Laura Stierman - Director of Evangelization

Josef Ratzinger (Pope Benedict XVI) gave a radio broadcast which many in the church-world now ponder. I wonder if he was meditating on today’s readings when he said these words: “From the crisis of today the Church of tomorrow will emerge—a Church that has lost much. She will become small and will have to start afresh more or less from the beginning. She will no longer be able to inhabit many of the edifices she built in prosperity. As the number of her adherents diminishes, so she will lose many of her social privileges. As a small society, it will make much bigger demands on the initiative of her individual members. It will be hard going for the Church, for the process of crystallization and clarification will cost her much valuable energy. [Isaiah: “Say to those who hearts are frightened: Be strong, fear not!”]

The process will be all the more arduous, for sectarian narrow-mindedness as well as pompous self will have to be shed. One may predict that all of this will take time. The process will be long and wearisome. And so it seems certain to me that the Church is facing very hard times… We will have to count on terrific upheavals. But when the trial of this sifting is past, a great power will flow from a more spiritualized and simplified Church. [Psalmist: “Praise the Lord, my soul”]

But I am equally certain about what will remain at the end: not the Church of the political cult, which is dead already, but the Church of faith. She may no longer be the dominant social power to the extent that she was until recently; but she will enjoy a fresh blossoming and be seen as man’s home, where he will find life and hope beyond death.” [Psalmist/James, on how we will act]

Jesus will heal us, only if we repent of our self-bravado and self-will and beg him too open our ears with his Word and his grace.

Everything Ratinzger said in 1969 is coming to pass. But fear not, for we will drink deeply of the fresh blossoming of grace and hope. #blossomandgrow

One might be tempted to think that our readings this weekend are better suited to February than August, for the theme is love. The Israelites pledge their love and obedience to the Lord, the psalmist asks us to ponder the goodness of this loving life in Christ, and Paul writes to the Ephesians about the love between husbands and wives and its relationship to the Church proper. And why does Jesus give us the Eucharist? Out of love, naturally. It’s a beautiful thing, this thing called love. The funny thing is… like the followers who don’t understand the mystery of Eucharist, people walk away from Love Incarnate, because the sayings of the Church are just too hard. The great English evangelist GK Chesterton wrote famously, “It's not that Christianity has been tried and been found wanting, but that it's been found difficult and left untried.” We know people who have chosen to serve other gods, who have opted to not see the marital love between a man and a woman as God’s design, or who have walked away from the Church because her teachings don’t align with their lifestyles or ideas about the way the world should work. When following the words and teachings of Jesus make life challenging, it’s tempting to walk away. I get it. I’ve been there. There’s no way around it, Jesus and his Church ask us to do some pretty hard things. We’re to put our own “feelings” and “personal preferences/gods” aside and step into the Beauty of Faith. We are called to align our lives to the laws of the Gospel, not the legislation of the government. We are to live like disciples of Jesus, not followers of culture. Like the Israelites, we are to leave behind the false gods of entertainment/politics and follow Jesus. Like the Ephesians, we are reminded that Jesus founded the Church in love and that every home is the domestic Church. And like Jesus said, we are to partake in the mystery of his body each Sunday, allowing Love Incarnate to light and guide our lives. It’s not going to be easy. But it’s worth it. #Masterwhereshallwego?

Ephesus, 60AD To my dear sister in Rome: All grace and peace of Christ to you! It’s been a difficult time for us here in Ephesus. Our city swells with pagan women here to worship Artemis. Our gymnasiums, agoras, and theatres draw these women in by boasting of mysterious rituals which promise fertility, an easy and successful childbirth, or protection of their young daughters from an unwanted or violent marriage. A special sunrise “hunt” is to begin at her Temple tomorrow, as she is also the goddess of wild animals, so you can imagine our distress. Men dressed as wild beasts will be free to roam and ravage us women in public view, and to carry our young girls off to her Temple for their horrible rituals. Such fury, anger, and malice will be unleashed at this time, yes, even encouraged! All manner of mayhem will be upon us! It is a bitter, harsh, and brutal time, so we beg your prayers in the name of Our Lord! Our only consolation is the recent letter we received from our beloved Paul. He reminds us that in our new lives we are to be an example for everyone: kind, compassionate, and forgiving of the offenses given us, as Jesus the Christ has forgiven us. He asks us to be imitators of God, living in gentle love as his children. And to participate in the agape meal, which is truly his flesh for the life of the world, bestowing within us grace and strength for this new Way. As you well know, his Way is difficult but so beautiful! We often speak of our new Way to the pagan women we meet; many leave their ways behind to join us and we welcome them in sisterly friendship and all equality! While is true that death often awaits us because of this faith in Jesus the Christ, we know we shall all be united in eternal life! Such sweetness and joy! When you visit Paul in prison, tell him his letter has given us abundant hope. We pray for you all every day. Your sister in Christ

We pick up from last week’s Gospel prelude and enter into the miracle of Jesus feeding the five thousand. But before we get there, we are prepped by Elisha’s miracle of feeding the hundred. Elisha is a delightful prophet who shows up in the second Book-of-the-Kings as the replacement for the magnificent Elijah. The Lord has drawn Elijah home while Elisha watches, terrified and grieving. Elisha picks up Elijah’s mantle and is welcomed as the new spiritual leader. Elisha’s home base is Gilgal, an important religious city in the Northern Kingdom. It’s the first place the Israelite’s camp after crossing into the Promised Land and the first place they celebrate a Passover. King Saul is crowned and un-crowned there. At this moment in time, however, a famine covers the entire region. Famine is one of those calamities which provide enemies an easy win; armies - and the men who make them up - are weak, a King’s focus is not on its borders, and, the pièce de resistance, everyone wonders whose great sin is being punished. Here stands the newly ordained prophet Elisha in the midst of a major catastrophe, ripe with physical and spiritual minefields. What to do, what to do? Sound familiar? Ever been in a situation out of your own control but with an outcome that determines what-comes-next for you personally? Then you know how Elisha – and Jesus – feels at this moment. Neither of them created the problem at hand, but how they deal with it determines what-comes-next for both of them. So. How does one behave during such a time? Like Elisha, Jesus, and St. Paul… with humility, gentleness, patience, truth, peace and love. Paul does not say to hit the panic button, wring your hands in anxiety, start barking orders, or play if-then scenarios throughout the night. Nope. Stay calm. Be hopeful. Let the Lord God have space and time to work. Look for the random folks bearing small gifts. As we ponder these readings on this day of rest, I wonder… how can we be small gift-givers to someone in desperate need? #changealife

Today’s readings spell out the difficulties of people who love and preach the faith. Amos has a difficult mission from the Lord, as he must speak the Lord’s harsh words to a thriving Northern Kingdom culture. You see, under King Jeroboam II, things are going really, really well for God’s chosen people. A strong military force prevents invasion, a market-driven commerce mentality prospers, and a theocracy which holds the monotheistic Lord God as its deity flourishes. In short, their military prowess, economic prosperity, and faith practice are exquisite and admired by both allies and enemies. So why would the Lord send Amos to bear words of doom-and-gloom? Because all is not as it appears. Under the surface of success is a thriving oppression of the poor for the benefit of the wealthy, an abhorrent immorality including idolatry, child sacrifice, temple prostitution, and a shallow religious practice stripped of any real faith. [Sound familiar? Whenever we read the book of Amos, I hear the warning bells for today!] Amos’ consequence for giving the wake-up call? He’s thrown out of the temple and banished from the Kingdom. It’s not too different for St. Paul. Our uber-evangelist writes to the Christians of Ephesus reminding them that the Lord has revealed his Truth with perfect wisdom and keen insight into human nature, so that God’s will can be done on earth as it is in heaven. Paul knows that preaching “Jesus, repentance, and redemption” is not an easy gig, but it is precisely for this task he is chosen. Us too. Jesus lets us know speaking the Truth in love (evangelization) is not going to be easy. There will be those who refuse to listen and welcome us - and Jesus’ message – into their midst. It’s the repentance part that seems to be the hang-up; folks happily love on Jesus and ponder the halls of heaven, but changing their lives to follow the rules He set forth in all wisdom and insight? Mmmmm. Not so much. Like the Northern Kingdom, they’d rather reject Jesus than change. That’s the devastating reality for Amos, Paul, Jesus… and the rest of us. #keepevangelzinganyway

My daughter, Monica, had a room in her home that she called The Room of Lies. It’s where she put stuff and said, “We’ll use this someday.” or “I’ll deal with this tomorrow,” knowing neither were true. This room doubled as her guest room, so our visit caused her to look her Lies square in the face for what they were. Our readings today are like that but with Death as our focus, although one could argue that Satan is the Ultimate Liar. But clearing out this room is a necessary part of our transformation. What needs to die in us so that we may fully live, making room for relationships of Goodness, Truth, and Beauty? The Wisdom reading sets us off by reminding us that sin entered our beautiful and perfect dwelling place because of envy… the devil envied the work and be-ing of God and wanted to take away from God what belonged to Him. That’s the difference between envy and inspiration, you know. Envy is wanting what someone else has so they can’t have it. Inspiration is wanting to be just like someone; they keep what they have and you do to. We are inspired by the saints, not jealous of them. Who knows what might have happened if Satan was inspired by God instead of envious! But now, sin and death exist, so what to do? St. Paul says that we should become poor in spirit (and wealth) in order to be more like Jesus, in that our abundance supplies others’ needs. Again the question is posed: What vice needs to die in us so that we may live, inspiring others to be joyful disciples? Jesus raises Jarius’ daughter and cures a hemorrhaging woman, both of whom encountered death; the daughter in physical death and the woman in cultural ostracization. Jesus restores them both to new life. He has that kind of power. A complete restoration. A full renovation. He’s promised to knock down all sorts of barriers and tear out all kinds of negative outlets for us, in order to build something beautiful for God. Is Jesus your general contractor? #buildanabundantlife

The ordinary time readings today are all over seeds and straplings, which is perfect for a Father’s Day reflection. You see, men raising sons and daughters is a little like God the Father raising us. Okay, a LOT like that. From Ezekiel we learn that the Lord God takes a tender male shoot from his soul garden, plants it in a sacred space [the womb], and watches it grow in might, strength, and majesty. Eventually it branches out [gets married], bears fruit [children], and all kinds of creatures come to find nourishment and safety [friends]. All of the other trees [people] know that its wisdom and grace come from the Lord God, high above and deep within. For this, like the psalmist, we are grateful for the gift of fatherhood, for those who wear kindness and faithfulness well and whose families flourish like the cedars of Lebanon. These fathers bear fruit in their old age, vigorous and morally sturdy, leaning on their rock, the Lord. According to St. Paul, they are also courageous, delighted to please the Lord, and are ready to meet their eternal judgement and reward, when the Lord determines their work on earth is complete. Which leads us right into the hidden theme of Mark’s gospel: grace. You see, grace is necessary for the seeds to sprout and grow, yet the father knows not how his straplings will turn out, of their own accord and free will. It’s a risky gambit, this fatherhood gig, but then again, love is risky business. Jesus loved so much that he risked his life and livelihood for his “little children” [us], also not knowing exactly how we would scatter and sprout nor the knotty parts [sins] that make up some growing pains but does not define who we are at our essence, which are shoots from the Lord’s soul garden. Men, fathers in particular, were created for a unique mission on this earth: To nurture their children with fait, wisdom, grace, strength, kindness, and most of all courage in the face of cultural rejection for their beliefs and actions. #noordinaryfeat

We don’t often sing the pre-Gospel sequence on this Eucharistic feast day, the Lauda Sion. It’s a long hymn of praise written by St. Thomas Aquinas, and is a theological gem. It contains lines like, “Here beneath these signs are hidden, priceless things, to sense forbidden” and “Behold the bread of Angel, for us pilgrims, food,” and “Living bread, thy life supply: strengthen us or else we die. Fill us with celestial grace.” Sigh… so beautiful, so lovely. If you have the chance, google the lyrics! We’re coming up on the National Eucharistic Congress, held in Philadelphia from July 17 – 21, so today’s feast day holds special importance. It’s also in response to a 2019 PEW survey that said only 63% of Catholics who attend Mass at least once a week accept the church’s teaching that the Eucharist is the Body & Blood of Jesus. Which is weird, considering Jesus was so forward about this one: “I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I give for the life of the world is my flesh” (John 6:51). Jesus then clarifies, “Very truly, I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life within you” (John 6:54). Today, Matthew’s gospel gives us the event (The Last Supper) but John gives us the reality (living bread), which is typical given that Matthew, Mark, and Luke are narratives about what-Jesus-did while John tells us all about who-Jesus-is. If you think that Jesus didn’t really mean what he said, you’re in good company, since many of his followers thought so too. When they grumbled, Jesus replied, “Does this offend you?” (John 6:61). In the end, because Jesus was so insistent that his body must be “trōgōn” [Greek word for gnawed, munch, crunch] many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him (John 6:66). Sigh… I don’t always understand everything the Lord does and says, but I trust in the mystery and serendipity of God. It’s the most beautiful place to be. #adventurousspirit

I know it’s a little weird to be thinking about Good Friday on Pentecost Sunday, but ‘normal’ is never an adjective used about my presence. In pondering the Resurrection during my Thursday rosary (Glorious mysteries), I didn’t think about Mary Magdalene or the angels or gardeners or that touching scene between Mary and her Roubini. Nope. I spent some time with Jesus, imagining his awakening before the world drew breath. I thought about his cocoon-like wrappings keeping him safe on the slab in the silence and solitude of waiting. I wondered about his first conscious thought, a knowing conversation with the Father perhaps, and a knowledge that everything is about to change. An unwrapping needed to occur, a removal of all that binds him. Did the angels help? Did he think the action into being and the wrappings fell off, much as he helped create the universe? Did he stand and stretch his limbs, feeling every inch of his glorified body and wonder in awe over all our magnificent human bodies are able to endure? I know he had people to see and places to visit… releasing Abraham, Isaac, Isaiah, Jeremiah and all the other believers restlessly waiting their release… but I wonder if he paused for a moment to thank the Father and the Holy Spirit in joyous anticipation of their eventual reunion? Or were they in that sacred space with him before sending him off to finish his mission? If the descent of the Holy Spirit on the apostles in the Upper Room marks the birth-day of the Church, where the timid ‘Mary & the Boys’ were cured of their fear and trembling and became the courageous ‘Our Lady and the Men-on-fire,’ and Jesus had a re-birth of sorts as he left the tomb, now healed and changed, then perhaps the real day everything changed was the moment Our Lord opens his eyes, a changed man. How might we become changed men and women, on fire for Jesus and the faith? What needs to be unbound in your life, in order to have freedom in the Holy Spirit? #rebirth

The readings this week are all over “fellowship,” which is one way of saying “where followers of Jesus break bread together in joy, love, and friendship.” It sounds simple enough, yes? Think of our post-Mass coffee-and-donuts for example: we sit with our friends at the roundtable, partake of sweet bread and strong coffee, and share the events of the past week, in turn laughing or offering consolation. But is this all there is to authentic love and friendship? Jesus said that we are to love the Lord with all our heart, with all our soul, with all our mind, and with all your strength, and to love our neighbor as ourselves (Mark 12:30-31). And that’s where it gets much more difficult, yes? Peter, aka the Rock, is out drawing his fellow Jews into everlasting life and love with Jesus, while purposefully ostracizing his pagan brothers and sisters. Luckily for all of us with non-Jewish bloodlines, the Holy Spirit sets Peter straight by sending him off to Cornelius, a centurion in the Italian Regiment. We know Cornelius is a God-fearing man who gives alms and prays regularly, but Cornelius and Peter are decidedly not friends, given their social roles as oppressor-and-oppressed, Roman-and-Jew. Peter, in fact, rejects the promptings of the Holy Spirit to break bread with his enemies at first. “What?” he asks, “Certainly not.” Eventually, in the first reading we hear today, Peter accepts - with the kind of love Jesus and St. John speak of - his cultural bitter enemy, in friendship and faith. Peter proclaims, “In truth, I see that God shows no partiality. Rather, in every nation, whoever fears him and acts uprightly, is acceptable to him.” So what does that mean for you and me, here at St. Elizabeth Ann Seton in Hastings, MN? That’s a pondering question for each of us in the silence of our consciences, but here are some thoughts. There is no limit to friendship or forgiveness and our only enemy should be Satan. Loving others the way Jesus loves you and me is hard work, but the hardest things in life often bring us the greatest joy. #wecandohardthings

I have a framed photo of a shepherdess tending her sheep in the early days of winter. Picture this: The bleak Yorkshire countryside with wind-driven snow all about. A woman, dressed in sturdy winter gear, stands at the edge of her flock… sheep with off-white coats randomly tinged with blood, in places where it looks like they got to close to a barbed-wired fence. It’s a stark photo. But beautiful. Telling. Soul-worthy. It sits prominently on my desk, a constant reminder to me of the reality of sheepherding. And why Jesus chose this profession and this image as a revelation of his mission on earth. We are very much like these sheep; sometimes worn down and cold from the bitter ravages of life or wounded by the barbs of others, all the while listening for the comforting voice of the One who cares deeply for us. I often wonder what it’s like for those who do not remember they have a Shepherd, or can’t find His voice, or simply don’t know that their lives have been purchased and paid for by Him. Can you imagine living in that harsh and brutal environment, thinking your life is out of control - or worse, that you bear the unenviable weight of responsibility for a “self-made” life? How does one ever feel safe? Or navigate rejections, disappointments, and disillusionments without believing that these are part of a larger plan for our sanctification and holiness? And that something better awaits us when our bell tolls? I cannot imagine a life without the simplicity of abiding grace, soul-freeing forgiveness, life-affirming gratitude, or the joyous hope of heaven when our journey here is complete. It’s the gift of a shepherd to tend to the flock with all that is true, all that is good, and all that is beautiful here on this broken earth, so that our souls recall the Goodness, Truth, and Beauty we await in the heavenly realm. In a very intentional way this week, let’s listen for His gentle and caring voice. #safety

For the next six week of the Easter season, we leave the Old Testament readings behind, since our singular focus is on the early Church and how Jesus moved in and the Holy Spirit maneuvered through a post-resurrection world. I wish we could re-organizing the reading today in their chronological order. First, Jesus rises from the dead, making his appearance to the apostles (John). Next, small Christians communities form, based on the radical and public change-in-actions of those who commit to Jesus’ way and words (Acts). Finally, John offers more sage advice to these flourishing communities (1 John). Add to the mix that JPII designated this weekend as Divine Mercy Sunday, and we get a plethora of pondering moments. Therefore, I’ll offer four questions for you to ponder this week, each with its own focus, based on the order of readings as we heard them. ONE: Based on the gifts the Lord has given you and the desires He has laid on your heart, how can you ensure that “there is no needy person among us?” Are you a prayer warrior? Pray. Blessed with financial wherewithal? Give. Have time on your hands? Help. Hastings is your playground… let the Holy Spirit give you a good push on the swings and see where you land. TWO: Keep the Lord’s commandments. There’s only 10 of them - and the overarching love your neighbor as yourself [see ONE]. We can do this. THREE: If we forget or fail at ONE and TWO, then there is the sacrament of Reconciliation to get us back in the groove. Jesus’ first word to the fear-filled disciples was shalom, peace, and that what comes with an excellent confession and the heartfelt intent to do better. Don’t ever mimic Thomas and doubt that Truth. FOUR: Show mercy. Put your own finger into someone else’s wounds to feel how they feel so that we may show love, speak peace, and forgive as we’ve been forgiven. The only human thing we share ontologically with Jesus is his suffering; he put his finger in our wounds and felt-how-we-feel, so let’s do the same to others.

“Jesus Christ has Risen! He has risen indeed!” was an oft-repeated Easter refrain in the early Church. It’s technically the biggest celebration of the year and why church offices are closed on Monday – we should be partying so hard that we need a day to recuperate! It’s bigger than Christmas, honestly. But it doesn’t seem that way. And it doesn’t seem…. life changing, even though it ought. My friend Kathy gave me a copy of the spiritual classic, Life of the Beloved for Christmas but I just got around to finishing it a few weeks ago. The author, Henri Nouwen, wrote it at the urging of his culturally-Jewish friend, Fred, living a fully-secular life in New York. Fred wanted Henri to write something for every-day, fallen-away, searching-for-meaning guys like he and his friends making a living in the Big City. Henri obliged. Once completed, Henri sent it to Frank for his approval. It didn’t come. Fred said he and a couple of his buddies read it, but were unmoved. The opening chapter began at a place of faith they had yet to encounter, and the following words held no meaning. Fred wrote, “You speak from a tradition and context that is alien to us, and your words are based on many presuppositions that we don’t share with you. You are not aware of how truly secular we are.” I’ve been pondering that sentence in a Catholic way. When we speak of “Eucharist” or “Jesus Christ is Risen!” or even “the radical message of the Gospel,” are they alien words? How can we speak of redemption if the sufferings and joy of the Risen Lord have no purpose or meaning in our day-to-day lives? The thing is: The Bible should have meaning to us. Jesus ought to be directing our life choices. Faith traditions and moral teachings should guide our ways and light our days. Being a Catholic should mean something outside these cement walls. Maybe a good first start to shake us out of our secularism is to ponder the Risen Jesus and his Church this Eastertide season - it’s 50 days long! – and what they truly means for us and our families. #newbeginnings

Whew. Jesus’ death is big in the window in today’s gospel. It’s always been a curious thing, the death of Jesus on the cross. There’s no spoiler alert here, as we know the end of the story, which culminates in his ascension but has this momentous resurrection in the middle. But the Greeks, Philip, and Andrew did not and must have wondered what the analogy to a grain of wheat, hating a worldly life, serving Jesus, judgement, glory, obedience, the ruler of the world driven out and being “lifted up from the earth” actually means. Jesus has always been a man of few words, mostly used in parables they don’t always understand and strung together in sentences that don’t make much sense. They know something is about to happen, but they aren’t clear on what that is. It’s a disconcerting time full of confusion. The opening line tells us that Greeks had come to worship at the Jewish Passover Feast. Pagan Greeks at a Jewish high holy day? Talk about not understanding what the world is coming to. That they sought out Philip as they wanted to see Jesus only makes this entire episode… otherworldly. Non-sensical. Chaotic. Full of turmoil. Spiritual unrest. In the midst of all of this, Jesus asks his Father to glorify his name, and the voice of God actually responds, “I have glorified it and will glorify it again.” Whew. Where do we go from here? How do we make sense of it all? Our intellect cannot. But our hearts can. Sometimes life is confusing and what’s happening around us doesn’t make sense. Jeremiah prophesizes that knowing the ways of the Lord won’t be taught to friends and relatives but that they will trust with their hearts. Jesus doesn’t speak to the mind nor act in a man-made, rational manner. He marches to the beat of a different drummer, as they say. He speaks to the heart - and those that hear will then give praise that they’ve been drawn to him. As we close out the fifth week of Lent, let’s skip the understanding and the will, and listen to the silence of our hearts. #heartbeats

In the folly of my young womanhood, I ran the Twin Cities marathon. I’d run a number of 6-mile races in order to get back in shape, and my running partner thought we should take on that 24.2 mile test of endurance. We gave ourselves 6 months to train, and started in earnest. “Zeal for your [running] house will consume me,” and indeed, a regimented training schedule took primacy in my world. We held each other accountable and tracked our miles. It seemed like a great idea. But the reality in my own personal life was that I had five kiddos under the age of 10, the youngest just 18 months, and a husband who traveled for work. Slowly, the running became more important than my vocation as a wife and mother. The results were disastrous. What was I thinking? I find myself standing alongside the business owners and money changers in the Temple area from John’s gospel today. You know, the ones that Jesus drove out with a whip of cords, spilled their coins, and overturned their tables. Someone had to tell them this endeavor would help them grow in stature, and that it was an undertaking worth doing. They weren’t breaking any of the 10 commandments or the 613 Mosaic laws, and in fact, were just helping the poor folks streaming into town for the Passover with their currency and animal sacrifice problems. What were they thinking? They were thinking, like I was, that this was a good idea. They had a group of partners who supported each other and tracked their profits. But slowly, the marketplace and profits became more important than the pilgrims and rituals they were supposed to serve. The results were disastrous. Sometimes that happens to us in our Lenten practices too. We start out with one lofty goal in mind, whether it be to train the body or help a friend in the service of the Lord, but our zeal quickly becomes more about the strength of our own will than growing in friendship with the Lord. Let’s make sure our zeal has the right goal in mind. #prayfirst

The Gospel today is brief in its recounting of Jesus’ forty days in the desert and his temptation by Satan. Temptation is a word worth pondering this week, as we begin our Lenten fasts and new habits to improve our spiritual life. The Oxford dictionary has my favorite definition of temptation: “The desire to do something, especially something wrong or unwise.” Wrong or unwise. I like that. Wrong is very clear; we know right-from-wrong as the law is etched in our heart (Jeremiah), found in the Bible (Jesus) and through the teachings of the Magisterium (Apostolic succession). But unwise? Here we leave the black-and-white world and enter in gray-scale. The wisdom of this world is foolishness, writes Paul to the good people of Corinth (3:18), and this is the exact thought which often finds us wandering through the proverbial moral fog this Lent. What about that team celebratory Friday dinner invitation at the CEO’s palace where the menu is ribeye on the grill? Or you’ve given up sugar and added a holy hour as a way to put the needs of the soul over the desires of the body, but it’s your husband’s birthday and he’s expecting dinner at the Confluence, topped off with their fabulous flourless chocolate cake? Or you are doing Exodus 90/Magnify 90 and it’s causing your family more frustration than peace in your home. Or… you know your personal sin is exacerbated by internet usage so you’re limiting screen time, but your boss expects immediate returns on evening tasks, even when you are at your weakest and most tired state. What to do, what to do? There’s no hard-and-fast rule about these things. It seems many of our Lenten temptations are found in discerning wisdom, not because we don’t know right-from-wrong. I don’t have definitive the answers for the above scenarios, sorry. What is wise to me may be unwise for you. I can suggest that you take your temptations to Jesus and lay them at his feet, for he’s been down this road before and knows what you are going through. #searchforwisdom

Prayer Warriors. You know them, you know who they are. When we pray the creed every Sunday we say that we believe in “all things visible and invisible” which means that there are unseen powers at work in this world, for Good or for evil (as Fr. Dave said in his homily last week). Prayer is one of those invisible and unseen powers that help facilitate the Good we see in the world. In our reading from Leviticus today, our poor leper must live outside the camp for leprosy is highly contagious. Can you imagine his personal prayer life and the prayer of those he/she must leave behind? The psalmist sings of turning to the Lord in times of trouble, and yes, we should. Paul writes to the good people of Corinth that whatever they do, including prayer, they should do for the glory of God. And Jesus, sweet Jesus, heals the leper in Mark’s Gospel; how many people do you think have been praying for this particular man to be healed of his leprosy? And when his prayer was answered, he let everyone know. And I mean everyone. One fully-whole person “spread the report abroad so that it was impossible for Jesus to enter a town openly.” Three times this week I’ve had conversations about the power of prayer: Tim’s wife is making her way in the world after a diagnosis of Stage 4 cancer; I was at the bedside of my Dad as he raised his hand like he was taking the hand of angel and took his last breath, which was an answer to my prayer; Lonnie is home from the hospital, not cancer-free, but where she desperately wanted to be. These are miracles of epic proportions and prayer made them possible. Lent kicks off this Wednesday and the question is, “What will you do?” and “How will it change you?” I might offer a suggestion… increase your prayer life. And not just for your own soul, but for the benefit of others. It’s a win-win proposition, yes? You grow closer to the Lord and others reap the rewards. Prayer works. #spreadthenews

It feels like we’ve just put away the purple of Advent, only to bring it back out for Lent. Yep, Ash Wednesday is in just a few weeks, and nothing says Happy Valentine’s Day like ashes on the forehead, fasting/abstinence, and words of repentance. And yet. If we look at it through another lens, the fact that Lent begins on the day we set aside to celebrate love might be a gentle reminder to us that relationships are made up of more than flowers and chocolate. There’s also a large infusion of sacrifice, in listening to other voices and then giving way to their needs instead of your own. In today’s reading, Moses reminds us that prophets speak Truth, no matter how hard it is to hear. We ought to listen to them too, since they speak the ways of God. St. Paul speaks some very interesting and seemingly harsh words, and yet we know they are true. Unmarried men and women of faith are not encumbered by the anxieties of keeping up hearth and home and pleasing a spouse. Anyone married more than a hot minute knows this to be true. That does not mean, however, that the single life pleases God more than marital life. It does not. When God created Adam, he found that the solitary life was less-than-perfect and so God created Eve as an equal companion. Perfection is found in the unity of love and sacrifice, you see. Jesus, fully human and fully God, knew his mission was all-encompassing, itinerant, and preeminently sacrificial. He knew love and sacrifice. He is love and sacrifice united as one. His heart was undivided, seeking only to do His Father’s will and speak the Father’s words. The demonic saw through him, peered right into his soul, seeing the unity. Demons are self-seeking, self-pleasuring, and self-destructive creatures who seek the ruin of souls. No wonder the demons quaked in their host body – they are everything Jesus is not. Lent is just around the corner. Perhaps this is the time to ponder ridding yourself of all that Jesus is not. Want an insight to what that might be? Ponder the cross. #loveandsacrifice

The hot topic right now is the Eucharistic display going on in Seton Hall, but there’s a lot going on in the readings today too. We’re in the second Sunday of Ordinary time, but the readings are just… extra-ordinary. You see, Samuel is the apple of his mother’s eye, a gift given from God. When Hannah conceived Samuel, she promised God that Samuel would be given to the priests to raise. She fulfilled that promise and Samuel went off the Temple after he was weaned. Don’t feel too bad for Hannah though, as the LORD then gifted her with three more sons and two daughters. Unexpected miracles for sure, considering Hannah was barren for many, many years. The Lord is like that sometimes. We think our prayers are cast out into the dark, bleak void because nothing changes. But that isn’t the reality. And now the Lord is about work another miracle. He’s going to speak to Samuel and give him the role that belongs to Eli’s sons. You see, Eli’s sons are… rascals, as my Dad would say. They abuse their privileges as priests, ignore the statutes of the Lord, and engage in risqué behavior (ahem). Samuel is the holy one who will do the work of the Lord. Samuel understands that he is a gift and is to treat himself as a temple for the holy to dwell. It’s the truth that Paul is trying to teach those Corinthians too. You know Corinth, aka: the City of Love or Little Las Vegas. The pagan people of Corinth emulate the Greek and Roman gods in their sexual behavior; they are a harsh, cruel, self-gratifying, everything-goes kind of people. Paul steps into their culture to call out their sin, not because he is sanctimonious, but because he cares about their souls and what they do with their bodies. He knows that the Lord calls them to something more, just as he calls you and I to something more. Just like he called Andrew and Simon Peter. Our bodies matter, since they house the soul. And the soul is the house for the Lord. #youareBeloved

Families. They can be sources of joy, support, friendship, prayer, and all-around good vibes. But they can also be sources of sadness, brokenness, disunity, and conversations you bring to confession. I like to say that the Catholic Church sets the bar high because it knows human nature so well. Plus, Jesus was fully human, so He knows our struggle towards mediocracy… our primal inclination to take the easy path and to alleviate suffering. He prayed to his own Father in the Garden of Gethsemane to let ‘the cup’ pass by him, remember. He gets us. Today, the Church celebrated families by holding up the ideal: Joseph, Mary, and Jesus. That sets the bar pretty high, for sure. As a Jewish man, Joseph would have memorized the words of Sirach and modeled his own family from its wisdom. A father’s honor alongside a mother’s authority, with obedience demanded of children. And then these words, which set so many of our hearts aflame: “My son, take care of your father when he is old; grieve him not as long as he lives. Even if his mind fail be considerate of him; revile him not all the days of his life; kindness to a father will be forgotten.” I’m not crying, you are. This is the way the Lord intended families to be, and blessed are those who walk in these words, doing the best we can. The reading from Paul’s letter to the Colossians hits home too. Paul, like Jesus, grew up in a Jewish family, and has his own advice to offer Christian families: Act with heartfelt compassion, kindness, gentleness, patience, gratitude, and love. Add to that mix a good dose of forgiveness. This forgiveness he talks about? It’s the kind that Jesus gave us on the cross: sacrificial and unending. It's hard, I know. Really hard. Families can be messy because people are messy. But the Church in her wisdom gives us something to strive for. She does indeed set the bar high, holding the Holy Family as the model for all families. #changetheworld

Our Advent train goes by another name, much like Saint Nicholas goes by Santa Claus, Père Noël, Father Christmas, Kris Kringle, or Sinterklaas. It’s called, “The Train of Arrival” or “The Waiting Train” taken from the Latin word adventus, which translates as “coming” or “arrival.” This third week of Advent also goes by another name, “Gaudete Sunday,” and our decorations go from purple to rose. Put all together, it means today we celebrate the JOY of waiting. Normally waiting gets a bad rap… think about waiting for a return phone call from the doctor’s office or a credit card payment deadline you can’t meet, or even, you guessed it, the long line for the Christmas roller coaster. We Christians wait on something different, a someOne and not a some-thing: Jesus. Like Saint Nicholas, Jesus gets his fair share of monikers too. Savior. Love Incarnate. Prince of Peace. Wonderful Counselor. Alpha & Omega. Redeemer. On our first stop aboard the Advent train today, we hear Isaiah speak of the wonderous deeds Jesus will do: bring glad tidings to the poor, heal the brokenhearted, proclaim liberty to the captives, and release the prisoners. Jesus did this work on earth. So should we, with enthusiasm and joy. As the train pulls out, the gentle joy-filled words of his Mother Mary echo in our heart, “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my Savior…” which gives us the strength and attitude to do the work Jesus wants us to do. We then hear St. Paul from a distance, letting us know how Jesus-followers behave while working to bring about the Kingdom: We rejoice always and pray without ceasing. We are open to the Holy Spirit. Listen to the wise. We happily refrain from evil in thought, word, and deed and are holy in the same ways. Pulled out of this reverie by John the Baptizer’s loud proclamation that is he is not the Christ nor Elijah nor any OT prophet, we acknowledge his truth, smile softly, and settle into our seats to wait on Our Lord’s humble arrival. #REJOICEintheWAITING

Our Advent train begins its journey towards Bethlehem, the place where heaven kissed earth and Love for the world took flesh. We slow to a gentle stop with Isaiah, who asks the same question we might ask today, given our headlines and the hearts of those gone astray: “Why do you let us wander, O LORD, from your ways, and harden our hearts so that we fear you not?” We ponder and lament here in our mea culpa of “the things we have failed to do, through our own grievous fault” and our guilt which “carries us away like the wind.” Yet we depart this platform in hope, for “You, O Lord, are our father, we are the clay and you the potter, we are the work of your hands,” and there is still time to be something beautiful for God this Advent. The cars sway gently to the song of a penitent-turned-disciple heart as we watch the landscape and revel in the ways in which God protects us in powerful ways. We then stop to hear Paul offer us grace and peace, the two things we need most. Paul reminds us that we are not lacking in the spiritual gifts necessary to bring love and hope to a hurting world, and that, my friends, is hope to treasure and share. We reluctantly leave Paul behind, although his words echo in our hearts, “God is faithful, and by him you were called to fellowship with his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.” What a simple joy to ponder as we enter into the warning words of Mark, “Be watchful! Be alert!” for “you do not know when the Lord of the house is coming.” We do not want Jesus to enter into our lives on Christmas morning and find us dazed and dulled, entertained and exhausted by the Christmas roller-coaster. This week, let’s make sure that Jesus is the center of all we do. Let’s give blankets to the poor, pray for lost souls, offer hope to the hopeless, and honor the simple girl who gave her fiat (yes) to Love Incarnate. #whatisyourfiat?

Last week we heard about Lady Wisdom, life-after-death, and the importance of letting our light be filled with the glory of God and not the chaos of culture, and since we’re nearing the end of the year, we ought to choose our destination wisely and know how to get there. That’s the theme of today’s readings too. Here’s the thing: The Lord created you and me, women and men, with a specific mission in mind. Women are beloved of the Bridegroom, working to bring about His Kingdom, whether it be by spindle or soup kitchen. Men are to protect and love a woman, not because she is weak, but because she is valuable. This work of these two is called marriage and the fruit is “thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” How bringing about the Kingdom looks different for everyone. Since God cannot be outdone in generosity nor creativity, we’re looking at an endless variety of exciting and joy-filled ways to make that happen. Your gift for the world is unique to you - and no one can do it for you. As couples, your gifts exponentially expand, ideas feed off each other by grafting the tried-and-true onto new explorations, and finally morph into something better and more beautiful than imagined. And if you are single, it’s even cooler… the Lord is your Companion-in-creativity! Jesus trusts that we will do this, bringing good, and not evil, into the world with our words and actions. And the reward will be great at the pearly gates, as the Lord sings praises to the saints and angels for all we’ve accomplished. And if we don’t fulfill the purpose the Lord laid out for us? Well… we might want to practice walking around at midnight (getting used to the darkness), take a few music lessons (for our wailing), and see the dentist (in our grinding of teeth). But don’t wait too long to begin bringing about the Kingdom (or not) as the Lord has asked you. You never know when the Engineer will call out your final stop. #settleyouraccounts

I begin this column while sitting in Froth & Cork sipping coffee and waiting for a friend, listening to Christian music playing over their central sound system. It’s the perfect place for some reflection on today’s readings. In the liturgical calendar, we are hurtling toward the end of the year; in a mere four weeks we celebrate the Feast of Christ the King of the Universe, the final Sunday of Year A. For the past four weeks we’ve listened to Jesus reprimand the Pharisees, Sadducees, and elders of the Temple for their hypocrisy and hardened hearts for the people they serve. At the same time, Jesus makes it clear that he is the champion for the beleaguered and overworked general-Jewish-Joe-and-Jane trying to keep their heads above water and their hearts in the faith. It’s the average man and woman who are bearing the brunt of a pompous hierarchy focused more on rules and regulations of Deuteronomy than the heart and soul of the Exodus. The Lord rescued the Israelites of slavery out of love not obligation, and in turn wants them to treat others as he has treated them. “You were once aliens in the land of Egypt,” says the Lord, so do not wrong the widow or orphan nor oppress those who are struggling to feed their families and are looking for warmth in a cold world. This is how Paul operated too… be “imitators of the Lord” by spreading peace and grace, caring for neighbor and enemy alike. Yep. When Jesus asked us love our neighbor as ourselves, he didn’t require us to like them, he asked that we see them as He sees them and love them. You see, Jesus has a special place in his heart for the oppressed, the downtrodden, the elderly, the unborn, and the just-can’t-make-life-work among us. Sometimes those are our relatives, occasionally our friends, but most likely, those outside of our sphere of influence. How do we move forward then, imitating the Lord and loving those who can’t always love themselves? That, my friends, is up to you and the serendipity of God. #kaleidoscopeJesus

Many of you know I’ve been caretaking for my Mom. Beginning with pneumonia and ending with a mostly healed ruptured Achilles tendon, it has been ‘the long summer of discontent’, where she pondered her future in the midst of her present circumstances. She has always been a strong, sassy, and independent woman who controlled all aspects of her world, but now found life consistently altering her plans, given the disruptions of the darkness. She is now back in Arizona, soaking up the sunshine, surrounded by friends who know and love her; they have all walked this path of temporary – or permanent - physical frailty and they are united in support and authentic care for one another. Her time of confinement is over and a new chapter of heated pools, living in her own space, and Bridge games are upon her.

Endings and beginnings are upon us in the readings today too. We too are in a season of change, not just for the beginning of school, the implementation of new routines, nor the beauty of nature in all its glory, but also in the liturgical year. In six weeks we begin again, starting with the hope and joy of Advent. For now, we end the year by looking at just where we are and the “what comes next.” For Isaiah and his people in exile, it’s the stigma of reproach and the sting of servitude. Having been a sovereign nation for generations, they are now the laughingstock of a war-focused world, forced to march as captives through foreign cities and countrysides in humiliation. Don’t think of this a pleasant parade, think the Bataan Death March. Brutal. Deathly. Merciless. Their only hope is not of this world. Like Paul, they will learn to live in scarcity and need, having known abundance and wealth, and remember that God is with them in both. Like Jesus, the King of the Wedding Banquet, they know the invitation to be godly people is always extended to them. But it’s in their hands to accept, decline, or to stand in the life-clothing-of-their-making before the King. Yours too. #endingsandnewbeginnings

There’s a scene in The Chosen that reminds me of today’s readings. Jesus, James, and John are walking in the Samarian countryside and come upon a group of natives. These men spit at our intrepid heroes, then throw rocks at them yelling, “go back where you came from, Jews.” James and John want to fight back, hot-bloodedly asking Jesus to call down holy fire from heaven to consume the offending men. James, John, and Jesus did nothing wrong, mind you, the Samaritans simply took issue with them being in the area. So unfair. I’ve been pondering the unfairness of life lately, taking a cue from Ezekiel words in today’s first reading, “The Lord’s way is not fair!” It is true that if you take the Gospel message seriously and live your faith out loud, then you look a little different than the rest of the world as you live by a different set of standards. Paul says that we should not be selfish in our success, but look out for the least among us instead, “Do nothing out of selfishness… rather, regard others as more important than yourselves, each looking out not for his own interests, but for those of others.”

My real-world application while contemplating this weekend’s readings ran to a recent conversation with my husband over the financial dilemma our college-graduate daughter faces. She’s working for a major MN company, making about $40K/year, and it’s not quite enough post-taxes and insurance. Her CEO made 17.6 million/year. Should a CEO make more than his/her average employee? Absolutely yes. He/she studied, worked long and hard to get there, and is under intense pressure to outperform. Should a CEO make that much more than the average employee? Hmm. In my own frustration of looking around at the unfairness of post-high school life for our kids, I’ve been wanting to call down a little holy fire here myself. Where does selfishness end and looking out for the interest of others begin? Jesus’ parable about doing-the-right-thing should cause us to pause too. BTW, Jesus’ response to those Samaritans? He gave them a blessing. #WWJD?

It’s been a wild ride this week on all fronts, resplendent with a number of glorious highs, a few left-turns out of nowhere, and some pretty jarring lows. My Monday night Evangelical Catholic group, Women’s Bible mornings, delightful nurses, and the new Tuesday evening Holy Hours are among the newest mountain top experiences; such lovely community experiences that bring a smile to my face and a song to my soul. The left-turns are more personal, dealing with the shenanigans of elderly parents and the puzzling administrative nature of “health care” when it comes to caring to those whose days are definitely numbered on God’s good earth. And what kind of adventurous life would we have without the abrupt and sudden lows that bring us to our knees, wondering how the Lord allowed this, and more importantly, why it was allowed to happen, then how to navigate a response. It’s responding to those unnerving events that drop us right in the midst of us the readings today. Sirach warns us not to hold onto anger, wrath, and vengeance when we are the recipient of un-Christian and hurtful behavior. “Forgive your neighbor’s injustice; then when you pray your owns sins will be forgiven.” The psalmist chimes in, reminding us that since our kind and merciful Lord does not ‘requite’ us in light of our own sin, neither should we wish retribution on others. It’s the whole “forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us” deal, which means that we will be forgiven by the exact measure we forgive. Paul reminds us that it’s hard to die to self… especially when we so desire retribution against those who hurt us. But die to self-interest we must, so that we are not weighed down by wrath and anger (circling back to Sirach). Then Our Lord tells Peter this lovely parable about the immeasurable depth of God’s forgiveness, that kind of forgiveness which transcends our own earthly ability. The kind that requires sacramental graces of Eucharist and confession or time in front of Our Lord at Adoration. The kind that reflects God’s love. #forgivenessloveandgrace

It’s that time of year, the weekend of “The Great Sigh.” We’re anticipating a change in routine, different work hours, and new responsibilities. We mourn the loss of long sunny days and the gentle freedom that comes with summer. The lakes and rivers begin to cool. The hard work of closing the cabin begins - when it seems like we just opened. Relatives go back from whence they came and the opportunity to gather comes to an end. We sigh The Great Sigh. And yet. September is also a time of great anticipation. So much promise and so much to look forward to. Crisp evenings and warm days. A school year with old friends and new opportunities. The return of Bible studies, small groups, and the choirs at Mass. We even have some new social events here at St. Elizabeth’s! The Spirit is on the move, yes? The “why” we look forward to this new season has a lot to do with our readings today: Every opportunity for change is a lesson in hope. Jeremiah is compelled to speak despite the derision of his friends and weariness of the work, but he hopes that people will change because of his words. Paul wants his people to leave their old life behind and hopes they understand that a renewal of their heart and mind will naturally spur them into acting like Christians should. Jesus, naturally, hopes we leave our own plans behind and follow His plan for us because he knows we will find a life-worth-living. That life doesn’t come without some sacrifice and risk, for it means living the faith out loud when others think you should keep silent. So what might it look like to live “the will of God” and what does it mean to “lose your life”? It means you’ll breathe The Great Sigh. You’ll find new routines, holy hours, prayers, and opportunities to witness to the faith. Yes, you’ll be letting some things go, like a sinful habit, a long-standing grudge, a desire for riches or power, or an unhealthy friendship. But gosh, what a beautiful life you will gain. #hopeandpromise

In this, the twentieth Sunday of ordinary time, we are still pondering ordinary things that are, actually, extraordinary. Isaiah tells the somewhat sanctimonious Chosen People, “Sorry, you are not the only ones chosen. Those outsiders who keep holy the Sabbath day, follow the 613 moral precepts, and love the One Lord with all their heart, with all their might, and all their strength? Yep, they’re chosen too. Get used to sharing my providence.” About a thousand years later, Paul tells the non-Jewish followers of a very Jewish Jesus, “Hey there, my friends, you’ve seen the uppity-ness of those Chosen People who rejected Jesus, so guess what? In your own outsider chosen-ness, don’t be like them. Show them mercy in their disobedience, as God once showed you mercy in yours. Get used to sharing my mercy.” And Jesus, using an outsider to school his disciples, inscribes a Canaanite woman into his book of miracles and onto his heart, “Oh woman, great is your faith.” How are these stories relevant to our lives? I think you see what the Lord is asking you to do, and it’s a very hard ask. That grace we talked about last week? It will definitely be put to use this week, so if you need a booster dose, head to Adoration or spend some time in prayer before embarking on this mission. Here’s the work of the Lord for us this week: Treat outsiders and insiders exactly the same. Be kind to everyone you meet. Bestow extravagant love upon those who love you back… and those who don’t. Resist the urge to return hurt when served pain-on-a-platter. Forgive, as you have been forgiven. Love, as you have been loved by your Father in heaven. Teach, as Jesus taught you, which means your actions will align with your words. Pray long and hard for the strength, fortitude, and grace to carry out this mission because we’re going to need it. It’s not going to be easy, just like it wasn’t for Isaiah, Paul, or Jesus. But it’s what we are chosen to do. #steadyon

There’s a lot of big theological words and profound meaning in the readings today. Words like Ancient One, Son of man, dominion, glory, kingship, justice, judgement, majestic glory, power, honor, and transfiguration. And a depth of meaning: A pure, perfect (white), powerful (fire), and judgmental (court) Ancient One who has an equally glorious Son. This Son does everything his Father asks of him while ruling (dominion) over his own realm; his people love him, being singularly attentive to his message. Whew. That’s a lot of fearsome high-and-mighty going on. And Peter, James, and John unexpectedly take part in the grandeur. If the readings are designed to change our lives and rend our hearts, how might today’s lofty message change or inspire us?

First, we would do well to remember that God the Father and God the Son are of one mind. When Jesus speaks and acts in this world, he channels his heavenly Father. And they are perfect in their power and judgement and love. Heaven and hell do exist, and we should align our actions to that reality. In order to do that, we have to ponder the readings outside of Sunday Mass, and live them out loud.

Second, Peter, James, and John receive a gift, a grace-filled illuminating moment. The Father and Son chose them to participate in something super cool, and yet they were forbidden to tell their fellow disciples. There are times to share our deep encounters of Jesus with others and time to stay silent. How do you know when to share and when to keep quiet? Listen for the promptings of the Lord. How might you hear Him? Spend some time in Adoration or at our new fall Tuesday evening Holy Hour. It takes practice to calm the mind and open the soul to the voice of the Lord. Don’t be discouraged in the silence, but don’t build a tent and camp overnight waiting for a word either. Just be available.

Third, be not afraid… In what the Lord might say to you and what he might ask of you. #asilentholyhour

Over the past few weeks, we’ve heard parables about sowers, fields, crops, and harvests. We know that Jesus’ parables used images of earthly things in order to convey a heavenly meaning and/or a spiritual reality. He used them in order to present His new realities in language they understood.
Today we have a huge upheaval in the “reality” realm. No wonder the disciples asked Jesus to explain the parable in private! You see, Jesus re-names evil from the spiritual satan to a concrete diabolos in today’s Gospel. In the Greek, the parable is a bit longer than our translation. It opens, “An enemy (echthros), a man (anthropos), has done this.” (13:28). When Jesus explains the parable to his disciples, he says that the enemy is the devil (diabolos) – a someone - who falsely accuses and unjustly criticizes in order to hurt, condemn, and sever their relationship with God.

Jesus’ Jewish listeners believed that sâṭân was not a physical being ruling an underworld. In most midrashes (teachings) and practice, sâṭân means to accuse, hinder, or tempt. It is more a temptation or evil doing that keep one from the obligation of tikkun olam (fixing the world); sâṭân is merely an evil inclination one gives into. Remember, the Jewish position right now is that all the dead enter Sheol, an other-worldly and shadowy existence, a space that the holy and unholy occupy together.

Jesus is now telling his Jewish followers that Satan is much more than just an internal evil inclination, and that the holy and unholy have different destinations following death! Say what?! Just as Jesus the Son of God, fully and perfectly took on human form to redeem and teach us how to build holy and fruitful relationships with God and neighbor, Satan wanders the world using humans in order to destroy and sever those same relationships. Jesus will send his angels to collect and burn those evildoers and there will be wailing and grinding of teeth in their fiery furnace. The faithful, however, will be rewarded with the warmth, peace, and grace of Sonshine. Whoever has ears ought to hear. #payattention

I wrote a piece back in February which never made it to print. Since February is the month we celebrate “love,” the column was about our culture’s free-for-all notion of love and marriage. I quoted Paul’s to the new Christians of Rome, “We are not debtors to the flesh… but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live.” You see, the Roman culture at the time was anything-goes, much like ours today. Worship of the Roman gods promoted licentiousness; temple orgies and male and female temple prostitutes a were common sight, marriage was a considered a political convenience, and the baths at the public ‘gymnasiums’ were meant to stimulate sexual behaviors. And since the Roman gods were cruel, and worshippers were meant to emulate their gods, well… you get the picture. Cultural ideals of love were not patient, unkind, full of envy, boastful, arrogant, and above all, rejoiced in wrongdoing, in stark contrast to St. Paul’s definition. The Romans were definitely lived according to the flesh, they were chained to all-deeds-of-the-body. All perfectly legal as Roman law was quite lax and lacking in any moral code.

When St. Paul speaks of dying to the flesh in today’s reading, this is the field from which he stands. Our society today resembles the Holy Roman Empire, yes? Paul’s words are still keenly relevant. The power of the Holy Spirit is the strength we need to overcome cultural hedonism. Paul labored to spread the Good News that by following the ways-and-words of Jesus, lives will change for the better. We can overcome culture’s fixation on personal pleasure instead of self-sacrifice in all aspects of our lives only with the help of the Holy Spirit. Not that it will be easy, no, Jesus never promised that. Trouble will follow you as you lead, teach, and preach the Jesus’ moral directives, Satan will see to that. But by allowing Jesus to lead you by attaching yourself to his yoke of grace and strength, humility and meekness, yes, you will find rest even in the midst of plowing your mission fields. #getintrouble

You have to feel for Jeremiah and Paul. The thing about prophets and evangelists is that the Lord chooses them, usually against their will, to preach a message no one wants to hear. Feels a little like being a Catholic in today’s world, yes? No one wants to believe that God will probe the mind and heart and pass judgement on our actions, even for those who reject his presence (Jeremiah). Very few folks want to engage in a conversation about “sin” and the spiritual death that comes by drowning in its depths, a fate redeemed only by belief in Jesus (Paul). If you know anything about those two men, you’ll know that they were both followed by their enemies, beaten and stoned, and left for dead more than once. Yet they were compelled to keep spreading the Good News. They didn’t let rejection keep them from speaking to others about the joy that comes from knowing life is precious and sacred to Jesus’ heart.

We’ve begun a season of ordinary time, when the humdrum work of real life begins. When we gather as friends and family in small places and open spaces. Where we have the opportunity to slow down to say words of thanksgiving before breaking bread, to ponder the work the Lord has called us to do in the whisper of a soft breeze, or to speak to Jesus in the silence of our hearts before slumber. But the summer of ordinary time is not all gentleness and thoughtfulness, right? Because we are surrounded by people of a different walk, we sometimes have hard conversations of faith talk and that lead to a bit of tension, a feeling that Jesus, Paul, and Jeremiah also know very well. In the ordinary times of their lives they experienced rejection and hatred for their beliefs, just as we do. That should not stop us from making Jesus Christ known and loved, however, for somewhere out there someone is desperate to know the life-giving love of redemption and soul-inspiring gift of hope that a life with Jesus entails. #spreadtheGoodNews

It’s hard to dispute what Jesus said: “Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat of the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you… 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.” It’s also hard to wrap my mind around, because the in the original Greek, the language is more certain, more severe, more…. Real. It reads like this: “For the flesh-of-Me - TRUE - is food. And the blood-of-Me - TRUE - is drink. The one eating of Me, the flesh, and drinking of Me, the blood, abides in me and I in him.”

This capitalized word, TRUE, is aléthés, which means unconcealed, true in face, worthy of credit, truthful. This word is capitalized not by me, but by BibleHub, the preeminent academic Greek/English translation site, which is not run by Catholics.

And “the one eating of Me”? The word eating is trógó, which is “to gnaw, munch, or crunch.” There’s no getting around this one, so my non-Catholic friends just ignore it. Or say that Jesus didn’t really mean it. But Jesus rarely said anything he didn’t mean.

So what did the people do next, you wonder? “As a result of this, many [of] his disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him. Jesus then said to the Twelve, “Do you also want to leave?” Simon Peter answered him, “Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” Jesus doesn’t correct his statement to make it more palatable. Instead, he watches many of his disciples walk away, then asks his twelve if they will walk too. That’s how REAL his statement is.

Which is why we are reverent before the Eucharist, who is Jesus our Lord and Savior. It’s why we treat the Mass with respect, awe, and grandeur. It’s why we genuflect, bow, and kneel before the power and glory of the Eucharist. It’s the whole reason for our worship at Mass. #theEucharistISJesus

At a 2013 Steubenville Youth Conference in Springfield, Missouri, surrounded by 3,000 teens and adults, I palpably felt the power of the Holy Spirit during Adoration and received an infusion of incredible joy that has abided with me ever since. That weekend changed the way I thought of and participated in the Catholic Church; before that experience I went to Mass every Sunday and called myself Catholic, but my Sundays rarely bled into my weekdays and thought Mass was all ritual and impersonal. I believed that if you looked up the word Catholicism in the dictionary it would say “see Rule Followers.” After the conference, whew, not so much. I had a new appreciation – and love - for Jesus in the Eucharist and gosh, if I were to write a description of Catholicism it would say something like, “see AMAZING or FULL OF LIFE or WHAT AN ADVENTURE,” and yes, all in capital letters. From that summer weekend in 2013, it’s been quite the journey. I left academics for parish life, renewed my love of the Word, took my responses during Mass to heart, started writing again, and delved into all-things-Catholic. 

Here’s the thing. I didn’t actually want to go to that conference. I only went because I’d heard about these conferences, wanted my daughter to go, and they needed an E3 certified parent to come along. I would rather have just sent my daughter, like all the other parents. But no, she really wanted me to come along. Working-mother that I am, I felt the “Catholic Guilt” of being away so much so I reluctantly signed up. God the Holy Spirit smiled. And here we are today.

The Holy Spirit goes where it wants and when it wills, which is why its nickname is the Wild Goose. The Holy Spirit dwells within us at our baptism and is activated at our Confirmation if the soul is open and docile. It is a powerful Advocate. Two men will receive the sacrament of Confirmation today, and I can hardly wait to see how the Spirit will move in their lives. How about yours? #GoHolySpiritGo

Laura Stierman started as our Director of Evangelization on June 28, 2021. She brings a lot of experience from parish life and has a great zeal for evangelization. Laura will help us develop and implement an overall evangelization plan which corresponds to our mission and vision. She will be part of a team that will develop and implement the curriculum for all our adult and youth formation so that it is missionary and evangelical. Welcome, Laura!