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Despite being a cradle Catholic, I never considered becoming a sister—that is, until the rat race got to me. Frankly, God was not my biggest priority while I climbed the corporate ladder. After graduating with a Bachelor’s degree in history and journalism, I was blinded by the allure of a glamorous, fast-paced life in network television in New York City, and I chased after a career in broadcast media. For three years I worked in areas ranging from production to research to multimedia news. I moved from job to job, working overnight and weekend shifts, holidays, doing whatever I needed to do to get ahead. As a result, my health and relationships suffered.
Yet, God was still good to me. He gave me the grace to persevere through the difficult times and, eventually, my work conditions got better. I was able to spend more time with my family and friends and serve at my parish as a catechist. And that is when I identified a yearning in my heart for something more, something better. I was still a long way from sisterhood, however.
Growing up, I had little contact with sisters. My family belonged to a Korean Catholic parish in northern New Jersey, where I attended public schools. Two Korean sisters served in our parish, and they spoke little to no English. Although I saw them around church, I could not relate to them and did not get to know them well. Nevertheless, the sisters from my childhood must have left an impression on me because when I started getting involved with campus ministry in college, I noted the absence of sisters at our Catholic center and on retreats; I wished there were some there.
It was not a religious sister but my biological sister, Rosa, who inadvertently piqued my interest in religious life. While I was still working as a journalist, Rosainvited me to venerate the relic of Saint John Bosco when it was at Saint Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City as part of a U.S. tour. This was my first encounter with the saint who was a friend of the young and the poor and who had founded the men’s religious congregation the Salesians of Don Bosco, as well as cofounded the women’s religious congregation the Daughters of Mary Help of Christians, also known as the Salesian Sisters of Saint John Bosco. After patiently waiting my turn in line among thousands of pilgrims, I had my first encounter with Saint Don Bosco through his relic. As I touched the glass box that encased a life-size wax replica of his body, I prayed for guidance. Little did I know that a few years from then I would be entering religious life in the congregation he founded.
My vocation discernment did not happen in a nice, orderly, logical fashion. I do not know if anyone discerns that way. God worked in mysterious ways over the course of three years, speaking to me through various people, events, places, and dreams. I was terrified at first that God might be calling me to be a sister! I had no idea what the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience were all about. I did not want to give up the life I was living, despite the misgivings I was starting to have about it. Like most people, I had always dreamed of someday getting married and starting my own family, but the Lord gave me the grace to have courage and remain open. I thought it was my career that was causing this growing unrest within me. I prayerfully considered a career change and decided to leave journalism for a field where I saw greater potential to effect positive social change. With a desire to help communities through the built environment, I got a Master’s degree in urban planning. It still had not dawned on me that the hole in my heart could be filled by a religious vocation.
Halfway through graduate school, I attended a “Life in the Spirit Seminar” hosted by a charismatic young adults group. During the “Baptism in the Holy Spirit” program of the retreat, I was touched by the Holy Spirit in a very powerful way. I felt the fire of God’s love burning in my heart and on my tongue. I felt my heart filling with great joy and peace. That seminar cultivated the seed of my vocation. I began to hear God’s call to live exclusively for Him.
The call grew louder while I was on a church service trip to Haiti, one of the poorest countries in the world, which had suffered a devastating earthquake in 2010. For one week, we stayed and served at a nursing home facility for the homeless elderly of Croix-des-Bouquets, about a thirty-minute drive from the nation’s capital, Port-au-Prince. The facility was staffed and operated by consecrated religious men and women of the Korean congregation known as the Kkottongnae Brothers and Sisters of Jesus. These missionary brothers and sisters, most of whom were in their thirties and forties, were trained medical professionals who lived at the facility and took great care of the residents. I was fascinated by their life. They were some of the happiest, most authentic people I had ever met. Their life of love and sacrifice for others inspired me and challenged the way I saw the world around me.
One night during a charismatic prayer meeting with the sisters and brothers of Kkottongnae, God said to me through one of the brothers there, “Go where my Light is.” When I heard these words spoken aloud, I began to sob uncontrollably because deep down in my heart I knew what that meant. God was calling me—now more clearly than ever—to follow Him in a radical way. I welcomed His invitation into my heart that night and I finally felt free.
Upon my return from Haiti, with the help of a spiritual director I began to visit communities closer to home. I looked at the spirituality of each congregation more than its core work, and I asked myself if I could honestly see myself living the community’s charism and lifestyle.
As I continued to pray and discern, God led me to the Salesian Sisters a month before my graduation. These sisters were gentle, joyful, and a whole lot of fun. They offered me friendship and cordiality, without pressuring me to visit them or enter the community, allowing me to decide for myself if and when I wanted to enter.
During this time, my parents were very apprehensive about my desire to pursue religious life, with my father concerned that I was trying to escape the world and avoid responsibility for my expensive decision to go to graduate school. Many arguments ensued. He started to warm up to my decision after graduation when he saw how hard I was working—at multiple part-time jobs—to pay off my student loans. Additionally, God sent people to my dad to advocate for my vocation. Once he approved, it did not take long to win over my mom.
God continued to send me little signs to reassure me that I was on the right path even during my application process to be accepted into the Salesian Sisters. When I retrieved my baptismal record from the church where I was baptized as a baby in Seoul, Korea, I learned that the date of my Baptism was January 31, the feast day of Saint John Bosco, one of our founders. I also learned that Saint Francis De Sales, the saint I had chosen for my Confirmation, was the patron saint of the Salesians and the source of its name.
Now I am in my third year of formation with the Salesian Sisters—that is, preparation for full membership. I feel more fully alive now than ever before. Living the virtues of poverty, obedience and chastity enables me to be totally free to love and serve others. Though my vocation journey is not without fear, doubt, or difficulty, I have faith that God’s plan for me is, in the words of the prophet Jeremiah, “a future full of hope.”
Sister Boram Lee is a first-year novice with the Salesian Sisters of Saint John Bosco, in her third year of religious formation. She lives in Newton, New Jersey, where she helps provide sacramental retreats at Sacred Heart Center, serves as a catechist in a local parish, and attends Assumption College for Sisters. Reprinted with permission from VISION Vocation Guide, vocationnetwork.org
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
MoreI was so busy teaching my kids all about faith, that I forgot this integral lesson… “Wait! Don’t forget the Holy Water!” My six-year-old had decided he was ready to lead bedtime prayers by himself. Shaking the bottle of Holy Water—in case the ‘holy’ had sunk to the bottom—he blessed us and began: “God, we love You. You are good. You love us. You even love bad guys. We thank you, God. Amen.” My stunned silence filled the room. This simple prayer touched my heart deeply. My son had just shown me how to pray with the simplicity of a child of God. As a parent, sometimes it’s hard for me to step out of my ‘grown-up’ mindset. I spend a lot of energy trying to help my kids form good habits and grow in the faith, but often I lose sight of what my kids teach me about loving Jesus. When my son mustered courage and prayed aloud, he reminded me that simple, spontaneous prayer is important in my daily relationship with Christ. He taught me that, despite feeling unsure or clumsy, my prayers still please the Lord. A Real Challenge As adults, the swirling complexities of family life, schedules, and work responsibilities often consume us and make it difficult to simply talk with the Lord. Saint Teresa of Calcutta understood this real challenge and gave some advice to her own Missionary of Charity sisters: “How do you pray? You should go to God like a little child. A child has no difficulty in expressing his little mind in words, but they express so much … Become as a little child.” Jesus Himself showed us the importance of learning from children: “He called a little child to Him, and placed the child among them. And He said: ‘Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of Heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of Heaven.’” (Matthew 18:2-4) How can you and I learn to pray like a child? First, ask God for courage and humility, and invite the Holy Spirit to guide you. Next, find a quiet place away from noise and technology. Begin your prayer with the sign of the Cross and your favorite devotional name for God. I have found in conversation that using someone’s name deepens connection. (The Hebrew name for Jesus–Yeshua–means ‘the Lord is salvation’ so if you are not sure which name to use, go simple. “Jesus” will do!) Securing a Direct Line Now, it’s time to talk with the Lord. Pray out loud, spontaneously, and tell God whatever comes to your mind—even tell Him if you feel awkward or distracted. Still unsure where to start? Thank God for something, ask Him to transform your heart and pray for someone by name. Do your best and be patient with yourself. Your willingness to discover the simplicity of child-like prayer pleases the Lord very much. God delights in His children! So, embrace the invitation to learn from your children. Together you can learn to enter into a deeper relationship with Christ. Pray for courage and humility as you learn to talk with the Lord. Be intentional, and you will discover the joy and simplicity of praying as a child of God!
By: Jody Weis
MoreSilence is difficult even for adults, so imagine my surprise when I was instructed to train kids in that language! Catechesis of the Good Shepherd (CGS) is a Catholic catechetical model developed by Sofia Cavalletti in the 1950s, which incorporates Montessori education principles. One of the pioneering aspects of Dr. Maria Montessori’s work was her cultivation of times of silence for her children. In Dr. Montessori’s Own Handbook, she explains: “When the children have become acquainted with silence … (they) go on to perfect themselves; they walk lightly, take care not to knock against the furniture, move their chairs without noise, and place things upon the table with great care … These children are serving their spirits.” Each Sunday morning, anywhere between ten and twenty children, aged between three to six, gather in our atrium for catechesis. In CGS, we say ‘atrium’ rather than a classroom because an atrium is a place for community life, prayerful work, and conversation with God. During our time together, we make time for silence. The silence is not stumbled upon but purposefully made. It is also not a tool for control when things get noisy; it is regularly prepared for. This is what I have especially learned from these children. True silence is a choice. Practise Makes Perfect In the CGS atrium, we speak about ‘making silence.’ We don’t find it, we aren’t surprised by it. With a regular routine, with intention and attentiveness, we make silence. I didn’t realize how little silence was in my life until I was asked to purposefully make silence each week. This is not for a long time, only fifteen seconds to a minute, two at the most. But in that brief period, my entire focus and goal was making my whole self to be still and silent. There are moments in my everyday routine where I might encounter a period of quiet, but the silence itself was not the goal of the moment. I may be driving in the car alone, perhaps a few minutes of quiet while my children read or are otherwise occupied in another area of the house. After reflecting on the practice of making silence, I have begun distinguishing between ‘found quiet’ and ‘made silence.’ Making silence is a practice. It involves not only pausing one’s speech but also one’s body. I am sitting in silence as I type these words, but my mind and body are not still. Perhaps you are sitting in silence while you read this article. But even the act of reading negates the making of silence. We live in a very busy world. Background noise abounds even when we are at home. We have timers, televisions, reminders, music, vehicle noise, air conditioning units, and doors opening and closing. While it would be lovely to be able to enclose ourselves in a soundproof room to practice making silence in the utmost quiet, most of us do not have such a place available. This does not mean we cannot make authentic silence. Making silence is about quieting ourselves more than insisting on quiet in our environment. The Art of Listening Making silence provides the opportunity to listen to the world around you. By stilling our body, stilling our words, and as best we can, stilling our minds, we are able to listen with greater attentiveness to the world around us. At home, we more readily hear the air conditioning unit working, which gives us the opportunity to be thankful for its cooling breeze. When outdoors, we hear the wind rustle the leaves of the trees or can appreciate more fully the birdsong around us. Making silence is not about the absence of other sounds, but about discovering silence and stillness within your own self. As people of faith, making silence also means listening with the ears of our hearts for the whispering of the Holy Spirit. In the atrium, every so often, the lead catechist will ask the children what they heard in the silence. Some will answer with the things one might expect. “I heard the door close.” “I heard a truck drive by.” Sometimes, however, they astonish me. “I heard Jesus say I love you.” “I heard the Good Shepherd.” We can learn a great deal from making silence. Practically speaking, we learn self-control and patience. But even more importantly, we learn to rest in the beauty of the truth of Psalm 46:10, “Be still and know that I am God.”
By: Kate Taliaferro
MoreFrom the time I could talk, Mom mildly lamented that I was a chatterbox. What she did about it changed my life! “You certainly have the gift to gab,” my mother would tell me. When she’d sense a particularly chatty mood developing, she’d proceed to recite a version of this little verse: “They call me Little Chatterbox, but my name is Little May. The reason that I talk so much, is because I have so much to say. Oh, I have so many friends, so many you can see, and I love every one of them and everyone loves me. But I love God the best of all. He keeps me through the night and when the morning comes again, He wakes me with His light.” In hindsight, the little verse was probably meant to distract me from talking and allow Mom’s ears a temporary respite. However, as she recited the sweet rhythmic poem, its meaning provided more things to ponder. As time taught lessons of maturity, it became clear that many of the thoughts or opinions rattling around in my head should be filtered or quieted, simply because they weren’t necessary to share. Learning to stifle what came naturally took a lot of practice, self-discipline, and patience. However, there were still moments when some things needed to be said aloud or certainly I was going to burst! Fortunately, my mother and Catholic education were instrumental in introducing me to prayer. Prayer was simply talking to God as I would a best friend. What’s more, to my extreme delight, when informed that God was always with me and very eager to listen anytime and anywhere, I thought: “Now, this MUST be a match made in Heaven!” Learning to Listen Along with maturity came the feeling that it was time to develop a deeper relationship with my friend, God. True friends communicate with each other, so I realized that I shouldn’t be the one who did all the talking. Ecclesiastes 3:1 reminded me: “For everything there is a season and a time for every matter under Heaven” and it was time to allow God some chatting opportunities while I listened. This new maturity also took practice, self-discipline, and patience to develop. Making time to regularly visit the Lord in His home at the church or adoration chapel assisted this growing relationship. There I felt freer from the distractions that tempted my thoughts to wander. Sitting in silence was uncomfortable at first, but I sat and waited. I was in His house. He was the host. I was the guest. Therefore, out of respect, it seemed appropriate to follow His lead. Many visits were spent in silence. Then one day, through the silence, I heard a gentle whisper in my heart. It wasn’t in my head or in my ears…it was in my heart. His tender yet direct whisper filled my heart with a loving warmth. A revelation took hold of me: That voice…somehow, I knew that voice. It was very familiar. My God, my friend, was there. It was a voice I’d heard all my life, but to my dismay, I realized that I had so often naively drowned it out with my own thoughts and words. Time also has a way of revealing the truth. I had never realized that God had always been there trying to get my attention and had important things to say to me. Once I understood, sitting in silence was no longer uncomfortable. In fact, it was a time of longing and anticipation to hear His tender voice, to hear Him lovingly whisper again to my heart. Time strengthened our relationship so that was no longer just one or the other speaking; we began to dialogue. My morning would start in prayer by giving Him the day ahead. Then, along the way, I’d stop and update Him how the day was going. He’d console, advise, encourage, and sometimes reprimand me as I tried to discern His will in my daily life. Trying to understand His will drew me to Scripture where, once again, He’d whisper to my heart. It was amusing to realize that He too was quite a chatterbox, but why should I be surprised? After all, He told me in Genesis 1:27 that I was created in His image and likeness! Quieting the Self Time does not stand still. It’s created by God and it’s a gift from Him to us. Thankfully, I’ve walked with God a long time, and through our walks and talks, I’ve come to understand that He whispers to those who silence themselves to hear Him, just as He did to Elijah. “Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind, there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.” (1 Kings 19: 11-12) In fact, God instructs us to silence ourselves so that we can come to know Him. One of my favorite Scripture verses is Psalm 46:10, where God explicitly told me to “Be still and know that I am God.” Only in quieting my mind and body could my heart be quiet enough to hear Him. He reveals Himself when we listen to His Word because “Faith comes from what is heard, and what is heard comes by the preaching of Christ.” (Romans 10:17) A long time ago, when my mother recited that childhood verse, little did she know that a seed would be planted in my heart. Through my conversations with God in prayer, that little seed has grown and grown, until at long last, I do ‘love God the best of all!’ He does keep me through the night, especially the dark times in life. Furthermore, my soul awakened when He spoke of my salvation. Thus, He always wakes me with His light. Thank you, Mom! The time has come to remind you, dear friend, that God loves you! Just like me, you too are created in the image and likeness of God. He wants to whisper to your heart, but for that, be still and get to know Him as God. I invite you, let this be your time and season to allow yourself to develop a deeper relationship with the Lord. Chat with Him in prayer as your dearest friend and develop your own dialogue with Him. When you listen, it won’t take long to realize that when He whispers to your heart, He too is a ‘chatterbox.’
By: Teresa Ann Weider
MoreEver gazed into someone’s eyes with unending wonder, hoping that the moment will never pass? "Rejoice always. Pray without ceasing. In all circumstances give thanks." (1 Thessalonians 5: 16-18) The most important question that people ask is: “What is the purpose of human life?” At the risk of appearing to oversimplify reality, I will say and have often said it from the pulpit: “This life is about learning how to pray.” We came from God and our destiny is to return to God, and to begin to pray is to begin to make our way back to Him. Saint Paul tells us to go even further, that is, to ‘pray without ceasing’. But how do we do that? How do we pray without ceasing? We understand what it means to pray before Mass, pray before meals, or pray before we go to sleep, but how does one pray without ceasing? The great spiritual classic The Way of a Pilgrim, written by an unknown 19th-century Russian peasant, tackles that very question. This work focuses on the Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” Those in the Eastern rite say this repeatedly using a prayer rope, which is like a rosary, but has 100 or 200 knots, some have 300 knots. Burning Candle Obviously, one cannot be constantly saying that prayer, for example when we are talking to someone, or in a meeting, or working on some project...So how does this work? The purpose behind this constant repetition is to create a habit in the soul, a disposition. Let me compare it to someone who has a musical disposition. Those who are musically gifted almost always have a song playing in the back of their minds, perhaps a song they've heard on the radio, or a song they're working on if they are musicians. The song is not at the forefront of their minds but at the back. Similarly, to pray without ceasing is to pray in the back of one's mind, constantly. An inclination to prayer has been developed as a result of the constant repetition of this prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” But the same thing can occur for those who pray the Rosary very often: “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you; blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.” What happens is that eventually, the actual words are no longer necessary because the very meaning that the words express have become a habit imprinted in the subconscious, and so although the mind may be preoccupied with some matter, such as paying a phone bill or shopping or taking an important phone call, the soul is praying in the background, without words, like a candle that is burning constantly. That's when we have begun to pray without ceasing. We begin with words, but eventually, we go beyond words. Prayer of Wonder There are different kinds of prayer: the prayer of petition, prayer of intercession, prayer of thanksgiving, prayer of praise, and prayer of adoration. The highest kind of prayer that each one of us is called to achieve is the prayer of adoration. In the words of Father Gerald Vann, this is the prayer of wonder: “The still, wordless gaze of Adoration, which is proper to the lover. You are not talking, not busy, not worried or agitated; you're not asking for anything: you are quiet, you are just being with, and there is love and wonder in your heart.” This prayer is much more difficult than we might tend to believe. It is about placing oneself in the presence of God, in silence, focusing all our attention on God. This is difficult, because what soon happens is that we are distracted by all kinds of thoughts, and our attention will be pulled this way and that way, without our being aware of it. Once we do become aware of it, however, we just have to refocus our attention on God, dwelling in His presence. But, within a minute, the mind will be drawn away again, distracted by thoughts. This is where short prayers are so important and helpful, like the Jesus prayer, or a short phrase from the Psalms, like “God come to my assistance, Lord make haste to help me,” (Psalm 69:2) or “Into your hands, I commend my spirit.” (Psalm 31:6) These short phrases repeated will help us to return to that interior dwelling place within. With constant practice, one eventually is able to dwell in silence, in the presence of God within, for a long time without distraction. This is also a kind of prayer that brings tremendous healing to the subconscious. Many of the thoughts that come to the surface during this time are often unhealed memories that have been stored in the subconscious, and learning to leave them behind brings about profound healing and peace; for much of our day-to-day lives is driven by these unhealed memories in the unconscious, which is why there is typically a great deal of turmoil in the interior lives of the faithful. A Peaceful Departure There are two types of people in this world: those who believe that this life is a preparation for eternal life, and those who believe that this life is all there is and everything we do is only a preparation for life in this world. I've seen a lot of people in the hospital these past few months, people who have lost their mobility, who have had to spend months in a hospital bed, many of whom died after a long period. For those who do not have an interior life and who have not cultivated the habit of prayer throughout their lives, these final years and months are often very painful and very unpleasant, which is why euthanasia is becoming more popular. But for those who have a rich interior life, those who have used the time in their lives to prepare for eternal life by learning to pray without ceasing, their final months or years, perhaps in a hospital bed, are not unbearable. Visiting these people is often a joy, because there is a deeper peace within them, and they are thankful. And the wonderful thing about them is that they are not asking to be euthanized. Instead of making their final act an act of rebellion and murder, their death becomes their final prayer, a final offering, a sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving for all they've received throughout their lives.
By: Deacon Doug McManaman
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