Engage

There is a regrettable interpretation of the Cross that has, unfortunately, infected the minds of many Christians. This is the view that the bloody sacrifice of the Son on the cross was “satisfying” to the Father, an appeasement of a God infinitely angry at sinful humanity. In this reading, the crucified Jesus is like a child hurled into the fiery mouth of a pagan divinity in order to assuage its wrath.

But what ultimately refutes this twisted theology is the well-known passage from John’s Gospel: “God so loved the world, that he sent his only Son, that all who believe in him might have eternal life.”(3:16) John reveals that it is not out of anger or vengeance or in a desire for retribution that the Father sends the Son, but precisely out of love. God the Father is not some pathetic divinity whose bruised personal honor needs to be restored; rather, God is a parent who burns with compassion for His children who have wandered into danger.

Does the Father hate sinners? No, but he hates sin. Does God harbor indignation at the unjust? No, but God despises injustice. Thus, God sends his Son, not gleefully to see him suffer, but compassionately to set things right.

Saint Anselm, the great medieval theologian who is often unfairly blamed for the cruel theology of satisfaction, was eminently clear on this score. We sinners are like diamonds that have fallen into the muck. Made in the image of God, we have soiled ourselves through violence and hatred. God, claimed Anselm, could have simply pronounced a word of forgiveness from heaven, but this would not have solved the problem. It would not have restored the diamonds to their original brilliance. Instead, in his passion to reestablish the beauty of creation, God came down into the muck of sin and death, brought the diamonds up, and then polished them off.

In so doing, of course, God had to get dirty. This sinking into the dirt—this divine solidarity with the lost—is the “sacrifice” which the Son makes to the infinite pleasure of the Father. It is the sacrifice expressive, not of anger or vengeance, but of compassion.

Jesus said that any disciple of His must be willing to take up his cross and follow the Master. If God is self-forgetting love even to the point of death, then we must be such love. If God is willing to break open his own heart, then we must be willing to break open our hearts for others. The cross, in short, must become the very structure of the Christian life.

Q: My Protestant friends say that Catholics believe we need to earn our salvation. They say that salvation is by faith alone and that we can’t add to anything that Jesus already did for us on the Cross. But don’t we have to do good works to make it to Heaven?

A: This is a pretty big misunderstanding for both Protestants and Catholics. It may seem to be theological minutiae, but it actually has a huge consequence in our spiritual life. The truth is this: We are saved by living faith—our belief in Jesus Christ that is lived out in our words and actions.

We must be clear—we do not need to earn our salvation, as if salvation was a prize if we reach a certain level of good deeds. Consider this: who was the first one to be saved? According to Jesus, it was the Good Thief. While he was being rightly crucified for his evil deeds, he cried out to Jesus for mercy, and the Lord promised him: “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” (Luke 23:43) So, salvation consists in that radical faith, trust, and surrender to what Jesus did on the Cross to purchase mercy.

Why is this important? Because many Catholics think that all we have to do to be saved is ‘be a good person’—even if the person doesn’t actually have a living relationship with the Lord. I can’t begin to tell you how many people tell me something like: “Oh, my uncle never went to Mass or prayed, but he was a nice man who did many good things in his life, so I know he’s in Heaven.” While we certainly hope that the uncle is saved by God’s mercy, it isn’t our kindness or good works that save us, but the saving death of Jesus on the Cross.

What would happen if a criminal was put on trial for a crime, but he said to the judge, “Your Honor, I did commit the crime, but look at all the other good things I did in my life!” Would the judge let him off? No—he would still have to pay for the crime he committed. Likewise, our sins had a cost—and Jesus Christ had to pay for them. This payment of the debt of sin is applied to our souls through faith.

But, faith is not just an intellectual exercise. It must be lived out. As Saint James writes: “Faith without works is dead” (2:24). It’s not enough just to say: “Well, I believe in Jesus, so I can now sin as much as I want.” On the contrary, precisely because we have been forgiven and become heirs to the Kingdom, we must then act like Kingdom-heirs, like sons and daughters of the King.

This is very different than trying to earn our salvation. We don’t do good works because we hope to be forgiven—we do good works because we are already forgiven. Our good deeds are a sign that His forgiveness is alive and active in our lives. After all, Jesus tells us: “If you love Me, you will keep My commandments.” (John 14:15) If a husband loves his wife, he will seek concrete ways to bless her—giving her flowers, doing the dishes, writing her a love note. He would never say: “Well, we’re married, and she knows I love her, so I can now do whatever I want.” Likewise, a soul that has known the merciful love of Jesus will naturally want to please Him.

So, to answer your question, Catholics and Protestants are actually much closer on this issue than they know! We both believe that we are saved by faith—by a living faith, which is expressed in a life of good works as a sign of thanksgiving for the lavish, free gift of salvation that Christ won for us on the Cross.

Lent is round the corner. Are you feeling reluctant to give up your favorites?

Growing up, I was one boisterous kid with a rather loud mouth and a deep love for music. One of my earliest memories was turning the radio on all by myself and hearing music magically come out of that little box. It was like a whole new world opened up for me!

My whole family loved music, and we were often singing, playing the piano, strumming the guitar, listening to classical music, or making up our own ditties. I remember thinking that life would be so much better if there was a sweet soundtrack playing in the background.

I passed on this love of music to my children. As a young family, we had songs for pretty much every occasion, including our prayer times. Now, all of us lead music in some shape or form, and I currently serve as a music minister for two parishes. Music is a source of great joy and life!

One day, however, it hit me square between the eyes that I was too attached to music.

That Lent, I gave up listening to music in the car. That was a doozy for me, for I always listened to music while driving. This habit was particularly hard to break. It was like an automatic knee-jerk reaction. Every time I got into my car, my hand flew up to pop in a CD.

But I persisted and eventually trained my hand not to touch any buttons but to make the sign of the cross instead. Then, I replaced listening to music with prayer, with praying the rosary specifically. That was seven years ago, and I have not looked back. I have grown to greatly appreciate this downtime with God.

Downtime with the Lord gives us the space we all desperately need to disconnect from exterior things and connect to our interior life. It helps us regain peace. It helps us lean in and better listen to God.  Recall how Saint John the Evangelist rested up against Jesus’ chest at the Last Supper. Now, imagine yourself leaning in so close that you could feel Jesus’ heartbeat.

God wants us to lean in. To create a space in our daily lives where we rest our heads upon His Sacred Heart and learn from Him or simply rest our weary souls.

Being a lover of music, I used to always have a tune running through my mind, and oftentimes, this was a real distraction. Now, if I have a tune in my mind, I stop and ask God if He is communicating something to me through it. This morning, for instance, I woke up to a tune I hadn’t heard in ages, “I will sing of the mercies of the Lord forever; I will sing, I will sing.”

Music is the language of the heart. I believe God delights in our sung praises to Him and that He often is singing over us. So, I still sing! However, I feel particularly blessed when singing leads to a place of silence, or what I like to call ‘pregnant silence,’ a place of profound intimacy with the Lord. I especially appreciate this quiet space right after receiving Holy Communion.

In our busy lives, creating downtime with the Lord is often a battle. Praying the rosary helps me tremendously with this battle, which makes sense since our Blessed Mother is a champion of contemplation. “Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.” (Luke 2:19)

Jesus Himself modeled for us the importance of entering into silence, as He often withdrew to a quiet spot to be alone with His Heavenly Father.

One day this past summer, while on a crowded beach during a family reunion, I found myself under-rosaried and edgy. I was craving quiet time with the Lord. My daughter recognized I was not myself and casually mentioned it. I decided to venture out into the lake alone for an hour and discovered that if I went underwater, I would find my quiet zone. I prayed a rosary while swimming that afternoon and regained my peace.

“The more we pray, the more we wish to pray. Like a fish which at first swims on the surface of the water, and afterward plunges down, and is always going deeper, the soul plunges, dives, and loses itself in the sweetness of conversing with God.”—Saint John Vianney.

Holy Spirit, help us find the quiet time we so desperately need, so we can better hear Your Voice and simply rest in Your Embrace.

Super-wealthy, know-it-all, well-respected, powerful influencer…the list is endless, but all these don’t matter when it comes to the question of who you are.

During the early ’60s, the folk-rock group The Byrds had a mega-hit called Turn! Turn! Turn! which was adapted from the third chapter of Ecclesiastes. I found the song riveting. It encouraged me to read the entire Book, which I found to be very strange. It was strange because, unlike the lyrics to the song, I found the rest, especially the first chapter, to be a ‘Debbie Downer,’ an unrelenting treatment of the human condition.

The author, Qoheleth, is a self-described old man who has seen it all, done it all, and experienced it all. He has enjoyed everything life has to offer—he is super-wealthy, has accumulated knowledge, is well respected by his peers, has the power to navigate through life, and basically has enjoyed every creature comfort that can come his way. But, given all of that, he has come to the conclusion that it doesn’t matter.

Why not? I think he realized deep down that who you are is far more important than what you have.The reason is relatively straightforward—the goods of the world will always pass and fade away because they are ephemeral, transitory, and finite.

Before You are Whisked Away

Who we are is a matter of our moral and spiritual character, a matter of the soul. In the opening chapters of Genesis, it is revealed to us that we are made in the image and likeness of God, which constitutes us to participate in God’s very Being and Eternal Life. Put simply, we are who we are in relationship to God, not in what we have. We are, to the very core, spiritual and religious beings.

In the Gospel parable of the rich fool, Jesus makes a similar point but goes much further. Jesus effectively mocks the man who gives his allegiance to his wealth and security, in the false assumption that they will bring him joy. The man is not only wealthy, but his wealth is going to expand dramatically because he has had a good harvest. So, what does he do? He resolves to tear down his old barns and build bigger ones to store his added riches. The man has built his life on several considerations: (1) the goods of the world are valuable; (2) the many years, a lifestyle that it takes to realize his ambitions; (3) his wealth will promote a sense of tranquillity and unrestrained enjoyment. Given all of these considerations, nothing is lacking.

Au contraire, foolish rich young man! The Word that God addresses to him nullifies his plans: “You fool, this night your life will be demanded of you and the things that you have prepared, to whom will they belong?” (Luke 12:20) What Jesus is telling him is that God is not demanding his possessions, but his very life—who he is! And that demand is being made not in the distant future but right here, right now.

This night, your soul, your heart, your life will be required of you. “So,” Jesus says, “it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.” (Luke 12:21) Instead of the ‘enjoyment of life,’ i.e., the accumulation of the goods of the world, Jesus presents him with surrendering his life. “Seek His Kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well.” (Luke 12:31)

Ultimately Real

Dear reader, this is the linchpin—a primordial either-or choice: Is my gaze on God or is it on the goods of the world? If the former, then we will live out our true dignity of being human. We will love God with our whole heart and soul and our neighbor as ourselves because we are grounded in what is ultimately real. We will be in the right relationship with God, our neighbor, and all of creation.

Being attached to the goods of the world cannot possibly satisfy the desire of the heart because they cannot love us, which is the soul’s basic desire. Instead, this obsession and addiction causes more hunger and gives rise to a heightened sense of anxiety. Put bluntly, if we reject the sacred and transcendent in our lives, we will inevitably experience a dread of our very existence, a sense of emptiness and alienation from our fellow human beings, deep loneliness, and guilt.

It doesn’t have to end this way. Jesus invites us to take a realistic look at how wealth can enslave our hearts and distract us from where our true treasure lies, which is the Kingdom of God fulfilled in Heaven. Along this line, Saint Paul reminds us in his letter to the Colossians to “Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth.” (3:1-2)

It is, therefore, important for us to examine what we really love. Love that is lived according to the Gospel is the source of true happiness, whereas the exaggerated and unrequited search for material goods and wealth is often a source of restlessness, anxiety, abuse of others, manipulation, and domination.

The readings from Ecclesiastes, Luke’s Gospel, and Paul’s letter all point to the question: ‘Who am I?’ which matters infinitely more than what you have. What matters is that you are God’s beloved child, created to rest ultimately in God’s love.

I was going through my old prayer journal, wherein I had written prayer requests. To my amazement, every single one of them was answered!

Anyone taking a cursory look at the news these days may find themselves despairing, wondering where God is, and needing hope. I know I have found myself in this position on certain days. We feel out of control, and we wonder what we can do about all of the horrible things we see. I want to share with you a story.

A few years ago, I started keeping a journal of prayer requests of the people and things I was praying for. I often prayed a Rosary for these things, as I still do today for prayer petitions. One day, I came across an old journal of my written prayer requests. I began to peruse the pages of what I had written long ago. I was astounded. Each prayer had been answered—maybe not always in ways I thought they would be answered, but they were answered. These were no small prayers. “Dear Lord, please help my aunt stop drinking alcohol. Dear Lord, please help my infertile friend have children. Dear Lord, please heal my friend from cancer.”

As I scrolled down the page, I realized that every single prayer had been answered. Many in a bigger and better way than I imagined. There were a couple that, at first glance, I thought had not been answered. One friend who needed healing from cancer had passed away, but then I remembered that she had confession and anointing of the sick before she died. She died peacefully in the mercy of God, surrounded by His healing grace. But other than that, the majority of the prayers were answered here in this world. Many prayer requests had seemed like impossible mountains, but they had been moved. God’s grace takes our prayers and our perseverance in prayer, and He moves all things toward good. In the quiet of my prayer, I heard a whisper: “I have been working all these things throughout time. I have been writing these stories. Trust me.”

I believe we are in perilous times. But I also believe that we are made for these times. You may say to me: “Your personal prayer requests being answered seems great, but nations are at war.” And my response to that is, again, nothing is impossible with God, not even stopping war by using our prayers. I remember it happening in the past. We should believe that God can act that big right now.

For those not old enough to remember, there was a scary time when it looked like a blood bath was coming. But through the power of the Rosary, things changed. I was in 8th grade, and I remember hearing about all the turmoil in the Philippines. Ferdinand Marcos was the dictator of that country at the time. It was shaping up to become a bloody battle with a few people already dead. A staunch critic of Marcos, Benigno Aquino, was assassinated. But it didn’t become a bloody battle. Cardinal Jaime Sin of Manila had asked people to pray. They went out in front of the military, praying the Rosary aloud. They stood in front of tanks praying. And then, a miraculous thing happened. The military laid down their weapons. Even the secular media, the Chicago Tribune, reported how “Guns fell to Rosaries.” The revolution was over, and the glory of God was seen.

Don’t stop believing in miracles. Expect them. And pray the Rosary every chance you get. Lord knows our world needs it.

It takes courage to start a 1000-piece puzzle and finish it; so is it with life.

Last Christmas, I received a 1000-piece puzzle from my Kris Kringle at work featuring the Twelve Apostles of the famous Great Ocean Road (a spectacular group of rock formations in Southwestern Victoria, Australia).

I was not keen to start. I had done three of them with my daughter a few years ago, so I knew the hard work they entail. However, as I looked at the three completed puzzles hanging at home, in spite of the inertia I was feeling, I felt an inner drive to meditate on “the Twelve Apostles.”

On Shaky Ground

I wondered how the Apostles of Jesus felt when He died on the cross and left them. Early Christian sources, including the Gospels, state that the disciples were devastated, full of disbelief and fear that they went into hiding. They were not at their best at the end of Jesus’ life.

Somehow, this is how I felt as I started the year—fearful, uneasy, sad, broken-hearted, and uncertain. I had not fully recovered from the grief of losing my dad and a close friend. I must admit my faith was standing on shaky ground. It seemed as if my passion and energy for life had been overtaken by lethargy, lukewarmness, and a dark night of the soul, which threatened to (and sometimes succeeded in) overshadowing my joy, energy, and desire to serve the Lord. I could not shake it off despite great efforts.

But if we do not stop at that disappointing episode of the disciples fleeing their Master, we see at the end of the Gospels, these same men, ready to take on the world and even to die for Christ. What changed?

The Gospels record that the disciples were transformed on witnessing the Resurrected Christ. When they went to Bethany to witness His Ascension, spent time with Him, learned from Him, and received His blessings, it had a powerful effect. He did not only give them instruction but a purpose and a promise. They were not only to be messengers but witnesses as well. He promised to accompany them in their mission and gave them a Mighty Helper at that.

This is what I have been praying for lately—an encounter with the Resurrected Jesus once more so that my life will be divinely renovated.

Not Giving Up

As I started the puzzle, trying to put together this scenic marvel of the Twelve Apostles, I recognized that every piece was significant. Every person whom I will encounter in this New Year will contribute to my growth and color my life. They will come in different hues—some strong, others subtle, some in bright pigments, others grey, some in a magical combination of tints, while others dull or fierce, but everyone necessary to complete the picture.

Jigsaw puzzles take time to put together, and so does life. There is much patience to be asked for as we connect with one another. There is gratitude for when the link is done. And when the pieces don’t fit, there is hopefully a trusting encouragement to not give up. Sometimes, we may need to take a rest from it, come back, and try again. The puzzle, like life, is not covered by splashes of bright, happy colors all the time. The blacks, the greys, and the dark shades are needed to create a contrast.

It takes courage to start a puzzle, but more so to finish it. Patience, perseverance, time, commitment, focus, sacrifice, and devotion will be demanded. It is similar to when we start to follow Jesus. Like the Apostles, will we hold on till the very end? Will we be able to meet our Lord face to face and hear Him say: “Well done, good and faithful servant” (Matthew 25:23), or as Saint Paul says: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” (2 Timothy 4:7)?

This year, you might be asked too: Are you holding that piece of the puzzle that could make someone’s life better? Are you the missing piece?

We always tend to fill in our calendars as much as possible but what if an unforeseen opportunity comes knocking?

The New Year gives the impression that we have a blank slate before us. The upcoming year is full of possibilities, and resolutions abound as we rush to fill up our freshly printed calendars. However, it happens that many of those exciting opportunities and elaborate goals for the perfect year fall flat. By the end of January, our smiles are faltering, and old habits from the previous years creep back into our lives.

What if we treated this year, this moment, a little differently? Instead of rushing to fill in all the white space on our calendars, why not give a little more room to blank space, to empty pockets of time where we don’t have anything scheduled? It is in these empty spaces we give the Holy Spirit the most room to work in our lives.

Anyone who has moved from one home to another knows the surprising amount of space an empty room creates. As the furniture moves out, the room seems to continue to grow. Without anything left, it’s always a shock to think that enough space was ever a problem, look how big it is! The more a room is filled with rugs, furniture, wall hangings, and other possessions, the more close the space can feel. Then, someone visits your house with a gift in hand, and you turn and wonder—now, where will we put this?

Our calendars can operate in much the same way. We fill each day with work, practice, games, commitments, prayer service—so many good and often seemingly necessary things. But what happens when the Holy Spirit comes knocking with an opportunity we didn’t foresee? Do we have space for Him on our calendar?

We can look to Mary as an ideal model for how to be open to the Holy Spirit. Mary hears the words of the angel and freely receives them. In offering her life to God, she demonstrates the perfect disposition for receiving God’s gifts. Another way to think about this is with what Bishop Barron has called the ‘Loop of Grace.’

God wishes to give to us with abundance. When we open ourselves to God’s loving generosity, we recognize that everything we have is a gift. With joy, we give back to God in thanksgiving, restarting the loop.

God reaches out to Mary, and she freely offers herself to His Will and purpose. She then receives Jesus. We see this again at the end of Jesus’ life. In utter sorrow and awful pain, Mary lets go of her precious Son. She doesn’t cling to Him as He hangs on the cross. In that painful moment, all seems lost, and her motherhood is emptied. She doesn’t flee, she remains with her Son, who has had to let her go. But then, Jesus gives her not just one son in John but sons and daughters for eternity in her motherhood of the Church. Because Mary remained open and receptive to God’s plan, even when it was the most painful, we now can call her , Our Mother.

As the year continues, perhaps take some time to pray over your schedule. Have you already filled up your days with more than enough, maybe even too much? Ask the Holy Spirit to inspire you to consider what activities are necessary for His purposes and which are more for your own personal desires and goals. Ask for the courage to reorder your schedule, for the wisdom to say “No” when needed, so you can joyfully and freely say “Yes!” when He comes knocking on your door.

Discover the beauty of making the best New Year Resolution this year

As we stand on the cusp of a new year, the air is filled with anticipation, hope, and the promise of a fresh start. For many, this transition symbolizes a chance to leave behind the burdens of the past and embark on a journey of growth and healing. I, too, have walked this path—navigating the complexities of life, finding solace, strength, and joy through the transformative grace of prayer.

Stroke of Midnight

A few years ago, I found myself grappling with the remnants of past pains that seemed to weigh heavily on my heart. The scars of disappointments and losses had etched their marks, leaving me yearning for a fresh start. It was in this introspective moment that I made a resolution—a resolution that would set me on a path toward grace and healing.

As the clock struck midnight, I resolved to dedicate myself to the transformative power of prayer. This resolution was not borne out of a fleeting desire for change but from a deep-seated need to mend the broken pieces of my soul and find the joy that had eluded me for far too long.

In the early days of the new year, the familiar ache of my past pains made the journey of keeping my resolution a challenging one. Distractions and doubts attempted to derail my commitment, but I clung to my faith and determination. Through persistent prayer, I began to experience subtle shifts within me—whispers of grace touching my wounded spirit.

As the months unfolded, the graces poured into my life like a gentle rain, soothing the parched land of my heart. I found the courage to forgive those who had wronged me and understand that forgiveness was a gift I gave myself. It was liberating, a divine grace that released me from the shackles of bitterness, allowing me to embrace love and joy.

Stick to Your Resolution

The path wasn’t without its thorns, but the grace of prayer infused me with the strength and resilience to persevere. I realized that this journey was not merely about sticking to a resolution—it was about embracing a life illuminated by the radiant light of faith.

Consistency in prayer played a pivotal role in my journey of healing and renewal. I often found it challenging to maintain this new habit amidst life’s struggles and distractions. Here are a few tips that helped me stay on track and keep my resolution alive:

1. Set a Sacred Time: Find a specific time of day that works best for you to pray consistently. It could be in the morning before the day’s chaos begins, during a quiet lunch break, or in the evening to reflect on the day. This dedicated time will help establish a routine.
2. Create a Sacred Space: Designate a special place for prayer, whether it’s a cozy corner in your home, a church, or a natural spot in the outdoors. Having a dedicated space helps to create a sense of sacredness and peace.
3. Utilize Prayer Aids: Incorporate prayer aids like a journal, rosary beads, or spiritual books. These tools can enhance your prayer experience and keep you focused, especially when distractions threaten to pull you away.
4. Seek Accountability: Share your resolution with a trusted friend or family member who can encourage you on your journey and hold you accountable. Having someone to share your progress and struggles with can be a source of motivation.

Through the Storm

Today, as I reflect on that pivotal year and the subsequent ones, I am filled with a profound sense of joy. The pain that once held me captive has transformed into a wellspring of strength, compassion, and a deepened relationship with God. The scars remain, but they are now a testament to the grace that brought me through the storm.

As we stand on the threshold of a new year, I encourage you to embrace the power of prayer in your life. It’s a beacon of hope, a source of comfort, and a lifeline during the darkest of times. Whatever your resolutions may be, may they be steeped in prayer and nourished by faith, knowing that God’s grace will guide you every step of the way.

There is just something about a baby. If a baby is introduced into a crowded room, everyone will want to see him. Conversations will stop, smiles will spread across people’s faces, arms will reach out to hold the child. Even the crustiest and most curmudgeonly denizen of the room will be drawn toward the baby. People who, moments before, had been arguing with one another will be cooing and making funny faces at the infant. Babies bring peace and joy; it’s just what they do.

The central and still unnervingly strange message of Christmas is that God became a baby. The omnipotent Creator of the universe, the ground of the intelligibility of the world, the source of finite existence, the reason there is something rather than nothing—became an infant too weak even to raise his head, a vulnerable baby lying helpless in a manger where the animals eat. I am sure that everyone around the Christ child’s crib—his mother, Saint Joseph, the shepherds, the Magi—did what people always do around babies: they smiled and cooed and made funny noises. And they were drawn more closely together precisely by their shared concern for the child. 

In this we see a stroke of divine genius. For the entire length of the history of Israel, God was endeavoring to attract His chosen people to Himself and to draw them into deeper communion with one another. The whole purpose of the Torah, the Ten Commandments, the dietary laws outlined in the book of Leviticus, the preaching of the prophets, the covenants with Noah, Moses, and David, and the sacrifices offered in the temple was simply to foster friendship with God and greater love among His people. A sad but consistent theme of the Old Testament is that, despite all of these efforts and institutions, Israel remained alienated from God: Torah ignored, covenants broken, commandments disobeyed, temple corrupted.

So, in the fullness of time, God determined, not to intimidate us or order us from on high, but rather to become a baby, for who can resist a baby? At Christmas, the human race no longer looked up to see the face of God, but rather down into the face of a little child. One of my spiritual heroes, Saint Thérèse of Lisieux, was known as ‘Thérèse of the Child Jesus.’ It is easy enough to sentimentalize this designation, but we should resist that temptation. In identifying herself with the infant Christ, Thérèse was subtly endeavoring to draw everyone she met, out of themselves, and into an attitude of love. 

Once we understand this essential dynamic of Christmas, the spiritual life opens in a fresh way. Where do we find the God we seek? We do so most clearly in the faces of the vulnerable, the poor, the helpless, the childlike. It is relatively easy to resist the demands of the wealthy, successful, and self-sufficient. In point of fact, we are likely to feel resentment toward them. But the lowly, the needy, the weak—how can we turn away from them? They draw us—as a baby does—out of our self-preoccupation and into the space of real love. This is undoubtedly why so many of the saints—Francis of Assisi, Elizabeth of Hungary, John Chrysostom, Mother Teresa of Kolkata, to name just a few—were drawn to the service of the poor. 

I’m sure that most of those who read these words will gather with your families for a Christmas celebration. Everyone will be there: Mom and Dad, cousins, uncles and aunts, perhaps grandparents and great-grandparents, some friends who find themselves away from home. There will be lots of food, lots of laughter, plenty of lively conversations, most likely a fierce political argument or two. The extroverts will be having a splendid time; the introverts will find all of it a little more challenging. I would be willing to bet that at most of these gatherings, at some point, a baby will be brought into the room: the new son, grandson, great-grandson, cousin, nephew, what have you. Could I urge you this year to be particularly attentive to what that baby does to everyone, to notice the magnetic power he has over the entire motley crew? And then I would invite you to remember that the reason you are gathering at all is to celebrate the baby who is God. And finally, permit yourself to be attracted by the peculiar magnetism of that divine child.

As a little girl, I wanted to become a Superhero but eventually I accepted that it was a child’s silly dream, until… 

When I was a kid, I woke up early on Saturday mornings to watch Super-friends, a cartoon about a group of superheroes who saved the world. I wanted to be a superhero when I grew up. I would imagine getting a signal that someone needed help and quickly flying to their aid. All the superheroes I saw on TV remained incognito. To the world, they seemed like regular folks with boring lives. However, in times of trouble, they quickly mobilized and worked together to save humanity from the bad guys. 

Once I grew up, I recognized that the superheroes in cartoons were imaginary characters. I gave up on my silly notions…until, one day, when I met a true superhero who opened my eyes. I would occasionally drop in to pray at the perpetual adoration chapel in a local church. Since someone has to be present at all times during Eucharistic adoration, volunteers sign up for short intervals. On many of my visits, I noticed an older man in a wheelchair who sat and prayed for hours at the chapel. He looked to be about 90 years old. Every so often, he would pull out different items from a bag—a Bible, a rosary, or a piece of paper that I assume was a prayer list. I wondered what kind of job he did when he was younger and physically healthy. Whatever he did before was probably not as significant as what he was doing now. I realized that this gentleman in a wheelchair was doing something far more important than most of us who were busy running around. 

Incognito superheroes were hiding in plain sight! This meant I, too, could be a superhero…of prayer. 

Responding to SOS 

I decided to join the church prayer chain, a group of people who have committed to intercede for others privately. Many of these prayer warriors are elderly. Some are people with disabilities. Some are in seasons of life where they are homebound for various reasons. We get email notifications of names of people who have requested prayers. Just like the superheroes in the cartoons I watched long ago, we get a signal when someone needs help. 

The prayer requests come in at all times of the day: Mr. X fell off a ladder and is being taken to the hospital. Mrs. Y has been diagnosed with cancer. A grandchild has been involved in a car crash. A man’s brother has been kidnapped in Nigeria. A family has lost their home in a tornado. The needs are many. 

We take our responsibility as intercessors seriously. We stop whatever we are doing and pray. We are an army of prayer warriors. We are fighting invisible forces of darkness. Thus, we put on the full armor of God and fight with spiritual weapons. We pray on behalf of others who are in need. With perseverance and dedication, we continually submit our petitions to God. 

The Hero Effect

Does prayer make a difference? Every so often, we get feedback from the people who have requested prayer. The kidnapped man in Nigeria was released within a week. Many experience miraculous healing. Most of all, people are strengthened and comforted during times of suffering. Jesus prayed, and He revolutionized the world! Prayer was part of His ministry of healing, deliverance, and providing for those in need. Jesus was in constant communication with the Father. He taught His disciples to pray as well. 

Prayer allows us to understand God’s perspective and align our will to His Divine nature. And when we intercede for others, we become partners with Christ in His ministry of love. When we share our concerns with the omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent God, there is a shift in the atmosphere. Our faithful prayer, united with God’s will, can move mountains.

“We beg you, Lord, to help and defend us. Deliver the oppressed. Pity the insignificant. Raise the fallen. Show yourself to the needy. Heal the sick. Bring back those of your people who have gone astray. Feed the hungry. Lift up the weak. Take off the prisoners’ chains. May every nation come to know that you alone are God, that Jesus is your Child, that we are your people, the sheep that you pasture. Amen.”
(Saint Clement)

It was a stormy night. Sister Faustina bowed her face to the ground and prayed the Litany of the Saints. Toward the end of the Litany, such drowsiness overcame her that she couldn’t finish the prayer. She immediately got up and prayed, “Jesus, calm the storm, for Your child is unable to pray any longer, and I am heavy with sleep.” With these words, she threw the window open, not even securing it with hooks. Sister Fabiola said to her, “Sister, what are you doing!? The wind will surely tear the window loose!” But Sister Faustina asked her to sleep in peace. At once, the storm completely subsided. The next day, the sisters were talking about the sudden calming of the storm, not knowing what had really happened. And Sister Faustina thought to herself: “Only Jesus and Faustina know what it means…”

Such was the trust Saint Faustina had in Jesus. No wonder He appeared to her and gave her the mission of Divine Mercy for the whole world, with the instruction to inscribe the words: “JESUS I TRUST IN YOU.” She abandoned herself to Him completely, just like a child. Once, during Holy Mass, she had a miraculous vision. Jesus appeared as a one-year-old child and asked her to take Him in her arms. When she had taken Him in her arms, Infant Jesus cuddled up close to her bosom and said, “It is good for Me to be close to your heart…because I want to teach you spiritual childhood. I want you to be very little because when you are little, I carry you close to My Heart, just as you are holding Me close to your heart right now.”

Spiritual childhood is often misunderstood as naïveté or excessive sentimentality. However, it involves a total surrender to our heavenly Father’s providential care—total abandonment of our own plans, opinions, and self-will—and a radical trust in God. Can we, too, ask God to give us the grace to accept—like a little child—all that He asks of us in this life? As we do, can we trust, like Saint Faustina, that the Lord will not abandon us, even for a moment?