Trending Articles
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”.
Jessica Braun Article is based on the Shalom World TV program “My Jesus My Savior” featuring Jessica Braun. To watch the episode visit: https://www.shalomworldtv.org/videos/index/1897
Would my life ever return to normal? How can I possibly continue my work? Brooding over these, a terrible solution popped into my head… I was finding life extremely stressful. In my fifth year at college, the onset of bipolar disorder was hindering my efforts to complete my teaching degree. I had no diagnosis yet, but I was plagued with insomnia, and I looked frazzled and unkempt, which impeded my prospects of employment as a teacher. Since I had strong natural tendencies toward perfectionism, I felt so ashamed and feared that I was letting everyone down. I spiraled into anger, despondency, and depression. People were concerned about my decline and tried to help. I was even sent to the hospital by ambulance from the school, but doctors could find nothing wrong except elevated blood pressure. I prayed but found no consolation. Even Easter Mass—my favorite time—didn’t break the vicious cycle. Why wouldn’t Jesus help me? I felt so angry with Him. Finally, I just stopped praying. As this continued, day after day, month after month, I didn’t know what to do. Would my life ever return to normal? It seemed unlikely. As graduation approached, my fear increased. Teaching is a tough job with few breaks, and the students would need me to remain level-headed while dealing with their many needs and providing a good learning environment. How could I possibly do this in my current state? A terrible solution popped into my head: “You should just kill yourself.” Instead of casting off that thought and sending it straight back to hell where it belonged, I let it sit. It seemed like a simple, logical answer to my dilemma. I just wanted to be numb instead of under constant attack. To my utter regret, I chose despair. But, in what I expected to be my last moments, I thought of my family and the type of person I had once been. In genuine remorse, I raised my head to the heavens and said: “I’m so sorry, Jesus. Sorry for everything. Just give me what I deserve.” I thought those would be the last words I would utter in this life. But God had other plans. Listening to the Divine My mother was, by providence, praying the Divine Mercy Chaplet at that very moment. Suddenly, she heard the words loud and clear in her heart “Go find Ellen.” She obediently set aside her rosary beads and found me on the floor of the garage. She caught on quickly, exclaiming in horror: “What are you doing?!” while she pulled me into the house. My parents were heartbroken. There’s no rulebook for times such as these, but they decided to take me to Mass. I was totally broken, and I needed a Savior more than ever before. I longed for a come-to-Jesus moment, but I was convinced that I was the last person in the world He would ever want to see. I wanted to believe that Jesus is my Shepherd and would come after His lost sheep, but it was hard because nothing had changed. I was still consumed by intense self-hatred, oppressed by darkness. It was almost physically painful. During the preparation of the gifts, I broke down in tears. I had not cried for a really long time, but once I started, I couldn’t stop. I was at the end of my own strength, with no idea where to go next. But as I wept, the weight slowly lifted, and I felt myself enfolded in His Divine Mercy. I didn’t deserve it, but He gave me the gift of Himself, and I knew that He loved me the same at my lowest point as much as He loved me at my highest point. In Pursuit of Love In the days to come, I could barely face God, but He kept showing up and pursuing me in the little things. I re-established communication with Jesus with the aid of a Divine Mercy picture in our living room. I tried to talk, mostly complaining about the struggle and then feeling bad about it in light of the recent rescue. Weirdly, I thought I could hear a tender voice whispering: “Did you really think I would leave you to die? I love you. I will never forsake you. I promise to never leave you. All is forgiven. Trust in my mercy.” I wanted to believe this, but I couldn’t trust that it was true. I was growing discouraged at the walls I was erecting, but I kept chatting with Jesus: “How do I learn to trust You?” The answer surprised me. Where do you go when you feel no hope but have to go on living? When you feel totally unlovable, too proud to accept anything yet desperately wanting to be humble? In other words, where do you want to go when you want a full reconciliation with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit but are too scared and disbelieving of a loving reception to find your way home? The answer is the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God, and Queen of Heaven. While I was learning to trust, my awkward attempts did not displease Jesus. He was calling me closer, closer to His Sacred Heart, through His Blessed Mother. I fell in love with Him and His faithfulness. I could admit everything to Mary. Although I feared that I could not keep my promise to my earthly mother because, on my own, I was still barely mustering the will to live, my mother inspired me to consecrate my life to Mary, trusting that she would help me get through this. I didn’t know much about what that meant, but 33 Days to Morning Glory and Consoling the Heart of Jesus by Father Michael E. Gaitley, MIC, helped me understand. The Blessed Mother is always willing to be our intercessor, and she will never turn down a request from a child wanting to return to Jesus. As I went through the consecration, I resolved never to attempt suicide again with the words: “No matter what happens, I will not quit.” Meanwhile, I started taking long walks on the beach while I talked with God the Father and meditated on the parable of the prodigal son. I tried to put myself in the shoes of the prodigal son, but it took me some time to get close to God the Father. First, I imagined Him at a distance, then walking toward me. Another day, I pictured Him running towards me even though it made Him look ridiculous to His friends and neighbors. Finally, the day came when I could picture myself in the arms of the Father, then being welcomed not just to His home but to my seat at the family table. As I envisaged Him pulling out a chair for me, I was no longer a headstrong young woman but a 10-year-old girl with ridiculous glasses and a bob haircut. When I accepted the Father’s love for me, I became like a little child again, living in the present moment and trusting Him completely. I fell in love with God and His faithfulness. My Good Shepherd has saved me from the prison of fear and anger, continuing to lead me along the safe path and carrying me when I falter. Now, I want to share my story so that everyone can know God’s goodness and love. His Sacred Heart is welling up with tender love and mercy just for you. He wants to love you lavishly, and I encourage you to welcome Him without fear. He will never abandon you or let you down. Step into His light and come home.
By: Ellen Wilson
MoreWhen struggle and pain linger, what keeps us going? My 11-year-old son patiently sat on the examination table while the doctor tested his muscle strength as she had done so often before. Over the last eight years, I had watched her examine his skin and test his muscle strength, and each time, a panic ripped through me. After finishing her exam, she stepped back, faced my 11-year-old son, and gently uttered the words I had dreaded: “Your muscles are showing signs of weakness. I believe the disease is active again.” My son looked at me and then hung his head. My stomach twisted. She put her arm around his shoulders. “Hang in there. I know that, over the years, flare-ups haven’t been easy for you. I know they are very painful, but we’ve managed them before, and we can do it again.” Breathing out slowly, I leaned against the desk next to me to steady myself. She glanced back at me. “Are you okay?” “Yes, the baby is in a weird position, that’s all,” I said. “Are you sure you don’t want to sit down? With a painted-on smile, I murmured, “No, I’m good, thank you.” She turned back to my son. “We’re going to try a new medication.” “Why, he did fine on the old medication,” I said. “He did, but heavy doses of steroids are hard on the body.” Why did I ask questions when I really didn’t want to hear the answers, I thought. “I think it’s time to try a different medication.” My son looked away and rubbed his knees anxiously. “Try not to worry. We will get this under control.” “Okay,” he said. “The medication has some drawbacks, but we will meet what comes.” My heart pounded in my chest. Drawbacks? She turned to me, “Let’s get some blood work. I’ll call you in a week to come up with a plan.” After an anxious week, the doctor called with the test results. “My suspicions have been confirmed. He’s having a flare-up, so we’ll begin the new medication immediately. He may experience some difficult side effects, though.” “Side effects?” “Yes.” Panic set in as she listed possible side effects. Were my prayers being answered, or was I losing my son, bit by bit? “Call me immediately if you notice any of these,” she stated. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I shared the news with my husband, and said, “I’m not okay right now. I’m hanging on by a thread. The kids can’t see me like this. I need to cry it out and get myself together.” He put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye, and said, “You’re trembling, I should go with you. I don’t want you to go into labor early.” “No, I won’t; I’ll be all right. I just need to get myself together.” “Okay. I’ve got everything under control here. It’s going to be all right.” Surrendering… Driving to the chapel, I sobbed, “I can’t do this anymore. I’ve had enough. Help me, God. Help me.” Alone in the chapel, I stared sorrowfully up at Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament. “Jesus, please, please...stop all of this. Why does he still have this illness? Why does he have to be on such a dangerous medication? Why does he have to suffer? This is too hard. Please, Jesus, please protect him.” I closed my eyes and pictured Jesus’ face. I drew in a deep breath and begged Him to fill my mind and heart. As the torrent of my tears waned, I recalled Jesus’ words in Archbishop Fulton Sheen’s book, Life of Christ. “I created the universe, I set the planets in motion, and the stars and the moon and the sun obey Me.” In my mind, I heard Him say:, “I am in charge! The effects of his medication are no match for Me. Let Me have your cares. Trust in Me.” Were these my thoughts, or was God talking to me? I wasn’t sure, but I knew the words were true; I had to let go of my fears and trust in God to care for my son. I breathed in deeply and breathed out slowly, intent on releasing my fears. “Jesus, I know You are always with me. Please wrap your arms around me and comfort me. I’m so tired of being scared.” Answer Arrives… Suddenly, arms wrapped around me from behind. It was my brother! “What are you doing here?” I asked. “I called the house looking for you. I figured you might be here. When I saw your car in the parking lot, I thought I’d come in and check on you.” “I was asking God to wrap His arms around me when you came up and hugged me.” His eyes opened wide. “Really?” “Yes, really!” As we walked out to the parking lot, I thanked him for coming to check on me. “Your hug reminded me that God reveals His presence in loving actions. Even as I suffer, He sees, hears, and understands. His presence makes it all bearable and enables me to trust and hold onto Him, So, thank you for being a vessel of His love to me today.” We hugged, and tears welled up in my eyes. I felt touched to the core by an overwhelming sense of God’s loving presence.
By: Rosanne Pappas
MoreHe struggled with his son’s addiction and eventual death due to an overdose. How did he survive? Even though I was baptized, I was un-churched growing up. My mother and father had some serious unresolved issues with the Catholic Church, so we never went to Mass, and I was never catechized. However, I had a yearning for some kind of spiritual connection, and I gravitated towards popular biblical films such as The Robe, The Ten Commandments, Ben Hur, A Man Called Peter, and The Greatest Story Ever Told. They presented God in a very intriguing way, and I gradually developed a hunger to know Him on a personal level. During the ‘60s, folk singer Jim Croce sang Time in a Bottle, intoning, “I’ve looked around enough to know that you are the one I want to journey through time with.” I really wanted to ‘journey through time’ with Him, but I didn’t know how to connect with Him. The Winding Path As a junior at Abraham Lincoln High School in San Francisco, I came to know an Irish Catholic family who were really into their faith. They said an evening rosary (in Latin, no less!), attended daily Mass, and strove to live a life of discipleship. Their religiously observant life was mysterious and beguiling. Through their example, I eventually decided to become fully initiated into the Catholic faith. My parents, however, were not pleased with my choice. When the big day arrived for my Confirmation and First Holy Communion, we had a donnybrook of a family fight. Tears, angry words, and recriminations reverberated throughout the house. I remember saying, “Mom and Dad, I love you, but I adore Jesus, and I want to be confirmed. The Catholic Church feels like my spiritual home.” So, I left the house and walked alone to Saint Thomas More Church near Lake Merced, where I received the Sacraments without my parents’ blessings. Soon after, I came across a reference from Matthew’s Gospel in which Jesus said, “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of Me…” (10:37). I knew exactly what He meant. The Highway Off-ramps I wish I could say that I continued to make such a deep commitment to Jesus as I entered adulthood. My initial conversion cloaked a rather superficial attempt at dedicating my life to Him. I started on the ‘Jesus Super Highway’ but kept taking these off-ramps as I chased the usual suspects of the goods of the world: the acquisitive pursuit of wealth and security, professional success and accomplishments, hedonistic pleasure, and, above all, control. Like the Tom Wolfe character in Bonfire of the Vanities, I really wanted to be the master of my universe. How did Jesus factor into the calculation? I basically expected Him to come along for the ride. I wanted to relate to Him on my terms. I wanted Him to validate the self-referential lifestyle I was forging. Circling Back This illusory tower built to accommodate my imperial ego came crashing down 30 years ago when our family was struggling with our son’s drug addiction. The hard fact is his addiction, and eventual fatal overdose precipitated my free-fall into a very dark, empty place. I felt that I had fallen into a very deep pit where nothing worked: my son was not coming back, and the sense of loss was overwhelming. I became totally disillusioned and realized how worthless the goods of the world are in addressing our deepest hunger for intimacy, communion, and fellowship. I pleaded with Jesus to rescue me from the deep hole of darkness, anguish, and abandonment. I begged Him to take away my suffering and put my life back together again. While He didn’t “fix” my life, He did do something better: Jesus came into the pit with me, He embraced my Cross, and let me know that He would never abandon me, my family, or our departed son. I experienced the loving mercy of Jesus, the Suffering Servant who continues to suffer with His People, the Church. That is a God whom I can fall in love with. Jesus reveals the face of God to us. As Saint Paul writes in his letter to the Colossians, Jesus is “…the image of the invisible God” (1:15). Therefore, we have all that we need to be happy and joyful right here, right now. In Jesus, Who is the sole mediator between Heaven and Earth, everything fits; nothing is outside His circle of love—our Lord Jesus Christ calls us into a deeper relationship with God, with our brothers and sisters, and with all of Creation.
By: Deacon Jim McFadden
MoreFind the path that has been laid out for you even before your time on earth began, and your life will never be the same. Perfection, or the Right Direction, is a catch cry that I have often used with my children when they have needed correction. They have frustratedly argued that I am expecting them to be perfect. I respond that “I’m not asking for perfection, I just want you to head in the right direction.” God’s Expectation To me, this reflects the humility of their heart. If one of my children acknowledges that they made a poor choice and that their actions went against the values that we believe to be true and right, then a simple, ‘I know I was wrong, and I’m sorry. What can I do to make things better?’ is the fastest way to forgiveness and restore unity. However, if they argue that it was somehow okay for them to disobey or do something that is outside of our home’s established rules, then the duration of relational separation and the number of consequences naturally increase. It’s the same in our walk with Jesus. We have been given God’s expectations in the Ten Commandments, and Jesus clarified these in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7). And if that were not enough, Saint Paul, Saint Peter, and the other Apostles reiterate God’s Commands throughout their Epistles in a very tangible way. You see, we have no way around it. The Right Direction has been made so clear for all of humanity. It is all too obvious. We either choose God’s way or fight against it in rebellion. And so, we have begun to see a society bent on perverting the Holy Scriptures and bending God’s ways to appease the guilt of its fleshly lusts. We are facing a time like no other, where many have fallen away from the Truth of God. They have become convinced that if they merely change the narrative, they can somehow circumvent the ordained outcome. Unfortunately, they misunderstand the ways of God and the reality of His Truth. This friends, is why the Gospel is the most simple yet incomprehensible message to ever be revealed. Twists and Turns The good news is that you have been forgiven--past, present, and future. However, it requires repentance and a firm commitment each day to continue the struggle to remain on the right path. The beauty in the Gospel is that while we cannot do what Christ did through His Passion and Resurrection, we can receive the benefit of His work. When we surrender to His way, He continues to lead us in the Right Direction. In the New Testament, Jesus states: “Unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees, you cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven.” In other words, most religious people on this earth still weren’t good enough through their own works to enter God’s Kingdom. Perfection isn’t the answer, and it’s not the requirement for a relationship either; humility is. When you read through Matthew chapters 5-7, you could view it as an impossible task that Jesus lays out before us. Find your way back I have failed to keep many of these precepts over the years, and yet Jesus was not laying out God’s ways to bury us under the oppression of unattainable rules. Picture yourself with Jesus and you standing on the top of (atop) a hill that overlooks a large valley. There is a clear trail. However, it weaves through forests, rivers, and other natural features. This is what Matthew 5-7 is like. It’s the trail. But, instead of Jesus saying, ‘Well, you better be on your way,’ He introduces you to the Holy Spirit, hands you a compass (the Bible), and reminds you that He will never leave you nor forsake you. He then says, “If you are humble, and your heart stays focused on me, then you will be able to find the path no matter how it twists and turns. And if it so happens that you get lost or choose a path other than mine, all you have to do is humble your heart and call to me, and I will help you find your way back.” This is what some have referred to as the greatest scandal of all time. The God of Heaven, who created all of what we see and even what we cannot see, made Himself low to save His creation. We have but one simple job. Continue in His direction. I pray that today no matter where you are and no matter what you have done, you would find yourself humbly bowing before the cross and returning to the path that God has laid out for you before your time on this earth began.
By: Stephen Santos
MoreIt was my Dad who led me to discover the greatest Father of all My Dad went home to be with his Heavenly Father on June 15, 1994. Even though he is no longer with me physically, his spirit lives on in my memory. The lessons he taught me throughout my life have helped me to become the person I am striving to be today. He instilled within me a deep respect for all people, young and old alike. Like many things in my life, I had to learn the lesson of respecting people the hard way. I recall the day; I began to talk back to my mother and even stuck out my tongue at her. My Dad was within seeing and hearing distance, and needless to say, I got a spanking and a good talking to about respecting Mom. Now some might say, it was just a childish gesture to stick out your tongue, but to Dad it was very disrespectful and needed to be confronted. I learned my lesson well to respect Mom and other adults in authority. My Dad was a hard-working, underground miner who worked in the copper mines in Butte, Montana. He believed in hard work and supporting his family to the best of his ability. Mining was dangerous work. He was injured several times in his working career. In 1964, he was injured in a severe mining accident, ending his mining career and his ability to work again. This was an extremely difficult time for him and our family. He struggled to cope with the fact that he could no longer work and had to go on disability pay. For a man who was a dedicated provider, husband and father, this was devastating. Dad began to drink a lot, trying hard to drown his troubles in a bottle. However, over a period of months, something began to happen to Dad within his own heart. He quit drinking and began to read the Bible. My Dad, who had only a fifth-grade education, painstakingly began to read and absorb God’s Word into his heart. Day after day, hour-by-hour, he studied and meditated on God’s Word. God changed my Dad’s heart. He began to live each day, with the love of God in his heart. He enjoyed life to the fullest despite enduring many heartbreaking times, including the loss of a daughter in a car accident when she was 18. My folks were blessed with four grandsons and one granddaughter. As a Grandpa, he had no favorites. Each grandchild felt as if he or she was the apple of Grandpa’s eye. Even though the mining accident took away his ability to work, it turned out to be a wonderful blessing for all of us. He had time to spend with each grandchild and give them his full attention and love. Dad taught each of his grandsons how to drive his old Datsun pickup many years before they could legally drive. His mining accident left him with a very noticeable limp which his grandsons all tried to imitate by walking just like Grandpa. It was quite a sight to see Dad and his grandsons walking down the road together—all with obvious limps. They all looked up to Grandpa and wanted to be just like him. He had lots of patience, but best of all, he was took the time to be with each of them, enjoying every moment of the experience. As a married woman with children of my own, many times I would go to my Dad for advice and encouragement. He would listen with his heart, trying not to judge, but would always encourage me to pray and trust in God to work things out. Through his example, I began to read the Bible too. I have so many precious memories of my Dad. But the most important thing he instilled in me was to place myself daily in the loving presence of my Heavenly Father so I could learn from the greatest Father of them all.
By: Connie Beckman
MoreWe were all shocked and shattered when my brother announced he wanted to become a priest. It was not just that he wanted to become a priest, but he wanted to become a Cistercian priest. That meant that once he left home, he would never return. My mother was totally bereft. She was proud that her son wanted to be a priest, but why, oh why, did he want to become a monk as well? She did not know what to do, but fortunately, she did know who to turn to. She turned to Gus, a friend since childhood. He himself had left home to become a priest and a monk and was at the time the Abbot of Belmont. The Meaning of Motherhood Gus told her that a mother only really fulfils and completes her motherhood when her love is so great that she allows her child to both choose and follow his own chosen vocation in life, whatever that may mean. He told her this was the sacrifice Mary made when she allowed the Son she had given birth to go His own way and respond to the vocation to which He had been called. My mother felt much better after talking with Gus, or Abbot Williams as he was then. After all, he was a priest and a monk himself and so was able to console and encourage her better than anyone else. Although my brother had been accepted as a prospective monk at Mount Saint Bernard’s, the Abbot asked him to finish his studies in Paris, where he was studying at the Sorbonne. Naturally, he was delighted he had been accepted, because he thought his handicap would have prevented him from becoming a priest—one leg was shorter than the other as a result of polio when he was six. A Terrible Accident Unfortunately, my brother had a terrible accident on the way to his final examinations. Partly due to the iron calliper on his leg, he slipped down the escalator on the Metro, hit his head and was killed instantly. He was only twenty-two. I was seventeen at the time and called out of the school study to be told of the tragedy. When I got home it was to find my mother all but inconsolable. She had already come to terms with the sacrifice she had been asked to make when he chose to become a monk, now she was asked to make another, more complete and final sacrifice that she never thought for a moment would ever be asked of her. Once again, she turned to Abbot Williams for spiritual help. Like Mary, My Mother Became a Priest Abbot Williams told her she was now being asked to be the priest that her son never became. He told her Mary had been a priest and the greatest sacrifice she made was the sacrifice of her own Son. All of Mary's life revolved around selflessly giving her all for the dear Son she had born. Everything had always been for Him and then she had to give absolutely everything, even Him. This was the most perfect and complete sacrifice any mother had to make, and she made it as she stood there at the foot of the cross. My mother never forgot what Gus said to her. It did not take away all the pain, but it did give meaning to it and made it bearable. What helped most was seeing that the sacrifice she had to make was exactly the same sacrifice Mary had to make on Calvary. A Lesson Learned from My mother There is only one true priest and that is Jesus Christ, who made the most perfect sacrifice anyone can make, the sacrifice of Himself. We are priests to the degree in which we share in His priesthood. Throughout His life He offered Himself unconditionally to His Father and for the people His Father had sent Him to serve. We share in His priesthood when we also offer ourselves to the Father, in, with and through Him and offer ourselves to the same family of man He came to serve. That is what my Mother came to see and understand more clearly than anyone else I have known, not just in the way she thought, but in the way she acted. It was a lesson she had to learn at the most painful moment of her life, when she had to share in the sacrifice of Christ in exactly the same way as Mary had. Lessons learned in such moments are never forgotten. They indelibly stain the memory and determine the way you think and act for the rest of your life, for better or for worse. In my mother’s case it was for better not worse, as it was for Mary. For both of them it meant that through their terrible ordeal their motherhood had somehow been refined and deepened to the benefit of other children who looked to them for the motherly love that was always given without measure. I for one know this because I have experienced it for myself and still do. As I look back at the past, it is the more dramatic demonstrations of my mother’s self-sacrificing that stand out in my memory. However, the more I reflect the more I see that her whole life was a continual selfless sacrifice for her family, just as the life of Mary had been. Every day of her life and every moment of her day was given for her children, in a hundred and one different ways, through which she exercised her priesthood, as Mary did in her life on earth. It was little wonder that her three sons all wanted to become priests; after all, they had been living with one all their lives! Selfishness and Sacrifice When the family went to Mass together each Sunday, they saw my mother totally absorbed in what they took all too easily for granted. Their selfishness meant they had too little to offer while she was offering a thousand and one acts of self-sacrifice, made for them during the previous week. This meant my mother received to the measure of her giving, for it is in giving that we receive, and she received in ever-greater abundance with each passing week. This gave her the help and strength she needed to go on giving in the forthcoming week, go on sacrificing for the family that took her all too easily for granted. Without any formal theological education, my mother discovered for herself that the Mass is not only a sacrifice, but also the place where we offer ourselves in, with and through Christ to the Father and something further. It is also a sacred sacrificial meal where we receive, from the One through whom we have offered our sacrifices, the love that He is endlessly pouring out on to, and into, all who are open to receive it. Motherhood was for her, as for so many other selfless, self-sacrificing mothers, a way of participating in the central mystery of our faith. If her daily dying united her to the dying of Christ, it also opened her to receive the love that raised Him from the dead on the first Easter day, empowering her to share what she had received with the family for whom she had given everything. The son she always mourned may never have become the priest he desired, but she more than took his place. The priesthood she exercised would not only inspire her own family but other families as well— families who are still inspired, as I am, by her shining example that will never tarnish. My Brother’s Death Was Not In Vain The death of my dear brother affected me deeply, but his death was not in vain. It inspired me in such a way that I have spent my life writing about him and using him to spread the profound spirituality that attracted him to the monastic life, to inspire others as well. I have spent much of my life writing three major spiritual works. The main protagonist in each work is the hermit, Peter Calvay, who is entirely based on my brother, Peter Torkington. In my imagination, instead of entering the Cistercian order, as he had intended, I simply transferred him to the Outer Hebrides, where he became a hermit. Then, as his spiritual life deepened, he began to help others. If Peter had become a monk his spirituality would have been monastic. However, living as a lay-person enabled Peter to develop for himself a profound lay spirituality based on the spirituality that Jesus Himself lived with His disciples, through whom this spirituality was bequeathed to the early church. This is, of course, of particular help to a modern reader trying to live the Christian life while outside the context of the religious life, like yours truly. If these books help you, as they have helped more than 300,000 readers over the years, then my brother’s death will not have been in vain, nor will the simple spirituality we both learned from our mother.
By: David Torkington
MoreIf I hadn't gone through that darkness, I wouldn't be where I am today. My parents really wanted to have a family, but my mom wasn't able to get pregnant until she was 40. I was their miracle baby, born on her birthday, exactly one year after she completed a special Novena in petition for a child. I was gifted with a baby brother one year later. My family was nominally Catholic; we would go to Sunday Mass and receive the Sacraments, but there was nothing more. When I was about 11 or 12, my parents turned away from the Church and my faith life took an incredibly long pause. Writhing Agony Teenage years were packed with pressure, a lot of which I put on myself. I’d compare myself to other girls; I wasn't happy with my appearance. I was highly self-conscious and anxious. Though I excelled academically, I had a difficult time in school because I was very ambitious. I wanted to get ahead—show people that I could be successful and intelligent. We didn't have much money as a family, so I figured that studying well and getting a good job was going to solve it all. Instead, I got sadder and sadder. I would go for sports and celebrations, but I would wake up the next day and feel all empty. I had a few good friends, but they too had their own struggles. I remember trying to support them and ending up questioning the why of all the suffering around me. I was lost, and this sadness made me close-up and curl into myself. When I was about 15, I fell into the habit of self-harm; as I later realized, at that age, I didn't have the maturity or the ability to speak about what I was feeling. As pressure intensified, I gave in to suicidal thoughts, multiple times. During one hospitalization incident, one of the doctors saw me in such agony and said: “Do you believe in God? Do you believe in something after death?” I thought it was the strangest question to ask, but that night, I remembered reflecting on it. That's when I cried out to God for help: “God, if you exist, please help me. I want to live—I'd like to spend my life doing good, but I'm not even capable of loving myself. Whatever I do, everything ends in burnout if I don't have a meaning for all of it.” A Hand of Help I started to talk to Mother Mary, hoping that maybe she could understand and help me. Shortly after, my mother’s friend invited me to go on a pilgrimage to Međugorje. I didn’t really want to, but I accepted the invitation, more for curiosity to see a new country and nice weather. Surrounded by people who were praying the Rosary, fasting, walking up mountains, and going to Mass, I felt out of place but at the same time, I was also slightly intrigued. It was the time of the Catholic Youth Festival, and there were around 60,000 young people there, attending Mass and Adoration, praying the Rosary every day; not because they were forced to, but joyfully, from pure desire. I wondered if these people had perfect families which made it really easy for them to believe, clap, dance, and all of that. Truth be told, I craved that joy! While we were on the pilgrimage, we listened to the testimonies of girls and boys in a Cenacolo Community nearby, and that really changed things for me. In 1983, an Italian nun founded the Cenacolo Community to help young people whose lives had taken a wrong turn. Now, the organization can be found in many countries worldwide. I listened to the story of a girl from Scotland who had drug problems; she had also attempted to take her own life. I thought to myself: “If she can live that happily, if she can come out of all that pain and suffering and genuinely believe in God, maybe there's something in that for me as well.” Another great grace that I received when I was in Međugorje was that I went for confession for the first time in many years. I did not know what to expect but going to confession and finally saying out loud to God all of the things that had hurt me, all that I had done to hurt others and myself, was an enormous weight off my shoulders. I just felt peace, and I felt clean enough to make a fresh start. I came back touched and started University in Ireland, but sans adequate support, I ended up in the hospital again. Finding Way Realizing that I needed help, I went back to Italy and became a part of a Cenacolo Community. It wasn't easy. Everything was new—the language, prayer, different personalities, cultures—but there was a truth in it. Nobody was trying to convince me of anything; everyone was living their life in prayer, work, and true friendship, and it was healing them. They were living peace and joy, and it wasn't made up but real. I was with them all day, every day—I saw it. I wanted that! What really helped me those days was Adoration. I don't know how many times I just cried in front of the Blessed Sacrament. A therapist wasn’t speaking back to me, no one was trying to give me any medication, it just felt like I was being cleansed. Even in the community, there was nothing particularly special, except for God. Another thing that really helped me get out of my depression was that I started looking to serve others. As long as I kept looking at my own self, my own wounds and problems, I was just digging myself into a bigger hole. The community life forced me to come out of myself, look to others, and try to give them hope, the hope that I was finding in Christ. It helped me so much when other young people would come to the community, young girls who had problems similar to mine or sometimes even worse. I looked after them, tried to be an older sister, and sometimes even a mother. I started to think about what my mother would have experienced with me when I was hurting myself or when I was unhappy. There's often a certain sense of helplessness, but with faith, even when you can't help someone with your words, you can do so on your knees. I've seen the change in so many girls and in my own life from prayer. It's not something mystical or something I could explain theologically, but faithfulness to the Rosary, Prayer, and Sacraments has changed my life and so many other lives, and it has given us a new will to live. Passing it on I returned to Ireland to pursue a career in nursing; in fact, more than a career, I felt deeply that it's how I wanted to spend my life. I'm now living with young people, some of whom are like me when I was their age—struggling with self-harm, depression, anxiety, substance abuse, or impurity. I feel that it’s important to tell them what God did in my life, so sometimes during lunch, I tell them that I wouldn't really be able to do this job, see all the suffering and pain if I didn't believe that there was something more to life than just death after illness. People often tell me: “Oh, your name is Joy, it suits you so much; you're so happy and smiley.” I laugh inside: “If you only knew where that came from!” My joy is one that arose from suffering; that's why it's a true joy. It lasts even when there's pain. And I want the young people to have the same joy because it's not just mine, but it's a joy that comes from God, so everyone can also experience it. I just want to be able to share this infinite joy of God so that others can know that you can go through pain, misery, and difficulties and still come out of it, grateful and joyful to our Father.
By: Joy Byrne
MoreMartin de Porres was born in 16th-century Peru; he grew up facing the stigmas of both his mixed race and illegitimacy. After a barber-medical apprenticeship in his young years, he joined the Dominicans as a ‘lay helper’ and continued his barber work in the monastery. One day, Brother Francis Velasco Carabantes approached Martin, desiring to talk to this man whom people were already starting to believe was saintly. Martin was busy with his barber work; he absent-mindedly grabbed this novice and placed him in the barber’s chair. Brother Francis had no inclination to have his head shaved; he disliked the hairstyle that the Dominicans used. Before he could resist, Martin had finished his job, and Brother Francis was angry beyond expression. He started to shout, calling Martin all sorts of curse words. Martin was lost in prayer, and by the time he noticed that this novice was shouting, one of the rectors had seen the commotion and was scolding Brother Francis, who was severely punished and sent away. Martin, once he came to realize what had happened, went to the rector with all possible excuses. He begged forgiveness for this person who had verbally abused him, trying even to explain away the curse words used. Finally, he told the rector: “Everyone knows what a sinner I am.” The rector, who was aware of Martin’s saintly life, gave in to his request and forgave Brother Francis. Not satisfied with this, Brother Martin even sent fresh fruit, which was a rare delicacy in the monastery, to Brother Francis. How many times have we rejoiced in the ‘just’ punishments that our transgressors received? Let us pray to Saint Martin for the virtue of humility, to forgive and show the other cheek, as Jesus taught us to do.
By: Shalom Tidings
MoreAnacleto González Flores was born in Mexico in the late 19th century. Inspired by a sermon heard in his childhood, he made daily Mass the most important part of his life. Though he joined the seminary and excelled in academics, on discerning that he was not called into the priesthood, he later entered law school. During the years-long Christian persecution in Mexico, Flores so heroically defended the fundamental rights of Christians that the Holy See awarded him the Cross Pro Ecclesia et Pontifice for his efforts. As many Mexican Christians courageously gave their lives for their faith, he continued to write against the atrocities and became a prominent leader of the Cristero War. In 1927, he was arrested and cruelly tortured—he was flogged, his feet were cut open with knives, and his shoulder was dislocated. An unfazed Anacleto remained firm in his faith and refused to betray his fellow faithful. As he was shot to death, he openly forgave his killers and died, exclaiming: “I have worked selflessly to defend the cause of Jesus Christ and His Church. You may kill me, but know that this cause will not die with me.” He openly forgave his killers and died, exclaiming: “I die, but God does not die. Long live Christ the King!” After years of living a holy life centered on devotion to the Blessed Sacrament and an exemplary Marian devotion, Flores gave his life to the Lord with three of his fellow faithful. This brave martyr was beatified by Pope Benedict XVI in 2005, and he was declared the patron of the Mexican laity in 2019.
By: Shalom Tidings
MoreSeveral years ago, I participated in the annual meeting of the Academy of Catholic Theology, a group of about fifty theologians dedicated to thinking according to the mind of the Church. Our general topic was the Trinity, and I had been invited to give one of the papers. I chose to focus on the work of Saint Irenaeus, one of the earliest and most important of the fathers of the Church. Irenaeus was born around 125 in the town of Smyrna in Asia Minor. As a young man, he became a disciple of Polycarp who, in turn, had been a student of John the Evangelist. Later in life, Irenaeus journeyed to Rome and eventually to Lyons where he became Bishop after the martyrdom of the previous leader. Irenaeus died around the year 200, most likely as a martyr, though the exact details of his death are lost to history. His theological masterpiece is called Adversus Haereses (Against the Heresies), but it is much more than a refutation of the major objections to Christian faith in his time. It is one of the most impressive expressions of Christian doctrine in the history of the church, easily ranking with the De Trinitate of Saint Augustine and the Summa theologiae of Saint Thomas Aquinas. In my Washington paper, I argued that the master idea in Irenaeus’s theology is that God has no need of anything outside of Himself. I realize that this seems, at first blush, rather discouraging, but if we follow Irenaeus’s lead, we see how, spiritually speaking, it opens up a whole new world. Irenaeus knew all about the pagan gods and goddesses who stood in desperate need of human praise and sacrifice, and he saw that a chief consequence of this theology is that people lived in fear. Since the gods needed us, they were wont to manipulate us to satisfy their desires, and if they were not sufficiently honored, they could (and would) lash out. But the God of the Bible, who is utterly perfect in Himself, has no need of anything at all. Even in His great act of making the universe, He doesn’t require any pre-existing material with which to work; rather (and Irenaeus was the first major Christian theologian to see this), He creates the universe ex nihilo (from nothing). And precisely because He doesn’t need the world, He makes the world in a sheerly generous act of love. Love, as I never tire of repeating, is not primarily a feeling or a sentiment, but instead an act of the will. It is to will the good of the other as other. Well, the God who has no self-interest at all, can only love. From this intuition, the whole theology of Irenaeus flows. God creates the cosmos in an explosion of generosity, giving rise to myriad plants, animals, planets, stars, angels, and human beings, all designed to reflect some aspect of His own splendor. Irenaeus loves to ring the changes on the metaphor of God as artist. Each element of creation is like a color applied to the canvas or a stone in the mosaic, or a note in an overarching harmony. If we can’t appreciate the consonance of the many features of God’s universe, it is only because our minds are too small to take in the Master’s design. And His entire purpose in creating this symphonic order is to allow other realities to participate in His perfection. At the summit of God’s physical creation stands the human being, loved into existence as all things are, but invited to participate even more fully in God’s perfection by loving his Creator in return. The most oft-cited quote from Irenaeus is from the fourth book of the Adversus Haereses, and it runs as follows: “The glory of God is a human being fully alive.” Do you see how this is precisely correlative to the assertion that God needs nothing? The glory of the pagan gods and goddesses was not a human being fully alive, but rather a human being in submission, a human being doing what he’s been commanded to do. But the true God doesn’t play such manipulative games. He finds His joy in willing, in the fullest measure, our good. One of the most beautiful and intriguing of Irenaeus’ ideas is that God functions as a sort of benevolent teacher, gradually educating the human race in the ways of love. He imagined Adam and Eve, not so much as adults endowed with every spiritual and intellectual perfection, but more as children or teenagers, inevitably awkward in their expression of freedom. The long history of salvation is, therefore, God’s patient attempt to train His human creatures to be His friends. All of the covenants, laws, commandments, and rituals of both ancient Israel and the church should be seen in this light: not arbitrary impositions, but the structure that the Father God gives to order His children toward full flourishing. There is much that we can learn from this ancient master of the Christian faith, especially concerning the good news of the God who doesn’t need us!
By: Bishop Robert Barron
More