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The Way, The Truth, The Life

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“Modern man listens more willingly to witnesses than to teachers, and if he does listen to teachers, it is because they are witnesses.” -Pope Paul VI

“The Spirit of truth will testify to me, says the Lord, and you also will testify. Alleluia, Alleluia!”

Witnesses are called to testify to the truth. So, just how are we to testify? Most of us break out in a cold sweat at even the thought of being asked to give “a testimony”. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have some big dramatic story about a single event that caused me, a wayward sinner (although I am that!) to see the error of my ways and turn my life over to Jesus. While I think those stories are important to remind us of God’s power, like many others, sometimes God works so quietly that we simply don’t see our story as worthy testimony. So, it bears asking again, just how do we testify?

Today’s Psalms tell us to sing praise with timbrels and harp. Timbrels? A quick internet search describes timbrels as a form of tambourines. Now that’s music that makes you want to smile and move! We are supposed to testify with laughter and Joie de Vie! We testify by how we participate in praise. It doesn’t matter if we can’t sing a note, we testify by singing and adding our unique voice to the symphony of praise that echoes all the way to heaven. Wait, I can testify by something as simple as opening the hymnal and singing along? Really? Absolutely. When we sing together, we testify to our unity in Christ.  

In the first reading, Lydia testifies with her hospitality. “If you consider me a believer in the Lord, come and stay at my home.”  

We may not be able to physically open our homes to every person we meet, but what acts of hospitality can we show? Through what seemingly tiny gestures can we testify to how much God loves each person we meet? Do they walk away from us feeling a little lighter? Do our actions let them know we care? That they have a God who infinitely cares? When we pay attention to the needs of others, we testify to the power of sacrificial love.

Yet, in the Gospel reading, Jesus doesn’t sugar coat things. He is sending the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Truth, who will testify by activity in our community. Others may teach about truth, but only Jesus IS the Truth, the Way, and the Life. (John 14:6) We are called to testify to that Truth by cooperating with the Holy Spirit. Jesus loved those who were considered unloveable and he was condemned and crucified for that act of love. Jesus sends us the Holy Spirit so we can continue His work with those who are passed by, passed over and oppressed in society. By continuing Jesus’s work, by seeking to live as He lived, to love as He loved, we start to testify with every breath, every smile, every decision, every action.

Jesus tells us straight out, that when we live like him, we will be treated like him. Those “who have not known either the Father or me” will not understand either what we do or why we do it. But to paraphrase St. Mother Teresa’s prayer, we will “do it anyway.”

May the Holy Spirit, sent by our Lord Jesus Christ, continue to guide us and strengthen us as we testify, maybe not with dramatic stories, but with all the little moments of our daily lives.

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If you catch Sheryl sitting still, you are most likely to find her nose stuck in a book. It may be studying with her husband, Tom as he goes through Diaconate Formation, trying to stay one step ahead of her 5th and 6th-grade students at St Rose of Lima Catholic School or preparing for the teens she serves as Director of Youth Evangelization and Outreach in her parish collaborative. You can reach her through ignitedinchristnacc.com.

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Seek What Is Above

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Today is my wedding day so the readings I hear at Mass will be different than the ones heard at a normal Saturday Mass. I chose this day on purpose because, in looking at the readings I thought to myself, “How incredibly appropriate for this big day.” Please bear with me and hear me out while I explain my thoughts…

The overarching theme of today’s readings is the universal scope of Christianity. In the first reading, we hear of how Christianity spread to Greece. The humble origins of the Church are always so striking to me. Christ chose normal people, unassuming people as messengers of the Good News. He knew that His message of love and redemption would be spread by people who were on fire because of what they witnessed. The responsorial psalm reminds us that God’s love is universal, it belongs to everybody: “Let all the earth cry out with joy!” His love doesn’t belong to just one people, one time, etc.

I recently read an article with the provocative title of something like “Stop Trying to Make Christianity Relevant”. I read it with the intention of figuring out what the “other side” had to say about the relevance of Christianity. What I read, however, was surprising. It was from a Christian perspective, not from the perspective of someone who was tired of hearing the “Christian narrative”. The author was calling other Christians to lead a more radical life. He reminded us that the Christian life is not easy, it is not made for this world. Rather, it is difficult; there are many trials and obstacles. We must fight many battles and sometimes it seems as though we lose all of those battles. What we must realize in our fight is that our battle is not to win favor in this world, it is to merit the next. Our fight is towards Heaven and against evil. To be a Christian is to be a witness of Christ and to be a witness of Christ is to embrace the Cross of Christ.

Now to bring it back full circle….how in the world is this relevant for a wedding? Well, I work in a very secular environment and I often get questions about why my fiancé and I didn’t live together before getting married. The questions often came in the condescending form of, “Is it for religious reasons?” I found myself wanting to avoid the answer of, “Yes! It is for religious reasons.” Finally, I asked myself why I was so ashamed of that answer and realized that it had nothing to do with being ashamed of my faith but everything to do with how the question was asked. Why would an affirmative answer of “Yes, I do this because of my belief system” be looked down upon? Because, to the world, our faith seems oppressive and restrictive. But the truth is that our faith is incredibly freeing and hopeful! Our faith is based on Truth and Goodness and Beauty. Unfortunately, our world doesn’t recognize that. So, perhaps in our culture, the Cross we bear is weighed down by condescending questions, intolerance, and misguided perceptions of what the Catholic faith truly is.

We, like the Apostles, come from humble origins. We are unassuming people. We work in schools, offices, hospitals, and churches. We encounter people of every race, creed, culture, and tongue. It is our mission to be witnesses of Christ, spread the Good News, and carry our crosses with joy.

May we recognize that even when the world hates us, Christ loves us.

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Dakota currently lives in Denver, CO is studying for her Master’s in Spanish, and loves her job as an elementary school librarian. She is engaged to the love of her life, Ralph. In her spare time, she reads, goes to breweries, and watches baseball. Dakota’s favorite saints are St. John Paul II (how could it not be?) and St. José Luis Sánchez del Río. She is passionate about her faith and considers herself blessed at any opportunity to share that faith with others. Check out more of her writing at https://dakotaleonard16.blogspot.com.

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This I Command You: Love One Another

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This last year has seen the cycle of life continue: life, suffering, death, rebirth, rebuild. I shouldn’t expect it to be any different than other years, but it has been more intense for me and I can’t quite put my finger on why that is. The deaths of my children’s grandma, as well as several friends’ parents and spouses, has really brought home the reminder that life is truly precious. The time we have on this earth is finite. We choose what to do with our time.

Kendrick Castillo made wonderful choices in his very short time here on earth. He is a hero, role model, and witness for his faith. Kendrick was 18 years old when he sacrificed his life for his friends and classmates on May 7th. He was granted status as a full member of the Knights of Columbus (he and his dad had logged over 2600 hours of service with KoC #4844). He exemplified today’s gospel, “It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit that will remain, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name he may give you” (Jn 15:16). It is a beautiful tribute to Kendrick’s ultimate sacrifice.

I believe Kendrick truly lived the life of JOY that Veronica spoke about in yesterday’s reflection: https://diocesan.com/joy/. Jesus first, others second, and yourself last. Many in today’s society put themselves first. We forget that Jesus put his life on the cross for each and everyone who has ever been created in his Father’s image, absolutely everyone ever created throughout all of time.

I don’t know if I will ever be put to the test as Kendrick was. I do know that we each have been commanded to love one another, twice in today’s gospel. If we follow Jesus’ teachings we are called to love one another. This is a herculean task in human terms… or is it? We are reminded by Jesus in scripture to become like little children and to be humble like a child (Mt 18). Young children have an innate ability to trust and to love and share. This weekend, I was sitting behind a 4 or 5-month-old set of twins and their extended family at Mass. They were sharing toys, looks, drool and affection with all those around them. As we age, we become less trusting and jaded due to our life experiences.

I experienced ‘JOY’ just sitting behind this family. To put Jesus first, we can start by being intentional with our actions, prayers, and responses to the situations that we encounter in our day and through social media. We need to remember to choose the unconditional love of Jesus and our Father and respond through prayer and action. We can choose to pray for people and situations that affect our shared global communities. We can volunteer and participate in ways outside of our usual life.

God so loved us he gave us Jesus. He commands us to love one another. What are you prepared to do?

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Beth is part of the customer care team at Diocesan. She brings a unique depth of experience to the group due to her time spent in education, parish ministries, sales and the service industry over the last 25 yrs. She is a practicing spiritual director as well as a Secular Franciscan (OFS). Beth is quick to offer a laugh, a prayer or smile to all she comes in contact with. Reach her here bprice@diocesan.com.

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Joy

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When I was in elementary school, I was a part of a Catholic small group called K4J, otherwise known as Kids for Jesus. Each meeting, we would go through a specific virtue or spiritual gift’s presence in our lives, with an activity to go along with a discussion. Although I struggled to remember exactly what we did in those meetings, I distinctly remember the day we discussed how to find joy.

Our leader, Mrs. Pelletier, read us the same lines that we read in today’s Gospel. Then, we went on to discuss the difference between having joy and being happy. Even as fourth graders, we determined that happiness is caused by an outside stimulus and is temporary, while joy is something that you carry in your heart and could always respond with.

She told us that the key to joy, was to always think about people in the following order:

Jesus
Others
Yourself

If you are honestly and truly putting Jesus first then putting others before yourself will come naturally. When you put yourself last, you are able to understand that you are not the center of the world. You can suddenly see that although things may not be going according to your plan, God’s plan is being accomplished.

It’s been over 15 years and anytime someone talks about being happy, I always think, It’s not about being happy, it’s about living joyfully. We have all been happy before. It puts us in a good mood and we tend to act nicer to those around us. We have all experienced joy, as well. It lasts longer than momentary happiness, but can also fade if we do not internalize it.

Internalizing joy means that we allow the joys of life, of love, and of God, to permeate our lives. It’s living life with a brighter, selfless perspective. Living out joyful lives does not mean that everything is always perfect, but instead knowing that although our situations are not the best, although we are flawed, we are God’s creation and each moment, good or bad, is a blessing.

Today, I challenge you to take a look at your intentions. Do you need to unscramble JOY?

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Veronica Alvarado is a born and raised Texan currently living in Michigan. Since graduating from Texas A&M University, Veronica has published various articles in the Catholic Diocese of Austin’s official newspaper, the Catholic Spirit, and other local publications. She now works as the Content Specialist in Diocesan’s Web Department.

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St Rita: Teacher of Forgiveness

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“Let me, my Jesus share in Thy suffering, at least one of Thy thorns.” – Saint Rita of Cascia

Jesus’ words in today’s gospel seem near impossible for any regular man to act. He tells us to love our enemies, stop judging, be merciful; we are still sinful and fallen. Alone, we cannot live a life of virtue that allows us to be kind and forgive those who do wrong.

However, Jesus gives us the gift of His saints whose virtuous lives can serve as a witness to us. For instance, He gives us St. Rita, whose feast we celebrate today.

St. Rita is the patron saint of impossible causes with St. Jude. Her life is a reflection of what Christ speaks about in the gospel. St. Rita was born in 14th century Italy. She had a deep desire to love the Lord and become a nun. As a child, she showed extraordinary piety and deep love for prayer.

But instead, her family married her off to a harsh and cruel man, named Paolo Mancini, whom she was married to for 18 years. She bore him two sons. Paolo was well known for his bad temper. He was often abusive, and Rita watched helplessly as her sons fell to their father’s influence.

She prayed unceasingly that the Lord speak to Paolo’s conscience and spare her sons from inheriting her husband’s rage. Eventually, Paolo had a change of heart and begged forgiveness from those whose suffering he caused.

However, Paolo had many enemies and one day, he was ambushed and killed. St. Rita’s sons vowed to avenge their father’s death through killing the men who killed him, but Rita prayed for them not to destroy their souls by taking another life. She gave the Lord permission to even kill them himself if it meant that their souls would be saved.

Her sons died of natural causes when they were teenagers not long after their father’s death. St. Rita nursed them, and they asked for forgiveness. She went on to also forgive the men who murdered her husband by going out and mending the hostility between her husband’s killers and his remaining family.

After losing her husband and sons, Rita joined the Augustinian nuns.

She meditated frequently on Christ’s passion, uniting her sufferings to His on the Cross. One day, she prayed so fervently and begged the Lord to share with her some of His pain. One of the thorns from the crucifix she prayed before loosened and implanted itself deep into her forehead.

During her time in the convent, she prayed for the souls of her husband and sons, as well as for those who did her wrong.

St. Rita died, and her body has remained incorrupt and is venerated today.

She is the patron saint of impossible causes, difficult marriages, infertility, and parenthood.

St. Rita is a teacher on how to love your enemies. Not only did she forgive their wrongs, but desired heaven for them. She looked to Jesus’ example from the cross when he asked God the Father to forgive those who crucified him.

When we are angered by what we see on our social media feeds, or see injustice in the world, let us remember to pray like St. Rita did and trust that God will be victorious in the end.

Hannah Crites is a native to Denver Colorado and graduate of the Franciscan University of Steubenville. She has written for numerous publications and blogs including the Chastity Project, Washington Times, Faith & Culture: The Journal of the Augustine Institute, and Franciscan Magazine. She is currently working in content and digital marketing for a small web development and digital marketing agency. Connect with her through Twitter (@hannah_crites) and Facebook. Check out more of what she has written at https://hannhcrites.com/.

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Our Father

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For the past week, and up until just a couple days before Pentecost, the Gospel readings for daily Mass are from John’s recounting of the Last Supper. Here Jesus repeatedly speaks about, and prays to, “the Father.” I want to step back and reflect on that for a minute.

God is completely and utterly beyond us. Take a second and try to imagine something, anything, that isn’t bound by space, time, and matter. We can’t do it. God created these things that bind even our wildest imaginations. Time is a creature of God like a giraffe is a creature of God. This is what we mean when we talk of God’s transcendence.

God is that far beyond us that the only way we could possibly know anything about him is if he reveals himself to us. The main sources for this self-revelation of God are Scripture, Tradition, and, especially, Jesus himself. And the primary image that God chooses to reveal himself is as Father. The God who willed the universe into existence wants us to see him as Father, and not just a Father, but our Father.

If God’s primary identity is our Father, then our primary identity is as God’s child. This revelation changes everything. We aren’t cosmic accidents caused by some indifferent process of evolution. Neither are we slaves of a Divine Master. No, we are sons and daughters of the Father.

Take a second again and imagine the perfect earthly father. He may look like your own father or he may look entirely different. The most loving, strong, and merciful human father is nothing but a pale shadow of the Father. We cannot possibly be better parents than God.

In his recent letter to young people, Christus Vivit, Pope Francis places this revelation of God at the center of our faith. He says:

“The very first truth I would tell each of you is this: ‘God loves you’. It makes no difference whether you have already heard it or not. I want to remind you of it. God loves you. Never doubt this, whatever may happen to you in life. At every moment, you are infinitely loved. Perhaps your experience of fatherhood has not been the best. Your earthly father may have been distant or absent, or harsh and domineering. Or maybe he was just not the father you needed. I don’t know. But what I can tell you, with absolute certainty, is that you can find security in the embrace of your heavenly Father” (CV 112-113).

Scripture so strongly reveals God’s caring and compassionate love for his children that it even at times uses maternal language for God. The prophet Isaiah says, “Can a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you” (Is 49:15). Pope John Paul I, in one of his few addresses, reflects on this saying:

“We are the objects of undying love on the part of God. We know: he has always his eyes open on us, even when it seems to be dark. He is our father; even more, he is our mother. He does not want to hurt us, He wants only to do good to us, to all of us. If children are ill, they have an additional claim to be loved by their mother. And we too, if by chance we are sick with badness, on the wrong track, have yet another claim to be loved by the Lord.”

During this Easter season, I invite you to reflect on God’s love for you. Listen in the gospels how the Father relates to Jesus and know that God relates to you in the same way. If you feel distant from God because of your sin and mistakes then read the parable of the Prodigal Son. Sit in quiet prayer and ask the Father to show you how much he loves you. Let God’s revelation renew your mind and transform all the false images you have of God or yourself. Rejoice in your identity as a child of the Father. Let the words of Pope Francis rest deep in your heart:

“The Lord’s love is greater than all our problems, frailties and flaws. Yet it is precisely through our problems, frailties and flaws that he wants to write this love story. He embraced the prodigal son, he embraced Peter after his denials, and he always, always, always embraces us after every fall, helping us to rise and get back on our feet. Because the worst fall, and pay attention to this, the worst fall, the one that can ruin our lives, is when we stay down and do not allow ourselves to be helped up” (CV 120).

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[Photo credit: Sebastián León Prado on Unsplash]

Paul Fahey is a husband, father, and a parish director of religious education. If you like what he has to say, read his work at Where Peter Is, check out his blog, The Porch, or follow him on Facebook.

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Life’s Experiences Teach Us To Live

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As I worked on processing bulletins this past week, I noticed how many churches had chosen one of our covers illustrating a trifecta of celebrations. World Day of Prayer for Vocations, Good Shepherd Sunday and Mother’s day all fell on the same day this year (not to mention the 4th Sunday of Easter). Since the Good Shepherd is one of my favorite images of our Lord, vocations were once a big part of my life and I am now a mother to four little ones, I began to ponder…

In less than 25 years, I have been able to live three different vocations. Leaving home at the tender age of 15, I entered a boarding school out East to discern my vocation. Professing promises of a consecrated lay person at age 17, I was sent to Mexico soon after and lived the life of a student and missionary for three and a half years. Once I realized that God was not calling me to this life on a permanent basis I returned home. For 11 years, I lived as a single woman, working, traveling, attending retreats, Bible studies and social events, and spending lots of time with my nieces and nephews. At age 31 I finally met the love of my life after many failed attempts and foolish choices. We were married at age 32 and now have 4 small boys.

So before hitting 40, I have been able to live three different vocations. I don’t think many people can say that. It forces me to ask myself: “What does God want me to do with these experiences? How can I better give of myself to others because of the life I have lived?” During my time as a missionary, I learned how to speak fluent Spanish, developed a consistent prayer life and ministered to youth. During my single years, I learned to accept, understand and befriend people from many different countries and backgrounds. As a wife and mother I have learned to love, be patient, aid in healing and educate.

So what am I to do with all of these life lessons other than living out my daily life? Perhaps living out my daily life is precisely the answer, but doing it with more perfection. I have no illusions of being able to cure a crippled man, nor do I wish to be revered as a god as Paul was in today’ reading, but I can observe the commandments and love like Jesus as He asks us to in today’s Gospel. This love can then flow into everything I do and say and think. I can continue to pray and minister, accept and befriend, love and help heal.

Lord, help us all to be beacons of your love today and allow us to recognize You in others as well. Amen.

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Tami grew up in Western Michigan, a middle child in a large Catholic family. Attending Catholic schools her whole life, she was an avid sportswoman, a (mostly) straight A student and a totally type A sister. She loves tackling home projects, keeping tabs on the family finances and finding unique ways to love. She spent early young adulthood as a missionary in Mexico, studying theology and philosophy, then worked and traveled extensively before finishing her Bachelor’s Degree in Western Kentucky. Her favorite things to do are finding fun ways to keep her four boys occupied, quiet conversation with the hubby, and grocery shopping with a latte in her hand. She works at Diocesan, is a guest blogger on CatholicMom.com and BlessedIsShe.net, runs her own blog at https://togetherandalways.wordpress.com and has been doing Spanish translations on the side for the past 18 years.

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Love One Another

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Perhaps the most quoted Gospel of all time shot off the page to me with new meaning as I sat in Mass on Saturday evening. We have all heard, love one another; that’s like the basics. Have you ever let something so simple lose its weight because of its simplicity?

Our priest took this familiar passage in a bit of a different direction that made me think. He said if we all acted like we were supposed to, the whole world would be converted. After all, everyone will know we belong to Christ because of our love for one another. These are words directly from Christ himself.

It really made me think. Have I done this in my life? I know I’m supposed to love God and love my neighbor, but has my love for others been a beacon that lets people know who I belong to? I hope it has.

How about you? Has your love been infectious to the point that a total stranger knows who your savior is? Again, these are the basics. People sometimes complain that homilies are too often about loving others and not about morality. This may be true at times but look around you. The fact that the whole world isn’t converted means we still have not grasped the basics.

We can all love better. That’s just the simple reality. I love the teachings of Saint John Paul II because he really set up a major shift in thought from objective truths to personal experience. He did not get rid of the objective facts but brought us to them through our own personal experience. We know God is love because we have experienced it. This is a model of evangelization that I have found very effective. Until someone experiences love it is hard to talk to them about the objective truths of morality, but once love is experienced, morality starts to make sense, it wells up from within as opposed to being edicts forced from without.

Doctrine and dogma have their place, but we have not even begun to grasp the basics. We need both. This is my challenge this week and a good reminder as I sat there in front of the Eucharist. We should always be living in such a way that people know we are Christians by our love, and it shows through our moral actions. From all of us here at Diocesan, God Bless!

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Tommy Shultz is a Solutions Evangelist for Diocesan. In that role, he is committed to coaching parishes and dioceses on authentic and effective Catholic communication. Tommy has a heart and a flair for inspiring people to live their faith every day. He has worked in various youth ministry, adult ministry, and diocesan roles. He has been a featured speaker at retreats and events across the country. His mission and drive have been especially inspired by St. John Paul II’s teachings. Tommy is blessed to be able to learn from the numerous parishes he visits and pass that experience on in his presentations. Contact him at tshultz@diocesan.com.

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How Love Changes Everything

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Love. We sing about it, talk about it, aspire to it, even are blessed enough to experience it. People do both intensely beautiful and amazingly wicked things for love. It can be the most selfless and also the most selfish of feelings.

I remember one of my first romances; I had to be all of fifteen or sixteen. And very, very insecure. After our first awkward adolescent declaration of love, I believed if he were not actively continuing to declare it, his love for me had somehow disappeared. So every time we saw each other, I asked him, “Do you love me? Do you really love me?”

My teenaged Romeo—quite rightly—finally had enough and decided that he didn’t love me after all. I was devastated, of course, and wrote a lot of bad self-pitying poetry in response, as one does. It was a good lesson in trust, and I don’t think I made that particular mistake in subsequent relationships (though of course, I made plenty of others!).

I don’t remember the first time I read or heard today’s Gospel passage, but I do remember my response to it: surprise. How could Jesus, who knows everything, who sees into the very hearts of those around him, how could he keep asking the same question I’d once repetitively asked with such teenage angst? Even Peter is astonished by the repetition: you know everything there is to know, you’ve got to know I love you!

As happens with many scripture passages, there’s a subtlety here that isn’t immediately apparent. Jesus isn’t asking Peter how much Peter loves him; Jesus is asking about how Peter loves him. It’s not a question meant to quantify, but rather to qualify.

“Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” What is Jesus asking Peter here? Peter, a little taken aback, says, yes, of course you know I do. Jesus responds by saying, in essence, “Okay, then, feed my lambs.” Fair enough.

But then Jesus presses the point. “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter is paying closer attention now; perhaps he wants to make sure he hears Jesus correctly. “You know I do,” he says. This time, Jesus says, “Then tend my sheep.”

The question has not changed, but its consequence has. If you answer yes the first time, that’s all well and good, and I expect you to continue as we’ve been doing together, feeding those who hunger for the Word of God — giving my children sustenance. But the second question’s consequence is more profound: tend my sheep.

There’s a big difference between feeding and tending, just as there’s a difference between lambs and sheep. I happen to be rather fond of sheep, and I enjoy going to county fairs and petting them; sometimes, I’ve been allowed to give a bottle of milk to a lamb. It’s a lovely experience, and then it’s over. I go back to my life, and someone else does the hard part, keeping the flock safe, shearing the wool, staying up when one is sick. I “love” sheep, but my love doesn’t extend to caring for them. It’s a love without commitment.

Feeding lambs is one thing, but caring for the whole lifetime of the sheep requires more, a deeper commitment, a real love that transcends inconvenience and hardship. Tend my sheep, Jesus said. Take care of one another; accompany your sisters and brothers on the journey to healing. Commit to them, not just for the moments you’re together, but forever.

And then, unbelievably, Jesus asks Peter yet a third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?”

This time Peter gets exasperated. “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you!” to which Jesus reiterates that Peter is to feed his sheep. He adds something else, a foreshadowing of the future, and finally ends his questioning with the most significant consequence of all: “Follow me.”

The commitment of a shepherd to his flock is total; it has to be. Their lives depend on it. There can’t be favorites: the shepherd is there for every one of those sheep. And Jesus is asking us to care about him and each other in precisely that way. That’s what love is — not a breathless self-serving declaration of a feeling, but a lifetime commitment.

To love me, says Jesus, is to follow me. To follow me is to care genuinely, effectively, and appropriately for others, and that includes standing up for those the world has forgotten, speaking out for those in misery and poverty. To love me is to follow me; this also means doing the unpopular and the misunderstood.

English, though well-intentioned, is a language without much subtlety. We use the word “love” for many different things: I love ice cream, I love my child, I love to read, I love God. The Greek of the New Testament wisely knows all love is not equal, and it uses these differences in language to make a point lost to us in English. The word for love Jesus uses is agapa: a verb meaning sacrificial, redemptive love, the highest form of love.

“Do you love me in this way, Peter?” And Peter responds, “Yes, Lord, you know I am your friend; I have such affection for you,” using the Greek verb philein. But this kind of love between friends or even family is not necessarily agape love. So Jesus asks again, “But do you love me? You’re not hearing me! What is the quality of your love, Peter?”

What is the quality of your love?

Jesus tells Peter the answer: if this is love, then there are consequences. You will go where you don’t want to go. You will do what you won’t want to do. If you love me, you will follow me, and the journey will not always be to your liking.

Loving Christ entails consequences. Loving him will take us on a journey that is long, and arduous, and often very scary indeed. Loving him means being with others on their journey, and looking out for them along the way and keeping them safe, as the shepherd keeps his sheep safe. Keeping them nourished and healthy, as the shepherd keeps his sheep nourished and healthy. That’s loving well. That’s what Jesus was trying to show Peter.

Do you love him?
Do you love him?
Do you love him?

When Jesus was alone in Gethsemane, he was saddened by the disciples falling asleep and leaving him to face the night alone. I used to read that and think, I wouldn’t have fallen asleep, I would have stayed with him. Then I got older and wiser and understood with some sadness that I, too, would have slept.

Peter slept. And now, after the crucifixion, after the resurrection, Jesus is giving him a chance to redeem himself, by clarifying the kind of love Peter will need to sustain him into the future and to sustain the church for which he will become responsible. This is not a love for the faint of heart. This is a love that cares more for others than for self. This is a love that keeps all the sheep safe, no matter what the threat, even if it means dying to protect them.

Love changes everything. Can we love that way? That well?

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Jeannette de Beauvoir is a writer and editor with the digital department of Pauline Books & Media, working on projects as disparate as newsletters, book clubs, ebooks, and retreats that support the apostolate of the Daughters of St. Paul at http://www.pauline.org.

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Where’s My Map?

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When I was twenty, I knew exactly what the rest of my life would look like. I had it all mapped out. I’d created goals and lists for the steps it would take to attain them. And now, decades later, I can tell you that it all came to pass exactly as I’d imagined.

Okay, just kidding. My life has resembled what I thought it would be in the same way a turtle resembles a quiche. It has been filled with detours, surprises, and a whole lot of recalibrating the goals and the lists. I suspect yours has, too.

The difficult lesson to learn here is that we’re not in control. We can map out the simplest journey and have our plans come off the rails; there are too many factors that can change everything, whether in a split second or in a long, gradual way. We create our goals and make our lists in an attempt to tame the chaos of the world around us. We really, really want to know where a journey is taking us before we set off on it.

Jesus understood our need to look at the road ahead, to know where we’re going, to visualize the future. In today’s Gospel passage, on the night before the crucifixion, Jesus tells his disciples that he will soon be leaving them. Thomas—always one to try and clarify things—says, in essence, “we have no idea where you’re going, so how do you expect us to know the way?” The disciples are confused. Remember, they haven’t yet grasped that Jesus was not the Messiah who would throw off the tyranny of the Occupation, but rather the Messiah who would bring them eternal life. They’re struggling to understand the next step along the path to freedom. If he’s going somewhere, they need to know where that is and how it fits into the master plan. They’re willing to follow him; they just need to know how.

So where’s the map? Where’s the list? How do we follow you if we can’t see into the future?

Jesus responds, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.” We’ve heard this verse so many times, we probably don’t realize how startling it must have been to the twelve Jewish men assembled that night in the Upper Room. They had been taught that the way to God, the truth of God, the life in God, all came to them through the Torah, through keeping the law. And now Jesus is opening up an invitation to the world: it isn’t only the high priest who can stand in the presence of God. Through Jesus, all people can access that presence.

The disciples loved the Torah; they kept the law. The Torah was their touchstone. It provided a roadmap. It’s filled with what are, in essence, a lot of lists and goals. Follow this way, keep the law, be faithful, and salvation will be yours.

Jesus knew the world can be a difficult and ambiguous place. He knew that plans go awry, that we often have to stop and recalibrate and set ourselves once more upon our path. He wanted to give humanity a different way to God: through love, rather than law. But love, as we’ve all discovered, has no roadmap. Love takes us down winding roads and along hidden footpaths; it takes us to places we never imagined existed. Love isn’t susceptible to plans or goals or lists.

Following Jesus means trusting in love. It means leaving our internal satellite navigation system off. It means not always seeing the road ahead. It means accepting the ambiguity and unknowns of a journey through a foreign land. It means trusting that he will be our guide, instead of all the maps and GPS systems and lists we cling to.

It means, at the end of the day, accepting that we can’t control our lives, our world, our future. Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life; God is the one in control. If we put our trust in that promise, if we let go of our fears, then we will have a future we could never have imagined for ourselves. Stepping into that future only requires one thing: faith. Letting go of our lists and goals and letting Jesus lead us instead.

Sometimes, when there’s heavy cloud cover, our satellite navigation systems stop working, and we feel stranded, lost, even afraid. The beginning of today’s reading assures us that we don’t have to feel that way: don’t let your heart be troubled. I am going to take care of you. I’m going to prepare a place for you, and I’ll be back to guide you there.

There’s no amount of cloud cover that can separate us from the guide who will help us navigate life and live forever in the Father. And that trumps lists and GPS systems any day!

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Jeannette de Beauvoir is a writer and editor with the digital department of Pauline Books & Media, working on projects as disparate as newsletters, book clubs, ebooks, and retreats that support the apostolate of the Daughters of St. Paul at http://www.pauline.org.

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Foundations

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As humans, we like to categorize everything we can, right down to our life stages. There are the categories of childhood and adulthood, but even within these two categories, we break them down even further. For adults, there’s young adulthood, B.C. (before children), parenthood, A.C. (after children), retirement, etc. We prefer to have clear-cut lines of when things start and end, and how to differentiate between them.

Quite often, we forget that each “part” of our lives is not a separate book that we close after graduations or milestones, but rather a chapter in our book. Each second of our future builds upon the present, which becomes our past. It is nearly impossible to look at our current situations and not be able to trace the chain of events of how we got there. Be it by gifts from God or decisions we carefully thought out, our past is always with us. It is the foundation that we build ourselves upon, yet we often find ourselves trying to forget the past.

In today’s first reading, we read of the synagogue officials in Antioch asking if anyone has any announcements. Paul stands up and begins speaking to them of God’s mighty hand in their past and goes on to tell them about Jesus, the savior.

Sometimes we can blow our past way out of proportion and tell ourselves that we must forget about our previous experiences to be able to move forward. Instead, I think we should remember that our past has built us up. It is not the mistakes that we’ve made in the past that defines us, but rather what we do after that.

I understand that we might have moments in our past that we aren’t proud of, things that may be hard to revisit, but typically those mistakes and struggles have changed who we presently are. The more mistakes we make, the more we learn so that we don’t make the same mistakes in the future. Even if we do make those same mistakes, that’s okay. We’re learning. As children, we don’t fall off a bike and say, “Well that was a mistake. I’ll never try that again,” but instead try once more.

When you fall, what do you do? Are you ashamed of your past or do you use it as the foundation for better choices?

Dear Lord,
Thank you for the struggles that you have placed in my life.
Help me remember that each mistake I made was for a reason.
Thank you for giving me these moments to learn from.
Help me use these experiences to better serve You and Your people.
Thank you for showing mercy towards my sins.
Help me forgive myself and remove the burden of sin.

Amen.

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Veronica Alvarado is a born and raised Texan currently living in Michigan. Since graduating from Texas A&M University, Veronica has published various articles in the Catholic Diocese of Austin’s official newspaper, the Catholic Spirit, and other local publications. She now works as the Content Specialist in Diocesan’s Web Department.

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A Martyr for the Anxious

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“Anxiety is the greatest evil that can befall a soul, except sin. God commands you to pray, but He forbids you to worry.”
-St. Francis de Sales

Today is the feast day of St. Dymphna, the patron saint of mental health and anxiety. A young woman that lived in 7th century Ireland she gave Christ her life through a vow of chastity. Amidst this time her mother passed away and her father’s mental health began to deteriorate from devastation at the loss. After time spent trying to find a wife malicious individuals suggested that her father take St. Dymphna for his wife. She immediately fled her homeland with a group of individuals in order to escape her father’s pursuit. Once she settled in Geel she is said to have established a hospital for the sick, but her father discovered her whereabouts. The party traveling with St. Dymphna was killed, and ultimately her own father took her life when she refused to break her vow of chastity.  

I read the story of St. Dymphna, someone I did not know much of before writing this post, and I am in awe. How did she live her life facing all of these trials – the death of her mother, the decline of her father’s mental health, fleeing to another land, and facing death at the hands of her own father? While I do not know what her demeanor was when she faced the moment of her death I imagine her looking to Jesus and trusting Him with her whole heart – in turn, I believe Him to be holding her head in His hands and gazing with love upon her devotion to Him in the worst of times.

I think of the anxieties that I have faced and continue to face in my own life and they are huge stumbling blocks. With obsessive-compulsive disorder it is easy to feel like a prisoner in your own body, feeling as though you have no control over your emotions, reactions, tendencies, and ultimately decisions which makes it difficult to just “let go” of the stress. Often there is a snowball effect with OCD and other forms of anxiety – the smallest things that may not bother someone at all in their life bothers me on a daily basis because of other stressors I have experienced throughout the day. I can start crying at the drop of a hat, to the point where I hate my emotions.

Amidst all of this anxiety, God has presented treasures along the way that have helped me to actually love having OCD. Meeting my husband was one of the first times I realized that my OCD is not a burden, but it truly makes me who I am. He has loved me through all of it, encouraging me to receive the support I needed to manage my OCD. Through my husband I see the eyes of Christ loving me the whole way, walking by my side and showing me the beauty in my diagnosis.

While it is still a daily battle, dealing with compulsions based upon a need to soothe obsessions that come into my head, I have grown ever closer to Christ and Our Mother through the trials that come with OCD and anxiety. It has become a choice to wake up every day and offer it to the Lord, accepting all that will come my way. When we look into the eyes of Jesus He calls us to follow, to be more like him, something of which St. Dymphna abided to the end of her earthly life.  My spiritual director once reminded me that my OCD is helping me become more like Christ, something of which has changed my life forever. Know that any anxieties, emotions, or fears that you face God conquered them all, just like He conquered death when He rose again. In times of darkness be reminded that the light will always shine brighter, all we need to do is ask God to open our hearts and receive the light so that we can navigate this life no matter how dark it may become.

“Let us throw ourselves into the ocean of His goodness, where every failing will be canceled and anxiety turned into love.” –St. Paul of the Cross

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Nathalie Shultz is a joyful convert to the Catholic faith and a competitive swimmer with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD).  She loves to share her passion for Catholicism with others, including her conversion story and how God continues to work miracles in her life through her OCD.  Nathalie is married to her best friend, Tommy Shultz. Her favorite saints include St. Peter the Apostle, St. Teresa of Calcutta, and St. John Paul II.  She is also a huge fan of C.S. Lewis. If you have any questions for Nathalie, or just want her to pray for you, you can email her at ignitedinchristnacc@gmail.com.