I Will Never Ever Forget You

In today’s First Reading, the Servant of the Lord is announcing freedom to the Jewish exiles in Babylonia: “In a time of favor I answer you, on the day of salvation I help you; and I have kept you and given you as a covenant to the people….”

There is no way to overstate the crisis the exile in Babylon was for God’s people. They had been deprived of their homeland and had been stripped of everything that had given them their identity. There on the banks of the streams of Babylon they must have wondered how God could truly have been God if he had let the Babylonians defeat them, desecrate the temple, and force them to leave the land that had been promised to their ancestors Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Were they now forgotten by God? Would he ever remember them? Would he save them? Did God still love them? Could they ever trust the Lord again?

The conversations of the people of God in Babylon are similar to the conversations whispered in the homes where we’ve isolated far from our churches and from everything that had been “normal” about our life. We might have said with Zion: “The Lord has forsaken me, my Lord has forgotten me.”

Isn’t it too late now for God to show up, after loved ones have died, livelihoods lost, children affected by years of education interrupted? After millions across the globe have suffered indescribable loss. The Jewish people in Babylon must have wondered also at this prophecy spoken by Isaiah:

Thus says the LORD:

In a time of favor I answer you,
            on the day of salvation I help you;
            and I have kept you and given you as a covenant to the people,
To restore the land
            and allot the desolate heritages,
Saying to the prisoners: Come out!
To those in darkness: Show yourselves!
Along the ways they shall find pasture,
            on every bare height shall their pastures be.
They shall not hunger or thirst,
            nor shall the scorching wind or the sun strike them;
For he who pities them leads them
            and guides them beside springs of water.

As we one by one continue to reshape our lives, we might wonder why the Lord didn’t “comfort his people and show mercy to his afflicted” by stopping the pandemic in its tracks before the damage across the globe had been done.

Our lament is as sorrow-filled and pitiful as the songs sung by the exiles who hung up their harps, refusing to sing the songs of Zion in a foreign land.

I hear such kindness in the final words of this First Reading. God understands his people’s tears, their loss. He listens to the confusion and hurt of his people who, because of their infidelity to the Lord and their choices to align themselves with other nations instead of trusting in him, had been carried off into exile by these same nations. God doesn’t correct their theology with reminders about how good he is, how faithful, how ever present. Instead, he evokes the image of tender love that is at the very foundation of every human life, an image that means warmth, safety, nourishment, a generous life poured out that a child might live.

But Zion said, “The LORD has forsaken me; We say with them:  my Lord has forgotten me.”

Can a mother forget her infant,
            be without tenderness for the child of her womb?
Even should she forget,
            I will never forget you.

Take a deep breath, my friend, and allow yourself to share your true feelings and fears with God. Wail and rail if you must. Be honest with the Lord in every way. And then receive his arms that surround you with a mother’s love, this God who pours out his life and tenderness in absolute fidelity to us forever. Let these words wash over you again and again, “I will never forget you. Never. Ever. My child. I could never be without tenderness for you.”

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Sr. Kathryn J. HermesKathryn James Hermes, FSP, is the author of the newly released title: Reclaim Regret: How God Heals Life’s Disappointments, by Pauline Books and Media. An author and spiritual mentor, she offers spiritual accompaniment for the contemporary Christian’s journey towards spiritual growth and inner healing. She is the director of My Sisters, where people can find spiritual accompaniment from the Daughters of St. Paul on their journey. Website: www.touchingthesunrise.com Public Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/srkathrynhermes/ For monthly spiritual journaling guides, weekly podcasts and over 50 conferences and retreat programs join my Patreon community: https://www.patreon.com/srkathryn.

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Do You Want to Be Well?

In today’s Gospel reading, we see Jesus heal a man who had been sick for 38 years. To the man, Jesus asked, “Do you want to be well?” And when the man answered in the affirmative, Jesus told him to pick up his mat and walk.

We often wish everything could be that easy for us when we pray. We want Christ to give us that yes, to tell us that we will be healed, that our ailments will go away, or that our prayers will be answered. But sometimes that just isn’t the case. 

Sometimes we hear a no from God—and no is a difficult word to hear, especially when it’s the answer to a prayer we so desperately desire. That no can be heartbreaking. It can be devastating. That no can lead to feelings of loneliness and isolation. It may even lead to the person wondering if God cares about him. How many times have you heard people say that God didn’t answer their prayers so He must not exist? They mistakenly believe that He didn’t answer them, when in fact He just said no. Because of this, they begin to lose faith.

Instead of becoming firmer in their resolve, instead of trying to determine the reason for the no, and instead of trusting in God’s goodness, many people dismiss Him. They feel rejected by Him, so they reject Him.

But when God does say no, we must have hope that He is following that up with “Trust Me. I have something even better planned.” This trust leads us to understand that, no matter what, He is also telling us, “Do not worry; I am right here with you through this. I’ve got you, and I will never let go.”

We may never understand why God has said no to the things we pray for, especially if—in our eyes—those desperate prayers are for good and holy things. So we pray more, we talk to God, we ask for understanding and guidance, and we allow His will to be done. We ask for His protection against a world that wants us to believe that He doesn’t exist and against people who chip away at our faith telling us that “a good God wouldn’t allow bad things to happen to good people.”

We ask for the fortitude to understand the difference between God’s perfect will and God’s permissive will. We ask to feel at peace with His decision, knowing that someday we will find clarity.

And we ask for help in understanding that God will make us well, just as He did with the man who had been sick for 38 years; it may just not be in the time or the way that we had hoped or thought. 

But rest assured, when we follow God’s laws, remain faithful to Him, and put our trust in Him, He will make us well. 

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Susan Ciancio has a BA in psychology and a BA in sociology from the University of Notre Dame, with an MA in liberal studies from Indiana University. For the past 17 years, she has worked as a professional editor and writer, editing both fiction and nonfiction books, magazine articles, blogs, educational lessons, professional materials and website content. Eleven of those years have been in the pro-life sector. Currently Susan freelances and writes weekly for HLI, edits for American Life League, and is the editor of Celebrate Life Magazine. She also serves as executive editor for the Culture of Life Studies Program-an educational nonprofit program for K-12 students.

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Jesus, I trust in you!

I have always found it challenging to “stay positive” while simultaneously acknowledging the harsh realities of life. I want to be a person of hope and joy, but I also realize that I can’t help make the world a better place unless I open my eyes to its troubles. Today’s First Reading provides a beautiful meditation, not only about the hope we have for the future, but about God’s awareness of our plight here and now. 

I remember one circumstance in particular in which I was overwhelmed by the potential for evil in this world and was tempted to despair. My husband and I were traveling across the country with our five children, all under the age of 10. It was late at night, and we stopped in a rest area that looked dark and dangerous. My husband took the four oldest into the restroom, and I climbed into the debris-strewn back seat with the baby. Tired and vulnerable, and possessing an overactive imagination, I started worrying about the safety of my children and the horrible things that can happen to children. I succumbed quickly to these dark thoughts and found myself crying in frustration and anger. Though I have had a close, trusting relationship with the Lord since I was a child, I have often struggled to accept the suffering of the innocent. Why Lord? Don’t you care? Why must these evils go on and on?

As I continued to cry out to God in my heart, I shifted my feet which were resting awkwardly on a number of children’s toys and blankets on the floor of the car. My movements triggered something, and a muffled tinkling tune penetrated the dark silence, “Jesus loves the little children…all the children of the world…” 

I paused and let that reality sink into my consciousness. My prayers reached the only conclusion that brings any peace…Jesus, I trust in you!

Today’s First Reading reminds us that God knows what we are suffering. He knows that things are far from perfect. By taking on a human form, Jesus Christ entered into the mess with us in order to experience, confront, and redeem the mess. Furthermore, this is not the end. This is not “all there is.” In a little while, He will make things right and all that we yearn for and hope for will come to pass in the new heavens and the new earth. In the meantime, we live on in Christ, who forewarned us that we would have many trials in this world, but to be courageous, because he has overcome the world. (See Jn 16:33)

Our deepest instincts tell us there is an Author of life and He is all-loving, all-knowing, and all-powerful. But we do not have the mind of God and we cannot fully understand His ways.  The more we unite ourselves to Him, the more we will trust in His ability to bring good out of evil. We will also find abiding joy, knowing that it won’t be long before the One who sits on the throne will makes all things new. (See Rev 21:5)

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Christine Hanus is a thwarted idealist who, nevertheless, lives quite happily in Upstate NY. She is a wife and mother of five grown children.

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Are You The Father?

We are all familiar with today’s Gospel, The parable of the prodigal son. The Gospel is a little long, but please take the time to read it again, slowly and reflectively, allowing the Lord to speak to you. I have read it many times and each time I see something new.

If you put yourself into the story, who are you? If that thought has ever occurred to you, you may be surprised at where the Lord puts you! Are you the father, the youngest son, the oldest son, people along the way, or the servants? 

The younger son is the one we remember the most. He’s the rebel, making demands on his father that the son doesn’t deserve. Can you imagine such a thing? Most of us have or have known someone that has a rebellious son. The way to handle a rebellious son is easy. We have two choices: to boot him out or to suck it up. Right?

After reading today’s Gospel, I think not. In fact, not even close! This parable (remember Jesus tells the story) says the father was generous and gave his younger son, half of his estate. That is so far from what we were taught to do. I’m having trouble wrapping my head around that thought of generosity!

Yet, the Father (God) did exactly that. The younger son took off and in no time squandered the money in various places and was broke. He had nothing. To make matters worse, a famine struck. The country that he was in was so bad that no one had much of anything. Did you notice, nobody gave him anything (except corn pods)? He hit rock bottom.

Apparently, his feet still worked, so he headed back to his father’s house. He had time to review what he had done and by the grace of God became remorseful, very remorseful! He begged forgiveness from his father. Once again, his father broke out with great generosity! It was party time because his youngest son was home! So, if we put the face of God onto his father and we have a similar son or daughter could we be so generous? I am praying that we all can learn a great lesson when it comes to love. Perhaps we would have to go against some of the modeling displayed in our families and use God’s favorite word for love, agape. It means unconditional love. To love, even if we are not loved. Wow, What a concept. Let’s all try it!

Serving With Joy!

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Deacon Dan Schneider is a retired general manager of industrial distributors. He and his wife Vicki have been married for over 50 years. They are the parents of eight children and thirty grandchildren. He has a degree in Family Life Education from Spring Arbor University. He was ordained a Permanent Deacon in 2002.  He has a passion for working with engaged and married couples and his main ministry has been preparing couples for marriage.

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Have Mercy on Me, a Sinner

The tax collector in today’s Gospel prays a prayer very similar to the Jesus Prayer held so close to the hearts of our Orthodox brothers and sisters.  As Luke tells us Jesus’ parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector, the interesting thing is both men know their true selves, and they both speak it in their prayers. The Pharisee says he is not greedy, dishonest or adulterous. He fasts and pays his tithes. His examination of conscience determines he does what he is supposed to do. More power to him, right? Not so fast.

The tax collector, on the other hand, prays simply that he is a sinner and begs for God’s mercy. He does not list any sins; he does not speak them. He knows them too well. He keeps his distance and cannot look up to heaven, whether through shame or sorrow. He beats his breast, not from pride but from remorse, repentance. He prays, “O God, be merciful to me a sinner.”

The contrast with the Pharisee is obvious. This man takes his position. There is a place that is his in the temple area, and he goes there. But then Jesus says something that I do not believe is just the turn of a phrase, I see it as very deliberate: The Pharisee “spoke this prayer to himself.” Jesus did not say he prayed to God. The Pharisee spoke the prayer to himself. And suddenly we know that Jesus is speaking across the two millennia since, directly to us. Do we pray? Or do we pray to God?

Close to our Catholic hearts is the Our Father, the prayer that Jesus taught us. We learn it at a young age, we pray it often, multiple times a day if we take part in the Liturgy of the Hours. But all too often I ask myself — or, probably more accurately, the Holy Spirit gives me a poke — am I praying these beautiful, meaningful words from our Lord, or am I just reciting it because I know the words by heart? God have mercy on me!

In our First Reading, Hosea might be talking to Ephraim and Judah, but he’s speaking to me: Your piety is like a morning cloud. I have every intention of being holy, but as the day wears on, that holiness burns off, not because of what happens during the day, but because of my reaction to it. When there is conflict or criticism or distress, I can choose the holy path, we all can. But do we? Do I? O God, be merciful to me, a sinner.

Today’s readings are a perfect wakeup call for the middle of Lent. We try to deny things from our lives in a spirit of repentance, but that can’t be the whole story. God desires love, not sacrifice. So if we’re giving things up to free our hearts of them, we need to fill our hearts with something else, and that obviously is love. Then, the sacrifice has meaning and worth, because a heart has changed.

The Orthodox will tell you that the Jesus Prayer is very simple, but also that it is a long and difficult path. Its statement of faith and plea for help are easily said, but to commit to those simple words can take a lifetime. Faith is a journey. Communion with God is a process. What better time and place to start than here and now? Jesus Christ, son of the living God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

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Mike Karpus is a regular guy. He grew up in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, graduated from Michigan State University and works as an editor. He is married to a Catholic school principal, raised two daughters who became Catholic school teachers at points in their careers, and now relishes his two grandchildren, including the 3-year-old who teaches him what the colors of Father’s chasubles mean. He has served on a Catholic School board, a pastoral council and a parish stewardship committee. He currently is a lector at Mass, a Knight of Columbus, Adult Faith Formation Committee member and a board member of the local Habitat for Humanity organization. But mostly he’s a regular guy.

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Trust In And Through Mary’s Fiat

My word of the year is “fiat.” When I saw that word pop up on my phone screen, I froze. Instantly, I was scared of this word. Why? Because of today’s Gospel. 

Through Mary’s response to the angel Gabriel, she uniquely participated in salvation history by completely abandoning herself and her will over to the will of God. It was so much more than a simple yes. Mary’s complete and total fiat called her to be the Mother of God, to witness her son’s Passion and death and so much more – talk about some pressure!

I started to worry about what this word fiat would mean for this year of youth ministry, for my life, for my relationship with God, for everything. Just as quickly as the fear came, though, it started to settle. Sure, I was still scared but it was a healthy fear, an exciting fear – the kind of fear where you leap into action. I knew I truly wanted to live this entire year as a fiat. I also knew that God was extending me a special invitation – to trust Him in all things, just as Mary did 2,000 years ago. 

Trust doesn’t work like a light switch, though. We don’t just flip the switch and suddenly begin to trust in the Lord. It’s something that takes practice, a habit we have to grow in. So how do we do that?

One way to grow in trust is to continuously turn to the Lord in prayer – because how can we trust someone if we don’t know who they are? Prayer is where we spend time with the Lord and share our hearts with Him. It is where we grow in relationship with Him and come to know who He is.

Prayer is also a very Marian thing to do. Before Mary gives her fiat, she is troubled by Gabriel’s greeting of “hail favored one” and she ponders in her heart what it means. When Jesus was missing in the temple for three days and He responded that He must be about His Father’s house, Mary kept those things in her heart. But she didn’t just keep them in her heart, she shared them with the Lord and so was able to trust Him in every moment. Mary prayed so that she could give her fiat again and again all the way up to and after the cross. 

Today, we have the opportunity to trust the Lord with whatever is on our hearts. Turn to Him in prayer, give whatever is on our hearts over to Him and grow in trust. And if we don’t know where to begin, we can look to Mary – Mary who pondered all things in her heart, Mary who models perfect trust and abandon when she says, “Let it be done to me according to your word.” 

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Erin is a Cleveland native and graduate of Franciscan University of Steubenville. She is passionate about the Lord Jesus, all things college sports and telling stories and she is blessed enough to get paid for all three of her passions as a full-time youth minister and a freelance sports writer.

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Listen

What is the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word “listen”? Many would say “paying attention to sound, or listening to music”. Others may think, listen is, “to hear something with thoughtful attention”.

Has it ever crossed your mind that listening is key to your faith journey? It’s a part of what I’m pondering this Lent as it came up during my most recent spiritual direction session. I was told a quote by Pope Francis: “This is the first step in order to grow on our journey of faith: listening.”

I’m a cradle Catholic; baptized as an infant. I’ve heard the Word of God proclaimed during Mass since I was an infant. Many times, and not just in my youth, the Word went into my ears and I could recall what was said, yet was I really listening for the meaning?

The Catholic Catechism breaks it open this way:

CCC 144To obey (from the Latin ob-audire, to ‘hear or listen to’) in faith is to submit freely to the word that has been heard, because its truth is guaranteed by God, who is Truth itself. Abraham is the model of such obedience offered us by Sacred Scripture. The Virgin Mary is the most perfect embodiment.”  

Through out my youth and most of my adult life I did not submit myself to the Word that I heard. I absolutely would not compare myself to Abraham or the Virgin Mary. Yet when I hear the Psalm Response “If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts,” I also hear the words of our Holy Father Pope Francis: “When we listen to the Word of God, we obtain the courage and perseverance to offer the best of ourselves to others.”

There is so much to listen to in the world today. Courage and perseverance are absolutely necessary to be able to sort through the multitude of media, images, words, and sounds that surround each of us. There have been times where all of these things have paralyzed me, making my own voice mute. It has made my ability to act on what I’ve heard a challenge.

It is so hard to listen to God’s voice in the cacophony of the world. I need to remember the witness of the Virgin Mary and of Abraham who listened to the Word of God in the silence of their hearts.

Help me Lord, to remember to listen for your voice in the midst of all the noise because I cannot hear you if my heart and mind is full of other things. Help me to find the silence in my heart to hear your voice and return to You and your gracious, merciful ways. Amen.

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Beth Price is part of the customer care team at Diocesan. She is a Secular Franciscan (OFS) and a practicing spiritual director. Beth shares smiles, prayers, laughter, a listening ear and her heart with all of creation. Reach her here bprice@diocesan.com.

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Rules Matter

We are halfway through Lent if my math is correct. I checked with my math teacher, deacon husband – I counted correctly!

The words of Moses and Jesus hang together quite well today. They are about the rules. They matter. They are given to us for reasons. Following the rules will give us wisdom and intelligence that others will take notice of and appreciate this in us. The commandments of God are not to hold us back, but to give us freedom. They are parameters within which we are to behave. Following the commandments will give us rewards. For the Israelites, it meant land. For those of us who follow Jesus, it is salvation. 

For both, it means relationship. With God and His Son. We are created in and for relationship. One of the relationships highlighted in both readings is that of parent and child; greater and least. Adults have a responsibility to teach the truth to children. And we do this with our words and actions. “Do as I say and not as I do” is a phrase that has no place with people of faith. And while it is obvious that adults teach children, when Jesus says “greater” and “least” it can also be in reference to those with differences in knowledge about the faith.

Are our thoughts, words and actions aligned with the commandments? That is the question I ask myself as I think and pray with today’s readings. And not only in matters of faith, but in our daily life. Then, what are we teaching others? Punishment for leading yourself astray is one thing, but when you lead others astray you incur a greater one. 

The commandments are meant to guide and lead us to a full life in Jesus Christ. As we continue in our Lenten observances, remind yourself why you follow the commandments. And if you have fallen away from your initial Lenten plans and sacrifices, begin again or make new ones that reflect your current situation.  

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Deanna G. Bartalini, M.Ed.; M.P.A., is a certified spiritual director, writer, speaker and content creator. The LiveNotLukewarm.com online community is a place to inform, engage and inspire your Catholic faith. Her weekly Not Lukewarm Podcast gives you tips and tools to live out your faith in your daily life.

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The Key to Forgiveness

“…for those who trust in you cannot be put to shame. And now we follow you with our whole heart…”

It is never easy speaking about forgiveness when you are aware that there are many truly awful sins in the world that have left us broken. Jesus can often make us feel uncomfortable about how easy he makes forgiveness sound. I believe the passage above in the First Reading can be a key to unlocking the mysteries of mercy in the Scriptures today. Because He loved me first, I can now love. Because He poured out His mercy upon me, I can now give mercy. In the First Reading, we hear about the pain of Israel. We hear how they have been stripped of everything, even their rituals for worship. All they had left was their hearts which needed a reset with their relationship with God. It seems to me that there is a common misconception in our Church culture that a person cannot approach God till they have dealt with their sin. True we need to repent, however, it has been my experience that if we expect that we will be able to do this before we can approach God, we will fail and cause a lot of harm along the way. 

Peter asks Jesus an interesting question in the Gospel today, “Lord, if my brother sins against me, how often must I forgive him? As many as seven times?” After hearing this question all my life, I have often laughed at Peter. But as I have gotten older, I have become more aware of my own continuous need for forgiveness and aware of the pain others have caused me. I have a better understanding of why Peter thought he was being gratuitous by offering forgiveness seven times. Depending on who and how they hurt me, it can be overwhelming to forgive someone even once.

A few years ago, I was struggling to forgive someone. It seemed that every time I was able to let go and offer my pain to Jesus, this person would hurt me again. I took this constant cycle to Jesus in prayer and I remember Jesus asking me, ‘do you want me to give mercy or justice to this person?’ I remember wanting to cry out for justice. But I remembered this parable and Jesus saying, “as you forgive, you will be forgiven.” I started to trust that Jesus would help this person and it was not up to me to exact justice, no matter how satisfying it might have sounded. I needed to trust that Jesus would show mercy to me for all the people that I had hurt, especially those I did not realize I had hurt. I needed to trust that Jesus could and would make a difference in this person’s life and that difference would be far more productive than my own.

I think the key to forgiveness is this: by being in a relationship with Jesus we can learn to trust Him. We begin to see the change that His love does to us. We are then free to give Jesus the space to handle the person that hurt us because we know that real change can happen in that person, just as real change happened in us. More importantly, our minds will be freed from obsessing about what we would say if given the chance to show the person how wrong they are and the injustice of their words and actions. 

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Arthur Richardson is married to his wonderful wife, Gabby Richardson. They will be married for two years this January! Most of his work experience is in ministry. He was a retreat missionary in Wisconsin for two years and a youth minister for three years. He is now the Web Project Manager here at Diocesan, and loves it!

Conversion in Unexpected Places

As a mother of three children, the desire to pass along my faith to them is great within me. When they were younger, it seemed easy. We attended Mass as a family, read the Bible and saint stories, attended VBS, and even discussed faith during dinner. Then, two of them became young adults, and the line from today’s Gospel, “Amen, I say to you, no prophet is accepted in his own native place” (Luke 4:24), took on an entirely new meaning for me.

The methods employed to share my beloved faith no longer applied. My words no longer held merit, and discussions at the dinner table, well, they took a new turn I never expected. Like so many other mothers who watch their child drift from the church or experience a crisis of faith, my heart began to break, and some days the tears flowed. My prayers for the right words doubled, but none came (and least not yet). 

Then I, like so many disheartened moms before me, discovered St. Monica, the mother of the wayward son turned Doctor of the Church, St. Augustine. She, too, cried many tears and was consoled by a bishop who told her, “the child of those tears shall never perish.” That child of whom the bishop spoke was the same who once prayed, “Give me chastity and continence, but not yet,” and whose conversion came about through an unexpected verse in scripture and the counsel of a holy man, St. Ambrose. 

Although St. Monica was relentless in her desire to see Augustine turn to God, going so far as to follow him to Milan secretly, it was not her words that ultimately brought about his remarkable change of heart and turning toward God. Monica’s example not only brings me great hope but clued me into something I’d not yet considered. Although I have no doubt Monica’s prayers fueled her son’s incredible conversion, it was the words of another who ultimately made the difference. My prayer and tactic, if you will, have been altered after studying these remarkable saints. I now beg the Lord to send my sons their own St. Ambrose and ask, if it be His will, that I may be St. Ambrose to someone else’s “fallen away” child. 

As today’s First Reading illustrates, the healing, change, or conversion may not come in some great flash or a dramatic tumble from a horse (aka St. Paul). It most likely will have its source in the ordinary, like Naaman, who expected some grand gesture to heal his leprosy. This story also harks to the lesson learned from Monica and Augustine, the source of change might not be the mighty king but the lowly, faithful prophet. We must, as Psalm 130:7 reminds us, “hope in the LORD, I trust in his word; with him, there is kindness and plenteous redemption.”

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Allison Gingras works for WINE: Women In the New Evangelization as National WINE Steward of the Virtual Vineyard. She is a Social Media Consultant for the Diocese of Fall River and CatholicMom.com. She is a writer, speaker, and podcaster, who founded ReconciledToYou.com and developed the Stay Connected Journals for Catholic Women (OSV).   

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The views and opinions expressed in the Inspiration Daily blog are solely those of the original authors and contributors. These views and opinions do not necessarily represent those of Diocesan, the Diocesan staff, or other contributors to this blog.

I Am Who Am

I am who am! These simple yet profound words echoed through a cave thousands of years ago and have kept even the greatest theologians questioning.

Thomas Aquinas himself, one of the most influential doctors of the Church, wrote extensively on this subject and only began to scratch the surface of its meaning. What do these profound words spoken from God to Moses mean? Well, what we do know is that they mean that God is existence itself. He is the uncreated creator, that which makes things be, existence itself. Explaining God in relation to other created things does not do justice to Him, and yet this is the way we know to explain.

The Catholic Church calls this a mystery. Not a mystery in the sense that it is hidden or that we can’t know anything, for God has revealed certain things, but a mystery in the sense that it is not fully knowable to us until heaven.

What is fully knowable to us though is that every breath, every life, every gift, everything, even our very existence is due to God. He holds us into being. This should give us a little perspective during this Lenten season. I think we often approach Lent in a negative sense, in the sense that we should give something up or sacrifice something.

While it truly is a time for these things, it is also a time to realize that because we were made and are held into existence by a complete gift, that the only proper response to that gift is to give. We do not get to heaven in a box. Our beautiful faith teaches us that we gain salvation through the relationship with Christ and His sacrifice on the cross. And this salvific relationship is meant to be shared with the world. It is not enough to receive love and have it turn inward, love must turn outward and multiply.

This Lent, I encourage you to sit down for a few minutes and reflect on the words, I am who am. Reflect on what that means in your life and the gifts you have been given. Now, reflect on how you can turn and give. It might be as simple as telling a friend they are loved, or it might be as difficult as standing up for your faith when it is uncomfortable. Either way, don’t let this just be more words you read on a page. Let’s all think of one concrete way we can be a gift this week. Nothing is scarier to Satan than Christians uniting through relationship with Christ, and then sharing that relationship with the world. From all of us here at Diocesan, God Bless!

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Image Credit: Kira auf der Heide, https://unsplash.com/photos/IPx7J1n_xUc


Tommy Shultz is a Business Development Representative for Diocesan. In this role he is committed to bringing the best software to dioceses and parishes while helping them evangelize on the digital continent. Tommy has worked in various diocese and parish roles since his graduation from Franciscan University with a Theology degree. He hopes to use his skills in evangelization, marketing, and communications, to serve the Church and bring the Good News to all. His favorite quote comes from St. John Paul II, who said, “A person is an entity of a sort to which the only proper and adequate way to relate is love.”


Glorious St. Joseph

As we focus on Joseph, it might be good to dispel some rumors about him, helping us to see him for the glorious saint that he is. The following words rely heavily on Mike Aquilina’s St. Joseph and His World, recently published by Scepter.

As one option for the Gospel today, we hear of Joseph’s first encounter with the archangel Gabriel, in which he is told not to be afraid to take Mary as his wife. What is going on here? Was Joseph, the Just Man, planning to do something unjust? 

Joseph lived in the small town of Nazareth, named after the Messianic title of “Branch,” a term for the offspring of David. The inhabitants of Nazareth were descendants of King David, eagerly anticipating and praying for the coming of the Messiah. They did not know exactly when he would come, but they knew he would come from their line, and they waited in hope.

In normal Jewish society, many marriages would be arranged when the spouses-to-be were very young, and then were solemnized later with erusin, a betrothal. This involved formal terms and gifts from both families, and after this ceremony the bond could only be broken by divorce. Notice that here the couple is united in a solemn bond, but this is not quite a marriage; it is breakable by divorce. This was the state of Joseph and Mary. The marriage was finalized, and then (usually) consummated, after a ceremony called kiddushin (sanctities).

Adultery was a capital crime, so Mary would have been stoned if guilty. Divorce would have been the logical option here, but a desire to preserve Mary from this punishment doesn’t mean that Joseph actually suspected her of adultery. He may have just been confused, or he may have known exactly what was happening, intending to lay low and give Mary space, only presuming to assist if asked by the Lord.

Which was it? We are permitted to believe different interpretations of this text, but it makes sense to say that St. Joseph understood that Mary really did conceive of the Holy Spirit. She may have told him as much, and he had no reason to distrust her, likely being childhood friends in a small town. He would have had deep knowledge of the Messianic prophecies. Joseph knew that the Messiah was coming from his people, and he could have gathered from Isaiah that he would come from a virgin. Upon finding out that this virgin was his betrothed, he was probably struck with awe.

This is especially persuasive when we consider that St. Joseph had a special relationship with St. Gabriel the Archangel. His vision in our Gospel may not have been the first, and it certainly wasn’t the last. St. Joseph understood that God works miracles, and he was ready to drop everything and follow God’s will as soon as it was made clear to him. He followed Gabriel’s advice and took Mary as his wife, and they dedicated themselves to bringing up the Messiah, following a tradition of celibate asceticism often practiced in the Essene community, with which they were likely associated.

This day is a good opportunity to reflect on the virtues of St. Joseph, a powerful intercessor sporting titles like “Terror of Demons.” Dying as he did in the presence of Our Lord and Our Lady, he is the patron of a happy death. As is clear in his conduct surrounding the Incarnation, he is a prudent, patient, understanding, and just man ready to stand by his loved ones no matter the cost. Glorious St. Joseph, foster father of the Savior, spouse of Our Lady, pray for us!

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David Dashiell is a freelance writer, editor, and proofreader based in the Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania area. His writing has been featured in Crisis Magazine and The Imaginative Conservative, and his editing is done for a variety of publishers, such as Sophia Institute and Scepter. He can be reached at ddashiellwork@gmail.com.

Feature Image Credit: revmen, https://www.cathopic.com/photo/20349-sagrada-familia