Posted on

A Tale of Three Evangelists / La Historia de Tres Evangelistas

Click here for daily readings

I always enjoy the readings from the Acts of the Apostles that we hear during the Easter season. While the Epistles are full of wisdom, they can be difficult to understand or subject to interpretation. The Acts, though, read like the most interesting history book, presenting the exciting early history of our Church.

In today’s reading from Acts we learn that Paul is being held on charges from his fellow Jews regarding “some issues with him about their own religion and about a certain Jesus who had died but who Paul claimed was alive.” This would not be the last time that Paul would endure imprisonment and persecution for spreading the Good News. Tradition tells us that he eventually suffered martyrdom.

I have mentioned before that my favorite Gospel stories involve Peter, my favorite saint. I love Peter because he is relatable. He is human and makes mistakes, some bigger than others. Yet Jesus chose him to lead the Church, because of his great faith. That gives me hope that God can use me too.

In today’s Gospel reading, the resurrected Jesus shares breakfast with the Apostles and then asks Peter three times to declare his love. Peter seems annoyed by the third request, apparently failing to understand what is obvious to us: that he needs to affirm his love for Jesus three times because he denied him three times. Then Jesus goes on to forecast for Peter the ultimate consequence of living out this love: “When you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.” The death Peter sought to escape by denying Christ came in the end when he was crucified after a long life of leading the Church in Rome.

Today is the feast of Saint Philip Neri, who spent most of his life in Rome, leading people to Jesus. He succeeded due to his personal warmth and attractive personality. He is the patron of humor and joy, and he died in his sleep at the end of a long life.

Paul, Peter, and Philip Neri were all evangelists. The original meaning of that word is “bringer of good news.” Each of the three evangelized in his own way: Paul traveled throughout the known world, founding church communities and encouraging them with the letters that have shaped Church teaching; Peter led the early Church in Rome; Philip  gently inspired people to love one another and live holier lives.

When charged with evangelizing, as Catholics we usually think first of the eloquence of Paul or the martyrdom of Peter and we say to ourselves, “I could never do that!” But today remember that there are many ways to evangelize, and not every bringer of the Good News is called to die a martyr’s death. I encourage you to read more about St. Philip Neri and consider how you might reach others via humor, joy, and warmth.

Contact the author

Siempre disfruto las lecturas de los Hechos de los Apóstoles que escuchamos durante la temporada de Pascua. Si bien las epístolas están llenas de sabiduría, pueden ser difíciles de entender o estar sujetas a interpretación. Los Hechos, sin embargo, se leen como el libro de historia más interesante, presentando la emocionante historia temprana de nuestra Iglesia.

En la lectura de hoy de Hechos, nos enteramos de que Pablo está siendo acusado de sus compañeros judíos con respecto a “Se trataba sólo de ciertas discusiones acerca de su religión y de un tal Jesús, ya muerto, que Pablo asegura que está vivo.” Esta no sería la última vez que Pablo soportaría prisión y persecución por difundir la Buena Nueva. La tradición nos dice que finalmente sufrió el martirio.

He mencionado antes que mis historias favoritas del Evangelio involucran a Pedro, mi santo favorito. Pedro me encanta porque es identificable. Es humano y comete errores, algunos más grandes que otros. Sin embargo, Jesús lo eligió para dirigir la Iglesia, debido a su gran fe. Eso me da esperanza de que Dios también puede utilizarme.

En la lectura del Evangelio de hoy, Jesús resucitado comparte el desayuno con los Apóstoles y luego le pide tres veces a Pedro que le declare su amor. Pedro parece molesto por la tercera petición, aparentemente sin entender lo que es obvio para nosotros: que tiene que afirmar su amor por Jesús tres veces porque lo negó tres veces. Luego Jesús prosigue pronosticando para Pedro la consecuencia última de vivir este amor: “Cuando seas viejo, extenderás los brazos y otro te ceñirá y te llevará a donde no quieras.” La muerte que Pedro trató de escapar al negar a Cristo llegó al final cuando fue crucificado después de una larga vida al frente de la Iglesia en Roma.

Hoy es la fiesta de San Felipe Neri, quien pasó la mayor parte de su vida en Roma, llevando a la gente a Jesús. Lo logró por su calidez personal y su atractiva personalidad. Es el patrón del humor y la alegría, y murió mientras dormía al final de una larga vida.

Pablo, Pedro y Felipe Neri eran todos evangelistas. El significado original de esa palabra es “portador de buenas noticias”. Cada uno de los tres evangelizó a su manera: Pablo viajó por todo el mundo conocido, fundando comunidades eclesiales y animándolas con las cartas que han dado forma a la enseñanza de la Iglesia; Pedro dirigió la Iglesia primitiva en Roma; Felipe inspiró gentilmente a las personas a amarse unos a otros y vivir vidas más santas.

Cuando nos encargamos de evangelizar, como católicos solemos pensar primero en la elocuencia de Pablo o en el martirio de Pedro y nos decimos a nosotros mismos: “¡Yo nunca podría hacer eso!”. Pero acuérdate que hay muchas maneras de evangelizar, y no cada portador de la Buena Nueva está llamado a morir como mártir. Los animo a leer más sobre San Felipe Neri y considerar cómo pueden llegar a otros a través del sentido de humor, la alegría y la calidez.

Comunicarse con la autora

Leslie Sholly is a Catholic, Southern wife and mother of five, living in her hometown, Knoxville, Tennessee. She graduated from Georgetown University with an English major and Theology minor. She blogs at Life in Every Limb, where for 11 years she has covered all kinds of topics, more recently focusing on the intersection of faith, politics, and social justice.

Feature Image Credit: Edyttka1388, pixabay.com/photos/monument-statue-cathedral-church-7631746/

Posted on

Hearing God’s Voice / Escuchando la Voz de Dios

Click here for daily readings

From my toddler days to my teens, I spent Fridays at my maternal grandparents’ house. An early reader, I was always scrounging for material – my grandmother’s collection of Reader’s Digests and Ladies’ Home Journals, my grandfather’s stockpile of Time and Newsweek, books left by my mother and her sister when they grew up and moved away. 

The supply was limited, so I read my favorites over and over. I was very fond of a multi-volume illustrated series of excerpts from the Bible. I spent most of my time on Old Testament stories and I can still see many of the pictures in my mind’s eye. 

In the stories of Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel, Noah, Abraham, Esau and Jacob, Moses and others, God was always talking to His people. Right out loud! I was fascinated. Why did God talk to them? I wondered. When did He stop talking to people? And especially, why couldn’t He talk to me like that? I imagined that if I prayed hard and if I was good enough, maybe, I too, would hear God’s voice.

Eventually I realized that God still speaks to us today, even if we cannot hear Him with our ears, but I still thrill to stories like today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles The conversion of Saul to Paul, from a man “breathing murderous threats” against Christians to God’s “chosen instrument  . . . [to carry His name] before Gentiles, kings, and children of Israel” is powerful.  With his own righteousness and zeal for persecuting Christians figuratively blinding Saul to the truth of the Way, it takes a flash of light, the voice of Jesus, and an attack of literal blindness to transform the Road to Damascus to the path God had planned for him.

Three days later, mirroring Jesus’ time in the tomb, Saul is reborn through baptism after Ananias (who had his own charge from the Lord) laid his hands upon him. Scales fall from his eyes and his blindness ends. He can see the world around him, and he can see the Truth. He is filled with the Holy Spirit and soon begins to “go out to all the world and tell the Good News.”

Paul became a great Apostle even though he never saw Jesus. And neither have we. 

We have never seen Jesus, and we do not hear His actual voice. We have to listen hard for that still, small voice in our hearts. We have to discern what God is telling us through Scripture, the Sacraments, prayer, events, and the people around us. Our Damascus Road moments will look different from Saul’s, but if we listen we will have them just the same – moments when we know exactly what we are meant to do, when, guided by the promptings of the Holy Spirit, we are called to make radical change in our lives.

Contact the author

Desde mi niñez hasta mi adolescencia, pasé los viernes en la casa de mis abuelos maternos. Como lector precoz, siempre buscaba que cosa leer: la colección de revistas de mis abuelos o los libros que dejaron mi madre y su hermana cuando ya eran grandes y salieron de la casa.

Era limitado lo que encontraba, así que leí mis favoritos una y otra vez. Me gustaba mucho una serie ilustrada de varios volúmenes de extractos de la Biblia. Pasé la mayor parte de mi tiempo en las historias del Antiguo Testamento y todavía puedo ver muchas de las imágenes en mi mente.

En las historias de Adán y Eva, Caín y Abel, Noé, Abrahán, Esaú y Jacob, Moisés y otros, Dios siempre estaba hablando con Su pueblo. ¡En voz alta! Eso me fascinaba. Me preguntaba por qué Dios les habló y cuándo dejó de hablar con la gente y sobre todo, por qué no podía hablarme así. Imaginé que si rezaba mucho y si era muy buena, tal vez yo también escucharía la voz de Dios.

Eventualmente me di cuenta de que Dios todavía nos habla hoy, incluso si no podemos escucharlo con nuestros oídos, pero todavía me emociono con historias como la lectura de hoy de los Hechos de los Apóstoles. La conversión de Saulo a Pablo, de un hombre que “amenazando todavía de muerte” contra los cristianos al “escogido como instrumento, para que me dé a conocer a las naciones, a los reyes y a los hijos de Israel” es poderoso. Con su propia rectitud y celo por perseguir a los cristianos cegando figurativamente a Saulo a la verdad del Camino, se necesita un destello de luz, la voz de Jesús y un ataque de ceguera literal para transformar el camino a Damasco en el camino que Dios había planeado para él. 

Tres días después, reflejando el tiempo que Jesús estaba en la tumba, Saulo renació a través del bautismo después de que Ananías le impuso las manos. Las escamas cayeron de sus ojos y ya no estaba ciego. Puede ver el mundo que lo rodea y puede ver la Verdad. Está lleno del Espíritu Santo y pronto comienza a “ir por todo el mundo y proclamar la Buena Nueva”.

Pablo se convirtió en un gran Apóstol aunque nunca vio a Jesús. Y nosotros tampoco.

Nunca hemos visto a Jesús, y no escuchamos Su voz de modo audible. Tenemos que escuchar atentamente esa voz apacible y pequeña dentro de nuestros corazones. Tenemos que discernir lo que Dios nos está diciendo a través de las Escrituras, los Sacramentos, la oración, los eventos y las personas que nos rodean. Nuestros momentos en el camino de Damasco se verán diferentes a los de Saulo, pero si escuchamos, los tendremos de la misma manera: momentos en los que sabemos exactamente lo que debemos hacer, en los que, guiados por la inspiración del Espíritu Santo, somos llamados a hacer cambio radical en nuestras vidas.

Comunicarse con la autora

Leslie Sholly is a Catholic, Southern wife and mother of five, living in her hometown, Knoxville, Tennessee. She graduated from Georgetown University with an English major and Theology minor. She blogs at Life in Every Limb, where for 11 years she has covered all kinds of topics, more recently focusing on the intersection of faith, politics, and social justice.

Feature Image Credit: dimitrisvetsikas1969, pixabay.com/illustrations/st-paul-saint-iconography-painting-2176669/

Posted on

Hope in the Desert / Esperanza en el Desierto

Click here for daily readings

Jesus fasted in the desert for 40 days. The Israelites wandered in the desert for 40 years. Lent is 40 days long, and that’s no accident. 

Today, deep in the desert of Lent 2023, we are faced with some challenging readings.  The Old Testament selection and the Gospel especially bring home to us that desert feeling, the longing for relief. At this point in Lent surely we can relate to the Israelites, “with their patience worn out by the journey.”

Feel their despair, lost in the blazing desert, “disgusted with . . . wretched food,” and sick from thirst. That they sometimes remember slavery in Egypt fondly says a lot about what their trek through the desert must have felt like! And when they complain (and who wouldn’t, really?) God adds insult to injury by throwing venomous snakes into the mix!

Often we look to the Gospel for reassurance after a reading like this one. But while Jesus does not sic snakes on his followers, on the surface his words are confusing and not very comforting. He tells them he will be leaving, and he says no one can follow him. To those who had left everything to follow him already, and who loved him, those statements would surely have occasioned great distress.  Then he adds that not only can they not follow, but rather they are going to die in their sin! Where is the hope?

Thankfully, we find some consolation in the Psalm, which illuminates the difference between complaining and praying: “O Lord, hear my prayer, and let my cry come to you.” While praying indicates faith, complaining demonstrates a lack of faith.

God commanded his people to look at the serpent to remind them not just of their sin but of God’s power: someone who can send down serpents at will is also someone who is all-powerful, someone we can trust. The message is that we should have faith in God’s plan rather than complaining against it. That does not mean that we cannot ask for help, for God has “regarded the prayer of the destitute, and not despised their prayer.”

In sending his Son to live and die among the people, “[t]he LORD looked down from his holy height, from heaven he beheld the earth, To hear the groaning of the prisoners, to release those doomed to die.”

Almost everything Jesus says in this Gospel sounds negative, but there is a promise buried in his words: “If you do not believe that I AM, you will die in your sins.” Therefore, if we DO believe that Jesus was sent by the Father and points the way to the Father, we will receive the release from death that we seek.  Rather than raising our eyes to a serpent on a pole, we raise them to a Savior on a Cross.

Contact the author

Jesús ayunó en el desierto durante 40 días. Los israelitas vagaron por el desierto durante 40 años. La Cuaresma dura 40 días, y eso no es casualidad.

Hoy, en lo profundo del desierto de la Cuaresma de 2023, nos enfrentamos a algunas lecturas desafiantes. La selección del Antiguo Testamento y el Evangelio especialmente nos traen a la mente ese sentimiento de desierto, el anhelo de alivio. En este punto de la Cuaresma seguramente podemos relacionarnos con los israelitas, “pero por el camino, el pueblo se impacientó”.

Podemos sentir su desesperación, perdidos en el desierto abrasador, “hastiados de esta miserable comida”, y enfermos de sed. ¡El hecho de que a veces recuerden con cariño la esclavitud en Egipto dice mucho sobre cómo debe haber sido su viaje por el desierto! Y cuando se quejan (¿y quién no lo haría, en realidad?) ¡Dios agrega insulto a la herida al mandarles serpientes venenosas!

A menudo buscamos consuelo en el Evangelio después de una lectura como esta. Pero aunque Jesús no lanza serpientes a sus seguidores, en la superficie sus palabras son confusas y no muy reconfortantes. Les dice que se irá, y que nadie podrá seguirlo. A los que ya lo habían dejado todo por seguirlo, y que lo amaban, esas declaraciones seguramente les habrían causado gran angustia. Luego agrega que no solo no pueden seguir, ¡sino que van a morir en su pecado! ¿Dónde está la esperanza?

Afortunadamente, encontramos algo de consuelo en el Salmo, “Señor, escucha mi plegaria.” Mientras quejarse demuestra falta de fe, orar indica fe.

Dios ordenó a su pueblo que mirara a la serpiente para recordarles no solo su pecado sino también el poder de Dios: alguien que puede hacer descender serpientes es también alguien que es todopoderoso, alguien en quien podemos confiar. El mensaje es que debemos tener fe en el plan de Dios en lugar de quejarnos de él. Eso no significa que no podamos pedir ayuda, porque Dios ha “cuando oiga el clamor del oprimido y no se muestre a sus plegarias sordo”.

Al enviar a su Hijo a vivir y morir entre el pueblo, “el Señor, desde su altura santa, ha mirado a la tierra desde el cielo, para oír los gemidos del cautivo y librar de la muerte al prisionero.”

Casi todo lo que Jesús dice en este Evangelio suena negativo, pero hay una promesa enterrada en sus palabras: “si no creen que Yo Soy, morirán en sus pecados”. Por lo tanto, si SÍ creemos que Jesús fue enviado por el Padre y señala el camino al Padre, recibiremos la liberación de la muerte que buscamos. En lugar de levantar nuestros ojos a una serpiente en un asta, los levantamos a un Salvador en una cruz.

Comunicarse con la autora

Leslie Sholly is a Catholic, Southern wife and mother of five, living in her hometown, Knoxville, Tennessee. She graduated from Georgetown University with an English major and Theology minor. She blogs at Life in Every Limb, where for 11 years she has covered all kinds of topics, more recently focusing on the intersection of faith, politics, and social justice.

Feature Image Credit: kalhh, https://pixabay.com/illustrations/cross-desert-sun-faith-sand-1719364/

Posted on

A Cloud of Witnesses / Una Multitud de Testigos

Click here for daily readings

Today’s First Reading encourages us that “[s]ince we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us rid ourselves of every burden and sin that clings to us and persevere in running the race that lies before us . . .”

As Catholics, we believe in the power of those witnesses, the Saints, not just to intercede for us but to model for us how to follow Christ in our daily lives.  It’s great to have a Saint who is a special intercessor for you, but it’s also wonderful to have Saints who are special friends, whose stories you may relate to, who can inspire you in living a Christian life. Today we remember St. John Bosco, patron of (among others) editors, schoolchildren, juvenile delinquents, and magicians!

I first encountered St. John Bosco as a second or third grader, in one of the old Catholic readers that even then were going out of fashion. We read that he used juggling and acrobatic feats as a way to attract the attention of street children so that he could share Jesus with them.  I was intrigued by the story of a Saint who knew how to have fun, and who made evangelization fun! But that is really all I knew about him up until 2019, if I thought of him at all.

But in 2019, I picked him (or he picked me!) to be my Saint of the Year. I don’t know if you are familiar with the custom of picking a Saint at the beginning of each year to inspire and guide you, but I have been doing it since 2018. You can pray and discern, or you can use a random generator, which is what I do. I was excited to learn more about St. John Bosco, and particularly to read some of his own words.

Because he worked with children, many of his quotations concern them. “It is not enough to love the young; they must know that they are loved,” is my favorite, because it has long been part of my own parenting philosophy. After all, what use is it to feel love and not show it? Discipline and education are important, but will those lessons stick if imparted without love? What is love if not accompanied by action? 

And I also think this quotation fits well with today’s Gospel, in which we see two people who are very confident in Jesus’ active love for them – the hemorrhaging woman who knows that just touching Jesus will heal her, and Jairus, whose faith led to the resurrection of his daughter.

I love the tenderness of the second miracle, the way Jesus reassures the bereaved parents despite the jeers of those assembled, shoos all but the parents away, and calls to the little girl, “Talitha koum!” Notice also the homey, relatable detail that he requests she be given something to eat.

Jesus lived a life of service to his people, showing up for them every day and demonstrating his love and care for them not by words alone but by feeding, healing, and comforting. Let’s follow His example, and that of St. John Bosco and others in the cloud of witnesses, today and every day. 

Contact the author

La Primera Lectura de hoy nos alienta: “rodeados, como estamos, por la multitud de antepasados nuestros, que dieron prueba de su fe, dejemos todo lo que nos estorba; librémonos del pecado que nos ata, para correr con perseverancia la carrera que tenemos por delante…”

Como católicos, creemos en el poder de esos testigos, los santos, no solo para interceder por nosotros sino para modelarnos cómo seguir a Cristo en nuestra vida diaria. Es grandioso tener un santo que sea un intercesor especial para ti, pero también es maravilloso tener santos que sean amigos especiales, con cuyas historias puedas relacionarte, que puedan inspirarte a vivir una vida cristiana. Hoy recordamos a San Juan Bosco, patrón de (entre otros) editores, escolares, delincuentes juveniles y magos.

Conocí a San Juan Bosco por primera vez en segundo o tercer grado, en uno de los lectores católicos antiguos que en ese entonces ya estaban pasando de moda. Leemos que utilizó malabarismos y proezas acrobáticas como una forma de atraer la atención de los niños de la calle para poder compartir a Jesús con ellos. Me intrigaba la historia de un santo que sabía divertirse y que hacía divertida la evangelización. Pero eso es realmente todo lo que sabía sobre él hasta el 2019.

Pero en el 2019, lo elegí a él (¡o él me eligió a mí!) para ser mi santo del año. No sé si conoces la costumbre de elegir un santo al comienzo de cada año para inspirarte y guiarte, pero yo lo hago desde 2018. Puedes orar y discernir, o puedes usar un generador aleatorio, que es lo que hago. Estaba emocionada de aprender más sobre San Juan Bosco, y particularmente de leer algunas de sus propias palabras.

Debido a que trabajaba con niños, muchas de sus citas se refieren a ellos. “No basta amar a los jóvenes; deben saber que son amados”, es mi favorito, porque ha sido durante mucho tiempo parte de mi propia filosofía de crianza. Después de todo, ¿de qué sirve sentir amor y no demostrarlo? La disciplina y la educación son importantes, pero ¿se mantendrán esas lecciones si se imparten sin amor? ¿Qué es el amor si no va acompañado de acción?

Y también creo que esta cita encaja bien con el Evangelio de hoy, en el que vemos a dos personas que tienen mucha confianza en el amor activo de Jesús por ellos: la mujer con hemorragia que sabe que solo tocar a Jesús la sanará, y Jairo, cuya fe la llevó a la resurrección de su hija.

Me encanta la ternura del segundo milagro, la forma en que Jesús tranquiliza a los padres afligidos a pesar de las burlas de los reunidos, saca a todos menos a los padres y llama a la niña: “¡Talitha koum!”. Fíjate también en el detalle hogareño e identificable de que él pide que le den algo de comer.

Jesús vivió una vida de servicio a su pueblo, apareciendo para ellos todos los días y demostrando su amor y cuidado por ellos no solo con palabras sino con alimentación, curación y consuelo. Sigamos su ejemplo, y el de San Juan Bosco y otros en la multitud de testigos, hoy y todos los días.

Comunicarse con la autora

Leslie Sholly is a Catholic, Southern wife and mother of five, living in her hometown, Knoxville, Tennessee. She graduated from Georgetown University with an English major and Theology minor. She blogs at Life in Every Limb, where for 11 years she has covered all kinds of topics, more recently focusing on the intersection of faith, politics, and social justice.

Feature Image Credit: jotallorente del Río, cathopic.com/photo/8720-don-bosco

Posted on

Darkness and Light / Luz y Tinieblas

Click here for daily readings

Lully, lullay, thou little tiny child,
Bye bye, lully, lullay.
Thou little tiny child,
Bye bye, lully, lullay.

Herod the king in his raging
Set forth upon this day
By his decree, no life spare thee
All children young to slay
All children young to slay

The above quotation comes from The Coventry Carol.  This 16th century English carol representing the last lullaby sung by the mothers of the Holy Innocents, the babies slaughtered by Herod whose feast we celebrate today.

What a dark feast to follow on the heels of our Christmas joy! What a stark reminder of the fallen world in which we live with its balance of happiness and horror.

Today’s readings share this tension as they lead us back and forth between light and darkness. In the First Reading, John assures us that “God is light, and in him there is no darkness at all.” This is especially comforting to hear at this dark time of year, a time in which we light our homes inside and out with bright and colorful lights to ward off the darkness of these shorter days. 

But a warning quickly follows, for we can choose to “continue to walk in darkness.” What does this mean? Perhaps surprisingly, walking in darkness does not refer to sinning. John takes for granted that we are going to sin. How can we not, when we live in a fallen world and are affected by Original Sin. Rather, “walking in darkness” means pretending that we have NOT sinned. John reminds us that Jesus provides expiation for our sins if we acknowledge them. The Psalmist underlines this point with powerful images of water and fire. He reminds us again that our souls have been freed, because the Lord is with us.

But the Gospel takes us quickly back to darkness. Once again, an angel comes to Joseph in a dream, warning of danger to his little family. Joseph immediately takes Mary and Jesus “by night” to Egypt to hide from King Herod. Imagine the desperate and dark journey as they fled to a strange land and uncertain future.

Thwarted in his attempts to find Jesus, Herod orders the death of every child under the age of two. We believe these innocent martyrs went straight to God, but the suffering of their mothers is unimaginable, a suffering still repeated around the world as war and poverty take the lives of young children.

We cannot pretend to be unaffected by the darkness in the world around us. Just as we look to Christmas lights and firelight to lift our spirits when nights are long, we must look to the Light of Christ to inspire us. And we must be that light to others by praying for them and by looking for tangible ways to alleviate their suffering. For “if we walk in the light as he is in the light, then we have fellowship with one another.” May that fellowship lead us to love and help one another. 

Contact the author

Luly, lulay,  niñito pequeño,

Adiós, luly, lulay.

Tú, niñito pequeño,

Adiós, luly, lulay.

Herodes el rey en su furia

Partió en este día

Por su decreto, ninguna vida te perdonará

Todos los niños jóvenes para matar

Todos los niños jóvenes para matar

El poema anterior proviene de “The Coventry Carol”. Este villancico inglés del siglo XVI representa la última canción de cuna cantada por las madres de los Santos Inocentes, los bebés sacrificados por Herodes cuya fiesta celebramos hoy.

¡Qué fiesta tan oscura después de la alegría navideña! Qué crudo recordatorio del mundo caído en el que vivimos con su equilibrio de felicidad y horror.

Las lecturas de hoy comparten esta tensión mientras nos llevan de un lado a otro entre la luz y las tinieblas. En la Primera Lectura, Juan nos asegura que “Dios es luz y en él no hay nada de oscuridad”. Escuchar esto es especialmente reconfortante en esta época oscura del año, una época en la que iluminamos nuestros hogares por dentro y por fuera con luces brillantes y coloridas para protegernos de la oscuridad de estos días más cortos.

Pero rápidamente sigue una advertencia, porque podemos optar por vivir “en la oscuridad,”. ¿Qué significa esto? Quizás sorprendentemente, caminar en la oscuridad no se refiere a pecar. Juan ya sabe que vamos a pecar. Cómo no hacerlo, cuando vivimos en un mundo caído y estamos afectados por el Pecado Original. Más bien, “andar en tinieblas” significa finjir que NO hemos pecado. Juan nos recuerda que Jesús provee la expiación por nuestros pecados si los reconocemos. El salmista subraya este punto con poderosas imágenes de agua y fuego. Nos recuerda nuevamente que nuestras almas han sido liberadas, porque el Señor está con nosotros.

Pero el Evangelio nos devuelve rápidamente a las tinieblas. Una vez más, un ángel se le aparece a José en un sueño, advirtiéndole del peligro que corre su pequeña familia. José inmediatamente lleva a María y Jesús “de noche” a Egipto para esconderse del rey Herodes. Imagine el viaje desesperado y oscuro mientras huían a una tierra extraña y un futuro incierto.

Frustrado en sus intentos de encontrar a Jesús, Herodes ordena la muerte de todos los niños menores de dos años. Creemos que estos mártires inocentes se fueron directamente al cielo, pero ni podemos imaginar el sufrimiento de sus madres, un sufrimiento que aún se repite en todo el mundo mientras la guerra y la pobreza roba la vida de los niños pequeños.

No podemos pretender que la oscuridad del mundo que nos rodea no nos afecta. Así como buscamos las luces navideñas y la luz del chimenea para levantar el ánimo cuando las noches son largas, debemos buscar la Luz de Cristo para que nos inspire. Y debemos ser esa luz para los demás orando por ellos y buscando formas tangibles de aliviar su sufrimiento. Porque, “i vivimos en la luz, como él vive en la luz, entonces estamos unidos unos con otros”. Que esa comunión nos lleve a amarnos y ayudarnos unos a otros.

Comunicarse con la autora

Leslie Sholly is a Catholic, Southern wife and mother of five, living in her hometown, Knoxville, Tennessee. She graduated from Georgetown University with an English major and Theology minor. She blogs at Life in Every Limb, where for 11 years she has covered all kinds of topics, more recently focusing on the intersection of faith, politics, and social justice.

Feature Image Credit: YlusionCardozo, https://pixabay.com/photos/people-one-kid-adult-portrait-3317897/

Posted on

Let Us Go Rejoicing / Vamos Regocijando

Click here for daily readings

Every Sunday, Catholics are bound by obligation to go to the “house of the Lord” to attend Mass. Of course, many fail to meet this obligation. Others would never dream of missing Mass for any reason other than illness. But I wonder if many of us go every week, but fail to “go rejoicing.”

Weeks are long and weekends are short. Life is hard and we are so busy, so tired. Catching up on household chores, sleeping in, trying to have a little fun with family or friends—for many of us there is so much we want to do or need to do that a weekend never seems long enough.  Sunday Mass can begin to feel like just another weekend chore, and maybe even one that we resent having to do.

I spent an evening with some of my best high school friends recently. We have known each other for over 40 years, and we all attended Catholic schools together. We found ourselves reminiscing about morning Mass, which was strictly voluntary once we were in high school. I attended exceedingly rarely. I told my friends what I have often thought since—how I did not appreciate what an opportunity it was to have Mass available daily, how much I wish daily Mass could fit in my schedule right now, how I regret all those Masses I skipped so I could have a few extra minutes to chat with my friends before school.

I am not perfect. I have missed Mass before without a legitimate excuse. There are Sundays when I wish I could stay in bed, when the secular concept of a lazy Sunday morning seems compelling.

But one thing I know: I NEVER regret that I made it to Mass. There is nowhere I am happier and more at peace than in our favorite pew at the church I have attended since I was baptized there as an infant.

In today’s Gospel we hear the centurion speak to Jesus in the words we echo at every Mass: “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof.”  Every week we admit that we are not worthy to receive Jesus and yet he chooses to be present with us anyway. And it follows that we are much less worthy  to enter under HIS roof, the house of the Lord. Yet every week—every DAY if we wish—we have that honor.

Today is the second day of Advent, so therefore the second day of the liturgical year. New years are a good occasion for resolutions. Can we resolve to appreciate Sunday Mass as a privilege rather than looking at it as a chore? Can we resolve to “go rejoicing”?

Contact the author

Todos los domingos, los católicos tienen la obligación de ir a la “casa del Señor” para asistir a Misa. Por supuesto, muchos no cumplen con esta obligación. Otros nunca pensarían faltar a misa por cualquier motivo que no sea una enfermedad. Pero me pregunto si muchos de nosotros vamos todas las semanas, pero fallamos en “irnos regocijando”.

Las semanas son largas y los fines de semana son cortos. La vida es dura y estamos tan ocupados, tan cansados. Ponerse al día con los quehaceres de la casa, dormir hasta tarde, tratar de divertirnos un poco con la familia o los amigos: para muchos de nosotros hay tanto que queremos o tenemos que hacer que un fin de semana nunca parece suficiente. La misa dominical puede comenzar a sentirse como una tarea más del fin de semana, y tal vez incluso una que nos molesta tener que hacer.

Recientemente pasé una noche con algunos de mis mejores amigos de la escuela secundaria. Nos conocemos desde hace más de 40 años y todos asistimos juntos a escuelas católicas. Nos encontramos recordando la Misa de la mañana, que era estrictamente voluntaria una vez que estábamos en la escuela secundaria. Asistí muy raramente. Les dije a mis amigos lo que he pensado a menudo desde entonces: cómo no apreciaba la oportunidad que era tener Misa disponible todos los días, cuánto desearía que la Misa diaria pudiera caber en mi horario en este momento, cuánto lamento todas esas Misas que me salté solamente para tener unos minutos extras para charlar con mis amigos antes de ir a clase.

No soy perfecta. He faltado a misa sin una excusa legítima. Hay domingos en los que desearía poder quedarme en la cama, cuando el concepto secular de una perezosa mañana de domingo parece convincente.

Pero una cosa sí sé: NUNCA me arrepiento de haber ido a Misa. No hay ningún lugar en el que me sienta más feliz y en paz que en nuestro banco favorito en la iglesia a la que he asistido desde que me bautizaron allí cuando era bebé.

En el Evangelio de hoy escuchamos al centurión hablarle a Jesús con las palabras que repetimos en cada misa: “Señor, no soy digno de que entres a mi casa”. Cada semana admitimos que no somos dignos de recibir a Jesús y, sin embargo, él escoge estar presente con nosotros. Y se sigue que somos mucho menos dignos de entrar bajo SU techo, la casa del Señor. Sin embargo, todas las semanas, todos los DÍAS si lo deseamos, tenemos ese honor.

Hoy es el segundo día de Adviento, por lo tanto, el segundo día del año litúrgico. Los nuevos años son una buena ocasión para los propósitos. ¿Podemos decidir apreciar la misa dominical como un privilegio en lugar de verla como una tarea? ¿Podemos decidir “irnos regocijando”?

Comunicarse con la autora

Leslie Sholly is a Catholic, Southern wife and mother of five, living in her hometown, Knoxville, Tennessee. She graduated from Georgetown University with an English major and Theology minor. She blogs at Life in Every Limb, where for 11 years she has covered all kinds of topics, more recently focusing on the intersection of faith, politics, and social justice.

Feature Image Credit: Florian Weichert, unsplash.com/photos/95flJvpA5Iw

Posted on

Our Patient Father / Nuestro Padre Paciente

Click here for daily readings

People love to make fun of the songs we sang at church in the early 1970s, but I was a little girl then and I remember many of them fondly. Today’s Gospel took me back to that time instantly, to the refrain of a  song written by Medical Mission Sister Miriam Therese Winter in 1965: “There was a man in Jericho called Zaccheus. There was a man in Jericho called Zaccheus. Now the Hebrews, they were tall, but Zaccheus, he was small, yet the Lord loved Zaccheus, better than them all.”

This song was my first introduction to the story of Zaccheus, a story I love because it is so relatable with its inclusion of homely details like the short stature of Zaccheus and even the type of tree he climbed. It is easy to picture and understand because many of us have had the experience of being in a crowd at a parade or a concert where we are jockeying for position to get a better view. Imagine having the opportunity to see Jesus. Who wouldn’t want a front row seat for that?

Now Zaccheus was a sinner, a despised tax collector to be exact. And while he wanted to see Jesus, you have to wonder if he really wanted Jesus to see him! Like many of us, he might have hoped to conceal himself and his shame from the Lord. But of course you cannot hide from God! And when Jesus tells Zaccheus he wants to stay at his house, his shame changes to joy.

Predictably, grumbling from the righteous folk ensues. Why has Jesus singled out this sinner for special notice? The First Reading sheds some light: “[Y]ou have mercy on all, because you can do all things;
 and you overlook people’s sins that they may repent.” Jesus picked Zaccheus out of the crowd to give him an opportunity that perhaps the other onlookers who were more righteous did not need.

The First Reading also suggests what Zaccheus’s response might be: “[T]hey may abandon their wickedness and believe in you.” That is exactly what he does, not only welcoming Jesus into his home with joy but immediately vowing to give half his wealth to the poor and to repay anyone he has extorted fourfold!

It’s a happy story, and it can be our story too, since everyone who is reading this is a sinner. I love this passage from the First Reading: “[Y]ou spare all things, because they are yours .  . .  Therefore you rebuke offenders little by little, warn them and remind them of the sins they are committing.” God WANTS to forgive us! God doesn’t punish us harshly for our sins, nor does He give us only one chance. God is our loving Father, and if you are a parent you know how much you are willing to forgive your children. He is gentle with us, like we would be with a little child, reminding us of our sins, being patient and taking His time, doing whatever it takes to call us back to Him. All we have to do is welcome Him with joy.

Contact the author

A la gente le encanta burlarse de las canciones que cantábamos en la iglesia a principios de la década de 1970, pero era una niña y recuerdo muchas de ellas con cariño. El Evangelio de hoy me hizo acordar instantáneamente el estribillo de una canción escrita por la Hermana de la Misión Médica Miriam Therese Winter en 1965: “Había un hombre en Jericó llamado Zaqueo. Había un hombre en Jericó llamado Zaqueo. Ahora bien, los hebreos eran altos, pero Zaqueo era pequeño, pero el Señor amaba a Zaqueo más que a todos ellos”.

Esta canción fue mi primera introducción a la historia de Zaqueo, una historia que me encanta porque se relaciona mucho con la inclusión de detalles hogareños como la baja estatura de Zaqueo e incluso el tipo de árbol al que trepó. Es fácil de imaginar y comprender porque muchos de nosotros hemos tenido la experiencia de estar en una multitud en un desfile o un concierto donde competíamos por una posición para poder ver mejor. Imagina tener la oportunidad de ver a Jesús. ¿Quién no va a querer un asiento de primera fila?

Ahora bien, Zaqueo era un pecador, un recaudador de impuestos despreciado. Y aunque él quería ver a Jesús, tienes que preguntarte si realmente quería que Jesús lo viera a él. Como muchos de nosotros, podría haber esperado ocultarse a sí mismo y su vergüenza del Señor. Pero, por supuesto, ¡no puedes esconderte de Dios! Y cuando Jesús le dice a Zaqueo que quiere quedarse en su casa, su vergüenza se transforma en alegría.

Como podríamos imaginar, se producen quejas entre la gente justa. ¿Por qué ha señalado Jesús a este pecador para darle atención especial? La Primera Lectura arroja algo de luz: “Te compadeces de todos, y aunque puedes destruirlo todo, aparentas no ver los pecados de los hombres, para darles ocasión de arrepentirse.” Jesús escogió a Zaqueo de entre la multitud para darle una oportunidad que quizás los otros espectadores que eran más justos no necesitaban.

La Primera Lectura también sugiere cuál podría ser la respuesta de Zaqueo: “se arrepientan de sus maldades y crean en ti, Señor.“ Eso es exactamente lo que hace, no solo dando la bienvenida a Jesús en su casa con alegría, sino que inmediatamente prometiendo dar la mitad de su riqueza a los pobres y devolver el cuádruple a cualquiera que haya extorsionado.

Es una historia feliz, y puede ser nuestra historia también, ya que todos los que están leyendo esto son pecadores. Me encanta este pasaje de la Primera Lectura: Tú perdonas a todos, porque todos son tuyos… Por eso a los que caen, los vas corrigiendo poco a poco”. ¡Dios QUIERE perdonarnos! Dios no nos castiga duramente por nuestros pecados, ni nos da una sola oportunidad. Dios es nuestro Padre amoroso, y si eres padre sabes cuánto estás dispuesto a perdonar a tus hijos. Él es amable con nosotros, como lo seríamos con un niño pequeño, recordándonos nuestros pecados, siendo paciente y tomándose su tiempo, haciendo lo que sea necesario para que devolvemos a Él. Sólo tenemos que darle la bienvenida con alegría.

Comunicarse con la autora

Leslie Sholly is a Catholic, Southern wife and mother of five, living in her hometown, Knoxville, Tennessee. She graduated from Georgetown University with an English major and Theology minor. She blogs at Life in Every Limb, where for 11 years she has covered all kinds of topics, more recently focusing on the intersection of faith, politics, and social justice.

Feature Image Credit: Hans, pixabay.com/photos/sycamore-tree-ascona-4134267/

Posted on

In the Sight of the Angels / A la Vista de los Ángeles

Click here for daily readings

I remain a parishioner at the church where I was baptized 55 years ago, meaning I have spent well over 2,000 Sunday mornings there. As a child, my mind and my eyes tended to wander, and the stained glass windows provided both entertainment and enlightenment, as they are meant to do. Later, as I struggled to quiet my small children during Mass, I whispered the stories of the saints in those same windows to them.

A favorite window depicts St. Michael casting the fallen angels out of Heaven, as today’s alternate First Reading from Revelations describes. It’s a graphic representation, even a little scary, showing the Archangel poking at skeletal creatures with his sword. Children, of course, love this.  Similarly, it is especially satisfying to call on St. Michael at the end of Mass, asking him to “thrust into Hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl about the world.”

Today we celebrate the Feast of the Archangels, Michael the warrior, Gabriel the messenger, and Raphael the healer. Our readings draw us into contemplation of heavenly glory, when we will see God on His throne, attended by “myriads and myriads” of angels, and where “in the sight of the angels” we will sing His praises. 

We are also directed to consider Jesus’ place in God’s glory, as “one like a son of man coming, on the clouds of heaven.” Indeed, Jesus tells Nathanael that he “will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.”

Angels are God’s attendants, and thus Jesus’ declaration to Nathanael clearly implies his own divinity, and calls to mind the Gospel passage after his temptation in the desert when angels came and ministered to him. 

The angels have always been in Heaven in the presence of God, whereas human beings have to learn to know, love, and serve Him here on Earth before being admitted to Paradise.  While today’s readings provide a glimpse of the glory that awaits us, they do not provide a road map for getting there.  Truly in these passages salvation is presented as a gift of God for which we praise Him, not something we can earn. 

Though we do not earn salvation, we are called to cooperate in it. This is where the example of Nathanael is helpful. Just before the passage in today’s Gospel, Nathanael’s friend Philip obeyed when Jesus said, “Follow me.” He then went to Nathanael and extended an invitation to him: “Come and see.”

Nathanael accepted, and although he was initially skeptical (asking Philip if anything good can come from Nazareth) he believed in Jesus after only one exchange.

We see in Nathanael an openness to relationship with Jesus and humility in putting aside his prejudices. Being himself a person “without deceit,” perhaps he is able to sense the same honesty in Philip and in Jesus himself.  We can also learn from Philip, who not only follows Jesus unquestioningly but shares the invitation with his friend.   

Today, and every day, let us be open to the invitation of Jesus, so that one day we too will sing his praises “in the sight of the angels.”

Contact the author

Sigo siendo feligrés de la iglesia donde fui bautizado hace 55 años, lo que significa que he pasado allí más de 2000 domingos por la mañana. Cuando era niña, mi mente y mis ojos tendían a distraerse, y los vitrales de colores servían para entretenerme e iluminarme, como se suponía que debían hacer. Más tarde, mientras luchaba por calmar a mis niños pequeños durante la Misa, les susurré las historias de los santos en esas mismas ventanas.

Una de mis ventanas favoritas muestra a San Miguel expulsando a los ángeles caídos del cielo, como lo describe la Primera Lectura alternativa de hoy de Apocalipsis. Es una representación gráfica, incluso un poco aterradora, que muestra al Arcángel hurgando en las criaturas esqueléticas con su espada. A los niños, por supuesto, les encanta esto. Del mismo modo, es especialmente satisfactorio invocar a San Miguel al final de la Misa, pidiéndole que “arroje al infierno a Satanás y a todos los espíritus malignos que andan dispersos por el mundo”.

Hoy celebramos la Fiesta de los Arcángeles, Miguel el guerrero, Gabriel el mensajero y Rafael el sanador. Nuestras lecturas nos llevan a la contemplación de la gloria celestial, cuando veremos a Dios en Su trono, asistido por “miríadas y miríadas” de ángeles, y donde “a la vista de los ángeles” cantaremos Sus alabanzas.

También se nos indica que consideremos el lugar de Jesús en la gloria de Dios, como “a alguien semejante a un hijo de hombre,
que venía entre las nubes del cielo”. De hecho, Jesús le dice a Natanael que “verá el cielo abierto y a los ángeles de Dios ascendiendo y descendiendo sobre el Hijo del Hombre”.

Los ángeles son los asistentes de Dios y, por lo tanto, la declaración de Jesús a Natanael implica claramente su propia divinidad y recuerda el pasaje del Evangelio después de su tentación en el desierto cuando los ángeles vinieron y lo ministraron.

Los ángeles siempre han estado en el Cielo en presencia de Dios, mientras que los seres humanos tienen que aprender a conocerlo, amarlo y servirlo aquí en la Tierra antes de ser admitidos en el Paraíso. Si bien las lecturas de hoy brindan un vistazo de la gloria que nos espera, no brindan un mapa de ruta para llegar allí. Verdaderamente en estos pasajes la salvación se presenta como un regalo de Dios por el cual lo alabamos, no como algo que podamos ganar.

Aunque no ganamos la salvación, estamos llamados a cooperar en ella. Aquí es donde el ejemplo de Natanael es útil. Justo antes del pasaje del Evangelio de hoy, Felipe, el amigo de Natanael, obedeció cuando Jesús dijo: “Sígueme”. Luego fue a donde Natanael y le extendió una invitación: “Ven y ve”.

Natanael aceptó, y aunque al principio se mostró escéptico (le preguntó a Felipe si algo bueno podía salir de Nazaret) creyó en Jesús después de un solo intercambio.

Vemos en Natanael una apertura a la relación con Jesús y humildad para dejar de lado sus prejuicios. Siendo él mismo una persona “sin engaño”, quizás sea capaz de intuir la misma honestidad en Felipe y en el mismo Jesús. También podemos aprender de Felipe, quien no solo sigue a Jesús sin cuestionar sino que comparte la invitación con su amigo.

Hoy, y todos los días, estemos abiertos a la invitación de Jesús, para que un día también nosotros cantemos sus alabanzas “a la vista de los ángeles”.

Comunicarse con la autora

Leslie Sholly is a Catholic, Southern wife and mother of five, living in her hometown, Knoxville, Tennessee. She graduated from Georgetown University with an English major and Theology minor. She blogs at Life in Every Limb, where for 11 years she has covered all kinds of topics, more recently focusing on the intersection of faith, politics, and social justice.

Feature Image Credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/church-stained-glass-window-941403/

Posted on

Seeking Humility / Buscando la Humildad

Click here for daily readings

“Humble yourself the more, the greater you are, and you will find favor with God,” we hear in today’s reading from Sirach.  

Jesus reiterates this in the Gospel, saying, “For every one who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” 

And St. Augustine, whose feast we celebrate today, wrote, “If you should ask me what are the ways of God, I would tell you that the first is humility, the second is humility, and the third is humility. Not that there are no other precepts to give, but if humility does not precede all that we do, our efforts are fruitless.”

That is a difficult prescription in today’s society, in which humility may be the most underappreciated, unrewarded virtue. In a world obsessed with social media, many of us judge our worth by how often our posts are liked or shared by others, hoping to go viral, obsessively checking our phones throughout the day when we think we have shared something exceptionally profound or amusing. That does not exactly predispose us toward humility!

Jesus did not just talk about humility; rather, he set the example for us to follow. He began by coming among us: God taking on our flesh, our lives, our physical limitations. His place of birth, his social status, the way he lived, and his manner of death were all humble in nature. One of his last acts was to wash the feet of his friends.  If we want to call ourselves Christ followers, clearly humility should be central. 

Pride is the vice in direct opposition to humility. The fact that it is the sin that made the angels fall should alert us to its seriousness.  It is a stumbling block for me, so much so that when I first encountered the Litany of Humility (excerpted below), I did not want to say it! I remember thinking, “I don’t want to pray for those things!”

O Jesus, meek and humble of heart, Hear me.

 From the desire of being loved, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being honored, Deliver me, Jesus. 

From the fear of being humiliated, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being ridiculed, Deliver me, Jesus. 

That others may be loved more than I, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may become holier than I, provided that I become as holy as I should, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

But eventually I realized that the Litany does not require that we renounce being loved or honored and seek out ridicule and humiliation, but rather that we shift our focus away from actively being motivated by a desire for these things. This prayer promotes a change in perspective that can help us “follow the ways of God,” as Saint Augustine wrote. So I began to pray it daily. Will you join me?

Contact the author

“Hazte tanto más pequeño cuanto más grande seas y hallarás gracia ante el Señor”, escuchamos en la lectura de hoy del Eclesiástico.

Jesús reitera esto en el Evangelio, diciendo: “Porque el que se engrandece a sí mismo, será humillado; y el que se humilla, será engrandecido”.

Y San Agustín, cuya fiesta celebramos hoy, escribió: “Si me preguntaras cuáles son los caminos de Dios, te diría que el primero es la humildad, el segundo es la humildad y el tercero es la humildad. No es que no haya otros preceptos que dar, pero si la humildad no precede a todo lo que hacemos, nuestros esfuerzos son en vano”.

Esa es una receta difícil en la sociedad actual, en la que la humildad puede ser la virtud menos apreciada y sin recompensa. En un mundo obsesionado con las redes sociales, muchos de nosotros juzgamos nuestro valor por la frecuencia con la que otras personas les gustan o comparten nuestras publicaciones, con la esperanza de volverse virales, revisando obsesivamente nuestros teléfonos durante todo el día cuando creemos que hemos compartido algo excepcionalmente profundo o divertido. ¡Eso no nos predispone precisamente a la humildad!

Jesús no solo habló de humildad; más bien, nos dio el ejemplo a seguir. Comenzó por venir entre nosotros: Dios tomando nuestra carne, nuestras vidas, nuestras limitaciones físicas. Su lugar de nacimiento, su estatus social, la forma en que vivió y su forma de muerte fueron todos de naturaleza humilde. Uno de sus últimos actos fue lavar los pies de sus amigos. Si queremos llamarnos seguidores de Cristo, claramente la humildad debe ser central.

El orgullo es el vicio en oposición directa a la humildad. El hecho de que sea el pecado el que hizo caer a los ángeles debe alertarnos de su gravedad. Es una piedra de tropiezo para mí, tanto que cuando me encontré por primera vez con la Letanía de la humildad (extraído a continuación), ¡no quería rezarla! Recuerdo haber pensado: “¡No quiero orar por esas cosas!”.

Oh Jesús, manso y humilde de corazón, escúchame
Del deseo de ser amado, líbrame, Jesús
Del deseo de ser honrado, líbrame, Jesús
Del miedo de ser humillado, líbrame, Jesús
Del miedo de ser ridiculizado, líbrame, Jesús
Para que otros sean amados más que yo, Jesús, concédeme la gracia de desearlo
Para que otros sean más santos que yo, con tal de que yo sea tan santo como debo, Jesús, concédeme la gracia de desearlo.

Pero al final me di cuenta de que la Letanía no requiere que renunciemos ser amados u honrados y busquemos el ridículo y la humillación, sino que desviemos nuestro enfoque de estar activamente motivados por el deseo de estas cosas. Esta oración promueve un cambio de perspectiva que puede ayudarnos a “seguir los caminos de Dios”, como escribió san Agustín. Entonces comencé a rezarlo diariamente. ¿Me acompañaras?

Comunicarse con la autora

Leslie Sholly is a Catholic, Southern wife and mother of five, living in her hometown, Knoxville, Tennessee. She graduated from Georgetown University with an English major and Theology minor. She blogs at Life in Every Limb, where for 11 years she has covered all kinds of topics, more recently focusing on the intersection of faith, politics, and social justice.

Feature Image Credit: falco, pixabay.com/photos/church-window-church-window-1881232/

Posted on

Potter and Clay / Alfarero y Arcilla

Click here for daily readings

Abba, Abba Father. You are the potter; we are the clay, the work of Your hands . . . 

That is the beginning of a song I remember singing often at morning Mass when I was an 8th grader in parochial school. You probably recall the hymnal; it was ubiquitous in the early 80s, and contained many songs composed almost entirely of Bible verses. To this day, one song or another will frequently come instantly into my mind as I read the Bible or listen to the readings at Mass.

So naturally this song was the first thing I thought of when I read today’s First Reading from Jeremiah. I even looked it up online so I could listen to it while meditating on what I wanted to write about.

I started by picturing God at the potter’s wheel.  I liked that image and found it comforting. As I went a little further, though, the analogy became more difficult. Picturing myself as clay was a bit uncomfortable. On the wheel, clay is messy, wet, and vulnerable.  Haven’t you seen videos where the whole pot collapses? A little research told me potters call this phenomenon flopping, and this must have been what today’s reading refers to when it says, “the object of clay which he was making turned out badly in his hand.”

But the reading goes on to reassure us that with God as our potter we have nothing to fear. He can make of us what He wills. There’s a catch, though! 

Just as God is more than a simple human potter, this analogy comes up short in comparing human beings who have free will and agency to clay which does not. A human potter whose pot flops has only himself to blame; if one of God’s pots “flops,” that is on the clay!

We must cooperate in God’s plan for us by allowing Him to form and shape us.  The rest of today’s readings give advice on how we do this, and paint a picture of the consequences if we do not.

The Responsorial Psalm tells us that we must place our trust and our hope in the Lord alone rather than in the people and things of the world. We are also reminded to praise Him. 

In the Gospel, Jesus relates a parable that makes being compared to clay seem much more pleasant than it seemed at first. Instead, he compares us to fish in a net, some good and some bad. There are not many things that bring up a more visceral reaction of disgust than the thought of a bad fish. There is no fixing it; throwing it away is the only option. And Jesus warns us that at the end of the age, that is what those who fail to place their hope and trust in the Lord will be like, thrown “into the fiery furnace, where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth.”

I never heard a song about that, and I don’t think I want to.  

Contact the author

Abba, Abba Padre. Tú eres el alfarero; somos barro, obra de tus manos. . .

Ese es el comienzo de una canción que recuerdo haber cantadao con frecuencia en la misa de la mañana cuando era estudiante de octavo grado en la escuela parroquial. Es probable que te acuerdas el himnario; se encontraba en todos lados a principios de los años 80 y contenía muchas canciones compuestas casi en su totalidad de versículos de la Biblia. Hasta el día de hoy, una canción u otra viene a la mente instantáneamente mientras leo la Biblia o escucho las lecturas de la Misa.

Así que, naturalmente, esta canción fue lo primero que pensé cuando leí la Primera Lectura de Jeremías de hoy. Incluso lo busqué en línea para poder escucharlo mientras meditaba sobre lo que quería escribir.

Empecé imaginando a Dios en la rueda del alfarero. Me gustó esa imagen y me consoló. Sin embargo, a medida que avanzaba un poco más, la analogía se hizo más difícil. Imaginarme a mí mismo como arcilla fue un poco incómodo. En la rueda, la arcilla es desordenada, húmeda y vulnerable. ¿No has visto vídeos donde se derrumba toda la olla? Un poco de investigación me dijo que los alfareros llaman a este fenómeno caída, y esto debe haber sido a lo que se refiere la lectura de hoy cuando dice: “Cuando se le estropeaba la vasija que estaba modelando”.

Pero la lectura continúa asegurándonos que con Dios como nuestro alfarero no tenemos nada que temer. Él puede hacer de nosotros lo que Él quiera. ¡Sin embargo, hay una trampa!

Así como Dios es más que un simple alfarero humano, esta analogía se queda corta al comparar a los seres humanos que tienen libre albedrío y voluntad con el barro que no lo tiene. Un alfarero humano cuya vasija estropea solo tiene la culpa él mismo; si una de las vasijas de Dios “se cae”, ¡el barro tiene la culpa!

Debemos cooperar con el plan que Dios tiene para nosotros al permitir que Él nos forme y nos moldee. El resto de las lecturas de hoy dan consejos sobre cómo hacer esto y pintan un cuadro de las consecuencias si no lo hacemos.

El Salmo Responsorial nos dice que debemos poner nuestra confianza y nuestra esperanza solo en el Señor y no en las personas y las cosas del mundo. También nos recuerda alabarlo.

En el Evangelio, Jesús relata una parábola que hace que ser comparado con el barro parezca mucho más agradable de lo que parecía al principio. En cambio, nos compara con peces en una red, algunos buenos y otros malos. No hay muchas cosas que provoquen una reacción de disgusto más visceral que la idea de un pescado malo. No hay forma de arreglarlo; botarlo es la única opción. Y Jesús nos advierte que al final de los tiempos, así serán los que no ponen su esperanza y confianza en el Señor, arrojados “al horno encendido. Allí será el llanto y la desesperación”.

Nunca he escuchado una canción sobre eso, y no creo que me gustaría escucharlo si hubiera.

Comunicarse con la autora

Leslie Sholly is a Catholic, Southern wife and mother of five, living in her hometown, Knoxville, Tennessee. She graduated from Georgetown University with an English major and Theology minor. She blogs at Life in Every Limb, where for 11 years she has covered all kinds of topics, more recently focusing on the intersection of faith, politics, and social justice.

Feature Image Credit: ottawagraphics, pixabay.com/photos/pottery-handcraft-clay-art-craft-4618917/

Posted on

Jesus, Our One, True God

Click here for daily readings

Today’s Old Testament reading sounds a bit scary: “You alone have I favored, more than all the families of the earth; therefore I will punish you for all your crimes.”  The last lines are particularly ominous: “So now I will deal with you in my own way, O Israel! And since I will deal thus with you, prepare to meet your God, O Israel.”

I am always surprised when I read about all the trouble the Israelites were always getting into. They were God’s Chosen People, delivered by Him from the power of the Egyptians and led to the land He had promised them. They had ample opportunity to witness the power and miracles of God, and Moses and the prophets gave them clear rules to follow to please Him. Yet they were continually falling into sin, particularly that of worshipping the false gods of the cultures around them.

But are we so different?  Today we celebrate the Feast of St. Irenaeus, a Doctor of the Church who was instrumental in fighting the heresy of Gnosticism. He reminds us of the seductive quality of evil when he writes, “Error, indeed is never set forth in its naked deformity, lest, being thus exposed, it should at once be detected. But it is craftily decked out in an attractive dress, so as, by its outward form, to make it appear to the inexperienced more true than truth itself.”

We may not be worshipping golden statues or sacrificing people to Baal nowadays, but don’t we let attractive worldly things come between us and God? Perhaps it’s money, or power, or romance, or status, or even being right instead of being kind. You alone know what your idols are, but we all have them.

We live in difficult and confusing times. We spend much of our time on social media consuming other people’s opinions. People we respect share ideas that seem to make sense. We are bombarded by messages designed to ensnare our hearts and minds. It can be hard to discern what is factual, let alone what is Truth. Politics and opinions can be idols too.

Just like the apostles in today’s Gospel, we are battered by the storm around us.  It can be easy to laugh at their fear. After all, they had Jesus right there in the boat with them! How could they be afraid that He would allow them to sink? 

Well, I have news for you. Jesus is in our boats too.  And while, as the Psalmist reminds us, He is a God of justice, we also know that his judgment is tempered with mercy.  When we turn from our idols, He will be there waiting for us. 

He said to them, “Why are you terrified, O you of little faith?”
Then he got up, rebuked the winds and the sea,
and there was great calm. 

May you feel that calm in your life today.

Contact the author

Leslie Sholly is a Catholic, Southern wife and mother of five, living in her hometown, Knoxville, Tennessee. She graduated from Georgetown University with an English major and Theology minor. She blogs at Life in Every Limb, where for 11 years she has covered all kinds of topics, more recently focusing on the intersection of faith, politics, and social justice.

Feature Image Credit: falco, pixabay.com/photos/christian-picture-historical-bible-2579648/

Posted on

On Speaking Boldly and Correcting Quietly

Click here for daily readings

As a cradle Catholic with 16 years of Catholic school, I estimate that I attended Mass close to 7,000 times. And yet occasionally one of the day’s readings surprises me. “I’ve never heard that before!” I think, while knowing this cannot possibly be true!

That’s how I felt when reading today’s passage from Acts. Apollos was unfamiliar. Priscilla I remembered, less so Aquila. Some quick research informed me that Priscilla and Aquila, a married couple, were tentmakers, friends of Paul, and leaders in the early Church. Apollos, mentioned here for the first time, became an important leader and rumored author of the Letter to the Hebrews.

The first thing I noticed in this reading was the boldness of Apollos. He did not wait for permission. In fact, he did not even wait until he knew everything there was to know!  Instead, he “spoke boldly.” He knew he was a scholar of Scripture and a gifted speaker, and he did not hesitate to use these talents in service of Christ and his Church.

Priscilla and Aquila were already leaders. They heard Apollos preaching something a little off (what exactly is unclear). They were not jealous of his oratory skills or worried that he was infringing on their territory. They did not denounce him publicly for his mistakes in doctrine. Instead, they “took him aside and explained to him the Way of God more accurately.” And when he wished to preach in other places, they and other leaders encouraged him, writing a letter of introduction for him so that he was able to give “great assistance” to the Christian community.

We can learn much from the example of these early Church leaders. Like Apollos, we have gifts that God wants us to place at the service of the Church. We may not be Scripture scholars or orators, but we ALL have gifts. But how many of us never use them? We worry we do not know enough, that we are not ready, that we might look stupid or make a mistake. So we miss doing the work God wanted us to do. 

Apollos spoke boldly, and he got a few things wrong. We can learn from Priscilla and Aquila’s reaction. They spoke to him privately and did not embarrass him. They did not shut him down; they rather instructed him and encouraged him in his ministry. They saw him as a partner, not a rival, because they shared a goal: to bring souls to Christ.

I cringe when I imagine how this scenario might play out today. If Apollos ever worked up the courage to speak at all, he would probably be attacked for his mistakes. We can and should do better. We can learn from our predecessors to lift each other up and encourage one another in sharing the love of Christ.

Contact the author

Leslie Sholly is a Catholic, Southern wife and mother of five, living in her hometown, Knoxville, Tennessee. She graduated from Georgetown University with an English major and Theology minor. She blogs at Life in Every Limb, where for 11 years she has covered all kinds of topics, more recently focusing on the intersection of faith, politics, and social justice.

Feature Image Credit: kasosita, www.cathopic.com/photo/13983-compartiendo-con-otros-palabra-dios