ordinary bread becomes the very flesh of our divine Lord, Jesus Christ. We want to pray well during the Eucharistic prayer, but how?

Paying close attention to the prayers offered by the priest is one way to pray through the Eucharistic prayer. . Taking time to read and reflect on the prayers will be most helpful, but here are a couple things to notice. Over and over again, the priest says to the Father, “We offer to you.” He is placing before the Father the sacrifice Jesus offered for us on the cross and by the merits of Jesus, He implores the Father for certain graces. Listen to who and what he’s praying for and offer your own prayers for those things too.

When the priest says “Take this, all of you...” reflect on the fact that the priest is speaking in persona Christi. In a mysterious way, it is Jesus speaking the words He pronounced at the Last Supper. Let those words sink into your heart because at those words, bread and wine become the body, blood, soul, and divinity of Jesus.

Over the next few weeks, I’m going to throw out a few more ideas. Don’t feel like you need to use them all, and certainly not at once. Nevertheless, hopefully trying some of these ways of praying will help you enter into the mystery of the Mass more deeply.

Placing your Intentions on the Altar

According to St. Paul’s letter to the Hebrews, every priest is appointed by God to pray for the people and offer the sacrifice (Hebrews 5:1). Jesus did this before His Father on the cross. At the Mass, the priest, standing in persona Christi (in the person of Christ), offers Jesus’ sacrifice on Calvary to the Father on our behalf. This is what is happening during the Eucharistic prayer. It is much like Exodus 33. God swore to wipe out the Israelites but Moses stood before Him and prayed for the people, and so God relented. But whereas Moses had only words to offer, the priest has the blood of Jesus to offer as a perfect sacrifice. It is that the priest presents to the Father as He asks for graces on our behalf.

While the priest is praying to the Father for us, you can unite your own intentions to the sacrifice. During the offertory (when the gifts are being placed on the altar), spiritually place the hearts of those you want to pray for on the paten. Then say, “Jesus, when You change the bread into Your Body, change our hearts into hearts pleasing to You.” Likewise in the chalice, you can spiritually place the souls of those in purgatory you want to pray for. Name those souls whose cause you want to bring before the Father and then say “Jesus, when You change the wine into Your Precious Blood, bring these poor souls from their place of suffering into eternal happiness.”

Now Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross is about to play out before our eyes. When you see the host and the chalice elevated, reflect that your intentions are united to them and are now being carried by Jesus to the Father. Then say a prayer of thanks to God, because you can be sure Jesus' pleas before His Father in Heaven for us have been heard.

Offer Your Love to Jesus Abandoned and Despised

On the cross, Jesus made the greatest act of love mankind has ever known. He suffered for the sins of every human being for all time, so that we could spend eternity with Him in Heaven. And yet, at that very moment when Jesus gave everything for us, He was alone, despised and rejected. He cried out, “I thirst,” but it was not water that He thirsted for most, but love.

One way to pray through the consecration is to offer Jesus your love in that moment when He is most unloved. This was true on Calvary but it is also true of the Mass itself. Many people reject the Mass as Jesus’ sacrifice; too often Jesus is ignored in the Eucharist or even desecrated. He has given everything for love of us in the Mass and too few people offer their love in return.

As you witness Jesus becoming present on the altar at the words, “This is my body,” “This is my blood,” you can be the one to offer your love to Jesus. Tell Jesus, “I believe that you are present here in the Eucharist and I love you with all my heart.” Tell Him, “I love you for all those who do not know you and do not love you. I love you for what you did for me on the cross and I love you for who you are.”

There may be moments where you clearly sense the reality of what has just happened on the altar and your heart is set ablaze with love for Jesus. In those moments, console His heart by offering Him your love. There may be other times where you don’t feel that same fire. In those moments, it’s enough to tell Jesus, “I believe that you are present here and I love you.” An act of love like that, while not as natural, is harder to give and is pleasing to Jesus.

Go with Mary to the Cross

Calvary is a hard place to go to. Whatever form the cross takes, whether it is a share in Jesus’ sufferings that we are asked to shoulder or it is a privileged glimpse into His sufferings for us, it is hard to endure. On Calvary we see the extremes. The ugliness of sin and death shows its face in the wounds and agony of Jesus. The brilliant light of God’s love breaks the blackest darkness as Jesus endures all this for love of us. It is a worthwhile place to go to, but it is a hard place to go to.

One way to pray the Mass is adore Jesus suffering on the cross , but sometimes we can’t bear going there alone.

So go there with Mary. Ask her as the consecration approaches, to take you by the hand and lead you to Jesus. Ask her to stand with you as His heart is pierced, to be a mother to you as you come face to face with the darkness of sin and the amazing power of His mercy. Perhaps you have your own crosses and sufferings that you want to unite with Jesus’ sacrifice in the Mass. Ask Mary to walk with you as you carry your cross to Calvary next to His.

And just like you offered love to Jesus when He was most alone, most unloved, most rejected, so too, as Calvary is made present before our eyes, offer your love to Mary as her heart was broken and she watched her Son, the one she loved more than anything in the world, be cruelly killed for poor sinners, by poor sinners.

“Mother of Sorrows! Mother of Christ! You had influence with your Divine Son on earth, you have the same influence now in heaven, pray for me, obtain from your Divine Son my request, if it be His Holy Will.”

Sit in Silence and Awe

The Mass is an amazing event where Heaven and Earth meet. At the words of a priest, God descends from Heaven and becomes flesh on the altar. It is easy to feel distant from God as we go through life in this fallen world of ours, but in the Mass God draws very close to us. He uses humble instruments, so sometimes we miss the fact that Heaven is opening up in front of our eyes, but there will times in our life where we catch of glimpse of what is really going on. In those moments, it is okay to simply sit in silence and awe. Adoration is a wonderful form of prayer. In those moments, you don't have to be caught up in what you’re supposed to be doing in the Mass, or how this lay missionary who writes bulletin columns said you should pray. Just be silent, adore Him, and listen to Him.

In silence, God speaks. Sometimes God asks us to be busy in Mass either serving, or praying for people, or actively reflecting on the mysteries of the Mass. But sometimes, He just wants us to sit with Him. It is okay to be like Mary and sit at Jesus' feet, simply basking in His love and listening in silence. Do not think you are lazy or not doing your duty to participate in Mass. Mary chose the better part and Jesus guaranteed that it would not be taken from her. All of the methods I have suggested for praying the Mass better are only means to respond to Jesus. Wherever He leads is worth following and very often He is leading us away from noise, away from distractions, into a deep silence and where we can rest with Him.

So that is my final suggestion on praying the Eucharistic prayer: simply sit in silence and awe of what is going on. Use these methods insofar as they are helpful, but also feel free to set them aside for a time if they start becoming more of a burden than a help. They are only means to falling deeper in love with Christ.