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No matter how bad the tough times, if you hold onto this, you will never be shaken.
We live in very dark and confusing times. Evil is all around us, and Satan is doing his best to destroy society and the world we live in. Looking at the news for even a few minutes can be very disheartening. Just when you think it can’t get any worse, you hear of some new atrocity or wickedness in the world. It’s easy to get discouraged and to lose hope.
But as Christians, we are called to be a people of hope. How is that possible?
I have a friend who is originally from Rhode Island. One Father’s Day, his kids got him a hat with a picture of an anchor and Hebrews 6:19 embroidered on it. What was the significance of that? The Rhode Island state flag has an anchor with the word “hope” written on it. It is a reference to Hebrews 6:19, which says: “We have this hope, a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters the inner shrine behind the curtain…”
The book of Hebrews was written to people suffering great persecution. To acknowledge that you were Christian meant death or suffering, torture or exile. Because it was so hard, many were losing faith and wondering if it was worth it to follow Christ. The author of the letter to the Hebrews was trying to encourage them to hang on, to persevere—that it was worth it. He tells his readers that hope based in Jesus is their anchor.
When I was in high school in Hawaii, I was part of a program that taught marine biology to students. We spent several weeks at a time living and working on a sailboat. In most of the places we sailed to, there was a dock or pier where we could tie the boat up securely to the land. But there were some remote high schools that were not located near a harbor or bay that had a dock. In those cases, we had to use the boat’s anchor—a heavy metal object with some sharp hooks on it. When one drops the anchor into the water, it hooks onto the bottom of the seabed and prevents the boat from floating away.
We can be like boats, tossing and floating about on the tides and waves of daily life. We hear about a terrorist attack in the news, shootings in schools and churches, bad court rulings, bad news in your family, or natural disasters. There are a lot of things that can shake us and make us feel lost and full of despair. Unless we have an anchor for our souls, we are going to get tossed about and not have any peace.
But for an anchor to work, it needs to be hooked onto something solid and immovable. A boat can have the strongest, best anchor available, but unless it is hooked onto something secure and firm, that boat will be swept away by the next tide or wave.
Many people have hope, but they put their hope in their bank account, in the love of their spouse, in their good health, or in the government. They may say: “As long as I have my house, my job, my car, everything will be fine. As long as everyone in my family is healthy, all is well.” But do you see how shaky that can be? What happens if you lose your job, a family member gets sick, or the economy fails? Do you lose your faith in God then?
I remember when my dad was battling cancer for the last few years of his life. It was a stormy, turbulent time for our family as with each new checkup, we alternately heard good news or bad news. There were trips to the ER, and he was even airlifted once to another hospital for emergency surgery. I felt very tossed about and on shaky ground as we watched my dad suffer and get sicker and weaker.
My dad was a strong, devout Christian. He spent hours each day reading and studying the Word of God, and he had taught Bible studies for years. It was tempting for me to wonder where Jesus was in all of this. After hearing another bad prognosis, with my soul feeling wrenched by this latest stormy report, I went to a church to pray.
“Lord, I’m losing hope. Where are you?”
As I sat there quietly, I began to realize that I had been putting my hope in my dad’s recovery. That’s why I was feeling so shaky and insecure. But Jesus was inviting me to put my hope, my anchor, in Him. The Lord loved my dad so much more than I ever could, and He was with him in this difficult trial. God would give my dad what he needed to run his race well until the end, whenever that was. I needed to remember that and put my hope in God and in God’s great love for my father.
My dad passed away at home a few weeks later, surrounded by love and much prayer, tenderly cared for by my mom. He died with a gentle smile on his face. He was ready to go to the Lord, looking forward to seeing his Savior face to face at last. And I was at peace with it, ready to let him go.
Hope is the anchor, but the anchor is only as solid as what it is connected to. If our anchor is secure in Jesus, who has gone through the veil ahead of us and is waiting for us, then no matter how high the waves get, no matter how wild the storms around us are, we will hold steady and not be swept away.
Ellen Hogarty is a spiritual director, writer and full-time missionary with the Lord’s Ranch Community in New Mexico. She blogs at cacklescorner.com.
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.
By: Bishop Robert Barron
MoreI remember a childhood story in which God, about to destroy Earth because of humanity's wrongdoing, looked down, saw the lilies of the field praying for mankind, and extended the end of time. It was my wife's desire to attend daily Mass that led us to the nearby Carmelite Monastery. I was immediately struck by the pervasive stillness and a sense of tranquility. Through the grilled gates, these nuns looked like God's lilies on earth. As I was introduced to their daily life, I was surprised to learn that the sisters make vestments, altar breads, and greeting cards. They even stitch their own habits, grow their own fruits and vegetables, and look after the other elderly sisters. Most of the day is spent in silence, which helps them to open up to the Lord and pray. The sisters even meet up twice a day to talk and share. The power of prayer and its impact dawned upon me. The Church has a rich tradition of prayer, through which we deeply connect with God, whether it's through attending Mass, reciting the Rosary, or simply taking a few moments to reflect on God's presence in our lives. The experience of visiting the Carmelite Monastery was truly humbling. It helped me reflect on the power of prayer and the importance of dedicating one's life to serving others, and left me with a sense of peace and renewed faith.
By: Winner Varghese
MoreThe Mexican Revolution which began in the early 1920s, led to the persecution of the Catholic community in that country. Pedro de Jesus Maldonado-Lucero was a seminarian at that time. Once he became a priest, despite the risk, he stood with his people. He tended to his flock during a terrible epidemic, founded new apostolic groups, reestablished associations, and ignited Eucharistic piety among his parishioners. Upon discovering his pastoral activities, the government deported him, but he managed to return and continue serving his flock, in hiding. One day, after hearing the confessions of the faithful, a gang of armed men busted his hiding place. Father Maldonado managed to grab a reliquary with Consecrated Hosts as they forced him out. The men forced him to walk barefoot throughout the town, as a crowd of the faithful followed him. The city mayor grabbed Father Maldonado's hair and dragged him toward the city hall. He was knocked to the ground, resulting in a skull fracture that popped out his left eye. He had managed to keep his grip on the pyx until this time, but now it fell out of his hands. One of the thugs took some Holy Hosts, and as he forcefully stuffed the hosts inside the priest’s mouth, he shouted: “Eat this and see if He can save you now.” Little did the soldier know that just the night before, during the Holy Hour, Father Maldonado had prayed that he would happily give his life for an end to the persecution ‘if only he would be allowed to take Communion before his death.’ The thugs left him for dead in a pool of his own blood. Some local women found him still breathing and rushed him to a nearby hospital. Father Pedro Maldonado was born into eternal life the next day, on the 19th anniversary of his priestly ordination. Pope John Paul II canonized this Mexican priest in 2000.
By: Shalom Tidings
MoreWhen Andrea Acutis arranged a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, he thought that his son would be excited. Carlo was keen on going to daily Mass and reciting his prayers, so his reply came as a surprise: "I prefer to stay in Milan … Since Jesus remains with us always, in the Consecrated Host, what need is there to make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem to visit the places where He lived 2000 years ago? Instead, tabernacles ought to be visited with the same devotion!" Andrea was struck by this great devotion that his son cherished for the Eucharist. Carlo was born in 1991, the year the World Wide Web was invented. The little genius walked when he was just four months old, and started reading and writing at the age of three. The world would’ve looked at his intellect and dreamt of a bright future but the Divine had different plans. Combining his love for the Eucharist and technology, he left the world a great legacy of a record of Eucharistic miracles from across the world. He began the collection in 2002 when he was just 11 years old and completed it a year before he succumbed to leukemia. This young computer geek, at such a young age, even built a website (carloacutis.com), a lasting record, with all the collected information. The Eucharistic exhibition he pioneered was held in five continents. Ever since, many miracles have been reported. On his website, he has written the lasting mission of his life on Earth: "The more Eucharist we receive, the more we will become like Jesus, so that on this Earth, we will have a foretaste of Heaven." This Italian teenage designer and computer whiz is soon to become Saint Carlo Acutis. Widely known as the first millennial patron of the internet, Blessed Carlo continues to draw millions of youngsters to the love of Jesus in the Eucharist.
By: Shalom Tidings
MoreWhen she lost her mobility, eyesight, listening, voice, and even the sense of touch, what prompted this young girl to describe her life as ‘sweet?’ Little Benedetta, at age seven, wrote in her diary: “The universe is enchanting! It is great to be alive.” This intelligent and happy lass, unfortunately, contracted polio in her childhood, which left her body crippled, but nothing could cripple her spirit! Hard Times on Roll Benedetta Bianchi Porro was born in Forlì, Italy, in 1936. As a teenager, she began to go deaf, but despite this, she entered medical school, where she excelled, taking oral exams by reading the lips of her professors. She had an ardent desire to become a missionary doctor, but after five years of medical training and just one year short of completing her degree, she was forced to end her studies due to increasing illness. Benedetta diagnosed herself with neurofibromatosis. There are several iterations of this cruel disease, and in Benedetta’s case, it attacked the nerve centers of her body, forming tumors on them and gradually causing total deafness, blindness, and later, paralysis. As Benedetta’s world shrank, she demonstrated extraordinary courage and holiness and was visited by many who sought her counsel and intercession. She was able to communicate when her mother would sign the Italian alphabet into her left palm, one of the few areas of her body that remained functional. Her mother would sign letters, messages, and Scripture painstakingly into Benedetta’s palm, and Benedetta would reply verbally despite her voice having been weakened to a whisper. “They’d come and go in groups of ten and fifteen,” said Maria Grazia, one of Benedetta’s closest confidantes. “With her mother as interpreter, she was able to communicate with each one. It seemed as though she could read our innermost souls with extreme clarity, even though she couldn’t hear or see us. I will always remember her with her hand extended ready to receive the Word of God and her brothers and sisters.” (Beyond Silence, Life Diary Letters of Benedetta Bianchi Porro) It’s not that Benedetta never experienced agony or even anger at this disease that was robbing her of the ability to become a medical doctor, but in accepting it, she became a doctor of another sort, a kind of surgeon to the soul. She was, indeed, a spiritual doctor. In the end, Benedetta was no less a healer than she ever desired to be. Her life had shrunken all the way down to the palm of her hand, it was no bigger than a Communion host—and yet, just like a Blessed Communion Host, it had become more powerful than she would have ever imagined. It is impossible to miss the correlation between Benedetta’s life and Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament who is hidden and small too, silent and even weak, but an ever-present friend to us. Towards the end of her life, she wrote to a young man who suffered similarly: “Because I'm deaf and blind, things have become complicated for me … Nevertheless, in my Calvary, I do not lack hope. I know that at the end of the road, Jesus is waiting for me. First in my armchair, and now in my bed where I now stay, I have found wisdom greater than that of men—I have discovered that God exists, that He is love, faithfulness, joy, certitude, to the end of the ages … My days are not easy. They are hard. But sweet because Jesus is with me, with my sufferings, and He gives me His sweetness in my loneliness and light in the darkness. He smiles at me and accepts my collaboration.” (Venerable Benedetta Biancho Porro, by Dom Antoine Marie, OSB) A Compelling Reminder Benedetta passed away on January 23, 1964. She was 27 years old. She was venerated on December 23, 1993, by Pope John Paul II and beatified on September 14, 2019, by Pope Francis. One of the great gifts that the Saints bring to the Church is that they give us a clear picture of what virtue looks like, even in incredibly difficult circumstances. We need to ‘see ourselves’ in the lives of the Saints in order to be strengthened for our own. Blessed Benedetta is truly a model of sanctity for our times. She is a compelling reminder that even a life filled with serious limitations can be a powerful catalyst for hope and conversion in the world and that the Lord knows and fulfills the deepest desire of every heart, often in surprising ways. A Prayer to Blessed Benedetta Blessed Benedetta, your world became as small as a communion wafer. You were immobilized, deaf, and blind, and yet you were a powerful witness to the love of God and the Blessed Mother. Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament is hidden and small too, silent, immobilized, and even weak—and still all-powerful, ever present to us. Please pray for me, Benedetta, that I will collaborate, as you did, with Jesus, in whatever way He wishes to use me. May I be granted the grace to allow the Almighty Father to speak through my littleness and loneliness, too, for the glory of God and the salvation of souls. Amen.
By: Liz Kelly Stanchina
MoreQ - My many Christian friends celebrate ‘Communion’ every Sunday, and they argue that the Eucharistic presence of Christ is only spiritual. I believe Christ is present in the Eucharist, but is there any way to explain it to them? A – It is indeed an incredible claim to say that at every Mass, a small piece of bread and a small chalice of wine become the very flesh and blood of God Himself. It is not a sign or a symbol, but truly the body, blood, soul, and divinity of Jesus. How can we make this claim? There are three reasons why we believe this. First, Jesus Christ said so Himself. In John’s Gospel, Chapter 6, Jesus says: “Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, you do not have life within you. Whoever eats My flesh and drinks My blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day. For My flesh is true food, and My blood is true drink. Whoever eats My flesh and drinks My blood remains in Me and I in him.” Whenever Jesus says, “Amen, Amen, I say to you…”, this is a sign that what He is about to say is completely literal. Further, Jesus uses the Greek word trogon which is translated ‘to eat’—but really means ‘to chew, gnaw, or rip with one’s teeth.’ It’s a very graphic verb which can only be used literally. Also, consider the reaction of His hearers; they walked away! It says in John 6: “as a result of this [teaching], many of His disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied Him.” Does Jesus chase them down, tell them that they misunderstood Him? No, He allows them to leave—because He was serious about this teaching that the Eucharist is truly His flesh and blood! Second, we believe because the Church has always taught it from its earliest days. I once asked a priest why there was no mention of the Eucharist in the Creed which we profess every Sunday—and he replied that it was because no one debated His Real Presence, so it wasn’t necessary to officially define it! Many of the Church Fathers wrote about the Eucharist—for example, Saint Justin Martyr, writing around the year 150 AD, penned these words: “For not as common bread and common drink do we receive these; but we have been taught that the food which is blessed by the prayer of His word, and from which our blood and flesh are nourished, is the flesh and blood of that Jesus who was made flesh.” Every Church Father is in agreement—the Eucharist is truly His flesh and blood. Finally, our faith is strengthened through the many Eucharistic miracles in the history of the Church—over 150 officially documented miracles. Perhaps the most famous occurred in Lanciano, Italy in the 800s, where a priest who doubted Christ’s presence was shocked to find that the Host became visible flesh, while the wine became visible as blood. Later scientific tests discovered that the Host was heart flesh from a human male, type AB blood (very common among Jewish men). The heart flesh had been badly beaten and bruised. The blood had congealed into five clumps, symbolizing the five wounds of Christ, and miraculously the weight of one of the clumps is equal to the weight of all five taken together! Scientists cannot explain how this flesh and blood has lasted for twelve hundred years, which is an inexplicable miracle in itself. But how can we explain how this happens? We make a distinction between accidents (what something looks like, smells like, tastes like, etc) and substance (what something actually is). When I was a young child, I was at my friend’s house, and when she left the room, I saw a cookie sitting on a plate. It looked delectable, smelled like vanilla, and so I took a bite…and it was soap! I was so disappointed, but it taught me that my senses could not always decipher what something actually is. In the Eucharist, the substance of bread and wine change into the substance of Christ’s body and blood (a process known as transubstantiation), while the accidents (the taste, smell, look) remain the same. It does indeed take faith to recognize that Jesus is truly present, since it cannot be perceived by our senses, nor is it something we can deduce with our logic and reason. But if Jesus Christ is God and He cannot lie, I am willing to believe that He is not a sign or symbol, but truly present in the Most Blessed Sacrament!
By: Father Joseph Gill
MoreMy new hero is Mother Alfred Moes. I realize that she is not a household name, even among Catholics, but she should be. She came on my radar screen only after I became the Bishop of the Diocese of Winona-Rochester, where Mother Alfred did most of her work and where she lies buried. Hers is a story of remarkable courage, faith, perseverance, and sheer moxie. Trust me, once you take in the details of her adventures, you will be put in mind of a number of other gritty Catholic Mothers: Cabrini, Teresa, Drexel, and Angelica, to name a few. Mother Alfred was born Maria Catherine Moes in Luxembourg in 1828. As a young girl, she became fascinated by the possibility of doing missionary work among the native peoples of North America. Accordingly, she journeyed with her sister to the New World in 1851. First, she joined the School Sisters of Notre Dame in Milwaukee but then transferred to the Holy Cross Sisters in La Porte, Indiana, a group associated with Father Sorin, CSC, the founder of the University of Notre Dame. After clashing with her superiors—a rather typical happenstance for this very feisty and confident lady—she made her way to Joliet, Illinois, where she became superior of a new congregation of Franciscan sisters, taking the name ‘Mother Alfred.’ When Bishop Foley of Chicago tried to interfere with the finances and building projects of her community, she set out for greener pastures in Minnesota, where the great Archbishop Ireland took her in and allowed her to establish a school in Rochester. It was in that tiny town in southern Minnesota that God commenced to work powerfully through her. In 1883, a terrible tornado tore through Rochester, killing many and leaving many others homeless and destitute. A local doctor, William Worrall Mayo, undertook the task of caring for the victims of the disaster. Overwhelmed by the number of injured, he called upon Mother Alfred’s sisters to help him. Though they were teachers rather than nurses and had no formal training in medicine, they accepted the mission. In the wake of the debacle, Mother calmly informed Doctor Mayo that she had a vision that a hospital should be built in Rochester, not simply to serve that local community, but rather the whole world. Astonished by this utterly unrealistic proposal, Doctor Mayo told Mother that she would need to raise $40,000 (an astronomical figure for that time and place) in order to build such a facility. She in turn told the doctor that if she managed to raise the funds and build the hospital, she expected him and his two physician sons to staff the place. Within a short span of time, she procured the money, and the Saint Mary’s Hospital was established. As I’m sure you’ve already surmised, this was the seed from which the mighty Mayo Clinic would grow, a hospital system that indeed, as Mother Alfred envisioned long ago, serves the entire world. This intrepid nun continued her work as builder, organizer, and administrator, not only of the hospital that she had founded, but of a number of other institutions in southern Minnesota until her death in 1899 at the age of seventy-one. Just a few weeks ago, I wrote about the pressing need in our diocese for priests, and I urged everyone to become part of a mission to increase vocations to the priesthood. With Mother Alfred in mind, might I take the occasion now to call for more vocations to women’s religious life? Somehow the last three generations of women have tended to see religious life as unworthy of their consideration. The number of nuns has plummeted since the Second Vatican Council, and most Catholics, when asked about this, would probably say that being a religious sister is just not a viable prospect in our feminist age. Nonsense! Mother Alfred left her home as a very young woman, crossed the ocean to a foreign land, became a religious, followed her instincts and sense of mission, even when this brought her into conflict with powerful superiors, including a number of Bishops, inspired Doctor Mayo to establish the most impressive medical center on the planet, and presided over the development of an order of sisters who went on to build and staff numerous institutions of healing and teaching. She was a woman of extraordinary intelligence, drive, passion, courage, and inventiveness. If someone had suggested to her that she was living a life unworthy of her gifts or beneath her dignity, I imagine she would have a few choice words in response. You’re looking for a feminist hero? You can keep Gloria Steinem; I’ll take Mother Alfred any day of the week. So, if you know a young woman who would make a good religious, who is marked by smarts, energy, creativity, and get-up-and-go, share with her the story of Mother Alfred Moes. And tell her that she might aspire to that same kind of heroism.
By: Bishop Robert Barron
MoreIn the early 1900s, Pope Leo XIII requested the congregation of Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart to go to the United States to minister to the significant number of Italian immigrants there. The congregation’s founder, Mother Cabrini, desired to do a mission in China, but obediently heeded the Church’s call and embarked on a long journey across the sea. As she had nearly drowned as a child, she formed a great fear of water. Still, in obedience, she...across the sea. On arrival, she and her sisters found that their financial aid had not been sanctioned, and they had no place to live. These faithful daughters of the Sacred Heart persevered and began serving the people on the margins. In a few years, her mission among the immigrants flourished so fruitfully that till her passing, this aquaphobic nun made 23 transatlantic trips around the world, founding educational and healthcare facilities in France, Spain, Great Britain, and South America. Her obedience and attentiveness to the Church’s missionary call was eternally rewarded. Today, the Church venerates her as the patron saint of immigrants and hospital administrators.
By: Shalom Tidings
MoreRani Maria Vattalil was born on 29 January 1954 to Eleeswa and Paily Vattalil in a small village called Pulluvazhy, in Kerala, India. From a young age, she was brought up in the Christian faith, having love for the poor. She attended daily Mass and led family prayers. During the final year of high school, Rani felt the Lord calling her to consecrated life and entered the Franciscan Clarist Congregation in 1972. It was Rani Maria’s ardent desire to do missionary work in North India and serve the poor, even if it cost her life. She was sent to Madhya Pradesh (a central Indian state) and served several mission areas there. Sister Rani Maria was given the responsibility of coordinating the social apostolate of the local diocese. She organized various educational programs for children and young people and worked relentlessly to empower the indigenous people. She understood how the poor, illiterate farmers were exploited and taken advantage of by their landlords. So, she educated them on their rights, helped them fight for justice, and spoke for those who were unjustly imprisoned. All this infuriated the upperclass landlords, who threatened her with dire consequences if she continued supporting the cause of the poor. But Rani Maria feared nothing and did not back down from her mission to 'love her neighbor.' A devious plan was then hatched by those who hated her. On 25th February 1995, while traveling by bus, she was mercilessly stabbed 54 times by Samundhar Singh—a man hired by the landlords. She breathed her last, repeating the Holy name of Jesus. Rani Maria worked her entire life to fight for the dignity and rights of her fellow men and bore witness to the Gospel through her social activities. Sister Rani Maria’s family, following the valiant example of their daughter, forgave her murderer wholeheartedly, even inviting him to their home! This act of mercy touched him deeply; he repented of his heinous crime and became a changed man. Sister Rani Maria was beatified by Pope Francis on 4th November 2017.
By: Shalom Tidings
MoreWherever you are and whatever you do, you are irrevocably called to this great mission in life. In the mid-eighties, Australian director Peter Weir made his first American film, a successful thriller, Witness, which starred Harrison Ford. The movie is about a young boy who sees the murder of an undercover police officer by corrupt co-workers, and he’s hidden away in an Amish community for protection. As the story unfolds, he recalls what happened by putting the pieces together and then, he tells the Ford character named John Book (note the Gospel symbolism). The movie contains the marks of a witness: one sees, recalls, and tells. Circling Back Jesus showed Himself to His innermost circle so that the truth of His Resurrection would reach everyone through them. He opened the minds of His disciples to the mystery of His Death and Resurrection saying: “You are witness to these things” (Luke 24:48). Having seen Him with their own eyes, the Apostles could not remain silent about this incredible experience. What’s true for the Apostles is also true for us because we are members of the Church, the mystical Body of Christ. Jesus commissioned his disciples to “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” (Matthew 28:19) As missionary disciples, we testify that Jesus is alive. The only way we can enthusiastically and steadfastly embrace this Mission is to see through the eyes of faith that Jesus is Risen, that He is alive, and present within and among us. That’s what a witness does. Circling back, how does one ‘see’ the Risen Christ? Jesus instructed us: “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” (John 12:23-24) Put simply, if we really want to ‘see’ Jesus, if we want to know Him deeply and personally, and if we want to understand Him, we have to look to the grain of wheat that dies in the soil: in other words, we have to look to the Cross. The Sign of the Cross marks a radical shift from self-reference (Ego-drama) to being Christ-centered (Theo-drama). In itself, the Cross can only express love, service, and unreserved self-giving. It is only through sacrificial giving of the self for the praise and glory of God and the good of others that we can see Christ and enter Trinitarian Love. Only in this way can we be grafted onto the ‘Tree of Life’ and truly ‘see’ Jesus. Jesus is Life itself. And we are hard-wired to seek Life because we are made in God’s image. That’s why we’re drawn to Jesus—to ‘see’ Jesus, meet Him, know Him, and fall in love with Him. That’s the only way we can be effective witnesses to the Risen Christ. The Hidden Seed We too must respond with the witness of a life that is given in service, a life that is patterned after the Way of Jesus, which is a life of sacrificial self-giving for the good of others, recalling that the Lord came to us as servants. Practically speaking, how can we live such a radical life? Jesus told His disciples: “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be My witnesses.” (Acts 1:8) The Holy Spirit, just as He did at the first Pentecost, frees our hearts chained by fear. He overcomes our resistance to do our Father’s will, and He empowers us to give witness that Jesus is Risen, He is alive and He is present now and forever! How does the Holy Spirit do this? By renewing our hearts, pardoning our sins, and infusing us with the seven gifts that enable us to follow the Way of Jesus. It is only through the Cross of the hidden seed, ready to die, that we can truly ‘see’ Jesus and therefore give witness to Him. It is only through this intertwining of death and life that we can experience the joy and fruitfulness of a love that flows from the heart of the Risen Christ. It is only through the power of the Spirit that we reach the fullness of the Life He gifted us with. So, as we celebrate Pentecost, let us resolve by the gift of Faith to be witnesses of the Risen Lord and bring the Paschal gifts of joy and peace to the people we encounter. Alleluia!
By: Deacon Jim McFadden
MoreWhen was the last time you placed your hands on your child’s head, closed your eyes, and wholeheartedly prayed for them? Blessing our children is a powerful act that can shape their lives in profound ways. Biblical Examples: "David went home to bless his household." (1 Chronicles 16:43) This simple act highlights the importance of speaking positive words over our loved ones. The Lord said to Moses: “This is how you are to bless the Israelites: ‘The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make His face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn His face toward you and give you peace.’” (Numbers 6:22–26) These words convey God's protection, favor, and peace. Encouragement and Exaltation: When we bless someone, we encourage them, lifting them up with positive affirmations. At the same time, we exalt God by acknowledging His goodness and grace. Blessings create a positive atmosphere where children feel loved, valued, and secure. Imparting Identity: Blessings help shape a child's identity. When parents speak words of blessings over their children, they affirm their worthiness and purpose. Children internalize these messages, carrying them into adulthood. The Power of Words: In a study of team performance, Harvard Business School found that high-performing teams received nearly six positive comments for every negative one. Blessings go even further than positive comments. When we bless someone, we declare truth over them—God's truth! Children are like sponges, absorbing messages from their environment. By blessing them, we provide a counterbalance to the negative influences they encounter. As parents or caregivers, we have a responsibility to bless our children—speaking life-giving words that build them up emotionally, spiritually, and mentally. Be cautious not to curse them inadvertently through negative comments or harmful attitudes. Instead, intentionally bless them with love, encouragement, and God's truth.
By: George Thomas
MoreMy friend and I were strolling along the streets when we heard people shouting behind us. An angry bull was charging wildly along the road in the distance, as terrified people screamed and scampered away. “Let's run!” I screamed, but my friend calmly replied: “If we start running, it will definitely chase us.” After a few moments, no one remained between us and the bull. "That's it. I think we should run!" I yelled to my friend, and we both took off. We ran with all our might, but we didn’t make much headway. Some good-hearted people were attempting to capture the bull. Gasping for breath, I waited for a moment, hoping that we were safe at last. Unfortunately, the chase continued. At some point, I remembered to pray. Then, I just stopped running. I stood there, staring at the bull charging toward me. When it was just a few inches away, it halted. We looked into each other’s eyes. We stood there, face to face, for a few seconds. I scarcely dared to draw a breath. Then, suddenly it bolted in a different direction, leaving us shaken. I always wonder what happened at that moment. Who could have stood between me and the bull? I had indeed felt a powerful presence protecting me from harm. Many of us are perpetually fleeing in fear of something. We rarely face our fear and confront it with the powerful presence of God. We easily become enslaved by pacifiers like alcohol, drugs, shopping, pornography, or even over-commitment to career goals. Plunging frantically into hedonistic pleasure or overwork to suppress our anxieties may momentarily distract us from the pain of unhappy childhoods, unpaid loans, disagreeable bosses or workmates, drunken spouses, unpleasant homes, or personal failures. But it destroys our ability to build healthy relationships. Afraid to turn to the right or to the left, we let ourselves bolt in panic. How can we heal our hurts without causing further damage and find relief? "I lift up my eyes to the hills—from where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth."(Psalm 121:1-2). When you are troubled by torments of any sort, stop running aimlessly and ask for Divine assistance. Look neither to the right nor to the left, but look to the Lord above to find the best answers to your problems.
By: Dr. Anjali Joy
MoreRome, Saint Peter’s Basilica, meeting the Pope…could life be more eventful? I discovered it can be. My conversion to the Catholic faith came about during my trip to Rome, where I was lucky to study for part of my degree. The Catholic university I attended had organized a couple of audiences with Pope Francis as part of the trip. One evening, I was sitting in the Saint Peter’s Basilica, listening to the Rosary being prayed in Latin over the loudspeaker while I waited for the service to begin. Though I didn’t understand Latin at the time, nor know what the Rosary was, I somehow recognized the prayer. It was a moment of mystical immersion that eventually led me to entrust my entire life to Jesus through the intercession of Mary. This began a journey of conversion that culminated in my Baptism into the Catholic Church a year later, and a love story that ensued shortly afterward. Discovering Moments I found myself slowly building the foundations of my relationship with Jesus, unknowingly imitating Mary in the process. I knelt at His feet in prayer as Mary might have done at Calvary, seeking to deepen my connection to Christ. I continue this practice today, studying His face, His wounds, His vulnerability, and His suffering. More importantly, I meet Him every day to console Him because I can’t bear the thought of Him being alone on the Cross. By meditating on His Passion, I find I can more deeply appreciate the significance of the Living Christ, who lives in us today. As I devoted myself to this practice, I felt Jesus waiting for me in my daily prayers, yearning for my faithfulness, and seeking my companionship. The more I held Him up in silent prayer, the more I began to feel a deep sorrow and grief for the price Jesus paid for my life and the lives of others. I shed tears for Him. I imprisoned Him in my heart and consoled Him in prayer, mirroring Mary's tender care for her Son. The realization of the sacrificial love that led Jesus to the Cross stirred deep maternal emotions within me, compelling me to surrender everything to Him. Through the grace of Our Lady, I offered myself completely to Jesus, allowing Him to transform me as our relationship blossomed. Offering it Up When I experienced a great loss two years ago, I continued this daily practice, though the focus of my sorrow shifted. The tears I shed were no longer for Him but for myself. I could do nothing but fall at the feet of Our Lord in my absolute distress and despair, as selfish as I felt. It was then that God showed me how redemptive suffering can be shared not just by witnessing His sacrifice in prayer, but by entering into His Passion. Suddenly, His suffering was no longer external to me, but something so intimate that I became one with Christ on the Cross. I was no longer alone in my suffering. In turn, it was He who held me up in silent prayer, He who grieved for me and shared my sorrow. He shed tears for me and opened His heart where I retreated and became His prisoner. I was held captive in His love. Trodding the Uneasy Path Imitating Mary leads us directly to the Heart of Jesus, teaching us the essence of true repentance and the boundless mercy that flows from His love. This journey may be challenging, requiring us to share in the burdens of Christ's Cross. Yet, through our trials and sorrows, we can find solace in His comforting presence, knowing that He never abandons us. By following Mary's example, we invite her to guide us in deepening our connection with Jesus, our Lord and Savior, and sharing in His redemptive suffering. By doing so, we become living martyrs for the pain and suffering of those who have not yet met Christ, and in the same process, we ourselves are healed. As we emulate Mary's maternal love for her Son, we draw closer to the essence of His Passion and become vessels of His healing grace. Through offering our own sufferings in union with Christ, we become living witnesses of His love and compassion, bringing solace to those who have yet to encounter Him. In this sacred process, we find healing for ourselves and become instruments of God's mercy, spreading His light to those in need. Likewise, we learn to embrace the crosses in our lives with courage, knowing that they are pathways to a deeper union with Christ. Through Mary’s intercession, we are guided toward a profound understanding of the sacrificial love that led Jesus to give His life for us. As we walk the path of discipleship, following in the footsteps of Mary, we are called to offer our own sufferings and struggles to Jesus, trusting in His transformative power to bring healing and redemption to our lives.
By: Fiona McKenna
MoreOne cold childhood night, my father taught me how to rebuild a fire... Be it an unseasonably crisp fall evening, the fragrance of smoke pouring out of an often-used chimney, an array of fall foliage colors, or even the tone of someone's voice, these seemingly infinitesimal sensory details often spark the vivid remembrance of a moment long ago. Why do we have such memories? Do they serve as a way of avoiding previously made mistakes? Did God give us memories so that we might have roses in December? Or might it be something much more profound? Are they seeds of contemplation that we are meant to dwell on, ponder, prayerfully reflect on, and contemplate? ‘Warm’ Love When I was nine, maybe ten, my family and I arrived home on an unseasonably cold fall night. My mother immediately requested that my father rebuild the fire. This being a favorite pastime of mine, I eagerly stood by to watch. While other fire-building occurrences remain a haze of insignificant details, this one lives vividly in the depths of my mind. I even remember it verbatim. He opened the wood stove, picked up the poker, and started clearing away ash. Curious, I remember asking: "Why do you clear away all the ash?" Immediately, my father answered: "By removing the ash, I am killing two birds with one stone. I isolate any embers while simultaneously allowing oxygen to flow more freely." "Why is that so important?" My father stopped his work and looked at me, balancing on his toes in a crouched position. Moments passed as he considered my question. He then called me close. As I approached, he handed me the poker and almost whispered: "Let's do this together." Feel the Difference I took the metal rod, and he guided me in front of him. He wrapped his hands over mine and started to guide my movements. The ash continued to fall through the grate, and what was left behind was a small pile of embers. My Father asked me: "Do you feel much heat?” I laughed and said: "No Dad! Of course not!" My father chuckled, then responded: "I imagine not! Certainly, as they are, they are not going to heat the house, but notice what happens when I do this." He put the poker down, positioned himself closer to the stove, and began to blow hard onto the embers. They suddenly began to glow a fiery red. My father then said: "Here, you try." I emulated his actions and blew as hard as I could. Likewise, the embers turned a vibrant red for the briefest of moments. My father asked: "You see the difference, but did you also feel the difference?" Smiling, I answered: "Yea! It was warm for a second!" "Exactly," my father interjected: "We clear the ash so that oxygen can fuel the embers. Oxygen is absolutely necessary; the embers burn brighter, as you saw. We then fuel the fire with other small flammable items, starting small and then moving on to bigger items." My father then instructed me to get newspapers and small sticks from the kindling box. He meanwhile went to the side porch and collected several boards and larger logs. He then crumpled the newspaper and laid it on the small pile of embers. He then instructed me to blow on the pile as I had done before. "Keep going! Don't stop! Almost there!" my father encouraged, until quite suddenly, and just as surprisingly, the newspaper caught fire. Startled, I jumped back a little but was then calmed by the burst of warmth I also felt. At that moment, I remember smiling from ear to ear, and my father, also smiling, instructed: "Now, we can start adding slightly larger items. We'll start with these twigs and such. They'll catch fire like the paper did. Observe…" Sure enough, after a few moments, the sticks were burning. The heat was significant. My father then added small logs, and old fence boards, and waited as before. I had to back up because the heat was unbearable up close. Finally, 30-40 minutes later, the fire was literally roaring as my father put in the largest of logs. He said: "With these, the fire will burn several hours into the night. You have learned that the hardest part is getting the fire going. Once ablaze, it is easy to keep it going as long as you feed it and allow the oxygen to fan the flames. A fire without oxygen, without fuel, will be extinguished." To Remember… The desire for God is written in the human heart. The fact that humans are made in the likeness and image of God results in an ember, a desire for happiness that lies in each of us. This ember can never be extinguished, but if left uncared for, leaves its owner unhappy and without purpose. Clear away the ashes (through Baptism), and we allow God's love to fan the flame. Our deepest desire starts to be oxygenated, and we begin to feel the effects of God's love. As God's love stimulates the fire within to grow, it requires sustenance—an active daily choice to kindle the flame. The Word of God, prayer, the Sacraments, and works of charity keep the flame well nurtured. Left unaided, our flames reduce once more to a struggling ember, starving for the oxygen only God can provide. Our free will allows us to say ‘Yes’ to God. This not only fulfills our innate individual desire for happiness but our ‘Yes’ can even ignite someone else's desire for conversion, giving validity to Saint Ignatius's words: "Go forth and set the world on fire."
By: Aleksie Ivanovich
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