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It was a cold and snowy afternoon several years ago, when I felt like going to Adoration. My own parish didn’t have Perpetual Adoration yet, so I drove to a parish that did. It has a small, very intimate chapel where I loved spending time with Jesus, pouring my heart out to Him.
My hour was almost over when I heard two people talking in the back of the chapel. I was disconcerted and distracted by their insensitivity regarding a homeless man in the narthex, so I decided to leave. My hour was almost over anyway.
As I left, I passed through the narthex where the man was sleeping so soundly that he didn’t even stir when I paused to say a prayer over him. I felt relieved that the doors were unlocked for Adoration so he could find shelter. He appeared to be homeless, but I didn’t know for sure.
What I do know is that I was moved to tears by my concern for this man. I could hardly contain myself as I wandered outside where a statue of the Sacred Heart reminded me of Christ’s loving concern for every person and His abundant mercy. I begged the Lord to tell me what to do. In my heart, I felt the Lord telling me to go to the nearby store and pick up a few necessities for this man. I thanked Him and immediately bought a few things that I thought the man might be able to use.
All the way back to the chapel, I hoped the man would still be there. I really wanted to give him what I had purchased. When I arrived, he was still sleeping. I quietly set the bags down near him, said a prayer, and began walking away. I had almost reached the exit when I heard someone call, “Lady, lady”. I turned around and replied, “Yes”. The man was now awake and approached me, asking if I had left the bags for him. I replied, “Yes, I did.” He thanked me saying how thoughtful that was. No one had ever done that before. I smiled and said, “You’re welcome”. The man was coming closer and I felt as if I was in the presence of Jesus. I felt so much love in my heart. Then he said, “Lady, I will see you in Heaven.” I thought I would burst out crying. His voice was so kind and loving. I was compelled to give him a kiss on the cheek. We said goodbye to each other and went our separate ways.
Outside, I couldn’t stop crying. I cried all the way home. Even now, I am moved to tears when I remember that afternoon. That cold, snowy afternoon, I realized that I had indeed met Jesus in that beautiful man. Now, when I look back, I imagine Jesus saying to me, “It’s Me, Jesus!” with a big smile on His face.
Thank you, Jesus, for reminding me that I can meet you in each person I encounter.
Carol Osburn is a spiritual director and writer. Married for over 44 years, she and her husband live in Illinois. They have 3 children and 9 grandchildren.
God sends no one away empty-handed—except those who are full of themselves I once heard a Taekwondo master tactfully correct a young teenage boy who was looking to be his martial arts student: “If you would like to learn martial arts from me,” he said, “you need to pour out the tea in your cup first, and then bring back the empty cup.” To me the master’s meaning was clear and concise: He didn’t want a prideful student. A cup full of tea has no space for more; no matter how good what you try to add is, it will overflow the cup. Likewise, no student can learn from even the best of masters if he is already full of himself. As my eyes followed the young man walking away in indignation, I told myself that I would never fall into that prideful trap. Yet a few years later, I found myself bringing a cup brimming with bitter tea to God—my Master. Full to the Brim I was assigned to teach religion to PreK to second grade students at a small Catholic school in Texas. I received that assignment from my religious superior with bitterness and discouragement. For me, the reason was quite understandable: I had completed my Master of Theology degree, because I wanted to become a college professor in Sacred Scripture, and later, a sought-after public speaker. This assignment clearly did not meet my expectations and required so much less of me than what I thought I could give. In tears I fell prostrate onto the convent’s chapel floor and lay there for a long time. How can I bring myself to teach a bunch of little children? How can I benefit from working among kids? Indeed, my teacup was full to the brim. But even in my pride, I could not bear to walk away from my Master. The only way out was to beg Him for help. The Master saw me through and through and was ready to help me drain my teacup so he could fill it with more tasteful tea. Ironically, he chose to use the very children put in my charge to teach me humility and empty my cup of pride. To my surprise, I began to realize that the children were budding, little theologians. Regularly, their questions and remarks gave me greater understanding and insights into the nature of God. A question from four-year-old Andrew brought a surprising result: “How can God be inside of me?” he asked. While I was organizing my thoughts and preparing a sophisticated theological answer, little Lucy replied without a moment’s hesitation, “God is like air. He is everywhere.” Then she took a deep breath to show how like air God could be inside her. Trained by True Master God not only used the children to help me empty my cup, but also to teach me ‘martial arts’ for my spiritual battles. While watching a short video about the story of the Pharisee and the tax collector, little Matthew broke down in tears. When I asked, he humbly admitted, “I bragged the other day that I had shared my ice cream with my friend.” His words reminded me to remain on guard against the sin of pride. By the end of the year, I had learned that as I emptied my teacup, God was filling it with Himself instead. Even the children told me so. One day, Austin sneakily asked, “Sister, what is the Bible?” Not waiting for an answer, he pointed at me: “You are the Bible,” he said. I was a bit shocked and confused but little Nicole supplied the explanation, “Because you are all about God,” she said. It was through the children that God poured new tea into my cup. Many of us go to God asking Him to teach us how to fight our spiritual battles without realizing our cup is too full of pride to have room for His teaching. I have learned that it is easier to bring an empty cup and ask our master to fill it with His own life and wisdom. Let’s allow the true master to train us and give us exercises for our life journey and for the battles we will inevitably fight. He may surprise us and use little children, or others we think little of, to teach us, but let us remember that “God chose the lowly and despised of the world, those who count for nothing, to reduce to nothing those who are something, so that no human being might boast before God” (1 Corinthians 1:28-29).
By: Sister Theresa Joseph Nguyen, O.P.
MoreThe Christian writer Tertullian wrote that “the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.” A sterling example of that truth is the third century martyr, Cecilia. Her name is recited daily in the canon of the Mass, and she remains to this day as one of the great Saints of the early Christian era. Hers is an inspiring yet bloody story. Despite having vowed her chastity to Jesus, her wealthy parents arranged a marriage with a young suitor named Valerian. You can imagine the young man’s surprise when, on her wedding night, Cecilia informed him that she had not only taken a vow of chastity but that her virginity was under the watchful protection of her guardian angel. Amazingly, her husband agreed to respect her vow and even promised to embrace Christianity, but he had a condition: he wanted to see her guardian angel. Her counter-request was that he travel to the third milestone on the Appian Way and there receive baptism at the hands of Pope Urbanus. After emerging from the waters of baptism and returning home, Valerian did indeed see the angel sitting beside Cecilia. Eventually, her husband’s brother Tiberius was also converted,and the brothers regularly buried Christians who were murdered almost daily by the local Roman prefect. Eventually they were arrested and imprisoned for refusing to offer sacrifices to the gods, but they managed to convert their jailer before losing their lives in martyrdom. Not long after, Cecilia herself was arrested and condemned to death. She miraculously survived a night amidst intense fire meant to suffocate her. Then an executioner struck three separate blows to her neck in a failed attempt to decapitate her. Left bleeding, Cecilia survived three days, preaching all the while to those who gathered round her and who collected the blood that flowed from her wounds. Her relics, and those of her husband, brother-in-law, and the converted jailor, are kept in Rome’s Church of St. Cecilia. Her body was found incorrupt when it was exhumed in 1599 and because on her wedding day she sang hymns to Jesus in her heart, Cecilia is the patron saint of musicians. We celebrate her feast on November 22.
By: Shalom Tidings
MoreAs the weeks rolled by with my husband working from home, putting us together 24 hours a day, I found myself once again feeling like a volcano about to erupt...Little did I know then how quarantine would change my life… It was the spring of 2020 and Covid-19 had spread throughout the country and much of the world. It was a time when quarantine changed my life. We were adapting to new phrases like “social distancing,” and “sheltering in place.” And connecting to others was limited to the use of technology. Thus, a friend of mine encouraged me and some other friends to join her for an online Bible study, pandemic-style. After watching sections of a video and reading portions of the book that accompanied it, we’d text our thoughts and comments to one another. In the first chapter of the study I came across the word “forbearance.” Despite having been a student of Scripture for years, I realized this term was not a part of my lexicon! It was not unfamiliar to me, as I’d come across it throughout the Bible, but the word forbearance seemed better suited to another time in history. The author described this virtue as the ability to hold back one’s power, even if one has the authority to use it, for the greater good that may not be evident to the one seeking relief. She offered a metaphor to explain: imagine God having two arms, both powerful. While stretching out His right arm to exert power, He at times uses his left arm to pull the other hand back, so as to prevent its strength being wielded. I shared this insight on the group text. One participant responded that “He cares enough to allow me to struggle and find deeper understanding and connection to His heart.” I’d seen this very thing in my life over and over through the years. The 40 years I’d worked in healthcare seemed to parallel the 40 years the Israelites wandered in the desert. Grumbling and complaining marked each of our respective journeys yet the Lord continued to provide for my needs and those of the Israelites and taught us obedience which resulted in patience, one of the “fruits of the Spirit.” Over time, patience has become a habit and I rarely express irritation or anger verbally anymore—at least outside the doors of my home! While I had made progress even within my home, I still found it to be the place that triggered my darker angels. Although I was blessed with a good and loving husband, his switch to working from home due to quarantine required an unexpected adjustment to being together 24 hours a day. As the weeks together wore on, I found myself once again feeling like a volcano about to erupt. I tried to suppress it, but when for what seemed like the hundredth time Dan knocked a full glass of tea, ice cubes and all, onto the end table, I exploded and ran to grab towel. When I later apologized, I remembered what my husband told a representative from the Big Sisters organization who had called for a spousal referral to determine my suitability as a volunteer. In response to my curiosity about the content of their lengthy conversation he replied, “I said lots of nice things about you. They did ask me if I thought you were a patient person. I told them you are very patient...with everyone but me!” As we chuckled together, both recognizing the truth in his statement, I realized that in the area of patience, God isn’t finished with me yet. Since retiring, I had adopted a routine of walking in the neighborhood each morning. The exercise kept my thoughts focused as I poured out my heart to the Lord each day. I confessed my impatience, asked forgiveness, listed my husband’s good qualities, and thanked God for him. What I couldn’t seem to do was exercise forbearance! I obviously wasn’t exhibiting the dictionary’s definition of “patient self-control, restraint and tolerance!” One morning, after another frustrating day of my husband working from home, I laid it all out as I prayed. “Lord, I have tried every way I know how to pray about this. I surrender to Your work in my life; make me a truly patient person with everyone, even my husband. I’ve done what I can; now I ask You to do in me what I cannot do in myself.” As the day ended, I happened to glance at the stack of devotionals on the end table. One of the books maybe sixth or seventh from the top caught my eye. I hadn’t opened it in some time, and didn’t even remember what it was titled. Still, I was drawn to it. It was called, “Biblical Homilies,” by Karl Rahner, a noted German theologian. I opened the volume to where a bookmark lay and laughed at the title on the page: “If You Can Put Up With Him, So Can I.” Fr. Rahner cited 1 Peter 3: 8-9: “Finally, all of you be of one mind, sympathetic, loving toward one another, compassionate, humble. Do not return evil for evil, or insult for insult; but, on the contrary, a blessing, because to this you were called, that you might inherit a blessing.” I read the sermon that followed: “This harmony and concord, then, is interpreted to mean that we must be united in prayer. No doubt the letter of St. Peter refers to a general disposition to get on with people.” This idea is obvious enough. We know only too well what a trial we are to each other.” (I paused...how did Fr. Rahner know what was going on in my house?!) “We are so different from one another: we have had different experiences, we are of different temperaments, of different origins, we come from different families, we have different talents and different jobs to do—small wonder if it is difficult for us all to be of one mind. We have different views and we understand each other imperfectly. And being so very different from other people we well may grate on them, unconsciously weary them with what we are, what we think, what we do, what we feel. Mutual harmony and comprehension, being of one mind, is difficult for us. Now we can only live together and bear with each other, bear one another’s burdens, if we do our best to be of one mind, if we are self-effacing and self-possessed, if we can hold our tongue even when we are right,” (now I was sure this priest had been peering at me through the window these last weeks!) “if we can let the other man be himself and give him his due, if we refrain from rash judgment and are patient.” (There was that word again!) “Then it becomes possible, at least in a rough and ready way, to be of one mind. We may not achieve empathy together, but we can be of one mind in Christian forbearance,” (FORBEARANCE!!! The word I never examined or considered until a week or so ago!) “each bearing the other’s burden. This means that I bear the burden the other man is to me simply by being himself, because I know I am a burden to him simply by being myself.” I already knew I couldn’t change anyone but myself, and that didn't seem to be going so well either! Seeing it spelled out so clearly, as given, brought the pieces together. Dan always worked hard to show me he loved me, despite my frailty. He lived the law of love for me. I looked online to find references to “forbearance” in scripture. Turns out, there were different translations of the word, based on the culture and time when each was compiled—Long-suffering, patience that endures, great-heartedness, even “developing a willingness to stick with things”. My response toward Dan felt like “long-suffering,” while his toward me looked much more like “great-heartedness.” We had found very different ways to incarnate the same virtue. I remembered the definition of forbearance I’d heard in the bible-study video: the ability to hold back one’s power, even if one has the authority to use it, for the greater good that may not be evident to the one seeking relief. It was the same lesson I’d learned through years of practicing physical therapy—calm responses made greater difference over time. Without taking time to comprehend what was driving a patient’s resistance to treatment, there would be no progress. Once they knew I understood them, my patients’ transformation would begin. Their progress was well worth my extra effort. I saw now that God was asking me to hold back my power--whether my tongue or my thoughts--for the greater good of our marriage. I had been “seeking relief;” but couldn’t see how it would come. With this realization, quarantine changed my life—by bearing the burden of the one to whom I had promised to be true, in good times and in bad, to love and honor all the days of my life, just as he did for me. How would I practice forbearance? Glancing at a picture of my husband, I knew: the example was right before my eyes.
By: Karen Eberts
MoreWith over 40 years of experience he had accomplished great feats; but interestingly he found true joy elsewhere When I was 11 years old, a bad leg injury from a motor vehicle accident led me to choose my career. After multiple reconstructive procedures I began to say, "When I grow up I'm going to be a plastic surgeon.” I feel blessed that I was able to fulfill my dream of mending lives. When I tell people that I’m a plastic surgeon many are curious about my cosmetic surgeries, but they rarely ask about the reconstructive procedures I perform. The chief difference between the two kinds of surgeries is that most cosmetic surgery is a “want" while reconstructive surgery is a “need". Surgeries in the “need” category are procedures for maxillofacial trauma, skin cancer, burn care, skin grafts and flaps, complex wounds, hand surgery and others. However, in third world countries like Mexico and the Dominican Republic, many patients desperately need and want reconstructive surgery. Sadly, either because they don’t have money or because there is no reconstructive surgeon available, their needs go unmet. To help such patients, I went on medical missions to both countries to volunteer my services with a loving heart. I dealt with two cases there that I would probably never have encountered here in the United States. The first was a woman so poor that she had never owned a pair of shoes. Therefore, the big black mole on the top of her foot was easy pickings (and peckings!) for her chickens. It typically bled, often became infected and always hurt. She begged me, “Por favor Doctor, quiteme este lunar” (Please Doctor, remove this mole). In less than 30 minutes her problem was resolved. A simple but real medical need. She was so appreciative that she hugged me and thanked me profusely. The second patient was a 16-year-old boy with a very wide cleft lip that left his prominent front teeth always exposed. He told me there was a girl in school he really liked but he was too ashamed and embarrassed to ask her to be his girlfriend. In about 2 1/2 hours I was able to change his life. When he was coming out of anesthesia, he looked in a mirror and saw a huge smile with no teeth showing. At his follow up visit, I had to ask, “Que dijo la muchacha?” (” What did the girl say?”) He responded with an emphatic, "Dijo que Si!!!" (“She said yes!”) Like the other seventy or so patients on whom I have operated, these two patients were extremely appreciative. But I also found true joy of my own by mending lives with a loving heart—seeing their smiles, their tears of joy and receiving those warm hugs. My experience frequently reminds me of what Jesus says to His disciples in Matthew 20:28, “the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve". I thank the Lord for blessing me with skills to mending the lives of those most in need.
By: Dr. Victor M. Nava
MoreFear can paralyze us. Fear about family matters. Fear about health. Fear about career. Fear about the future. Many of us carry around such fears. One day I felt so full of fears that I could feel them weighing me down. My jaws felt tight, my throat felt dry, and I could feel my entire body tense up. I felt helpless, as if the challenges that lay ahead of me were an enormous mountain blocking my way forward. “LORD, HELP ME!” I shouted from the depths of my heart. In my distress, I sobbed out all my fears to the Lord. In answer the word, “Remember” resonated through me. I hunted around for a pen and paper to write down the words pouring out of me, one after another: Remember the miraculous way the Lord God Almighty granted you your first job. Remember the time you called out to the Lord for help, and He responded immediately. Remember the beauty of His creation that surrounds you everywhere. The floodgates opened up. Every memory etched gratitude to the Lord deeper into my heart for His never-ending faithfulness and goodness. And I continued to write. Remember how the Lord answered your prayers and granted you virtuous friendships. Remember how He brought the right people into your life when you needed them most. Remember. Remember. Remember the faithfulness of the Lord, Sherin! The more I wrote, the more I recalled His faithfulness and presence in my life. After writing three pages worth of these memories, I paused and reread all that I had written. I realized how quickly I had forgotten His steadfast love for me when I was faced with new challenges. Filled with deep gratitude, I wanted to hold onto these memories of His faithfulness. So, I grabbed my cell phone and took photos of the pages I had filled and I set it as the home screen on my phone. Every time I picked up my phone throughout the day, I was reminded yet again of His faithfulness. Doing so brought a sense of peace and reassurance that no problem is too big for my Lord and my God. This greater trust in the Lord induced a state of calmness and stillness as I went about my daily tasks. The Voice Message Two or three days later, I unexpectedly received a voice message from a good friend who had no idea of my recent prayer experience. He mentioned an old Christmas card that I had written to him six years ago and pointed out a single line I had written in that card. “The Lord Remembers. Daniel 14: 38”. The Lord remembers? What is my friend talking about? I was clueless. I went straight to the source—my Bible, quickly flipping through the pages to Daniel 14:38. “And Daniel said, ‘You have remembered me, O God; and have not forsaken those who love you.” Daniel 14:38 The timing and content of my friend’s message left me speechless. In the depths of my heart, I felt as if the Lord had responded to me through my friend’s voice message. The message was clear. My Lord remembers me too, just as I try my best to remember Him and His faithfulness.
By: Sherin Iype
MoreI was 65 years old and I was looking into changing my life insurance policy. Of course, they required some lab tests. I thought, “Okay, I’ll go through the motions.” Up until then, every lab test I had ever taken, had been normal, including chest x-rays, EKG’s and colonoscopies, all normal. My blood pressure was 126/72 and my BMI was 26. I exercised four times per week and ate a fairly healthy diet. I felt good and was totally asymptomatic. All my lab results came back normal…except my PSA, it was 11 ng/ml (normal is less than 4.5ng/ml). Three years earlier it had been normal. Bummer! So, I went to see my PCP. During the rectal exam, he found my prostate enlarged and indurated. “I suspect cancer, I’m going to refer you to a urologist,” he said. Bummer, again. Eleven out of eleven prostate biopsies were positive for cancer. My Gleason score was 4+5 which meant that it was a highgrade cancer and could grow and spread more quickly. So, I underwent a radical prostatectomy, radiation therapy and hormone therapy with Lupron. Ooh those hot flushes! Ladies believe me when I say, I know what you’re going through. Bummer once again. So why only “bummer” and not “I don’t believe it, it can’t be, I’m going to die. God is punishing me”? Well, let me tell why. Before my mother’s kidney failure required at-home peritoneal dialysis, my parents traveled quite a bit, especially to Mexico. When daily dialysis brought travel to a halt, they spent more time working on puzzles, reading and studying their Bible. This brought them much closer to God. So, when her doctors told her there was nothing more they could do for her, she was okay with that. She told me, “I’m tired, I’m ready to be with my Father. I am at peace with family and friends, with myself, but most importantly, I am at peace with God.” A few days later, she died peacefully with a smile on her face. “I am at peace with God”. That’s what I wanted. I no longer wanted to be just a Sunday-Mass Catholic. It was then that I started on the path that has led me closer to God: reading and studying the Bible in both English and Spanish, praying, saying the Rosary, giving thanks for my blessings, and volunteering as a Catechism teacher. Soon, I hope to finish my internship as a volunteer hospital chaplain and I am about to complete my spiritual guidance course. So, yes, having prostate cancer is a bummer, but that is all it is, because I am at peace with God.
By: Dr. Victor M. Nava
MoreChristopher was waiting for his Dad to pick him up from church. He was brooding over what his Catechism teacher had taught about the Black Mass and satan worshippers who mistreated Jesus by mocking and desecrating the consecrated Eucharistic host. He had never even heard of a Black Mass before and felt sorry for Jesus. In his innocence, Christopher tried to concoct a plan. Suddenly his attention was caught by a lizard which had self-amputated its tail and shed it in order to distract the predator, a brown spotted bird. Christopher noticed that the severed tail was wiggling and spinning and the brown spotted bird, continuously picked at the tail without realizing that the lizard had actually fled. Looking at this Christopher thought, ‘what if Jesus quit from the Blessed Sacrament? What if Jesus was able to escape from the satan worshippers, just like the lizard? What if Jesus could remove His presence in the Blessed Sacrament so He would not have to suffer? If Jesus quit, then the consecrated bread would just become ordinary bread. That way, satan worshippers, or those who participate in Black Mass, would not be able to humiliate Jesus. Later that day, when his Dad came to pick him up, Christopher ecstatically detailed his new found plan for Jesus. “Dad, why can’t Jesus just quit from the Blessed Sacrament? That way, he wouldn’t have to suffer, right?” Christopher asked. For a moment, his Dad was silent. This was a bizarre question and his father had never thought about this before. “My son, Jesus cannot leave the Blessed Sacrament because He is true to His word,” his father finally said. “The priest uses the words of Jesus when he blesses the Eucharist. When Jesus says: ‘This is my Body which is broken for you for the forgiveness of sins’, he has given a promise. He will never go back on His promise. So, for humankind, He will suffer any humiliation. Jesus suffered and gave up His life on Calvary to save mankind two thousand years ago. He is still suffering today.” Do we realize how much Jesus is suffering in the Blessed Sacrament because of our sin, ignorance and lack of respect? Let us pray for the conversion of those who participate in Black Masses and all other sinners. Let us also pray that the whole of humankind will respect and love Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament.
By: Rosemaria Thomas
MoreYou might be familiar with the centurion who pierced the side of Jesus as the Lord hung on the Cross. According to some traditions and legends that soldier was named Longinus, a name that first surfaces in the apocryphal gospel of Nicodemus. The soldier is not named in the canonical gospels. According to the legends, after enduring wounds in past battles, Longinus was cruelly mocked by his fellow soldiers for his near blindness. At the moment he pierced the Lord’s side, blood spattered onto his eyes. Immediately his sight was restored. In the Gospel of Saint Mark we hear him exclaim, “Indeed, this was the son of God!” Tradition also tells us that Longinus left the army, took instruction from the apostles and became a monk in Cappadocia. There he was arrested for his faith, his teeth forced out and his tongue cut off. However, Longinus miraculously continued to speak clearly and managed to destroy several idols in the presence of the governor. The governor, who was blinded by the demons that escaped from the idols, had his sight miraculously restored by Longinus. As Longinus was beheaded, some of his blood splattered onto the governors' eyes and the governor was instantly healed. Saint Longinus is one of the first martyrs of the Church. His spear is one of the many relics associated with Christ and can be found in one of the four pillars over the main altar of St. Peter’s Basilica.
By: Shalom Tidings
MoreSaint Francis of Assisi once had a great fear and abhorrence of lepers. He confessed that the sight of a leper was so repugnant to him that he refused to even approach their dwellings. If he chanced to glimpse one in his travels or pass by the leprosarium, he turned his head away and blocked his nose. As he became more serious about his faith and took on Christ’s admonition to love others as you love yourself, he became ashamed of this attitude. So one day when a man afflicted with leprosy crossed his path, he overcame his feelings of horror and disgust and, instead of turning away, leaped off his horse, kissed the leper and pressed money into his hand. But when Francis remounted and looked back, he could not find the leper anywhere. With dawning excitement, he realized that it was Jesus whom he had kissed. After gathering some funds, he went to the leper hospital and gave alms to each one, kissing their hands with reverence as he did so. What had formerly seemed distasteful to him—the sight or touch of a leper—was transformed into sweetness. Later Francis wrote, “When I was in sin, the sight of lepers nauseated me beyond measure; but then God Himself led me into their company, and I had pity on them. When I became acquainted with them, what had previously nauseated me became the source of spiritual and physical consolation for me.” Today, we often see people around us who are stricken with spiritual leprosy. Mostly we try to keep away from them, but we fail to realize that it has crept into our own hearts as well. So instead of judging and pointing fingers at others, let’s cleanse ourselves off the crippling mind and hardness of heart. In the first place, God bestowed His grace and mercy upon us though we are broken and wounded. Let’s reach out to others with this mercy and compassion which we received unconditionally.
By: Shalom Tidings
MoreOn a recent bushwalk, my daughter was afflicted by a bad mood just as we had clambered up to a spectacular cavern. While we were all marvelling at the natural beauty, she kept her gaze steadily downward, refusing to look up. It seemed illogical to deny herself a single glance at the grandeur surrounding us, only to stare at the dull earth beneath her feet or clamp her hands over her eyes lest a single glimpse should tempt her out of her mood. Upon reflection, it reminded me of the times when I am so immersed in the anxieties and workload of everyday life that I fail to appreciate the treasures God has placed before me—the wonder of a child’s smile; the warmth of the sun on a winter morning; the meal lovingly prepared by my husband; or the amazing sunrises and sunsets that God paints in the sky every day. How often do we distract ourselves from our cares with an overload of banal screen time? Endless varieties of movies, series, reality TV shows, sport, social media and computer games compete for our attention. Yet there never seems to be enough time for prayer, family activities and home duties. We so often lament that we don’t have enough time to interact with friends in real life. Yet even our time with friends or family is often centred around a screen, or everyone has a screen in hand. Perhaps it is time to turn off the screens, pull out the earphones, and cast our eyes upwards to embrace the glory that the Lord offers us every day. Let us give thanks to God and invite him into our daily engagement with the real world surrounding us.
By: Genevieve Swan
MoreThe world’s greatest treasure is within the reach of every person! The reality of Jesus’ presence in the Eucharist is something great and marvelous. I know that Jesus is really and truly present in the Eucharist from my own experience not just because the Church teaches this truth. The First Touch One of the experiences I had that helped increase my faith in the Lord was after I was baptized in the Holy Spirit in my early days in the Catholic Charismatic renewal. I was still not a priest at that time. I was leading a prayer meeting and during this meeting, we were praying over people. We had the Eucharist exposed for Adoration and then people would come one by one to be prayed over. A woman came asking me to pray over her with folded hands and I thought she was praying. She asked me to pray for her husband who had a problem with his foot. But as I was praying, I felt in my heart that the Lord wanted to heal her. So I asked her if she needed any kind of physical healing. She told me, “My hands are like this because I have frozen shoulder.” She had a problem of mobility with her hands. As we were praying for her healing she said that a great heat came out from the Eucharist, descended on her frozen shoulder and she was healed then and there. That was the first time I actually saw such healing taking place through the power of the Eucharist. It’s exactly as we have in the Gospels—people touched Jesus and power came out of Him and healed them. Unforgettable Moment I have had another powerful experience of the Eucharist in my life. Once I was praying with somebody who was involved in the occult, and she needed a deliverance. We were praying as a group and there was a priest with us. But this woman, who was on the floor couldn’t see the priest who was bringing the Eucharist inside the church to the sacristy. The exact moment the priest brought the Eucharist, from her mouth, a male violent voice said these words: “Remove Him whom you’ve got in your hands!” It choked me because the demon did not say ‘it’- a piece of bread, but “Him”. Satan recognizes the living presence of Jesus in the Eucharist. I will never forget that moment of my life. When I became a priest later, I kept those two incidences in my heart to really believe and preach the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist. Unspeakable Joy As a priest I had one another experience which I will not forget. I attend prison ministry when I am not preaching around. Once I was giving communion to a particular division in the prison and had the Eucharist with me. Suddenly I felt in my heart the joy of Jesus in giving himself to the prisoners. This is something I cannot explain to you. If you could only experience and know the joy Jesus has in the Eucharist to come into each and every one of us! Another experience I have had of the Blessed Sacrament was a personal, emotional healing for myself. Once somebody who was in the church really hurt me with his words. It wasn’t easy and I was starting to get angry. Although I am not aggressive by nature, this hurt stirred up a lot of feelings and bad thoughts against this person. I fled to Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament and just cried. In that moment I felt His love, for that person who hurt me, radiating out from the Eucharist and entering into my heart. Jesus in the Eucharist healed me, but more than that, as a priest it helped me to realize where the real source of love and healing is in our lives. Not only for me as a priest, but for married persons and young people - who can really give the love that we are looking for? Where can we find love that is greater than sin and hatred? It’s in Him, present in the Eucharist. The Lord gave me so much love for the person who hurt me. On the eve of the day I was going to make my first vows, a sudden darkness entered into my heart. I went straight to the tabernacle instead of finding my new room in the community. Then from the depths of the heart I heard the Lord telling me, “Hayden, you are coming here for me.” And suddenly all the joy came back. In the Eucharist Jesus taught me one very important thing about my life as a Franciscan priest—He has called me for Him, I exist for Him. The Eucharist teaches every one of us that we can do nothing apart from Jesus—it’s not about us, it’s JUST ABOUT HIM. We are in the Church to be with Him! As a priest, celebrating the Eucharist is the most wonderful moment I have with the Lord and it also brings me closer to the Christian community. It is Jesus in the Eucharist who is the source of communion between us. As a priest, I cannot live without the Eucharist. What is the greatest thing we can ask Jesus when we receive Him in our hearts? It is asking Him to fill us with His Holy Spirit once again. When Jesus was resurrected, He breathed the Holy Spirit into the Apostles. When we receive Jesus in the Eucharist, He gives us once again the presence and power of the Holy Spirit in our lives. Ask Him to fill you with the gifts and the power of the Holy Spirit. Broken for you Once when I was lifting up the Host and breaking it, I got this deep conviction regarding the priesthood. We look at the people through the presence of Christ in the Eucharist, which is a broken body. A priest should be like that. He breaks his life so that he can give it to the community and the rest of world. One can also discover this beauty in the married life. Love is like the Eucharist. You have to break yourself in order to give yourself. The Eucharist has taught me how to live a celibate life, how to be Jesus for the community, giving my whole life for them. The same thing has to happen in married life. Finally, I can tell you that whenever I have felt lonely or down, just going near him—is enough to receive all the strength that I need, even if I am tired or sleepy. I can’t count the number of times I have experienced this in my travels and in my preaching. The best rest is to get closer to Him. I can assure you; He can renew us physically, spiritually, mentally and emotionally. Because in the Eucharist Jesus is ALIVE—He is there for us!
By: Father Hayden Williams OFM Cap
MoreToday if you clearly hear what God wants you to do...dare to do it! “Become a monk first.” Those were the words I received from God when I was 21 years old; 21 years old with the sort of plans and interests that would be expected of an average 21-year-old. I had plans to graduate from college within a year. Plans to serve in youth ministry, while working as a stuntman in Hollywood. I fancied I might move to the Philippines one day, and spend some time living among tribes on a remote island. And of course, marriage and children had a very strong appeal. These aspirations among others were arrested swiftly when God spoke those four unmistakable words. Some enthusiastic Christians express envy when I tell them about how God made His will explicit for my life. They often say, “I wish God would speak to me that way.” In response to this, I wish to offer some clarification on God’s pattern of speech based on my personal experience. God does not speak until we are ready to hear and receive what He has to say. What He has to say may determine how long it takes before we are ready. Until we can hear and receive God’s word, He will simply wait; and God can wait a very long time, as illustrated in the parable of the Prodigal Son. More importantly, those who wait on Him are esteemed throughout Scripture. I should preface my calling to become a monk with details about how my vocation really began, when I started reading the Church Fathers as an adolescent, or more accurately, when I started reading the Bible daily. Factoring in these details shows that it took seven years of discernment before I could receive just four words from God. Digging into Books I hated reading as a child. Sitting in a stuffy room with a book for hours on end made no sense when endless adventures were lying just outside my door. However, the imperative to read my Bible daily posed an unresolvable dilemma. Every Evangelical knows that any Christian who allows dust to collect on the Good Book is not much of a Christian. But how could I study Sacred Scripture as someone who hated reading? By the influence and example of a youth pastor, I gritted my teeth and set myself to the task of laboring over God’s Word one book at a time. The more I read, the more I began to ask questions. More questions led me to reading more books for more answers. Teenagers are intense by nature. Subtlety is something they learn later in life, which is why the Church Fathers left me so enamored as a young man. Ignatius was not subtle. Origen was not refined. The Church Fathers were extreme in every sense, renouncing earthly goods, residing in the desert, and often sacrificing their lives for the Lord. As an adolescent with proclivities toward the extreme, I found no one who could rival the Church Fathers. No MMA fighter could compare with Perpetua. No surfer was gnarlier than the Shepherd of Hermas. And yet, what these early radicals cared about was nothing other than imitating the life of Christ as modeled in the Bible. Furthermore, all were in consensus on leading a life of celibacy and contemplation. The paradox was striking to me. Being extreme like the Church Fathers entailed a lifestyle that, on the surface, appeared rather mundane. More questions to ponder. Talking Back With graduation on the horizon, I was torn by a couple job offers that would determine denominational affiliation, as well as prospective institutions for further education after college. At the time, my Anglican priest advised me to bring the matter to God in prayer. How I should serve Him was ultimately His decision, not mine. And what better place to discern the will of God in prayer than a monastery? On Easter Sunday, a woman I had never met approached me at St. Andrew’s Abbey, saying “I am praying for you, and I love you.” After asking for my name, she advised me to read the first chapter of Luke, saying “this will help you determine your vocation.” I kindly thanked her, and did as she instructed. As I sat on the chapel lawn reading about John the Baptist’s origin story, I noticed several parallels between our lives. I will not stray into all the details here. All I will say is that it was the most intimate experience I ever had with God’s Word. It felt like the passage was written for me in that very moment. I continued to pray and wait for God’s direction on the grassy lawn. Would He direct me to accepting a position in Newport Beach, or back home in San Pedro? Hours passed by as I patiently listened. Suddenly, an unexpected voice popped in my mind; “Become a monk first.” This was startling, as it was not the answer I was looking for. Entering a monastery after graduation was the last thing on my mind. Besides, I had a vibrant and colorful life to live. I stubbornly pushed God’s voice aside, attributing it to be some wild idea that rose from my subconsciousness. Returning to prayer, I listened for God to make His will evident to me. Next, an image captured my mind; three dry river beds appeared. Somehow, I knew that one represented San Pedro my hometown, another represented Newport, but the river bed in the middle signified becoming a monk. Against my will, the riverbed in the middle began overflowing with white water. What I saw was completely out of my control; I couldn’t not see it. At this point I became afraid. Either I was going mad, or God was calling me to something unexpected. Undeniable The bell tolled as tears trickled down my cheeks. It was time for Vespers. I shuffled into the chapel along with the monks. As we chanted the Psalms, my weeping grew uncontrollable. I could no longer keep up with the chanting. I remember feeling embarrassed about the mess I must have looked like. As the brethren filed out one by one, I remained in the chapel. Lying prostrate in front of the altar, I began to weep harder than I ever have in my entire life. What felt strange was the complete lack of emotion to accompany the weeping. There was neither sorrow nor anger, just sobs. The only explanation I could attribute to the downpour of tears and snot, was the touch of the Holy Spirit. It was undeniable that God was calling me to the monastic life. I went to bed that night with eyes swollen but peace knowing God’s path for me. The next morning I promised God I would follow His bidding, seeking to become a monk first and foremost. I am Not Done Yet? Although God is punctual at times, as with Moses on Mt. Sinai or Elijah on Mt. Carmel, more often than not, His words are inopportune. We can’t presume that by putting our lives on hold, God will be forced to speak up. He is not manipulatable in the slightest. Thus, we are left with no choice but to carry on with our humdrum tasks until we nearly forget about Him—this is when He shows up. Young Samuel heard God’s voice precisely when Samuel was attending to his daily (mundane) duties, i.e., ensuring the tabernacle candle remain lit. There are vocations within vocations; callings within callings. Thus, a student may very well hear God speak in the middle of attending to her algebra problem. A single mother may receive a word from God while quietly sitting in traffic on the 405 freeway. The point is to watch and wait always, for we do not know when the Master will appear. This gives rise to a question; Why is a word from God so infrequent and ambiguous? God gives us just the amount of clarity we need to follow Him; no more. The Mother of God received a word without much clarification. The prophets, who constantly received revelations from Him, were often perplexed. John the Baptist, who was the first to recognize the Messiah, second guessed himself later on. Even the disciples, Jesus’ closest kin, were constantly confused by the words of our Lord. Those who hear God speak are left with more questions, not answers. God told me to become a monk, but He did not say how or where. Much of my own vocation He left up to me to figure out. It would take four years before my calling was realized; four years (within which I visited eighteen other monasteries) before I was granted entry to St. Andrew’s. Confusion, doubt, and second guessing, are all part of the lengthy process of discernment. Moreover, God does not speak in a vacuum. His words are preceded and followed by the words of others. A youth pastor, an Anglican priest, an oblate of St. Andrew’s—these acted as God’s vassals. Hearing their words was essential before I could receive God’s. My vocation remains incomplete. It is still being discovered, still being realized every day. I’ve been a monk for six years now. Just this year I professed solemn vows. One might say I’ve done what God told me to do. Be that as it may, God is not done speaking. He did not stop speaking after the first day of Creation, and He will not stop until His magnum opus is complete. Who knows what He will say or when He will speak next? God has a history of having very strange things to say. Our part is to watch and wait for whatever He has in store.
By: Brother John Baptist Santa Ana, O.S.B.
More“Have mercy on me, O Lord, a sinner.” These words have been the battle cry of my life. Even in my earliest years, they were my motto, when I didn’t even realize. Mercy. If God had a middle name, it would be “Mercy”. Mercy held my hand every time I walked into the confessional. Mercy saved me time and time again, while enveloping my soul and pardoning me. My faith journey began decades ago when my parents chose for me what I couldn’t yet choose for myself—baptism into the Catholic Church. I was raised to know right from wrong. And I suffered the consequences when I veered off track. My parents took their roles seriously and took pride in teaching me about Jesus and the Church. They were God’s hands in my life, forming my conscience through His grace. As I grew, I hungered and thirsted for more of Him. Yet, the world and my own struggles with fear and anxiety got in the way. Vacillation between good and bad plagued my life for years. I called it “walking a tightrope between heaven and hell.” During college, I recall standing drunk at 1 AM in a bar bathroom, downing my drink while I prayed the Rosary, afraid that I would miss even a day of praying it. As I look back on moments like this that illustrated my internal tug of war, I am reminded of Mercy. I knew who I belonged to, but I was tempted to wander. An innate struggle caused by original sin permeates our lives whether we can name it or not: Our deepest desire for Christ is opposed by the allurements of the world and the evil one. Yet Mercy has pulled me out of the gutter of sin, cleaned me of the muck and washed me anew. Mercy has waited for my call, sitting by the phone at all hours of the night until I was ready to be picked up and brought home. Mercy has pulled me from going under, supporting me like a life vest. Mercy has listened to the screaming, the tears, the angry words, and held me close as I settled. Mercy has held me patiently as I fought back again and again. Mercy is the end. The beginning. My everything in between. The God of Mercy has waited for me, pursued me, and forgiven me for as long as I have known him. And by His grace, He has assured me that He is always there, arms outstretched, loving and forgiving again and again.
By: Betsey Sawyer Estrade
MoreWhen troubles come, how quick are we to think that nobody understands what we are going through? In almost every church, we find a crucifix hanging above the altar. This image of our Savior does not present Him crowned with jewels sitting on a throne, nor descending on a cloud carried by angels, but rather as a man, wounded, stripped of basic human dignity, and enduring the most humiliating and painful form of execution. We see a person who has loved and lost, who has been hurt and betrayed. We see a person just like us. And yet, in the face of this evidence, when we ourselves suffer, how quick we are to lament that nobody understands us, nobody knows what we’re going through? We make quick assumptions and sink into a place of isolation bound by inconsolable sorrow. A Change of Course A few years ago my life changed forever. I had always been a healthy child, a ballet dancer with dreams I had already begun to realize by the time I turned twelve. I had regularly attended Sunday school and felt drawn to God but had never done much about it, so I went on enjoying my life, my time with friends, and dancing lead roles at top ballet schools. I was content with my life. I knew God was there, but He was always over there. I trusted Him, but never thought very much about Him. Yet in eighth grade, at the peak of my childhood dance career, my health started to plummet, and four years later I still have not recovered. It all began just one week after performing in a ballet at the Metropolitan Opera House, the day after I received the sacrament of Confirmation, and two weeks before I was to attend a summer intensive at the second most prestigious dance school in the United States. A bad strain of ligaments in my foot aggravated a previously undiscovered break in my ankle bone which now required surgery. Then I developed appendicitis, requiring another surgery. The two surgeries in close succession caused severe damage to my neurological and immune systems and weakened me to a point that no doctor could treat or even fully understand my situation. As I continued to push my body to continue ballet, my body pushed back and I ended up fracturing my spine, ending my ballet career.” Throughout the year leading up to my Confirmation, I experienced Jesus in ways I never had before. I saw His love and mercy magnified through study of the Gospels and discussions of His ministry. I started going to church every Sunday and experienced the power of the Eucharist. Before the confirmation classes with my parish priest, no one had ever taught me so clearly about Jesus’ love for me. His instruction clarified my growing understanding of who God truly is. Jesus, who I’d always known to be my Savior, was now my dearest friend and becoming my greatest love. He wasn’t just a statue hanging in the church, a character in stories; He was real, and He was the embodiment of Truth, Truth I had never known I was seeking. Through that year of study I made the decision to fully live my life for Jesus. I wanted nothing more than to become more like Him. Since my injury, as my health bounced up and down and took me off the path I expected to be on forever, I struggled to remain hopeful. I lost ballet and even some friends. I could barely get out of bed to go to school, and when I did make it, I couldn’t stay the entire day. The life I had always known was crumbling and I needed to understand why. Why did I have to suffer so much and lose so much? Did I do something wrong? Would it lead to something good? Each time I started to heal, some new health issue arose and knocked me down again. Yet even at my lowest points, Jesus always pulled me back to my feet, and back to Him. Finding Purpose I learned to offer my suffering to God for the sake of others and watched it change their lives for the better. As things were taken away, space was made for better opportunities. For instance, not being able to dance ballet gave me the space to photograph the dancers at my ballet school and showcase their talent. I finally had spare time to attend my brother’s football games and started taking photos of him in action. I soon ended up photographing the whole team, including boys who never had anyone come out to watch them play, let alone capture their skills in a photograph. When I could hardly walk, I would sit and make rosaries to give to others. As I began to feel worse physically, my heart grew lighter because I was given the chance not merely to live for myself, but to live for God and see His love and compassion at work in others and in my own heart. Listening to Jesus Yet it is not always easy for me to find the good in suffering. I often find myself wishing the pain would be taken away, wishing I could live a normal life without physical agony. Yet one evening last March I received clear insight into my eternal questions. I was in adoration, sitting on the hard wood of the church pew, gazing at the crucifix in the dull candlelight and for the first time I wasn’t just looking at the crucifix—I was truly seeing it. My body ached all over. My wrists and ankles throbbed painfully, my back hurt from the latest injury, my head was tender from a chronic migraine, and every so often, a sharp pain pierced my ribs and knocked me to the ground. Before me, Jesus hung from the cross with nails through His wrists and ankles, wounds from the whips lacerating His back, a crown of thorns painfully thrust upon His head, and a gash between His ribs where the spear had pierced His side–a spear that was meant to ensure He was dead. A thought struck me so forcefully, that I nearly fell over in the pew. Every pain I felt, even the smallest suffering, my Savior felt as well. My back pain and headaches, even my conviction that nobody else could understand, He understands it all because He experienced it too, and continues to bear it with us. Suffering is not a punishment, but a gift we can use to grow closer to God and to shape our character. While physically I have lost a lot, spiritually I have gained. When all that we think is so important gets stripped away, then we can see what truly matters. That night in adoration as I looked at Jesus’ wounds so similar to my own, I realized that if He bore it all for me, then I can bear it all for Him. If we want to be more like Jesus, we’re going to have to walk the same journey He did, Cross and all. But He will never leave us to walk alone. We need only to look at the Cross and remember He is right there walking beside us through it all.
By: Sarah Barry
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