Evangelize

Tom Holland’s magnificent book Dominion develops in detail what amounts to a very simple proposition—namely, that Christianity is responsible for many of the central values that we take for granted and that we assume to be universal. In point of fact, he avers, our insistence upon the dignity of the individual, fundamental human rights, the principle of equality, and perhaps above all that the poor, the marginalized, and the victimized ought to be specially cherished, flows from basic Christian convictions.

What prompted Holland to investigate this claim initially was his extensive work in the history of ancient Rome. The longer and more deeply he looked at Roman society, the stranger it seemed, the less like our own time. And the more he studied the great heroes of Rome, the more alien and morally problematic they appeared. To give just one example among many, he urges us to consider perhaps the most impressive of ancient Roman personalities, Julius Caesar. Eager to enhance his political reputation, Caesar embarked on a military campaign in Gaul (present-day France). His remarkable success in subduing this land and making it a Roman province served to cover him in glory and became the subject of his book The Gallic Wars, which is read to this day. But what is rarely remarked upon is the staggering fact that in the course of this conquest, Caesar killed, by conservative estimate, one million people and enslaved another million or so more. Now, Caesar had a boatload of enemies in Rome who suspected him of lusting after kingly power. But what Holland finds fascinating is that none of his opponents were scandalized by his murderous rampage through Gaul. In fact, all of Rome praised him for it. So the question arises: Why would we today consider someone who killed and enslaved on such a massive scale a scoundrel while even the best and brightest in ancient Roman society considered Caesar a hero? The answer, in a word, is Christianity.

What the early Christians brought to Roman culture was the belief in the one God who made every human being in His image and likeness and who thereby endowed them with rights, freedom, and dignity. Moreover, the Christians taught, the Creator God became human and went willingly to the very limits of suffering and degradation, in Saint Paul’s words, “accepting even death, death on a cross.” They proclaimed a Savior who was a victim of Roman tyranny and whom God raised from the dead. And by this proclamation, they brought all the tyrannized, all of the victimized, all of the weak and forgotten from the margins to the center. These beliefs were, of course, initially regarded as absurd, and the early Christians were brutally persecuted for them. But over time, and through the witness and practice of courageous people, these beliefs soaked into the fabric of Western society. So deeply did they penetrate our consciousness that we came, as Holland has argued, to take them for granted and to mistake them for general humanistic values.

Now, why is all this important to us today? We live in a time when the Christian faith is rather regularly denigrated by those in the upper echelons of elite society, in the universities, and in the media. Moreover, armies of people, especially the young, are disaffiliating from the churches and ceasing to engage in religious ritual and practice. Harmless enough, you might think, or even to the advantage of a society reaching maturity through secularization? Think again. As Christian faith and praxis evanesce, the values that Christianity has inculcated in our culture evanesce as well. Cut flowers may bloom for a time once they’ve been ripped from the soil and placed in water, but they will fade soon enough. We delude ourselves if we think that the values instilled in us by Christianity will long survive the demise of Christianity itself.

Signs of the emergence of a neo-paganism in fact abound. In many states in our country, as well as in Canada and many European countries, a regime of euthanasia holds sway. When elderly or sick people become inconvenient, they can and should be eliminated. And, of course, in most countries in the West, when a child in the womb is judged to be a problem, he or she can be aborted at any point in pregnancy, up to the moment of birth. In my home state of Minnesota, a proposal has been made to enshrine this ‘right’ to the murder of the unborn in the constitution. How like this is, by the way, to the ancient Roman practice of exposing unwanted newborns to the elements and the animals. And how fascinating, in light of Tom Holland’s analysis, that the early Christians got the attention of the environing Roman culture precisely by their willingness to rescue and take in these abandoned babies.

So, what is the needful thing? Christians must raise their voices in protest against the culture of death. And they must do so by claiming and publicly proclaiming the values that come from their faith. For too long, believers have been cowed into silence by the insinuation that religion is a ‘private’ matter. Nonsense. Christian values have informed our society from the beginning and have provided the coherent moral framework that most of us still take for granted. Now is not the time for quietude. It is time for us to shout our convictions from the rooftops.

In the year 1240, Emperor Frederick II of Sweden was at war with the Pope, and he sent his warriors to attack Italy. The cruel soldiers decided to break into the cloistered convent of San Damiano, which was located on the border of the town of Assisi. This was where Mother Clare and the nuns under her care resided. The poor nuns were terrified and immediately rushed to their Mother to share the news.

Mother Clare was bedridden, but with the help of the sisters, she got up and calmly went to the chapel. Prostrating herself in front of the Eucharist, she tearfully implored God to protect the helpless sisters. Suddenly, she heard a voice from the tabernacle: “I will always protect you!”

Filled with confidence and trust, she took the ciborium containing the Blessed Sacrament and went to face the invaders. As she raised it in front of them, the soldiers were thrown into confusion and utter fear. They instantly fled the convent, abandoning their evil schemes.

To the nuns, their mother’s unwavering devotion to the Holy Eucharist was a great lesson. Saint Clare, in her great humility, instructed the sisters not to reveal the voice they heard from the Blessed Sacrament until after her death.

Let us, inspired by Saint Clare, grow in our devotion to Jesus in the Eucharist and put our complete trust in Him.

Suffering is not bitter anymore, it’s now way more sweeter…

Back at the height of the pandemic, affected by COVID-19, I went into acute respiratory failure and was admitted to the hospital for four days. I was given medicines through my veins to help my lungs. The illness caused scarring in my lungs, so I went home with some prednisone and oxygen to help alleviate the inflammation.

Prior to this, I was an active senior who enjoyed gardening, walking my dog, journaling, writing, reading, and spending time with my family and friends. I attended Mass and Adoration and prayed at Planned Parenthood. However, life took on a new challenge.

I had a sinus headache for months, and no medicine could relieve the pain. I became easily fatigued and had to lay down several times a day. Often, I would start to do something around the house and would get completely depleted. I lost my sense of taste and even some of my hearing. At times, I was unable to drive because I would get confused and dizzy driving. The doctors determined that I was suffering from long-Covid, and that lasted for months.

In addition, my mind and thinking became foggy. I was very forgetful—they called it brain fog. I couldn’t read or concentrate and was very anxious. I began to pray for relief and asked other people to pray for me as well. I tried to offer up my suffering for those who needed God’s mercy, but it was so difficult to do.

A Wake-up Call

Then, I had an inspirational thought which I am sure, was from the Holy Spirit. I had heard of Father Stu, a boxer-turned-priest who gave in to Inclusion Body Myositis (IBM) in the early years of a robust life, but not in vain.

Raised without religion by alcoholic parents, Stewart Long grew up filled with rage. During his teenage years, he began street fighting every night. He soon took up boxing as a sport, until he was hit in the jaw that ended his boxing career. As an adult, he moved to California to try getting into the movies but without much success. A near-miss accident and his girlfriend’s conversion to Catholicism gave him a much-needed wake-up call. As he was being baptized, he had a distinct impression that he was going to be a priest. For a few years, he ignored the nudges of the Holy Spirit, but he eventually made the pivotal decision and entered the seminary.

It was there that he was diagnosed with IBM, a progressive muscle deterioration disorder that is resistant to all therapies. Incurable, it slowly leads to organ collapse, swallowing and breathing difficulties, and inevitable death. Father Stu spent the last four years of his life in a long-term care facility, where his room 227 became a place where people came to seek spiritual direction and confessions, and even just to hang out with him to watch movies. There was always a line of people waiting to get in to see him. His Masses at the facility were always filled with people. Masses with him were incredible. Father Stu ministered to so many suffering souls and offered up all his suffering till the end of his life on June 9, 2014.

Father Stu used to say: “The Cross is a call to trust, even when things are going horribly wrong.” So, asking for his intercession, I started to pray: “Father Stu, if anyone knows how to suffer well, it is you. Please show me how.”

Within a day, Father Stu answered my prayer and showed me how to suffer well with Jesus. The peace of Christ filled my entire being with His strength and mercy. I still can’t quite explain it in words. My suffering and pain became lighter and easier. I began to pray my Rosary and Divine Mercy Chaplet, and I also started to do the Liturgy of the Hours which I had never done before. The peace of Christ filled me with so much joy and comfort. This peace lasted for almost a month, a most beautiful month filled with Divine Love amidst my suffering.

Yes, I continued to have long-Covid symptoms, but the suffering became sweet. Even though I was unable to attend daily Mass and receive the Eucharist, I would make a spiritual communion every day. Jesus said: “I will never leave you or forsake you.” I couldn’t go to Jesus, but Jesus came to me daily.

More Untold Stories

I am so grateful for the intercession of Father Stu. He has truly shown me how to offer up my little and big sufferings for those in need of Jesus’ mercy and healing. This was, to me, a touching testimony that Father Stu’s mission, to help other suffering souls, continues today from his Heavenly home. This is just one of the many stories of healing that remain yet untold.

Father Bart Tolleson who was ordained the same day as Father Stu has written an incredibly easy-to-read book about his brother priest and friend entitled That was Father Stu. The book shares how, in our sufferings, there is hope eternal. The legacy of Father Stu’s life even inspired Mark Wahlberg, a Hollywood actor and producer, to make a movie entitled Father Stu in April 2022. In his words: “Father Bart’s book picks up where Father Stu left off. We come to realize in God’s mercy that Father Stu is still watching out for us.”

When suffering becomes unbearable, let’s not forget that we have Heavenly helpers ever ready to lend a hand.

Watch Mark Wahlberg share his experience of making the movie Father Stu on Shalom World’s Beyond the Vision. (shalomworld.org/episode/father-stu)

I was so busy teaching my kids all about faith, that I forgot this integral lesson…

“Wait! Don’t forget the Holy Water!” My six-year-old had decided he was ready to lead bedtime prayers by himself. Shaking the bottle of Holy Water—in case the ‘holy’ had sunk to the bottom—he blessed us and began: “God, we love You. You are good. You love us. You even love bad guys. We thank you, God. Amen.” My stunned silence filled the room. This simple prayer touched my heart deeply. My son had just shown me how to pray with the simplicity of a child of God.

As a parent, sometimes it’s hard for me to step out of my ‘grown-up’ mindset. I spend a lot of energy trying to help my kids form good habits and grow in the faith, but often I lose sight of what my kids teach me about loving Jesus. When my son mustered courage and prayed aloud, he reminded me that simple, spontaneous prayer is important in my daily relationship with Christ. He taught me that, despite feeling unsure or clumsy, my prayers still please the Lord.

A Real Challenge

As adults, the swirling complexities of family life, schedules, and work responsibilities often consume us and make it difficult to simply talk with the Lord. Saint Teresa of Calcutta understood this real challenge and gave some advice to her own Missionary of Charity sisters: “How do you pray? You should go to God like a little child. A child has no difficulty in expressing his little mind in words, but they express so much … Become as a little child.” Jesus Himself showed us the importance of learning from children: “He called a little child to Him, and placed the child among them. And He said: ‘Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of Heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of Heaven.’” (Matthew 18:2-4)

How can you and I learn to pray like a child? First, ask God for courage and humility, and invite the Holy Spirit to guide you. Next, find a quiet place away from noise and technology. Begin your prayer with the sign of the Cross and your favorite devotional name for God. I have found in conversation that using someone’s name deepens connection. (The Hebrew name for Jesus–Yeshua–means ‘the Lord is salvation’ so if you are not sure which name to use, go simple. “Jesus” will do!)

Securing a Direct Line

Now, it’s time to talk with the Lord. Pray out loud, spontaneously, and tell God whatever comes to your mind—even tell Him if you feel awkward or distracted. Still unsure where to start? Thank God for something, ask Him to transform your heart and pray for someone by name. Do your best and be patient with yourself. Your willingness to discover the simplicity of child-like prayer pleases the Lord very much. God delights in His children!

So, embrace the invitation to learn from your children. Together you can learn to enter into a deeper relationship with Christ. Pray for courage and humility as you learn to talk with the Lord. Be intentional, and you will discover the joy and simplicity of praying as a child of God!

From the time I could talk, Mom mildly lamented that I was a chatterbox. What she did about it changed my life!

“You certainly have the gift to gab,” my mother would tell me. When she’d sense a particularly chatty mood developing, she’d proceed to recite a version of this little verse:

“They call me Little Chatterbox, but my name is Little May. The reason that I talk so much, is because I have so much to say. Oh, I have so many friends, so many you can see, and I love every one of them and everyone loves me. But I love God the best of all. He keeps me through the night and when the morning comes again, He wakes me with His light.”

In hindsight, the little verse was probably meant to distract me from talking and allow Mom’s ears a temporary respite. However, as she recited the sweet rhythmic poem, its meaning provided more things to ponder.

As time taught lessons of maturity, it became clear that many of the thoughts or opinions rattling around in my head should be filtered or quieted, simply because they weren’t necessary to share. Learning to stifle what came naturally took a lot of practice, self-discipline, and patience. However, there were still moments when some things needed to be said aloud or certainly I was going to burst! Fortunately, my mother and Catholic education were instrumental in introducing me to prayer. Prayer was simply talking to God as I would a best friend. What’s more, to my extreme delight, when informed that God was always with me and very eager to listen anytime and anywhere, I thought: “Now, this MUST be a match made in Heaven!”

Learning to Listen

Along with maturity came the feeling that it was time to develop a deeper relationship with my friend, God. True friends communicate with each other, so I realized that I shouldn’t be the one who did all the talking. Ecclesiastes 3:1 reminded me: “For everything there is a season and a time for every matter under Heaven” and it was time to allow God some chatting opportunities while I listened. This new maturity also took practice, self-discipline, and patience to develop. Making time to regularly visit the Lord in His home at the church or adoration chapel assisted this growing relationship. There I felt freer from the distractions that tempted my thoughts to wander. Sitting in silence was uncomfortable at first, but I sat and waited. I was in His house. He was the host. I was the guest. Therefore, out of respect, it seemed appropriate to follow His lead. Many visits were spent in silence.

Then one day, through the silence, I heard a gentle whisper in my heart. It wasn’t in my head or in my ears…it was in my heart. His tender yet direct whisper filled my heart with a loving warmth. A revelation took hold of me: That voice…somehow, I knew that voice. It was very familiar. My God, my friend, was there. It was a voice I’d heard all my life, but to my dismay, I realized that I had so often naively drowned it out with my own thoughts and words.

Time also has a way of revealing the truth. I had never realized that God had always been there trying to get my attention and had important things to say to me. Once I understood, sitting in silence was no longer uncomfortable. In fact, it was a time of longing and anticipation to hear His tender voice, to hear Him lovingly whisper again to my heart. Time strengthened our relationship so that was no longer just one or the other speaking; we began to dialogue. My morning would start in prayer by giving Him the day ahead. Then, along the way, I’d stop and update Him how the day was going. He’d console, advise, encourage, and sometimes reprimand me as I tried to discern His will in my daily life. Trying to understand His will drew me to Scripture where, once again, He’d whisper to my heart. It was amusing to realize that He too was quite a chatterbox, but why should I be surprised? After all, He told me in Genesis 1:27 that I was created in His image and likeness!

Quieting the Self

Time does not stand still. It’s created by God and it’s a gift from Him to us. Thankfully, I’ve walked with God a long time, and through our walks and talks, I’ve come to understand that He whispers to those who silence themselves to hear Him, just as He did to Elijah. “Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind, there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.” (1 Kings 19: 11-12)

In fact, God instructs us to silence ourselves so that we can come to know Him. One of my favorite Scripture verses is Psalm 46:10, where God explicitly told me to “Be still and know that I am God.” Only in quieting my mind and body could my heart be quiet enough to hear Him. He reveals Himself when we listen to His Word because “Faith comes from what is heard, and what is heard comes by the preaching of Christ.” (Romans 10:17)

A long time ago, when my mother recited that childhood verse, little did she know that a seed would be planted in my heart. Through my conversations with God in prayer, that little seed has grown and grown, until at long last, I do ‘love God the best of all!’ He does keep me through the night, especially the dark times in life. Furthermore, my soul awakened when He spoke of my salvation. Thus, He always wakes me with His light. Thank you, Mom!

The time has come to remind you, dear friend, that God loves you! Just like me, you too are created in the image and likeness of God. He wants to whisper to your heart, but for that, be still and get to know Him as God. I invite you, let this be your time and season to allow yourself to develop a deeper relationship with the Lord. Chat with Him in prayer as your dearest friend and develop your own dialogue with Him. When you listen, it won’t take long to realize that when He whispers to your heart, He too is a ‘chatterbox.’

It was fully my intention to have all of the Winona-Rochester seminarians stand at one point during my installation Mass homily. I had told the people that, in the words of John Paul II, ecclesia de eucharistia (the Church comes from the Eucharist), and since the Eucharist comes from priests, it logically follows that if there are no priests, there will be no Church. So I wanted everyone to see and acknowledge the young men in our diocese who are actively discerning a call to this indispensably important way of life. During the ovation, something came to me as an inspiration. I hadn’t planned to say it. It wasn’t in my text. But I blurted out, as the applause was dying down: “Let’s double their number in the next five years!” A confirmation that this was perhaps from the Holy Spirit is that people, at every stop I’ve made so far in the diocese, have, with enthusiasm, echoed those words back to me. In fact, the leader of one of the Serra groups has told me that she and her colleagues have decided to take up the challenge. 

We have twenty seminarians, at both the college and major theology levels, which is pretty good for a diocese our size. And we have a wonderful coterie of priests, both active and ‘retired,’ who are busily serving our nearly one hundred parishes. But those under retirement age number only around sixty, and all of our priests are stretched thin. Furthermore, there will be no priestly ordinations in Winona-Rochester for the next two years. So, there is no question: We need more priests.

Now, bishops and priests do indeed have a key role to play in the encouragement of vocations. What draws a young man to the priesthood is, above all, the witness of happy, healthy priests. Some years ago, the University of Chicago conducted a survey to determine which professions were the happiest. By a rather large margin, those deemed most content were members of the clergy. Moreover, a variety of surveys have demonstrated that, despite the troubles of recent years, Catholic priests report very high levels of personal satisfaction with their lives. Given these data, one recommendation I would make to my brother priests is this: Let people see it! Let them know how much joy you take in being a priest. 

But I believe that lay people have an even more important role to play in the cultivation of vocations. Within the Protestant context, sometimes the son of a great preacher follows in his father’s footsteps so that one minister effectively begets another. But this, for obvious reasons, can’t happen in a Catholic setting. Instead, priests, without exception, come from lay people; they come from families. The decency, prayerfulness, kindness, and encouragement of parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, and uncles make an enormous difference in the fostering of a vocation to the priesthood. One of the most vivid memories of my childhood is of my father, kneeling in intense prayer after Communion one Sunday at St. Thomas More Parish in Troy, Michigan. I was only five or six at the time, and I considered my father the most powerful man on earth. That he was kneeling in supplication before someone more powerful shaped my religious imagination profoundly and, as you can tell, I’ve never forgotten the moment. Both of my parents loved and respected priests and made sure that we kids had steady contact with them. Trust me, their openness of spirit in regard to priests affected my vocation deeply.

And please remember that non-family members can light the flame of a vocation as well. Study after study has shown that one of the most important factors in convincing a young man to enter the seminary is that a trusted friend, colleague, or elder told him that he would make a good priest. I know that there are lots of folks who harbor in their hearts the conviction that a young man should enter the seminary, for they have noticed his gifts of kindness, prayerfulness, intelligence, etc., but they have never summoned the courage or taken the time to tell him. Perhaps they’ve assumed that others have done so. But this is tragically to miss an opportunity. I would say simply this: if you have remarked virtues in a young man that would make him an effective priest, assume that the Holy Spirit has given you this insight so that you might share it with that young man. Believe me, the plainest words you speak could be seeds that will bear fruit thirty, sixty, and a hundredfold. 

Finally, if you feel strongly about vocations, pray for them. In the Bible, nothing of moment is ever accomplished apart from prayer. God delights in our cooperation with His grace, but the work of salvation is, at the end of the day, His. So ask Him! Might I suggest a particular intercessor in this regard? Thérèse of Lisieux, the Little Flower, said that she entered the convent “in order to save souls and especially to pray for priests.” She also said that she would spend her Heaven doing good on the earth. Let us, therefore, petition her intercession as we ask the Lord to double the number of our seminarians in the coming years. 

Does God have preferences and favorites?

My father, a first-generation Italian immigrant, had a warm, colorful, and inviting family. You’d be welcomed into their homes with double-cheeked kisses just as ever-present aromas of either espresso, garlic, focaccia, or cannoli welcomed your nose and stomach. My mother, on the other hand, had generations of thick deep multicultural roots in Kentucky. Her side of the family made the best southern apple pies, but had more distant and refined demeanors and affections. Each side of the family had its own set of behaviors and custom expectations to follow, and it was confusing to understand which way was correct.

These differences and the perceived need to choose between both have been a foundational dilemma for me. It seems as though I’ve always been trying to understand the world by seeking the ultimate source of truth. 

Making Sense of it All 

Throughout life, I’ve tried to find reasoning in how and why the world, and all its parts, function together. God must have known I’d be destined to question things and be inquisitive of His creations because He made sure I was pointed in the right direction to turn to Him. The Catholic Elementary school I attended had a young wonderful nun as one of my teachers. She seemed to have the same love and curiosity of the world that God had given me. If she didn’t have all the answers, I was pretty certain she knew who did.

We were taught that there was only one God and we were all made in the image and likeness of God. We’re unique, and God loves us all very much. He loved us so much that even before Adam and Eve knew the depth and ramifications of their sin, God already had the merciful plan of sending Jesus, His Son, to save us from that original sin. There was so much in that lesson for a little girl to unpack and understand. It still leaves me asking questions. However, it was the ‘image and likeness’ part of that lesson that I had to explore.  

Observing my family, classroom, and community, it was obvious there were vast differences in hair color, skin color, and other features. If we are all unique, yet made in the image and likeness of only ONE God, then what did He look like? Was He dark-haired like me? Or blonde like my best friend?  Was His skin olive colored, that tanned deeply in the summer, like my father’s and mine, or was He fair-skinned like my Mom, who turned red and burnt easily under the hot Kentucky sun? 

Beautiful Varieties

I grew up with variety, was comfortable with variety, and loved variety, but I wondered—did God have a preference? In Kentucky, in the 1960s, it was apparent that even if God didn’t have a preference, some people did. That was so hard for me to understand. Didn’t the young Sister tell me that God made all of us? Doesn’t that mean that He purposely made all the wonderful varieties in this world? 

I searched for the source of truth and sometime in my early 30s, a deep yearning to learn more about God led me straight into prayer and the Scripture. Here, I was blessed to learn that He was also looking for me. Psalm 51:6 spoke straight to my heart: “Behold, You desire truth in the innermost being, therefore teach me wisdom in my secret heart.” As time passed, God showed me there was a difference in the way He saw things versus how the world viewed things.

The more I read the Bible, prayed, and asked questions, the more I came to know that God is the source of truth. “Jesus said to him, ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’” (John 14:6) How wonderful it was to finally understand that Jesus is the source of truth!

However, that was not all! God was the teacher now, and He wanted to make sure I understood the lesson. “Again Jesus spoke to them, saying: I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.’” (John 8:12) I had to read it again…Jesus said: ”I am the light of the world…” My brain began to speed up, gears began to engage, and things began to fall into place. My childhood science lessons taught me that ‘light is the source of all colors.’ Therefore, if Jesus is light, then He encompasses all the colors; all colors of the human race. That nagging childhood question was finally answered. 

What Color is God? Quite simply, He is light. We are made in His image and likeness, and He has no preference for color because He is ALL color! All His colors are in us, and all our colors are in Him. We are all God’s children, and we are to “live as children of light” (Ephesians 5:8).

So, why is the world so sensitive about the many wonderful colors of human skin? God doesn’t prefer one color to another, so why should we? God loves us and all the variety of colors that He made us. It is quite simple, we are called to reflect Him. We are called to bring His light into the world. In other words, we are called to bring God’s presence into the world that doesn’t see things as God wants it to see things. He needs and wants all our varieties to complete His image. Let’s try to reflect Him in this world by being the light we are created from and for. As God’s children whom He loves, let us begin to appreciate all His images as part of the ONE God that made us. 

It was the year 1944—the world was shaken by poverty and the travails of World War II. The war was nearing its end; Russian Army was liberating the Slovak Republic from Nazi occupation. 

On the night of November 22, the Red Army had taken over the small village of Vysoká nad Uhom. Fearing the aggressiveness of violent Russian soldiers, people hid in their basements. 16-year-old Anna Kolesárová was hiding with her father and brother in the cellar of their house when a drunken soldier discovered them. 

Out of fear, her father asked her to prepare food for the soldier. In an attempt to disguise her youth, she had worn long black clothes of her mother, who they had lost when Anna was ten. The soldier soon realized that Anna was only a teenager and attempted to force himself on her. The scared girl vehemently refused his advances. Aggravated by her actions, the soldier pointed a gun at her. Somehow, Anna escaped his grip and ran towards her father, shouting: “Goodbye, father!” With a rifle, he shot her in the face and chest. 

This young girl, who had gone for the Holy Mass every day despite the alarming conditions prevailing in the region, succumbed to death with the final words: “Jesus, Mary, Joseph!” 

The very same night, her father buried her in a makeshift coffin. A week later, Father Anton Lukac gave her a formal funeral, stating that Anna had received the Sacraments of Confession and Holy Communion before her death. After the church funeral, he wrote a note into the register of deaths: hostia sanctae castitatis (host of holy purity). 

On her beatification on September 1, 2018, Pope Francis confirmed that the young Catholic girl had died in defensum castitatis, i.e., to preserve her virginity. With so many other Saints like Maria Goretti, she is now venerated as a virgin martyr. 

The Rosary has changed me in more ways than I can understand. Our Lady is indeed a gateway to the Lord. 

I remember a woman with whom I shared an adoration hour. She once told me about this young man who was struggling with depression; he was staying in and refusing to go out of his home, for maybe four years or more. On the way home, I prayed a Rosary for him and thought of it as nothing more than an ordinary Rosary. Truthfully, I didn’t expect anything to come of it. 

The next week however, when I met up with the same lady, she said to me: “Sean, I’ve got an amazing story; it’s a miracle! Remember the young man I told you about last week? His car had been sitting idle for years, with dust all over it. He came out of his room, cleaned it, got in, and drove to meet up with his old university mates.” 

I was amazed! 

By showing me the fruit of one Rosary, God showed me how amazing it is when you pray, and how much transformation can happen when you pray more. So, I slowly went from one Rosary to four Rosaries a day, and there is no end to the wonders that have happened since.

Books were a luxury in 13th-century Italy. Hence, when someone went to the trouble of writing a book by hand, they treasured it beyond measure. Father Anthony had a book of Psalms he had copied by hand, with personal notes he referred to while teaching.

Once, a young novice left the community and took the treasured book with him. The priest was crestfallen, realizing his years of work were lost. No one knew where the novice had gone, so there wasn’t even a remote possibility of recovering the book. But Father Anthony did not lose heart; trusting in God’s providence, he prayed for the novice to have a change of heart and return the book.

Anthony’s prayer was soon answered, for the novice returned with a contrite heart. Asking for forgiveness, he gave the book back to the saintly priest who forgave him and accepted him back to the seminary.

After Father Anthony’s death, together with the many stories of his holiness, this story became quite popular. Thus, Saint Anthony of Padua came to be constantly invoked for finding lost things. Over the years, his reputation became so widespread that the Church officially declared him the patron Saint of lost items.

Saint Anthony had deep faith in God, enough to surrender his worries and trust His will. The next time we invoke the Saint to find our lost things, let us pray that he asks the Lord to grant us the kind of faith that led and strengthened him in Christ.

The greatest evangelist is, of course, Jesus himself, and there is no better presentation of Jesus’ evangelical technique than Luke’s masterful narrative concerning the disciples on the road to Emmaus.

The story opens with two people going the wrong way. In Luke’s Gospel, Jerusalem is the spiritual center of gravity— it is the locale of the Last Supper, the Cross, the Resurrection and the sending of the Spirit. It is the charged place where the drama of Salvation unfolds. So in walking away from the capital city, these two erstwhile disciples of Jesus are going against the grain.

Jesus joins them on their journey—though we are told that they are prevented from recognizing Him—and He asks them what they are talking about. Throughout His ministry, Jesus associated with sinners. He stood shoulder to shoulder in the muddy waters of the Jordan with those seeking forgiveness through the baptism of John; over and again, He ate and drank with disreputable types, much to the chagrin of the self-righteous; and at the end of His life, He was crucified in between two thieves. Jesus hated sin, but He liked sinners and was consistently willing to move into their world and to engage them on their terms.

And this is a first great evangelical lesson. The successful evangelist does not stand aloof from the experience of sinners, passing easy judgment on them, praying for them from a distance; on the contrary, she loves them so much that she joins them and deigns to walk in their shoes and to feel the texture of their experience.

Prompted by Jesus’ curious questions, one of the travelers, Cleopas by name, recounts all of the ‘things’ concerning Jesus of Nazareth: “He was a prophet mighty in word and deed before God and all the people; our leaders, though, put Him to death; we thought He would be the redeemer of Israel; this very morning, there were reports that He had risen from the dead.”

Cleopas has all of the ‘facts’ straight; there is not one thing he says about Jesus that is wrong. But his sadness and his flight from Jerusalem testify that he doesn’t see the picture.

I love the clever and funny cartoons in the New Yorker magazine, but occasionally, there is a cartoon I just don’t understand. I’ve taken in all of the details, I’ve seen the main characters and the objects around them, I’ve understood the caption. Yet, I don’t see why it’s funny. And then there comes a moment of illumination: though I haven’t seen any further detail, though no new piece of the puzzle has emerged, I discern the pattern that connects them together in a meaningful way. In a word, I ‘get’ the cartoon.

Having heard Cleopas’ account, Jesus say: “Oh, how foolish you are! How slow of heart to believe all that the prophets said.” And then He opens the Scriptures to them, disclosing the great Biblical patterns that make sense of the ‘things’ that they have witnessed.

Without revealing to them any new detail about Himself, Jesus shows them the form, the overarching design, the meaning—and through this process they begin to ‘get’ Him: their hearts are burning within them. This is the second great evangelical lesson. The successful evangelist uses the Scriptures in order to disclose the divine patterns and ultimately the Pattern who is made flesh in Jesus.

Without these clarifying forms, human life is a hodge-podge, a blur of events, a string of meaningless happenings. The effective evangelist is a man of the Bible, for the Scripture is the means by which we ‘get’ Jesus Christ and, through Him, our lives.

The two disciples press Him to stay with them as they draw near the town of Emmaus. Jesus sits down with them, takes bread, says the blessing, breaks it and gives it to them, and in that moment they recognize Him. Though they were, through the mediation of Scripture, beginning to see, they still did not fully grasp who He was. But in the Eucharistic moment, in the breaking of the bread, their eyes are opened.

The ultimate means by which we understand Jesus Christ is not the Scripture but the Eucharist, for the Eucharist is Christ Himself, personally and actively present. The embodiment of the paschal mystery, the Eucharist, is Jesus’ love for the world unto death, His journey into godforsakenness in order to save the most desperate of sinners, His heart broken open in compassion. And this is why it is through the lens of the Eucharist that Jesus comes most fully and vividly into focus.

And thus we see the third great evangelical lesson. Successful evangelists are persons of the Eucharist. They are immersed in the rhythms of the Mass; they practice Eucharistic adoration; they draw the evangelized to a participation in the body and blood of Jesus. They know that bringing sinners to Jesus Christ is never primarily a matter of personal witness, or inspiring sermonizing, or even exposure to the patterns of the Scripture. It is primarily a matter of seeing the broken heart of God through the broken bread of the Eucharist.

So prospective evangelists, do what Jesus did. Walk with sinners, open the Book, break the Bread.