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The dramatic account of the Cleansing of the Temple found in chapter 2 of the Gospel of John tells of Jesus going to the Jerusalem temple where He finds merchants selling oxen, sheep, and doves and money changers sitting at their tables. Making a whip out of cords, He drives them out of the temple area, overturns the moneychangers’ tables and orders them to “stop making my Father’s house a marketplace” (v. 16).

Jesus did not strike anyone, but this dramatic action so close to Passover, certainly got the attention of the crowds and sparked a backlash from the religious authorities and from those whose economic interests were being threatened.

Jesus’ behavior in this account challenges us to seek not our own advantages and interests, but the glory of God who is love. Jesus’s bold intervention cleansed the Temple of “junk religion” to make room for real religion. What does junk religion look like today?

Put simply, junk religion is picking and choosing elements of the Catholic Tradition that support our personal agenda while conveniently putting on blinders to those Catholic elements that don’t. We can do all the right things—attend Mass regularly, appreciate good liturgy, give generously, quote scripture and even understand some theology, but if we don’t let the Gospel penetrate to the depth of our hearts, we end up domesticating the Catholic faith and reducing it to “junk religion.” Without that deep commitment, religion becomes less about the Good News and more about oneself and one’s personal ideology—no matter which end of the political spectrum we find ourselves.

The Gospel calls us to embrace the Way of Jesus, which is self-emptying and forgiving. We are called to be nonviolent and to promote justice and goodness. And we need to do those things both in season and out when it is easy and when isn’t. When the going got tough, the Israelites wanted to return to the comfort and security of their old life in Egypt. Like them, we may be tempted to wear religion as a garment that makes a statement about us rather than letting it be a leaven that changes us from within. We must remember that we are instruments of God’s generous and supportive love and be steadfast to our call.

Our ritual and devotional practices will remind us that true adoration of God consists of giving thanks for life and expressing gratitude by sharing our lives with others. If we do that, we will incarnate the risen Christ in the here and now. We will usher peace with justice into our community. In sum, we will be practicing genuine religion, binding ourselves to a God who only wants to love us and be loved in return.

For years I struggled with gluttony not realizing the root cause behind my overeating

Yesterday, as I was getting ready for Mass, I was thinking about my continuing battle with overeating. Though I may not appear visibly overweight to the average person, I know that I eat more than I should. I eat even when I am not hungry, just because the food is there and I am tempted by it. Since I had finished dressing for Mass before my husband was ready, I decided to open a Saint Jude prayer book that I use every night for prayer to see if it also had a Morning Prayer. As I flipped through the pages, I came across a prayer for addictions which I had never noticed before. As I said the prayer, I especially asked God to heal me of my food addiction. Although I had tried to overcome the desire to overeat for years, my efforts had failed.

Driving Away

At Mass, the Gospel Reading was Mark 1:21–28. I said to myself, “In the same way that Jesus can drive the evil spirit out of this man, He can drive this spirit of gluttony out of me because this is how the evil one still has a hold on my life.” I felt that God was reassuring me that He could and would drive out this spirit of gluttony from me. My feelings were strengthened by the priest’s homily.

In his homily, he listed many types of evil spirits we need deliverance from, such as anger, depression, drugs, and alcohol. The one he struggled with the most was food addiction. He explained how he lost forty pounds, only to gain back thirty. He added that no matter how much he has tried to stop himself, he always gives in to the temptation to overeat, thus committing the sin of gluttony. Everything he described related directly to me. He reassured us that Jesus came and died to set us free, so we cannot give up hope no matter how hopeless we feel, because hope is always there. Jesus gives us hope because He overcame death and rose again. We can thus claim victory because He has defeated the power of sin in our lives. We simply need to trust that Jesus will come to our rescue, in His own time.

When we are slow to realize that we cannot do anything without His help, God sometimes allows us to be in positions where we feel helpless. This morning, during my morning prayer, I opened my book of daily reflections to a reading focused on finding peace. To find peace we must be in accord with God’s will. When we are in accord with God’s will, we can more effectively help others and lead them to the Lord.

How can I help someone else if I am perfect? Can I understand someone else’s struggles if I have not struggled? When I am striving against a sin, like gluttony, my battle is not in vain. It is for a reason. God allows us to experience difficulties so that we can empathize with and help others and to realize that we are no better than anyone else. We all need each other, and we all need God.

Strange Connection

Saint Paul demonstrates this when he asserts “a thorn in the flesh” was given to him to keep him from becoming “too elated” and Christ told him that “power is made perfect in weakness”. So, he would “boast most gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me.” (Corinthians 12:7–9)

This Scripture teaches me that struggling with my addiction to food is meant to keep me humble. I cannot feel superior to anyone because I also struggle to overcome temptation, like everyone else, whether they believe in God or not. However, when we do believe in God, the struggles become easier because we see a purpose in continuing the battle. Many people struggle with addictions and other problems for various reasons, one of which could be due to the consequence of sin. However, when a person is a believer of God and a true follower, he or she recognizes that his or her problems are meant for the good and not as a punishment. Romans 8:28 teaches us that “all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to His purpose.” Most importantly, this is the reality for all who are called to God’s purpose. Knowing this truth makes the difference between seeing problems, addictions, and sufferings as punishments, or as blessings that will work for our good in the long run. When a person is called by God according to His purpose, that person is fully aware of this call, so he or she accepts the good and bad in his or her life as God’s will.

As I pondered, I tried to recall when my eating addiction had started. I became shamefully aware that my own addiction to food started when I confronted and condemned one of my own relatives regarding his addiction to drugs and alcohol.

I can now recognize that at the same time I was angrily condemning my relative, I was slowly becoming addicted to food myself. Ultimately, condemnation and lack of forgiveness were the sources of my addiction. The Lord had to humble me by revealing, through my own addiction, that we are all weak. We all face addictions and temptations, and struggle with them in many forms. In my pride, I thought I was strong enough to overcome temptations on my own, but in falling prey to my gluttony, I discovered that I was not. Eight years later, I am still struggling to overcome my food addiction and this sin of gluttony.

God cannot use us if we feel superior to others in any way. We have to be humble enough to come down to the level of those who need us, so we can help them where they are. To avoid judging others for their weaknesses, we should pray for them, extend help and offer up our own struggles for them. Isn’t this the reason why God puts sinners and those who are hurting in our path? Every time we encounter someone else, we have the opportunity to show them the face of God, so we should leave them in a better state for having come across our path, not more hurt or broken. In Luke 6:37, Jesus warns, “Stop judging and you will not be judged. Stop condemning and you will not be condemned. Forgive and you will be forgiven.”

Get to know the greatest power in the universe that is capable of transforming you…and the face of the world

 In 2019 our Parish completed a church renovation that added a gathering space, pews, elevators, and bathrooms that made our church more accessible and welcoming. But three years after the renovation, it seems that few parishioners know about the most transformative addition of all: The Perpetual Adoration Chapel located in our church basement.

The Best Time on Earth

Tucked between our new Teen/Senior room and a busy staircase is a beautiful, intimate, sanctuary set aside for Eucharistic Adoration. Catholics believe Jesus is truly present—Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity—in the Holy Eucharist. Eucharistic Adoration is our worship of the Eucharist outside of Mass. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week anyone can enter this intimate space to spend time in adoration of the Eucharistic Lord displayed in a beautiful monstrance on the altar.

Saint Teresa of Calcutta once said, “The time you spend with Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament is the best time that you will spend on earth. Each moment that you spend with Jesus will deepen your union with Him and make your soul everlastingly more glorious and beautiful in heaven, and will help bring about an everlasting peace on earth.” Bring about everlasting peace on earth? Who wouldn’t want to do that?! And yet, most days I am just trying to be a better mom.

A Strong Companionship

Over the past year, Eucharistic Adoration has become an essential part of my relationship with Jesus and of my effort to parent with greater love. For “if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing” (1 Corinthians 13:1).

The Adoration Chapel is where I go when I feel far from Jesus. It is where I deal with the daily struggle of accompanying my family on the path to sainthood. I once saw a sign outside a church that said, “Come as you are; you can change inside.” That’s how I feel heading into Adoration—no need to dress up or make special preparation. Even if it’s been a while, I enter the chapel and pick up where I left off. My adoration time is a lot like the one-on-one time I spend with the people I love most. Just like “date night” with our spouse or having that long talk with a good friend anchors those relationships, Adoration builds trust with God and develops the kind of companionship that is comfortable with silence and presence.

What does one do in Adoration? My routine varies. Sometimes I pray the Rosary, other times I meditate on a scripture passage or spend time journaling. We tend to try so hard to find God that we don’t allow Him time to find us. So, most often, I simply put myself in the Lord’s presence and say, “Lord, here I am. Please guide me.” I then lift up situations or “knots” I need help with and pray for anyone for whom I promised prayer that week.

I usually leave the chapel feeling strengthened, at peace, or nudged in a new direction. Spending one-on-one time with our Lord makes our relationship more intimate. When you hear a family member coming down the stairs, you know who it is from the sound of their footsteps. That familiarity results from the amount of time we spend with family members and gives us a deep sense of knowing and appreciating each of them. Adoration fosters that kind of familiarity with God.

Consider spending time with Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament by visiting an Adoration Chapel. Whatever your situation—if you haven’t been attending Mass regularly, if you need to lay struggles at the Lord’s feet, if you want to become a more loving parent, or if you just need to step away from the chaos of your day and step into the sacred silence of Adoration— no matter the need, you are always welcome into the Lord’s presence. Regular time in adoration will shape us as Christian disciples and as parents. As Mother Teresa tells us, it may even “bring about everlasting peace on earth”.

Daunted by the struggles in your life? Take charge today to turn those struggles into blessings!

The Book of James tells us to rejoice in our trials? But is that possible, especially when you feel like you are stuck in a spin cycle and the best you can do is take one more breath before you get dunked again? Is it possible during a 3-year pandemic that has challenged many of us in ways we never imagined?

There were days during the past few years that I have felt like I was in a movie. Movies can teach us a lot of things and the best movies, the ones that make you sigh with a confident smile, don’t just have a good ending.  They contain an underlying truth that flows throughout the storyline and builds to a crescendo.  Such movies create an unexplainable pulling inside the viewer that cries out, ‘there’s more than what you can see, there’s a deeper truth here’.

Though it is not a movie, that is what I sense when I read the book of Job in the Old Testament.  If the story were just, ‘Job got tested, lost everything and got back more than he had before,’ then I’d say, “No thanks, I’d rather keep what I have and skip all the trauma.”

But there is something deeper going on under all of Job’s trials and tribulations. This deeper something going on in Job’s story can be a powerful resource for all of us as we continue through Covid’s waning days and experience life’s other challenges.

Digging In

In the book’s very first verse we learn that Job “was a blameless and upright man who feared God and avoided evil.” Job was a good man, an exemplary man, and if anyone should be spared calamity, it should be this man.  I used to expect that because I was doing the right things, because I dedicated my life to God and desired to follow Him, that my life path would be smooth—at least somewhat.  But my life experience has managed to eradicate that thought from my mind. Job reminds us that God doesn’t guarantee an easy life to anyone, not even his friends. God’s only guarantee is that he will walk with us in the struggle!

Job loses everything, and I mean everything.  By the end, he contracts a skin disease that makes leprosy look like eczema.  And all the while, he refuses to curse God.  Keep in mind, Job doesn’t have the Bible to fall back on. All he has are stories passed down through generations about who God was and how God operated. At some point, he made a choice–the same choice each of us must make: Will we follow what we cannot see to gain what we cannot deny?

After enduring tremendous agony and loss, Job wishes he had never been born.  This was no flippant teenage tantrum following a lovers-quarrel and break-up. Job had been pushed beyond any reasonable breaking point. All his wealth was gone, all his livestock, his land, buildings, servants, and most tragic of all, his children were all dead. And rubbing salt in the wound, his skin disease was like a constant drum beat reminding him of his losses.

Just in Time

It is at this point, in Chapter 38, that God finally corrects Job.  You might expect this would be a good time for God the comforter to wrap His arms around him, or God the warrior king to come kick the enemy to the curb. But instead, God speaks in correction.  It may be hard for us to grasp it, but Job needed that particular response from God more than he needed any other response.

How can I say this with confidence? Because God always knows what we need.  God gives us what leads to growth, to wholeness, and to salvation—if we let it. Our part is to decide if we trust that what God is doing is for our own good.

The beautiful, underlying truth that has been flowing underneath Job’s story line finally surfaces at the start of Chapter 42 where Job confesses, “By hearsay I had heard of you, but now my eye has seen you. Therefore, I disown what I have said, and repent in dust and ashes.”

In this single verse we find the crux of Job’s journey. That sense that there was more than we could see, a deeper truth we could sense but not name, has now become apparent.

Up till this point, Job has heard about God from others. His knowledge of God has been “hear say.” But the devastation he has walked through has become a path that allows him to see the one and true God directly, with his own eyes.

If God wanted to meet you face to face, if He wanted to be closer to you than you could imagine, what would you be willing to endure for that to happen? Can you choose to see these last two years as a sacrifice of worship to God? Can you look at all the trials in your life, all the losses and hardships, and discern God’s mysterious will working through them?

Take a moment now and offer your trials to Him as worship, and then rest in the peace that comes rushing in!

Listening to that still, small voice…

Whispers come unexpectedly. Those quiet words found in a book or heard from a friend or homilist that cross our paths at just the right moment—a moment when our hearts are graced to hear them in a fresh or unique way. It happens like a flash of lightening suddenly illuminating the landscape below.

Such a phrase caught my eye recently, “When you replace judgment with curiosity, everything changes.” Hmm…I paused to consider the sentence. It made sense! I had practiced replacing negative thoughts with positive affirmations and various Scriptures over the years, and it resulted in a new way of thinking. I seemed to have a genetic predisposition toward negativity. This tendency which I had seen in one of my parents as I grew up had become ingrained in me, but that wasn’t who I wanted to be. As a result, I found myself attracted to optimistic friends! They exhibited something different to my experience, and I was drawn to it! Looking for what was good in others was the object, but it extended to searching for the positive in the midst of difficult circumstances, too.

Life is full of obstacles and challenges; anyone who has lived any length of time on this earth knows that. The Gospel of John quotes Jesus speaking this truth: “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” We see His words enfleshed in people like Helen Keller, who despite an illness that left her deaf and blind, was able to voice that “although the world is full of suffering, it is full also of the overcoming of it. My optimism, then, does not rest on the absence of evil, but on a glad belief in the preponderance of good and a willing effort always to cooperate with the good, that it may prevail. I try to increase the power God has given me to see the best in everything and everyone and make that best a part of my life.”

Over time, my efforts and God’s grace, resulted in responding to hardships by immediately directing my attention to what I could be grateful for despite the unwelcome circumstances. It’s easy to get caught up in “stinking thinking!” It takes intention and courage to choose to redirect internal and external conversations away from complaints, criticism, and condemnation! I have reflected often on these words I first heard as a young adult: “Sow a thought, reap an action. Sow an action, reap a habit. Sow a habit, reap a lifestyle. Sow a lifestyle, reap a destiny.”

What we think precedes what we do. What we do repeatedly becomes a habit. Our habits comprise the way we live our life. The way we live our life, our choices over time, makes us who we are. I didn’t believe these words just because someone said them. One only needs to attend funerals and listen attentively to eulogies to learn this truth! How someone lives their life determines how they will be remembered…or if they will be remembered.

Of course, a life well lived requires frequent reflection, as well as a willingness to adapt. Now I am pondering the admonition to ‘replace judgment with curiosity.’ There are opportunities all around me! Just as I hadn’t wanted to live life with a negative outlook in the past, now, I don’t want a judgmental attitude to make it harder to obey Jesus’ commandment to love my neighbor as myself.

I found an opportunity to try out this new response almost immediately! Something a friend shared with me the next day quickly evolved into a judgment about another person, and quick as lightening, I found myself agreeing! But just as swiftly came the whisper, “When you replace judgment with curiosity, everything changes.” In an instant, choosing to be curious as to why the person made the choice that the two of us found so easy to judge, a plausible reason came to mind! It was true….curiosity does change everything! And even if it doesn’t, it can change me…and wasn’t that the goal all along?!

“If we could read the secret history of our enemies, we would find in each human’s life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.” – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

It isn’t easy to say ‘I forgive’ and truly forgive until you do this…

“For freedom Christ has set us free.” (Galatians 5:1)

I’m sure the majority of people would be aware that forgiveness is at the very heart of the Christian message, but many would be surprised to learn that not forgiving somebody can result in physical pain. I know this from personal experience. Several times, I have witnessed the power of the Holy Spirit in healing this terrible, often paralysing, sickness.

Not a Cliché

The first words Jesus spoke, as He was dying on the Cross, were words of forgiveness (Luke 23:34). His loving sacrifice was the moment that mankind had awaited, – to set them free from sin and death. Forgiveness was again on His lips when He met His disciples after He rose from the dead, giving them the power to grant it on His behalf (John 20:19-23). When the Apostles asked Him how to pray, Jesus responded with a prayer allowing us to address God as ‘Our Father’, and asking Him to ‘forgive us our trespasses (sins) as we forgive those who trespass (sin) against us’ (Matthew 6:12). If we expect forgiveness ourselves, we must forgive others (Matthew 5:23-26; 6:14).

Unforgiveness can be likened to a clenched fist. A clenched fist is tense, and is often clenched in anger. It is really only fit for one thing; to hit somebody, or at least to be ready to. If that fist does hit somebody, then it is a fair assumption to expect one back, creating more animosity. If the fist is clenched, it is not open. An open hand is able to receive but if it is closed and clenched it is not possible to accept what may be offered. Alternatively, when we open our hands so we can receive, we are also able to give what we receive.

When He Sets Free

As I prayed about this at Mass, I had an image of a walking stick, and realized that when we do not forgive, it hinders our walk through life. After Mass, a man approached as we chatted outside, asking us to take a picture of him outside the church. When I noticed his walking stick, I had a sense that his sickness was caused by unforgiveness. As the conversation continued, he began to tell me about his past, concluding with a request to keep him in my prayers, since he was suffering with a bad back.

I invited him to pray with me immediately because Jesus wanted to heal him, but it would require something from him. Intrigued and open, he agreed, asking what would be required. I told him that he would need to forgive the people he had just mentioned and anybody else who had injured him. I could see him struggling internally, so I encouraged him with the assurance that he didn’t have to rely on his own strength to forgive. If he forgave in the name of Jesus, then Jesus would empower him, lead him and set him free. His eyes lit up as he whispered, “With my Lord’s strength, yes, I can forgive.”

I led him in a prayer, which ended by praying for the healing of his back by laying hands on the problem area (Mark 16:15-18). I told him to do what Jesus said and claim the healing by giving thanks to God in the belief that he had received it, (Mark 11:22-25). This was on Friday evening.

On Sunday, he sent me a text message, “Praise the Lord, Jesus has healed my back.” I praised the Lord indeed, thanking Him with all my heart. I was particularly struck by this detail. We had asked for the healing on the Friday by the power and merits of the Cross. The answer was received on the third day, Sunday, the day of Resurrection.

C.S. Lewis once wrote, “People think forgiveness is a lovely thing until they have something to forgive.” It is important to know that forgiveness is an act of the will; it is something we choose. That is not to say it is an easy choice, as often it can seem like the hardest, most painful decision in the world to make, but when we face everything in the Name of Jesus, ‘through Him, with Him, and in Him’, we learn that ‘with God nothing will be impossible’ (Luke 1:37). It is essential that we ask ourselves if there is anybody in our lives that we need to forgive. Jesus teaches us, “Whenever you stand up to pray, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive them, so that your Father in Heaven may forgive you your sins’ (Mark 11:25). Therefore, we must bring everything to Jesus and allow Him to set us free, because “If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.” (John 8:36).

I like to watch old movies. Over the past several months, I’ve watched (or re-visited) a number of Alfred Hitchcock thrillers, some screwball comedies from the thirties and forties, and a couple of film-noir classics. Last week, over the course of three evenings, I managed to get through the three hours and forty minutes (yes, you read that correctly) of the Charlton Heston version of the Ten Commandments from 1956. With delight, I took in the still marvelous technicolor, the over-the-top costumes, the wonderfully corny faux-Shakespearean dialogue, and the hammy acting that is, one might say, so bad that it’s good. But what especially struck me was the sheer length of the film. Knowing that it required a rather extraordinary act of attention on the part of its audience, it is astonishing to remember that it was wildly popular, easily the most successful movie of its time. It is estimated that, adjusted for inflation, it earned a box office of roughly two billion dollars. Would moviegoers today, I wondered, ever be able to muster the patience required to make a film like the Ten Commandments equally popular today? I think the question answers itself.

The coming together of daunting length and popularity then put me in mind of a number of other examples of this combination from cultural history. In the nineteenth-century, the novels of Charles Dickens were so sought after that ordinary Londoners waited in long lines for chapters as they were published in serial form. And let’s face it: not a lot happens in Dickens novels, by which I mean very few things blow up; there are no alien invasions; no snappy one-liners uttered by the heroes before they blow away the bad guys. For the most part, they consist of lengthy conversations among fascinating and quirky characters. Much the same can be said of the novels and stories of Dostoevsky. Though there is indeed a murder and a police investigation at the heart of the plot of The Brothers Karamazov, for the vast majority of that famous novel, Dostoevsky arranges various characters in drawing rooms for pages and pages and pages of dialogue on matters political, cultural, and religious. During that same period, Abraham Lincoln and Stephen Douglas engaged in a series of debates on the vexed issue of slavery in America. They spoke for hours at a time—and in an intellectually elevated manner. If you doubt me, look up the texts online. Their audiences were not cultural elites or students of political philosophy, but rather ordinary Illinois farmers, who stood in the mud, gave their full attention, and strained to hear the orators’ unamplified voices. Could you even begin to imagine an American crowd today willing to stand for a comparable length of time and listen to complex presentations on public policy—and for that matter, could you imagine any American politician willing or able to speak at Lincolnian length and depth? Once again, the questions answer themselves.

Why this look back at modes and styles of communication from another age? Because by contrast ours seem so impoverished! I certainly understand the value of social media and I readily use them in my evangelical work, but at the same time, I am acutely aware of how they have lessened our attention span and capacity for sophisticated conversation and real advance toward the truth. Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, and especially Twitter specialize in flashy headlines, misleading titles, simplistic characterizations of an opponent’s position, sound bites in place of arguments, and mean-spirited rhetoric. Just dip into the comment boxes on any of these sites, and you’ll immediately see what I mean.

A favorite technique on social media is to take a phrase or even a single word of a person’s argument, wrench it out of context, give it the worst possible interpretation, and then splash one’s outrage all over the internet. Everything has to be fast, easily digested, simple to understand, black and white—because we have to get clicks on our site, and it’s a dog-eat-dog world. What worries me is that an entire generation has come of age conditioned by this mode of communication and hence is largely incapable of summoning the patience and attention required for intelligent engagement of complex issues. I noticed this, by the way, in my nearly twenty years of teaching in the seminary. Over those two decades, it became increasingly difficult to get my students to read, say, a hundred pages of St. Augustine’s Confessions or of Plato’s Republic. Especially in more recent years, they would say, “Father, I just can’t concentrate that long.” Well, the auditors of the Lincoln-Douglas debates could, and so could the readers of Dickens, and so even could those who sat through The Ten Commandments sixty-some years ago.

So as not to end on a down note, permit me to draw your attention to what I consider a real sign of hope. In just the last couple of years, there has been a trend in the direction of long-form podcasts that are attracting huge audiences of young people. Joe Rogan, who hosts one of the most popular shows in the country, speaks to his guests for upwards of three hours, and he gets millions of views. In the past year, I have appeared on two podcasts with Jordan Peterson, each one in excess of two hours and featuring pretty high-level discourse and both has reached just shy of one million views.

Perhaps we’re turning a corner. Perhaps young people have tired of vituperative sound bites and superficial pseudo-intellectualism. To encourage this trend, I would like to invite all of you to use much less social media—and maybe pick up The Brothers Karamazov.

The Christian writer Tertullian wrote that “the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.” A sterling example of that truth is the third century martyr, Cecilia. Her name is recited daily in the canon of the Mass, and she remains to this day as one of the great Saints of the early Christian era.

Hers is an inspiring yet bloody story.  Despite having vowed her chastity to Jesus, her wealthy parents arranged a marriage with a young suitor named Valerian. You can imagine the young man’s surprise when, on her wedding night, Cecilia informed him that she had not only taken a vow of chastity but that her virginity was under the watchful protection of her guardian angel.

Amazingly, her husband agreed to respect her vow and even promised to embrace Christianity, but he had a condition: he wanted to see her guardian angel. Her counter-request was that he travel to the third milestone on the Appian Way and there receive baptism at the hands of Pope Urbanus. After emerging from the waters of baptism and returning home, Valerian did indeed see the angel sitting beside Cecilia.

Eventually, her husband’s brother Tiberius was also converted,and the brothers regularly buried Christians who were murdered almost daily by the local Roman prefect.

Eventually they were arrested and imprisoned for refusing to offer sacrifices to the gods, but they managed to convert their jailer before losing their lives in martyrdom.

Not long after, Cecilia herself was arrested and condemned to death. She miraculously survived a night amidst intense fire meant to suffocate her. Then an executioner struck three separate blows to her neck in a failed attempt to decapitate her. Left bleeding, Cecilia survived three days, preaching all the while to those who gathered round her and who collected the blood that flowed from her wounds.

Her relics, and those of her husband, brother-in-law, and the converted jailor, are kept in Rome’s Church of St. Cecilia.

Her body was found incorrupt when it was exhumed in 1599 and because on her wedding day she sang hymns to Jesus in her heart, Cecilia is the patron saint of musicians. We celebrate her feast on November 22.

There is something intimate about drawing someone’s portrait, about studying his or her facial features, discovering subtle details, and sensitively capturing an expression that is one of a kind. Modern facial recognition technology testifies to how utterly unique each individual’s face is. Like DNA or a fingerprint, your image is yours and yours alone. And yet, while each person’s image is altogether unique, we are all patterned after one exemplar. The book of Genesis says that God made man and woman in His image. God is an artist. This is one of the first things we learn about Him in Scripture. God makes portraits. He makes self-portraits.

If every person is made in God’s image, why do we all look and act so different? God is boundless. No single individual can ever capture the entirety of who God is. That is why He made so many of us. Picasso painted at least 14 self-portraits over the course of his lifetime. Each self-portrait is undeniably distinct. However, there is some measure of truth about Pablo expressed in all of his pieces. Likewise, each person is a unique yet truthful representation of God’s eclectic character.

Sin is iconoclasm. When Adam and Eve defied God in the garden, something happened to their God-given image. Likewise, something happens to our image whenever we wrong God or others. Sin is the smudging of wet paint on canvas. It is the disfigurement of God’s beautiful artwork. Sin makes God less recognizable in us, and therefore less recognizable to ourselves. But thankfully, God, like a typical artist, is stubbornly devoted to His artwork. This is why the Son, the perfect Image of God, took on the medium of flesh.

Christ came to renew, to repaint our disfigured image. By modeling a life of love, wisdom, and forgiveness, Christ reminds us what God looks like. With His blood Christ begins scrubbing away our defects, smoothing out smears, and filling in the gaps. Through the interior design of the Holy Spirit, the original masterpiece regains clarity once again. The life of a Christian is one of ongoing art restoration. Every artist knows how tedious the creative process can be, but the outcome is always worth it.

When passing through Washington DC, it is essential to visit the National Gallery of Art. There you will find appreciators from around the globe crowding around one piece in particular. It is a modestly sized portrait of a mysterious young lady painted by Leonardo da Vinci. With such few of his originals remaining, it is among the most precious works of art today. On the reverse side of the portrait reads the inscription, “Virtutem Forma Decorat” (beauty adorns virtue). The image of God is a spiritual reality. It is made visible by the conduct of our character. When we allow our lives to conform with God’s brushstrokes, beauty follows in its most genuine and lasting splendor. God is the painter par excellence. His eye is keener than da Vinci’s, and his hands softer than Caravaggio’s. Your beauty surpasses anything in the Louvre, because you are His original artwork. Next time you make the sign of the cross, remember that you trace God’s signature on you. †

“The world is thy ship, not thy home” is a famous quote by Saint Therese of Lisieux. In fact we are all on a journey to our final destination…

As a child, my mother once assured me that God only takes a soul home when it is most ready. This was such a comforting thought to me that I tucked it away in my heart, clinging tightly to it for consolation when the loss of loved ones occurred throughout my life. The most wondrous example I witnessed of this encouraging statement was that of my dear husband in the final days of his life.

Beginning of the End

Chris had been battling brain cancer for over three years—a horrific disease in which he was only expected to live a year, with continuous, nearly insufferable treatment. It was a joyful and painful three year journey—full of hopeful highs and an equal number of devastating lows. When Chris’ cancer began spreading with no hope of containment, and having exhausted all options, Chris made the heart-wrenching decision to discontinue treatment and enjoy the time he had left, leaving it all in God’s hands. This decision marked the beginning of the end. The heartache I felt at the thought of losing him after such a courageous battle we were hopeful he could continue to fight was nearly beyond what I could bear. I placed Chris on hospice with a vow to him that our children and I would honor his one wish and care for him at home until the end.

Terrified at the thought of such an enormous undertaking of which I had no training or experience to do, I put my full faith in God, pleading for His mercy and guidance. The downpour of heavenly graces and blessings which we received by this desperate petition would see our family through Chris’ final weeks.

 Louder than a Whisper

With the discontinuation of treatment, Chris’ precious brain began to suffer the effects of the rapidly spreading disease. Slight memory loss turned into considerable memory loss, and then the seizures began—all within a few weeks. One evening, with little warning, Chris suffered a grand mal seizure. After seating himself on the sofa following a focal seizure, my children and I gathered around as we sensed something was wrong. I took his hand in mine, and as I did, I felt his entire body begin to stiffen. His dark brown eyes rolled back in his head and he began shaking uncontrollably—he then let out a loud cry of pain.

In a state of disbelief and terror at what we were witnessing, I attempted to calm my children and seek strength and divine assistance for my husband in the only way I knew how—prayer. As I held my Chris, I softly lead our children through the Lord’s Prayer—following it with a prayer to Our Lady, whom he was so devoted to. A few moments later Chris’ seizure began to subside. He lay there, motionless, unable to see the terrified, tear stained faces surrounding him. When he opened his eyes after fully regaining consciousness, he began to scan his surroundings with a look of confusion. His eyes met mine and I gently assured him that he was fine—and immediately sought to find out what he wanted from us in that moment for assistance.

Barely able to communicate, and in nothing louder than a whisper, Chris replied with the words, “I…want…God.” It was at that very moment, I knew. I knew God was preparing him, and I knew my faith-filled husband was longing for home—his eternal life. Although devastated over the realization that his end was drawing near, I felt a sense of overwhelming gratitude for this precious grace of acceptance. Chris was no longer burdened with the agonizing thought of leaving his family behind in this world. He had been unbound from that cross and given an immeasurable gift of peace as well as a deeper comprehension of what splendor the next life holds. My precious, faithful husband was ready. The following weekend, while peacefully resting in bed and surrounded by family as we softly prayed the Rosary, our beloved Chris passed away. It was the Lord’s Day, and Feast of the Holy Name of Mary. And this beautiful soul was most ready.

It isn’t easy when anxiety attacks but you are not alone…

I knew what was coming next as soon as I heard the beat echoing inside my chest, each beat faster than the next. My heart raced as I tried to remember to exhale. A knot formed in my stomach as if it knew I needed something to hold on to, shallow breath after shallow breath. The dreaded domino effect in my body was a familiar yet unwelcome guest. Here was Anxiety trying to take over again. It seems like the more I fought her, the stronger she would get. My attention kept fueling her until I realized that Peace, the guest I did want to entertain, had already left.

A High Fever

Anxiety is a topic I have hesitated writing about. I am not a mental health professional. I am not qualified to give advice on these matters. But I am a person with an experience, and I am qualified to share my story. For me, anxiety has been like a fever…a symptom that shows up to tell me something somewhere needs attention. At times, the symptom, like a high fever, needs direct help to get through the situation, but other times, just knowing “this too shall pass” has been enough to allow me to sit in the discomfort and wait for God to comfort me. Time and time again, He has brought light and healing to these areas of my heart that felt isolated from Him.

The first time I felt His healing hand soothe my fears away, I thought I was healed; I thought I would never have to experience that sense of dread again. So, when it happened again, I was confused. Did I do something to make Him take His favor back? Did I fail to pass the test? No… There is just much more that needs to be healed. Each time I experience anxiety becomes an opportunity for me to call on God to help me. Each time, I invite Jesus to rule in my heart and bring me His Peace.

One Big Lie

On one of those occasions, I learned how the enemy of my soul was using my fears against me. Every time I got close to identifying a pattern of sin in my life, the fears would sneak in. The fear was so crippling I could not even hear with my mind the lie that I was choosing to believe in. It felt like an automatic reaction until I became still instead of running away. I remembered the prophecy of Simeon to Our Lady: “…and you yourself a sword will pierce so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed” (Luke 2:35). Through Mary, I asked Jesus to reveal to me the thoughts of my own heart.

The wind started to blow, and, in my mind, I saw huge idols made of sand start to dissipate, one by one. Each lie was made of nothing, and against God’s truth, could not stand. But what did I find on the other side? Not happiness, but a deep pain in my heart. I came upon my sin, a deep-rooted tree that had remained hidden but had bad fruit popping up all over my life. Things that seemed disconnected all converged in this one big lie: “God does not see you; You are alone in this life.”

The sight of all the sin that had emerged from this one lie caused pain, but there was no fear. The grace of repentance poured in with each tear…“where sin increased, grace overflowed all the more” (Romans 5:20). Scripture after scripture filled my mind as the Spirit interceded for me, and Truth filled my heart. I felt seen. I felt loved. I knew I was and would never be alone.

Like I said at the beginning, I am not a mental health expert, so I do not know what you need to help you confront your fears. But I do know God loves each and every one of us. This encounter with God’s love healed something else in me. One of the most crippling aspects of anxiety is when we fear the anxiety itself. The experience is so unsettling and uncomfortable that we do everything possible to avoid going through it again. But I know now there is nothing to fear, for it is in our darkest moments that the light will shine the brightest. He has conquered death. His love is greater than our fears.

“In all these things we conquer overwhelmingly through Him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor present things, nor future things, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:37-39).