A Blueprint for Love

“You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and the first commandment. The second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

I’m going to guess that most of you reading this post today believe you have the first and greatest commandment down pat. Love God. It’s the “with all our heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind” part that I question. I also question it in myself. Is my love for God whole? Or are parts of me still holding back? I ask because if we truly did love God wholly, do we really need the second commandment? Think about it. Perhaps it depends on our definition of what it means to love wholly. But this will not be the focus of today’s reflection.

Instead, let’s look at “The Greatest Commandment, Part II.” Or, the Sequel. Love of neighbor. For this, I’d like to offer you a blueprint for love of neighbor, one that I’ve used often in prayer and when delving into my understanding of how to love others. I hope this will help you also:

“If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.  And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient and kind; love is not jealous or boastful; it is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.”   -1 Corinthians 13:1:7

There – the blueprint. The road map. What I most like about using this passage in my journey to loving others is that I can take baby steps. The first part reminds us that loving is more important than anything else we do. But the second part – this part lets us take those small steps. We can pick this apart and work on each of our shortcomings.

Perhaps we can start with patience if that is your downfall. Maybe it’s arrogance or irritability. Rudeness is a big one; jealousy, or perhaps too much rejoicing when someone you dislike experiences hard times. Are we happy in that? Or can we instead say a prayer for that person to help them? You must know that if you have not yet moved forward in your efforts to love, it cannot be done all at once. Dissect the blueprint. Pick one step and take the time necessary to improve this act of love. You may have to bite your tongue along the way. Try not to! But if you do, step back a bit on the road and look just ahead of you. What could you have done differently? Then, step forward and try again. Each time, with practice, should be easier. One – step – at – a – time!

Note that Jesus says we must love our neighbor, but often, I am asked how to define a neighbor. Well, look up from your phone and texting and social media and glance around you. You will find no shortage of neighbors to love. Whatever their race, creed, ideology, nationality, age, sexual orientation, body type or hair color — these are your neighbors. These are the folks you are commanded to love. Jesus also said that we should love these neighbors as we love ourselves. Love of self must be in the likeness of Jesus’ love for us, not in self-centeredness. Understanding how Jesus loves you will move you forward on our journey to loving your neighbor. Then, perhaps one day, who knows when our love of neighbor will also include those enemies whose only goal is to destroy us. An outlandish idea? Not in the eyes of Jesus. Yes, perhaps one day! Perhaps —

God Bless.

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Jeanne Penoyar, an Accounts Manager at Diocesan, is a Lector at St. Anthony of Padua parish in Grand Rapids, MI. Jeanne has worked in parish ministry as an RCIA director, in Liturgy, and as a Cantor. Working word puzzles and reading fill her spare time. Jeanne can be reached at jpenoyar@diocesan.com.

Take up your Cross with a Smile

Last week Friday I was positive about the direction this post would take, based on today’s readings. I love the Deuteronomy reading when Moses, almost chiding the Israelites about the wonders they had seen; the wonders God performed for them to bring them out of Egypt and to freedom. The Israelites did not always appreciate it.

And then we have today’s Gospel about taking up your cross and following Christ. We are told that this is the way to gain eternal life in the Kingdom, regardless of what we gain here on earth.

Yup! I really thought I had this down. Until this past Saturday, when I attended the funeral of my friend and neighbor, Bob. Bob and his wife Ann live next to me in my condo complex (so close that we cannot open our condo doors at the same time!). I’d call over there, and Bob would ask if I was calling “long-distance”, or if I was visiting, he’d ask if I needed a ride home. It always made me smile. I’ve known them for years, but there is always more to learn about someone’s story.

My original instincts for today was to take the route through the Gospel that, while carrying our own crosses in life, big or small, we would ease our own burdens by somehow easing the burdens of another. And, quite frankly, that is exactly what Bob did all his life. He made people smile. And that made people happy. And that would if only for a few short moments, make life a bit more bearable for some.

Now, I’m not a social media person. I don’t have a Facebook page. Bob had one. I now feel a bit cheated that I was not connected to him in this way, also. Because all I heard at the funeral was about how Bob’s page made people smile. Often he would tell me that he was going to “check on his peeps.”  We were all Bob’s Peeps. He posted his corny Dad Jokes, as he called them; every day he would in some way wish everyone a good whatever day it was. He loved Wednesdays, Hump Day. His Facebook page was called “If You Grew Up in Grand Rapids/Kent County You Remember” – and it had 23,000 followers. Yes, 23,000! People he would never meet or get to know. But they knew Bob.

He wore smiley face suspenders and considered the smiley face his family crest! Now come-on, you’ve just got to smile at that!

Bob was 72 when he died last week. His last few years were hard ones because of medical issues and complications thereof. But he always tried to put on a happy face when with others. I don’t recall him ever really complaining about his health, but to occasionally mention that walking was getting harder. According to Ann, he was even cracking jokes to the doctors when he was having toes amputated due to diabetes. I expect the smile put on the faces of the doctors also made their job easier.

The point of all of this is that we can, no matter what cross life has given us to bear, make the cross borne by others easier to bear. It often doesn’t take much: a smile, a joke, a warm handshake, or a hug.

God Bless.

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Jeanne Penoyar, an Accounts Manager at Diocesan, is a Lector at St. Anthony of Padua parish in Grand Rapids, MI. Jeanne has worked in parish ministry as an RCIA director, in Liturgy, and as a Cantor. Working word puzzles and reading fill her spare time. Jeanne can be reached at jpenoyar@diocesan.com.

Through the Tears

“Jesus said ‘Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?’”

I love these words from today’s gospel. I imagine these words being said in the most gentle and comforting way. Jesus to Mary Magdalene…”Why are you weeping?”

I’ve always felt close to Mary Magdalene. Her feast day today is celebrated the day after my birthday. Note that it is no longer a Memorial on the liturgical calendar. Mary has been elevated to the status of the Apostles with her own Feast Day. How appropriate for the woman who had the privilege of being the first to see Jesus after his resurrection, though she didn’t at first recognize him. Through her tears, her overwhelming grief at not being able to properly prepare his body for burial after the Sabbath, thinking he has been moved. Through her tears she could not see that the man, whom she mistook for a gardener,  was her Lord. Through her tears, it was only in the gentle and comforting words of Jesus speaking her name, “Mary!”, that she was able to see that it was him. Let’s add to our reflection the power of our spoken name in times of sorrow.

I don’t believe there is one person reading this today who has not experienced some profound loss, in some form or other. Grief and weeping come as part of the healing, but only after the anger at the loss. The tears often will hide something from our view. That something is the realization that life will continue after the grief and laughter will return. I like to think of the tears as a cleansing of the eyes to allow us to see more clearly, not only what is to come, but also that Jesus himself is there, walking with us through our sorrow.

Some years ago, I was experiencing a very emotionally trying time. As was my habit, I visited my good priest friend, Fr. Donn (now passed), for some comfort and guidance. I recall him saying to me, “ You will get through this.” I asked how. He answered that when the hurt comes, don’t hide it or try to bury it. Let the tears come – let them flow. They will give you comfort, and Jesus will show you the way out. I’ve never forgotten that advice, and it has served me well.

For Mary, her tears first blinded her to what was just before her, unrecognizable. As with us, we will often be blinded by our tears and sorrow to what is right before us. But as with Mary, those tears will dry, and joy will return. Should you not have a Fr. Donn to lean on as I did, find someone who can help. But also, don’t forget that Jesus is right there for you. Pray for him to call your name to let you know he is holding out his hand for you to take the first steps out of your grief.

And then, with May, we can joyfully exclaim to all we meet, “I have seen the Lord!”

God Bless.


Jeanne Penoyar, an Accounts Manager at Diocesan, is a Lector at St. Anthony of Padua parish in Grand Rapids, MI. Jeanne has worked in parish ministry as an RCIA director, in Liturgy, and as a Cantor. Working word puzzles and reading fill her spare time. Jeanne can be reached at jpenoyar@diocesan.com.

Just Ask

Genesis gives us the graphic, if not also cryptic, story of Jacob wrestling with God. And much to our surprise, Jacob prevails. And once again, as we have seen before in the Scriptures, God changes a name to make note of the changes of an “old self” to a “new self.” Abram became Abraham; Sarai became Sarah, and Jacob became Israel. There is so much to this story that we could take the day to pick it apart and try to make some sense of it and what it means for our lives today.

It is accepted that the “man” Jacob wrestled with was God, in human form. At morning when God wanted to end the struggle, Jacob said “no”, not until God gave him a blessing. Some might say this was quite an arrogant request, asking for a blessing. It reminds me of when Abraham argued with God over the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. “Will you not spare the cities for the sake of fifty righteous people”? …then forty-five…then forty…then thirty…and finally for ten righteous people. Abraham dared to continue to argue with God for these folks and we could ask how Abraham could be so arrogant while in the presence of God.

But don’t we do the same thing? Don’t we sometimes show our arrogance in the things we ask for in prayer, whether directly to God the Father, or to Jesus, or to the Holy Spirit? After all, who are we to ask for such things? Who are we to think that God, in his almighty, omnipotent personhood would listen to us? Pause and take a breath. Yes, we will ask. And, yes, God will listen.

I like to think that Jacob, in asking for a blessing (in spite of being left weak and slightly crippled by the encounter), knew enough of the goodness of God, and God’s love for his creation, that the blessing would be granted. God will do the same for us.

Think back, recent or long past, when you have struggled with your spiritual self, looking for support, and yes, a blessing to get through a tough time in your life. Did you survive? Did you even recognize the blessing? Often, we don’t. And then, it will be years later when pondering our lives that we will see that the blessing was there all along, and only now being manifested. I know I can. I look at where I am today, after the twists and turns of my life, my family, my career, and my relationships, and see how God has guided me to this place. It is in our prayer and relationship with God and his Son that we will eventually see that the good things, in spite of the hard knocks of life, have brought us to a better place spiritually.

The blessings we dare to ask for should not be for riches or gain of any kind. These blessings will be for the heart; for the soul that longs to be in communion with its creator and God. Our asking is not arrogant on our part, nor is it weak. It is, rather, a humble acknowledgment that God is in charge, and we should have nothing about which to worry. Oh, we will worry. But worry will eventually pass as we flee to the peaceful and strong arms of our God, of our Savior, and to the Spirit who will bolster our spirits and give us courage.

It is in this fleeing that we will see the face of God. We will see the face of God and reap a blessing beyond anything the world can give. It is ours only for the asking.

God Bless.

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Jeanne Penoyar, an Accounts Manager at Diocesan, is a Lector at St. Anthony of Padua parish in Grand Rapids, MI. Jeanne has worked in parish ministry as an RCIA director, in Liturgy, and as a Cantor. Working word puzzles and reading fill her spare time. Jeanne can be reached at jpenoyar@diocesan.com.

He Remembers Forever His Covenant, which He Made Binding for a Thousand Generations

Can you even fathom a thousand generations? By today’s standard of 20-25 years per generation, we would go back, from today, 20,000 to 25,000 years. Calendars didn’t even exist then, to mark the years as we do today. Let’s just agree it is a very long time. By God’s standard, it is an eternity.

God made covenants with Abram, Noah, and others. An unbreakable promise of fidelity. Today we enter in “contracts” of many kinds: credit card company terms; a mortgage on our house; contracts between two parties to collaborate on an issue; employment terms or simply promises made — and on and on. So, what’s the big deal.

Here’s the big deal – a promise made or a contract broken is one person to another. I break my contract with you, and you either forget the contract or sue me for breach. God, on the other hand, will not! That is the nature of covenant. I forget to love and honor others, or to obey his precepts; he does not forget us. God cannot and will not, break his promises to us, regardless of careless attention to our part of the deal.

The covenant God made with Abram was profound. Abram’s name will be changed to Abraham to signify that something different is happening and Abraham will have descendants as numerous as the stars. All from one son who will be born to him and Sarah (Sarai) in their very old age.

Today, we celebrate the New Covenant given us by Jesus with the institution of the Eucharist at the Last Supper. The old covenant given by God (the sacrifice of bulls & other animals) is replaced with something more precious, the sacrifice of his Son. Jesus’ own body and blood for our spiritual food. His own! And again, though we constantly sin, constantly ignore what is good for us, Jesus does not forget us! His covenant is binding to a thousand generations. How small, how insignificant our own lifetimes in comparison.

You may recall that the covenant with Noah was sealed by a bow – a rainbow in the sky – a promise that God will never again destroy humankind in such a way. Whether or not you believe the story of the great flood literally, or figuratively, doesn’t matter. God made a covenant promise that will stand forever. And Jesus will never, no matter what we do, withdraw the great gift of himself given as the New Covenant.

Sometime last year, I recall, backing out of my garage and turning to drive from the parking area. As I turned the car, there in front of me, in the early morning sky, was the largest, most beautiful rainbow I had ever seen. It was so vibrant and seemed so close; I thought I could reach out my car window and touch it. I was so excited! It was gorgeous. I tried to call my neighbor to look out to see it, but I fumbled because I didn’t want to lose sight of the rainbow before it faded.

Every time I see a rainbow, I am mindful of the great promises of God and his fidelity to us. I believe this phenomenon of nature was designed to do just that. To help us to remember the great love of God and his Son for we simple, humble beings. How could we not be excited?

God Bless.

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Jeanne Penoyar, an Accounts Manager at Diocesan, is a Lector at St. Anthony of Padua parish in Grand Rapids, MI. Jeanne has worked in parish ministry as an RCIA director, in Liturgy, and as a Cantor. Working word puzzles and reading fill her spare time. Jeanne can be reached at jpenoyar@diocesan.com.

A Thousand Points of Light

Does anyone remember this quote from President George H.W. Bush:

“For we are a nation of communities, of thousands and tens of thousands of ethnic, religious, social, business, labor union, neighborhood, regional and other organizations, all of them varied, voluntary and unique. This is America … a brilliant diversity spread like stars, like a thousand points of light in a broad and peaceful sky.” — Aug. 18, 1988

I often think of these words whenever I hear the Gospel about having to be the light of the world; about having to put my light upon a lampstand so that it will shine to all who come near; about having to let others see my good deeds so that they will glorify the heavenly Father. Oh my, such a burden you and I bear.

The word “light” is found in the bible 146 times in the Old Testament, and 58 in the New Testament. Not all references are as profound as that of today’s Gospel, but they were important references. We are also salt; “salt of the earth” you’ve heard many times. Salt was a precious commodity in ancient times. Often, wages were paid in salt rather than money. It was needed that much.

These statements of Jesus are integral to our lives as Christians. These statements pretty much sum up who we are and how we are to live our lives as Christians. I would believe that if we take to heart that we as “salt” can transform another the same as the way salt will transform the taste of food, much would be accomplished. I would also believe that if we take to heart that we are “light”, and live as a light to the world, we will transform others who come to see our light and come to know the Lord.

This is a lot to live up to. We can very easily fall into the trap of not wanting the light because of all it will reveal about us. The same as sunlight through a window shows us all the dust in our homes, so does the light of the Lord shining on us show us the “dust” of sin in our hearts. We often don’t want to see, but we must. You can close off your heart all you want, but the Lord is determined to transform you so that you can transform others, and that light will find the smallest crack in your defenses and will begin to permeate your life. And onward it goes.

I’d like to look, once again, at President Bush’s quote and change it a bit.

“For we are a Church, of thousands and tens of thousands of ethnicities, of men and women, of neighborhoods, social, business, regional and other, all of them varied, and unique. This is our Church — a brilliant diversity spread like stars, like a thousand points of light in a broad and peaceful sky. And hopefully, someday, a broad and peaceful world for the Lord.”

Go forth and be salt. Go forth and be light!

God Bless.

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Jeanne Penoyar, an Accounts Manager at Diocesan, is a Lector at St. Anthony of Padua parish in Grand Rapids, MI. Jeanne has worked in parish ministry as an RCIA director, in Liturgy, and as a Cantor. Working word puzzles and reading fill her spare time. Jeanne can be reached at jpenoyar@diocesan.com.


Listen to the Mourning Dove

Most mornings, I awake to the sound of mourning doves on my deck rail. They come around several times a day. Their mournful cooing sound is soothing and relaxing to me. But I have to admit that sometimes I’ve thought they are not a very smart bird. And they look a bit funny. The head never seems to be the right size for the body. However, they give me pleasure in watching them, hearing them, as well as listening to my cat chirp back at them because the doves are “invading her space.”

Do you know the symbolism of the dove? Although usually attributed to the white doves we see as symbols of love at weddings and the Holy Spirit in spiritual depictions, the mourning dove stands for new beginnings and high expectations, deliverance. In fact, the states of Michigan and Wisconsin regard the mourning dove as the official state symbol of peace! These birds represent peace of the most profound kind and are said to soothe and quiet our worried and troubled thoughts, enabling us to find renewal in the silence of the mind.

Today Jesus tells the disciples that he is going; their hearts will be filled with grief. But one is coming, the Advocate, the Comforter, who will show them truth and righteousness. The prince, ruler of the world (Satan) has been condemned. We must believe, and we must listen to the Spirit to know the truth. The Gospel refrain says it all: “I will send to you the Spirit of truth, says the Lord; and he will guide you to all truth.”

You will be hearing a lot in the next few weeks, leading up to Pentecost, about the Holy Spirit, the third person of the Trinity. But I would like you to know this – without mindful peace, silence of the heart, and trust in the Lord and the Spirit, we cannot begin to hear the truth as Jesus wants us to. It takes effort to quiet oneself to hear, as much as we must keep our mouths shut and minds open to listen to what someone else is saying to us. It’s not always easy, as our minds tend to begin to formulate answers or arguments before the other stops speaking. We miss a lot.

I find my self-control, whenever I can, when I hear the mourning doves coo. For me, they are a tangible sign of the Spirit, and their sound calms me so that I can hear what the Spirit is saying. I need to know the truth, even when I don’t want to know the truth. Such is the dilemma of the human heart.

The next time you hear a mourning dove, stop for a bit and remember what it represents for you: new beginnings and great expectations; deliverance, comfort, deep peace, truth and a quiet heart.

God Bless.

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Jeanne Penoyar, an Accounts Manager at Diocesan, is a Lector at St. Anthony of Padua parish in Grand Rapids, MI. Jeanne has worked in parish ministry as an RCIA director, in Liturgy, and as a Cantor. Working word puzzles and reading fill her spare time. Jeanne can be reached at jpenoyar@diocesan.com.


Do You Know The Shepherd?

I recently returned from a trip to Ireland. It was a wonderful trip up the East coast of the country, across the top and back down the West coast. Our tour started in Belfast and ended in Dublin. If you have been to Ireland, you know how beautiful it is. If you haven’t, it must be on your bucket list. It was on mine, and it has been checked off.

While driving through the countryside, I couldn’t get enough of the black-faced sheep in Northern Ireland. The fields were full of the herds, everywhere. It was early spring, so many lambs were also in the fields, almost swallowed up by the long, lush green grassy fields. They were adorable. So much so that I purchased a stuffed black-faced lamb for my cat. I placed it in her bed. She ignores it. I, on the other hand, get great pleasure just looking at it looking back at me. It often takes very little to make my heart happy.

Many thoughts of the Gospel of the Good Shepherd came to mind while enjoying this trip. I asked myself what makes a shepherd good? We so glibly slide those words from our mouths: “I know my sheep, and they know me.” How often have you thought about what it means to be the Good Shepherd? In another life, when I was teaching RCIA, every once in a while I would hear someone say “I’m not a sheep! I don’t blindly follow someone, and therefore I can’t get close to this image of Christ”.  Well, let’s look at just what it meant to be the shepherd.

In the time of Christ, as in all of the ancient times, sheep were one of the main, vital economic forces of the economy of the tribes. Sheep provided milk, food, clothing; sheep were used to barter for other goods and even became a dowery of sorts for the daughters of the tribesmen. You marry my daughter, I’ll give you so many sheep to start your flock! If you give me so many sheep, I’ll marry your daughter. Better than a bank loan. But here’s the important part, the responsibility of the shepherd to protect that all-important flock.

When Jesus says “I am the Good Shepherd” it means he watches closely and protects his people, you and me. When the shepherd, as well as the Good Shepherd,  says he is the sheep gate, it means that the shepherd will herd his flock into an enclosure and lay in the opening as the human gate. The sheep don’t leave, and no danger can enter without a fight from the shepherd. Jesus says “I know my sheep and my sheep know me.”  Through our prayer and continued oneness with our Lord, we know him and will come to rely on him the same way the sheep rely on the shepherd. We are no longer alone and won’t be abandoned. There is nothing a good shepherd will not do for his flock. The shepherd will die for his flock as Christ died for us to bring us into grace and eventually to heaven. The life of a shepherd is not an easy one.

One of my favorite pictures of Christ as the Good Shepherd is a pencil drawing of him cuddling a lamb. You can see it HERE. I love that you can’t see Jesus’ entire face and that the lamb is looking so loved and protected, so safe and content. How often have you, as I have, wished you could be held and loved that way? As I get older, it becomes quite often. This longing has become my hope for heaven and its peace. And take note of the nail wound in Christ’s hand. This is our Savior after his death and rising, still protecting, still loving us. The life of this Shepherd was not an easy one.

When you are reminded of today’s Gospel words: “My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish”, recall what it means to be loved and protected by this Shepherd of shepherds, and find your peace.

God Bless.

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Jeanne Penoyar, an Accounts Manager here at Diocesan, is currently a Lector at St. Anthony of Padua parish in Grand Rapids, MI. While at St. Thomas the Apostle, Grand Rapids, Jeanne was a Lector, Cantor, Coordinator of Special Liturgies, Coordinator of lectors and, at one time, chair of the Liturgy Commission. In a past life, secretary/bookkeeper at the Basilica of St. Adalbert where she ran the RCIA program for the Steepletown parishes. And she loves to write! When relaxing, she likes reading and word puzzles. You can contact her at jpenoyar@diocesan.com.


Christ Our Light

We are in the Octave of Easter – the eight days following Easter, leading up to the First Sunday of Easter. All week we sing/pray the Gospel Alleluia verse: “This is the day the Lord has made; Let us be glad and rejoice in it.”  Let us rejoice and be glad! Certainly, from today’s first reading from Acts, we see that Peter and John, under duress from the leaders in Jerusalem, rejoiced and were glad in the works they were able to perform in the name of Jesus and were strong in proclaiming Jesus as the cornerstone and the true means of salvation.

For those of you who do not attend the Easter Vigil you are missing one of the greatest hymns of praise in Liturgy, only used at the Vigil: The Exsultet: The Proclamation of Easter. It is usually sung, is very long, and follows the entrance procession with the Easter Candle amid proclamations of “Light of Christ – Thanks be to God.” And, it is my favorite part of the Vigil. Because it is sung, it can be hard to catch the words. I am offering you today a very small portion of the Exsultet for your reflection in this Octave of Easter. I hope and pray that you will find inspiration to be at peace, as the Apostles were, in proclaiming Christ as your salvation. Please, light a candle and pray:

“Exult, let them exult, the hosts of heaven, exult, let Angel ministers of God exult, let the trumpet of salvation sound aloud our mighty King’s triumph!

Be glad, let the earth be glad, as glory floods her, ablaze with light from her eternal King, let all corners of the earth be glad, knowing an end to gloom and darkness.

Rejoice, let Mother Church also rejoice, arrayed with the lightning of his glory, let this holy building shake with joy, filled with the mighty voices of the peoples…

This is the night, when once you led our forebears, Israel’s children,
from slavery in Egypt and made them pass dry-shod through the Red Sea.

This is the night that with a pillar of fire banished the darkness of sin.

This is the night that even now, throughout the world, sets Christian believers apart from worldly vices and from the gloom of sin, leading them to grace and joining them to his holy ones.

This is the night when Christ broke the prison-bars of death and rose victorious from the underworld.

Our birth would have been no gain, had we not been redeemed.

O wonder of your humble care for us! O love, O charity beyond all telling, to ransom a slave you gave away your Son!
O truly necessary sin of Adam, destroyed completely by the Death of Christ! O happy fault that earned so great, so glorious a Redeemer!…

The sanctifying power of this night dispels wickedness, washes faults away, restores innocence to the fallen, and joy to mourners, drives out hatred, fosters concord, and brings down the mighty. On this, your night of grace, O holy Father, accept this candle, a solemn offering, the work of bees and of your servants’ hands, an evening sacrifice of praise, this gift from your most holy Church…

Receive it as a pleasing fragrance, and let it mingle with the lights of heaven.

May this flame be found still burning by the Morning Star:
the one Morning Star who never sets, Christ your Son,
who, coming back from death’s domain, has shed his peaceful light on humanity, and lives and reigns forever and ever. Amen.”

(Excerpts from the English translation of the Roman Missal © 2010, International Commission on English in the Liturgy Corporation)

Contact the Author


Jeanne Penoyar, an Accounts Manager here at Diocesan, is currently a Lector at St. Anthony of Padua parish in Grand Rapids, MI. While at St. Thomas the Apostle, Grand Rapids, Jeanne was a Lector, Cantor, Coordinator of Special Liturgies, Coordinator of lectors and, at one time, chair of the Liturgy Commission. In a past life, secretary/bookkeeper at the Basilica of St. Adalbert where she ran the RCIA program for the Steepletown parishes. And she loves to write! When relaxing, she likes reading and word puzzles. You can contact her at jpenoyar@diocesan.com.


The Face of Truth

Truth, noun, the property (as of a statement) of being in accord with fact or reality.

Here we have a nice, neat, clinical definition of Truth. Something based in fact or reality. I’ve lived a fairly long time. I’ve seen the “truth” of things change over the years. Facts that once were a given as actually true are now skewed by the changing norms of society, especially special interest groups. Things taught to us as truth by the Church, are today under attack as archaic and obsolete. I believe I need not have to go into a detailed list of what we hear each day, in our relationships, on the news or in TV shows and movies. Society has moved away from seeking the truth of things in the most authoritative of places, and instead, are formulating for itself what the truth is, by listening to today’s false prophets. As Christians, it is a tough world to live in. Lent, especially, brings us back to this reality, as each year we dedicate 40 days to renewing our faith and returning to God.

So, what do we do? Where do we turn? How does the truth, as taught to us by Jesus Christ, again become a timely reality in our lives? How indeed? Well, we look squarely into the Face of Truth, Jesus, and start slowly whittling away at that which erodes our faith in all he teaches.

All of this comes from one of the great lines of today’s Gospel, which many of us quote:  “If you remain in my word, you will truly be my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” And I’ll bet each of us can pinpoint at least once in our lives when we adhered to the truth and realized how much freedom we can experience, in mind, heart and spirit. I recall when I was newly divorced, in my early 30’s, and living by the adage given most women in the 70s and 80s, “you can have it all.” I tried that for a bit. I was miserable. Relationships either fell apart or were destructive. My work and all else I did suffered because I was a slave to the “sin” of wanting to have it all, now, when and how I wanted it. I did not, in any way, rely on the good timing and good things God had in mind for me. After all, what did God know? As it turns out – everything.

The turning point for me was when I took the position of secretary/bookkeeper at the Basilica of St. Adalbert here in Grand Rapids. We had a priest in residence who was, at that time, the hospital chaplain for the Diocese—Fr. Donn Tufts. Father has since passed away. During that time at the parish, he would, every Monday morning, bring the coffee pot into my office and we’d sit for a couple of hours in deep conversation. We talked of the times, the news, personal fears as well as joys. Fr. Donn often would say things to me that nearly knocked me off my chair. He had a way of taking my troubles and pointing back to Christ, gently, yet firmly. I remember saying to him once: “Oh, %*$#%, now I have to think about this!” He would laugh. After he left to become a pastor, we continued monthly lunch meetings with great conversation, and the celebration of Reconciliation while sitting in his living room. I honestly have to say that Fr. Donn turned my life around. Not that I still don’t have much work to do, but I am farther along now than I ever thought I would be. Fr. Donn showed me the Truth and how to see it in the Face of Jesus. I often wonder if Pontius Pilot, who looked squarely into the Face of Truth, ever changed after the encounter.

I tell you all this to remind you that the Truth of Jesus Christ and his teachings are ever relevant, no matter the times. Whenever hearts are open to listening, they are changed, and lives are changed. And that Truth will truly set you free to be who you were intended, by God, to be. It comes to you sometimes with hardship and struggle, but it will come. Freedom will come. The world can swirl all around in its craziness, but you will be free.

I’ll leave you with the words Fr. Donn always said to me when we parted: “Strength and endurance!” I wish each and every one of you as you journey this Lent, “strength and endurance.”

God Bless.

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Jeanne Penoyar, an Accounts Manager here at Diocesan, is currently a Lector at St. Anthony of Padua parish in Grand Rapids, MI. While at St. Thomas the Apostle, Grand Rapids, Jeanne was a Lector, Cantor, Coordinator of Special Liturgies, Coordinator of lectors and, at one time, chair of the Liturgy Commission. In a past life, secretary/bookkeeper at the Basilica of St. Adalbert where she ran the RCIA program for the Steepletown parishes. And she loves to write! When relaxing, she likes reading and word puzzles. You can contact her at jpenoyar@diocesan.com.


Emmanuel- God Is With Us

No, I’m not confused. I know we are approaching Easter, not Christmas. But today is the Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord, the day we celebrate Gabriel’s visit to Mary telling her that God has chosen her to be the mother of his son.

Isaiah said to Ahaz: “Therefore the Lord himself will give you this sign: the virgin shall be with child, and bear a son, and shall name him Emmanuel, which means ‘God is with us.’”

A long time ago I heard a homily on Christmas day that I considered one of the best Christmas homilies I’d ever heard. Of course, I can’t remember all of it, but I do remember Father saying that Christmas is the celebration of the 30 silent years of Christ’s life. The 30 silent years. The years in which we know nothing of Jesus’ life but for the nativity narratives and the brief recounting of when he was twelve, left his parents to preach in the temple, leaving them frantic. Other than that, we can only imagine that he lived a normal, uneventful life as a child, as a young man, growing up in Nazareth.

Thirty silent years – the years in which the Son of God left the trappings of his glory as God, and became one of us. The thirty years in which Jesus so immersed himself into our humanity that he could live up to the name Emmanuel – God is with us! In every way. In every happiness and sorrow; in every hurt or rejoicing. God is with us! He laughed with his friends; got into mischief; cried when hurting; helped his mother with chores; attended services and wept for friends who had died. No longer distant in the revelations of the Old Testament but here and now, with us present as the “Word made flesh.” Our God who will know and understand everything our hearts take to him because he has also experienced it. I find great comfort in this great gift. God comes to us as a man, so that we might become truly human.

The Most Reverend William McGrattan, archbishop of Peterborough, Ontario experienced something that he believes brings home to us what this gift means, the gift of God is with us. I share his words:

“When things got busy and hectic in the parish I had the habit of simply going over to the grade school to visit the kindergarten and grade one classes. This one day when I dropped into the grade one class, the teacher had gathered the children to talk about Christmas and the gifts that each of them hoped to receive. She told the children that on her lap, in a small chest, there was a gift from Jesus for each of them. They could come up one by one and look inside, but they could not tell the next classmate or speak about it until all of them had peered inside the chest to see the gift. So I watched this drama unfold, one by one the children came up to look inside and as they turned around with this look of excitement on their faces and their hands over their mouth. I saw this repeated until the teacher motioned for me to come forward and look into the chest. To my amazement, there was a mirror in the chest, and I gazed on a reflection of my face. As I turned around, there was giggling and excitement with the children. Then the teacher began to explain to them that the gift of Jesus for each of us at Christmas was that the Son of God became human like us that we might learn what it means to be human.”  (APA: | Blanchardstown Parish. (n.d.). Retrieved from http://www.blanchardstownparish.ie/reflection/14390

My gift to you today, as we journey Lent and approach Holy Week and Easter, is to pray you will realize in your hearts that these were real events happening to a real man, our God, who experienced it all to bring us to salvation and eternal glory. This was no small thing. And it started with the simple “yes” of a young maiden visited by an angel, to proclaim to us the Good News of Emmanuel.

God Bless.

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Jeanne Penoyar, an Accounts Manager here at Diocesan, is currently a Lector at St. Anthony of Padua parish in Grand Rapids, MI. While at St. Thomas the Apostle, Grand Rapids, Jeanne was a Lector, Cantor, Coordinator of Special Liturgies, Coordinator of lectors and, at one time, chair of the Liturgy Commission. In a past life, secretary/bookkeeper at the Basilica of St. Adalbert where she ran the RCIA program for the Steepletown parishes. And she loves to write! When relaxing, she likes reading and word puzzles. You can contact her at jpenoyar@diocesan.com.


Bend Your Knee, Bow Your Head, and Pray

Today’s readings are packed with beauty and symbolism. But, for me, it was easy to choose which Scripture I would use. It just has to be the Gospel, when the Lord gives us his prayer.

In the beginning, Jesus tells his disciples not to babble on in prayer as do the pagans. Have you ever found yourself doing this? Trying to find either the most effective words, or perhaps too many words to express to God your desires? Or, worse yet, using these words because we are not sincere in our prayer? I used to ramble on. It seemed to me I had to go on-and-on about what I was praying for. For example: when praying for a friend who, perhaps, was suffering from an illness, I’d go on forever saying things like “Help my friend, Lord. She is suffering from cancer and needs your strength and increased faith. Help her doctors to clearly discern her situation and treatment”…and then comes the blah, blah blah extras. As I’ve aged, and I have aged, these prayers now come down to: “Dear Lord, give strength to my friend. She needs you. Your will be done.” Because I’ve also learned, as I’ve aged, that Jesus’ statement that the Father knows what we need before we ask him is very true. But that should not stop us from asking. It is as healthy for us to ask for our own spiritual well-being as it is for the person for whom we are praying. Asking God, asking Jesus, on behalf of others, strengthens our faith and confirms our reliance on his graces.

But I also wanted to share with your something about this Lord’s Prayer – I want to share with you how it has affected me over the years. Of all the prayers we learned as children, or have encountered in the books read or reflections we share, the Lord’s Prayer is the one that will bring me to tears in an instant. How often I’ve attended the funeral of a friend, family member or acquaintance, been in total control of my emotions until we pray or sing the Lord’s Prayer. It is at that point I will break down. I can’t tell you how many times during Mass if I’ve been hurting either physically or emotionally, that the Our Father will bring me to tears – to the point that I can no longer say the words out loud. What causes this? I’m not sure. It could be because Jesus gave us the most simple, most perfect prayer we could say and, for me, connects me so closely with him and God. This prayer will always bring me into the Father’s loving arms.

It was no happenstance that Jesus starts the prayer with “Our Father.” There is, I believe, a purpose to this. In our world, as well as in Jesus’ time on earth, many could not connect with the image of a father. In his great wisdom, Jesus gave us God himself, his father, as our father, and we cannot discount this. If you need a father; you have one. And, in turn, if you need a mother, Jesus also gave us his mother, Mary, to give us strength and example.

When you find yourself trying to pray, and just cannot come up with the right words, stop looking. Just say the Lord’s Prayer. It is all you need when the thoughts and words don’t come to you. God reads your heart and will know what to do with your faithful prayer.

One has to be of a certain age, and I am, to remember a wonderful singer, Perry Como. Perry was a devout Catholic and, from all I’ve learned about him, a wonderful man. He never closed any of his TV specials without singing either the Ave Maria or the Lord’s Prayer, and I believe he was the best. This was, of course, in a time when entertainers were not vilified for, or afraid of, such things. I’m sharing with you today a YouTube clip of Perry singing the Our Father from one of his shows that aired in 1957! Please, find a quiet place, close your eyes and listen. It will bring you to tears, and hopefully, closer to Your Father.

God Bless.

Contact the Author


Jeanne Penoyar, an Accounts Manager here at Diocesan, is currently a Lector at St. Anthony of Padua parish in Grand Rapids, MI. While at St. Thomas the Apostle, Grand Rapids, Jeanne was a Lector, Cantor, Coordinator of Special Liturgies, Coordinator of lectors and, at one time, chair of the Liturgy Commission. In a past life, secretary/bookkeeper at the Basilica of St. Adalbert where she ran the RCIA program for the Steepletown parishes. And she loves to write! When relaxing, she likes reading and word puzzles. You can contact her at jpenoyar@diocesan.com.