Laura Stierman - Director of Evangelization

The apostle Paul must have loved Jesus’ parable about the-last-will-be-first-and-first-shall-be-last laborers since he came to Jesus a tad later in the fullness of his life, then tried to bring others to the faith, no matter what their season in life. It’s also a fan favorite of OCIA (formerly RCIA) converts; the older they are the more meaningful this laborer-in-the-vineyard story is. It’s also a favorite of those adults just needing the sacrament of Confirmation, since they are in the “three o’clock” hour of life. It’s easy for folks to miss out on that last sacrament of initiation. Families can be messy during those teenage years… parents aren’t always willing or able to add one more thing to the family schedule, they move from one parish to another with different age parameters, or they’ve fallen away from the faith and a sacramental grace isn’t all that important at the moment. If you – or another adult you know and love – just needs the sacrament of Confirmation to complete their sacraments of initiation, have them contact me. I’m running an 8-week session between Sunday morning masses for those individuals who are active in the faith but missed the sacrament of Confirmation. It's never too late and that grace we talked about last week. It’s given in droves at the sacrament of Confirmation, along with some fruits and gifts of the Holy Spirit to keep the faith alive in our hearts and minds. The other cool thing we do around here is seek out and train the laborers. Parent/student formation begins October 4th. We have four extraordinary young men from St. John Vianney Seminary teaching the middle schoolers this year! If you haven’t registered your 6th or 7th grader, do so NOW. You won’t regret it. These men of faith are amazing witnesses and super fun… and working in Lord’s vineyards at the dawn of their lives. And remember to hang with us at our Holy Hours on Tuesday evenings from 6:30 – 7:30pm to receive grace and gain strength for your own work in the vineyard, no matter when you clocked-in. #stepinanytime

Remember last week and the whole “losing your life” and “renewing your mind” and “living the faith out loud”? Those simple concepts we are all on board with? This week’s readings show us just how difficult it might be and how heavy your cross might be. We’re still with our OT friend Ezekiel whose been “duped” [persuaded by hope] into speaking out, and now we see more of the cross he bears, which is just like all of ours: A consequence of our behavior. God has says to Ezekiel that saving souls can only be accomplished by speaking the truth of the faith. And if he doesn’t do as the Lord wills, then he’s responsible for their souls. We’re also still with Paul’s letter to the good people of Rome who need to be reminded of the balance between love and law which is speaking the Truth with love. It’s not easy, but souls are at stake. Do we like correction? Absolutely not. Are we sometimes angry with people who correct us? Absolutely yes. Do we still need to both give correction and receive correction? “If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault between you and him alone,” says the Lord, so that’s a really big YES. Notice that the first step is to meet personally with the person who needs a life-check, not to lay it out on social media or send a mass email. If a one-on-one doesn’t work, find a friend or two and make a beer/coffee date to talk over their destructive life choices. The last resort is to ask the help of elders in the church who can run interference with you. Also note that this directive is specific to moral improprieties, not whether your Beloved leaves his socks on the floor every night or your neighbor parks his car too close to your driveway. Those are annoying (and opportunities for sanctification!), not sinful soul-darkening acts against God. Here’s the MOST IMPORTANT PART of beginning a difficult conversation: Remember that it’s about their eternal life, then speak unto them as you would have them speak unto you. #loveandfaith

It’s a minor tragedy when an extraordinary prayer partner for all mothers trying to get their kids to Mass on time (or even to Mass, period), loses her feast day to the twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time. You guessed it, today is the feast day of St. Monica, long-suffering mother of our sinner-turned-saint, Augustine. I’m a little partial to this one, as our daughter is a Monica and I have some lovely friends with that name. Like the Apostle Peter, Monica proclaimed that Jesus Christ is the Son of God - and proceeded to live that faith out loud. The two men she loved most, her husband and son, both dismissed and berated her for many years, good Roman citizens that they were. It probably wasn’t the pious and happy future she might have dreamed about on her wedding night, but she did the best she could, using all the graces and peace from the faith she adored, never wavering from her witness to the Catholic faith. We know so much about Monica because, following his conversion, Augustine wove her steady witness into his early-Church tell-all, Confessions. Here’s the thing… we all have something in common with this woman. She lived an ordinary life of faith marked by faithful prayer. That’s been the theme of the Mass readings these past few weeks too… ordinary people of faith doing-the-things-they-need-to-do and saying-the-things-they-need-to-say. Today we have a guy giving Israel some hope as the Babylonians marched into town (Isaiah), another guy who joyfully proclaimed the triumph of God’s judgement, wisdom, and mercy (Paul), and one more who just told things like they were (Peter). Isaiah, Paul, Peter, and Monica were ordinary people who decided to go all-in for the faith. They did not think of themselves as saints, no they did not. That title was bestowed on them later, by those on the outside who looked at what they did and went, “Um. Wow.” But while they were walking this earth, they simply did what they ought to be doing. Which is what we should be doing. #ordinarysaints

Drama and trauma lurk beneath every reading today. Elijah fearfully hides in a cave from the murder-on-her-mind Queen Jezebel (drama). Paul is heart-broken that his fellow Jews, the Chosen Ones with whom God declared a permanent covenant of law and love, reject Jesus (trauma). Jesus and his disciples have a little of both stirred together: A storm arises (drama) and Peter turns his gaze from Jesus and nearly drowns (trauma). I know we’ve preached this before, that growing as a joyful disciple does not exempt one from the woes & worries and persecutions & problems of life, but it’s a worth pondering in these waning days of summer. You see, If that’s the case, that suffering and persecution in inherent to the life of a disciple, then why bother? I mean, really. It’s not easy to adhere to his moral code and teachings, for sure… and if there’s no earthly reason to let him stake a claim on your heart and in your life, what’s the point? I think that’s where most casual Catholics are right now. There is no instant reward, right?

So why do we spend our earthly lives walking towards the narrow gate? Why follow the narrow path to heaven rather than hop on the highway to hell, when the latter is easier and far more lucrative? That’s a question Elijah and Paul probably asked themselves in the midst of their drama and trauma, and I am pretty sure the question begged the answer. The hope of heaven, right? But there is another – and far more beneficial - answer that helps us in the here-and-now. Grace. What is grace? And undeserved and powerful favor that strengthens and stirs the soul. Grace is what allows us to smile in the face of adversity and keep cool amid the fire of life. It allows us to come out of hiding, like Elijah, and speak of Jesus despite persecution, like Paul. It might even allow us to walk on water, like Peter. Hear the voice of Jesus say to you this week, “Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid.” #amazinggrace

On my commute into work one morning, I listened to Jeff Cavins give a reflection on the sending out of the disciples two-by-two in order to bring about the kingdom of heaven. At the same time, I drove by the golf course’s electric sign, “Celebrating the Life of ‘John Doe.’” There’s a connection here, and it ties in nicely with today’s readings. You see, we in the church world spend a lot of time bemoaning the evil of culture and its effect on God’s people: Families host ‘celebrations of life’ instead of praying through a funeral Mass? Blame culture. Adults uninterested in a faith life? Distracted by culture. Elected officials legislating the killing of pre-born children and gender-mutilation under the guise of ‘feelings’? A cultural evil. Relegating God and discipline out of public schools, so violence and godlessness is on the rise? A culture of death. Culture is all at fault, yes? Wrong. Here’s the deal. Culture isn’t the enemy, SATAN IS. And so are we, when we let Satan infiltrate our hearts and minds, allowing him to direct our thoughts, words, and deeds.

In today’s readings, Solomon asks for wisdom, Paul reminds us that our purpose is to spread the Good News, and Jesus reminds us that life isn’t about the here-and-now, it’s about the hereafter. When we let Satan dictate our actions and give in to all our self-gratification base desires, we are all over this life and not the next. Hence, it’s only natural that we would celebrate this life’s accomplishments, rather than launching a soul towards heaven. Of course we skip Mass for anything else. It only follows that we forget to tame the body and nurture the soul. We’re deceiving ourselves, really, because all of us have an eternal resting place, whether we believe it or not. Culture lives and moves according to the actions of those who inhabit it. It’s only a culture of death because so many individual souls are the walking dead.

So how do we orient our souls to the Good, True, and Beautiful in order to let grace flow out into action? Prayer. #wieldtheweapon

The parable of the Sower is super popular. We can all look back on our lives and see where the ravens swooped in before the Word took root in our soul, life boulders and selfish desires prevented us from doing the work of God, or our thorny friends encouraged us to listen to Satan instead of God. It’s a no-brainer when it comes to a rock-solid column (pun intended). I’ve never been one to take the easy way out, so let’s look at this from a different perspective: St. Paul’s. We know he’s a sower, spreading the Word while traveling to Rome, Corinth, Philippi. Thessalonica, Ephesus, and the province of Galatia. We know, like all good farmers, he suffered. The acreage he inherits for his work is varied, like the farms surrounding Hastings; soils vary in the ability to nurture new life. When Paul sets foot on new ground, he gets the lay of the land in order to decide how to sow the Word. He spends time with the people, working alongside them, sitting next to them in synagogue, and getting to know how they are grounded in faith. Are they too acidic? Too peaty? Too chalky? Do they look loamy, but in reality, sand (sin) and clay (habit) lurk just below the surface? Then he begins sowing.

How would Paul be received here at St. Elizabeth’s? Similar to Paphos where they tied him to a pillar and whipped for preaching a new moral life in Jesus? Or at Derbe where they stoned and dragged him out of the city leaving him for dead? Or maybe at Philippi where the crowds incited a riot, stripping and beating Paul and Silas, “severely flogged” and thrown in prison? What would we do to a Sower of the Word? We also must ask then… what is your relationship to the ultimate Sower, Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior? How would he view your soul-field? What measure and yield would he imagine it produces? How might you make your soul-soil loamy and rich so that it bears much fruit? #lifelessons

“True freedom is not advanced in the permissive society, which confuses freedom with license to do anything whatever and which the name of freedom proclaims a kind of general amorality,” wrote St. John Paull II in a little-read but very worthwhile Apostolic message he proclaimed to the world to kick off the new year. Jesus’ teachings to his disciples and Paul’s letter to the good people of Rome in our readings today surely must have been swirling around in the back of his mind. Jesus is preparing his disciples for mission here in these few chapters of Matthew’s gospel and Paul in encouraging the new converts in the Eternal City to keep fast to the moral life. It’s a difficult situation in both cases as cultural norms preach the wrong meaning of freedom. JPII goes on to say, “It is a caricature of freedom to claim that people are free to organize their lives with no reference to moral values, and to say that society foes not have to ensure the protection and advancement of ethical values. Such an attitude is destructive of freedom and peace.” Amen, my brothers and sisters in Christ. Amen.

This is also a backdrop to Jesus’ seemingly harsh words directed at his disciples. He’s sending his young followers out into the world to relay his words, heal the infirm, and expel the demons who seek the ruination of souls. They feel slightly unequipped, and, believe it or not, these are words of encouragement to them for they’ve already left their families to follow Jesus and are carrying some pretty heavy crosses. Once sent on mission to proclaim that a life with Jesus is exponentially better than a life without Him, it’s going to get tougher, for dying to self is painful. Sacrifice can hurt. Paul knows that too; he’s constantly in trouble for ‘preaching Jesus’ and the moral way of life. Jesus and Paul didn’t undergo suffering just to gain some sort of reputation, but to save souls and encourage people live an abundant life of joy wrapped in a mantle of peace. That’s authentic freedom. #happyFreedomDay

We’re a nation in a fatherhood crisis and St. Paul gives us an insight as to why: “Only with difficulty does one die for a just person, though perhaps for a good person one might even find the courage to die.” The crisis here is that men are sometimes unwilling to die to cultural temptations and professional ambitions to engage and embrace the role that is called fatherhood. And yet, it’s THE most important thing men can do in this world. Need some inspiration?

Lost your job and have a SAHD role? Look into Blessed Charles of Austria. As the last Emperor of Austria - who ended up on the losing side of a war and exiled - Charles and his wife Zita had eight children. He called his loss of the throne “a treasure” as he was able to spend time with his family.

Carrying the weight of single fatherhood? Check out St. Louis Martin, who raised five daughters – the youngest who was 4 - after his wife died of breast cancer. He also buried two toddler sons and three infant daughters before Zelie died. Despite his many losses, his youngest daughter, Thérèse, called him the perfect father.

Taking on fatherhood as a blended family? Google St. Thomas More. Yes, he was executed by Henry VIII defending marriage, but more importantly, he was a loving and supportive father to his own four children and stepfather to his second wife’s daughter. His children recall that he was an affectionate father who gave his daughters the same education as their brothers.

Want to be a father, but it’s not possible? Look to Isidore the Farmer. He and Marie finally had one son who died a young boy. Despite infertility and tragedy, Isidore was known for his joyous attitude, hard labor in the growing fields, and work for the poor.

If spiritual fatherhood is your gig, read up on St. John Paul II, a spiritual father to us all. And Jesus too.

If you are a regular dude just praising God, working away, loving on your wife, and raising some kids, I have amazing news for you: God is most present in the humdrum of life. #saintsinthemaking

Moses had Aaron, Miriam, and Joshua. Paul had Barnabas, Silas and Timothy. Jesus had Peter, James, and John.

What is it about the bonds of friendship? About surrounding yourself with friends who want you to be all that the Lord created you to be? About talking through your struggles and joys in the faith? About praying together? Moses often talked with Aaron and Miriam, always pushing forward in faith despite their “stiff-necked people.” Paul began his journey with Barnabas and then recruited Silas and Timothy to help him in Corinth. Of the twelve, Jesus chose Peter, James, and John to be in his inner friendship circle, revealing to them what he withheld from the others.

Friendship is vital to the success of a mission and to walk the Christian life. We need support and excitement to change a culture for Jesus and the Church. We need a posse of people, both on this earth and in heaven (the saints) to bring about the Kingdom of God to hold us accountable for practicing what we preach. When Paul says, “Rejoice! Mend your ways, encourage one another, agree with one another, and live in peace,” he also speaks of the fellowship of the Holy Spirit, because he knows we can’t walk a faith journey alone. God the Father had his Son and the Holy Spirit – in perfect friendship – to just be.
There is power in friendship and prayer. Power to lead the Israelites to the Promised land and create a new country where worshipping God is first and foremost. Power to infiltrate the Roman Empire and create Christendom where loving on Jesus and treating your neighbor as yourself is the rule of the day. Power to take twelve men of no repute and change the trajectory of the world.

Today we celebrate the Most Holy Trinity, three persons in one God, which is Perfect Friendship. Who are you walking alongside and praying with? Who is in your friendship posse? Are they supporting you in your faith walk and prayer life? Are they encouraging and lifting you up in prayer?
#findyourtribe

I want to take a look at the process that led to the ‘hope’ and ‘glory’ of the Ascension this week, and ponder suffering for a minute. The early disciples, who spent their lives building up the kingdom of God whatever their state/profession in life was, still suffered despite the Easter promise. The question posed to Jesus about the time of his return had a hint of desperation about it. “When, Lord, will you return?” they wanted to know, because a Christian life was difficult and treacherous, and persecution-unto-death was expected.

We too sometimes have a hint of desperation abut us. As authentic disciples, our truth is maligned and twisted in the media, we are hurt by choice words from our fallen-away children, chastised by the banal words of those in power, and ostracized from certain social circles. It hurts. Especially when the pain comes from those we love the most.

There are also physical pains of desperation. Ones of growing older, like arthritis, Parkinson’s, or dementia. Or the sudden suffering of migraines or cancer, no matter what our age. Suffering cares not a whit for age or infirmity.

Loving on Jesus - knowing that we will be with him again, doing the work of making more disciples as he asks us to do - does not mean we won’t suffer. It means we can use suffering to our advantage. It’s not senseless, you know. Suffering has merit. We can offer it up for souls in purgatory. We can use it for our own sanctification. It’s a reminder to be grateful when we’re not in pain. We can wield it as a witness to Jesus.

But most of all, we can let Jesus into our suffering. We can allow him to transform it to be a shining witness to the faith for all to see. Like the early Christians. They knew in their hearts that heaven was real and held no suffering, just Love. Peace. Friendship. Jesus. They held on to the hope that life is fleeting and suffering is transient, so they were joyful disciples amidst their drama and trauma. Something we can learn from them. #transcendsuffering

I wonder which gifts/charisms that Stephen, Philip and their five companions brought to the early church, and why The Twelve chose them to “wait on tables” for the widows. The early church had a two-fold reason for caring for these women: (a) Jesus asked them to, and (2) Timothy tells us that widows often served the church faithfully (1 Timothy 5:10) and most of them needed their own TLC in order to serve. Waiting on tables doesn’t concern the actual serving of food and cleaning of tables, it speaks of handling the practical administration of the financial and practical details. Remember when Jesus overturned the tables in the Temple courtyard? A ‘table’ at that time meant a place where a money changer did his collecting or exchanging of money. For these seven men, their new role would be to manage/administer the care of widows. It was such an important ministry that Luke felt it important to include in his account of a growing church.

Remember, Christianity is born out of Judaism… the care of widows and orphans was an important part of Jewish life, and it was up to the Temple authorities to organize the distribution of food to these women. Now, because of the division between the followers of Jesus and those who rejected Him, a new process of care for Jesus-loving widows in the “Christ-following” sector need arise.

The Hellenists are Greek-speaking Jews. The Hebrews are Hebrew-speaking Jews. Both groups follow Jesus. This is an internal issue in a growing and vibrant church. Someone needs to step up and solve it. Which leads me back to my original question: I wonder what gifts these men brought to the table (pun intended) in that they were called to take on this new and necessary role? A charism of Administration? Counsel? Helps?

These are some of the same charisms that the Lord bestowed on us in baptism, strengthened at Confirmation. Charisms are fruitful for both the giver and the receiver only when building up the Kingdom. What charisms are on your table and how might you use them? #tablegifts

The Road to Emmaus. This real-life Jesus story is my all-time favorite, as it has all of my feel-good triggers: mystery, Jesus, conversation, dinner, and a sadness-turned-to-joy can-you-believe-it ending. It simply doesn’t get any better than this. And the small sometimes-unnoticed details, which make it worth the telling. You see, Cleopas and his companion, disciples of Jesus, had been with him for some time. Long enough that they were among the hunted by the authorities; they’re creating some distance between them and the chaos of the cross, and heading underground… or at least out of the reach of the religious law. These two are conversing and debating along the way, and although we don’t know what exactly they are saying, it probably has something to do with the events of the past and how it now dictates their future. Just like all of us who deal with bad news and catastrophic events that we don’t understand.

You see, they saw, heard, and felt it all. These two witnessed the crucifixion from a distance and knew where Jesus was buried. They were with “the group” when Mary Magdalene and company returned in joy from the empty tomb and their encounter with the Risen Lord. They went to look for themselves and found things just as the women had described, but no Jesus. And then? Nervous, scared, and incredulous, they walked. Unable to absorb the testimony of the women and trust in the process, they walked away from Jesus. And all his promises. Just like all of us who cannot fathom why bad things happen to good people and the shock of a new reality.

Thankfully, Jesus didn’t give up them, just like he doesn’t give up on us. We might not see him clearly in our daily dramas, but He sees our tears and frustrations. He’s listening in the midst of our conversation with friends. He is absolutely present - body, blood, soul, and divinity – in the Eucharist. He dispenses mercy in confession, and soul-soothing grace for the journey. Don’t walk away from that. Lean in. Take part in our mission tonight. #adventureswithBart

When I was a wee whisp of a girl, I owned a pair of Cher-inspired bell bottom jeans. Sitting low on the hips and wide at the bottom, with a couple of peace-sign appliqués, they were my favorite. I wore them everywhere and begged my Mom to wash them while I was sleeping so that they were available each morning. It was the late 60’s and early 70’s, you see, and bell bottoms were “it” and Cher was my “It Girl.” I wore my hair long and straight, flashed peace signs at friends, and memorized the lyrics to “I Got You Babe.” I looked absolutely nothing like Cher physically, but wanted to get as close as possible to her look-and-feel. I was “Cher-struck,” as it were.

As an adult, I still do the same thing. We all do, but we call this person something different: a mentor. Corporations spend a good chunk of change pairing new hires with wisened long-timers in order to form young recruits to their corporate culture. Simon Sinek, the current leadership-in-the-workplace influencer for young adults, believes everyone has a mentor, knowingly or not… for good or for not. Someone you follow because you believe what he/she believes. Someone whose habits you adopt because he/she shares your vision for the world. Someone you have a heart for because he/she shares the same “why” you do-what-you-do.

For all of us sitting in the pews this Easter morning, that person is Jesus Christ. Yes? It’s a #pondering and #invitation question for you, an Easter gift. How do you resemble Jesus? How often do you seek him for advice? Do you read his words for inspiration and direction? Do you let his joy and peace animate your day?

Are you tired and weary of the darkness in this world? Saddened by the violence? Shocked by depth of hatred? The casting aside of human dignity? Yes? Want to be immersed in true happiness, authentic love, abundant friendship, and strength-for-your-storms? Attend our Bart Schuchts event or look at our Adult Formation webpage for anything that piques your interest. Come and see. #chooseJesusasyourmentor

While on pilgrimage in Jerusalem, I stood inside the tomb of Lazarus. Dark, damp, and calm, it represented a time of “waiting in mystery.” That was our theme for the trip; our gathering sessions each evening reflected things historically discovered and mysteriously uncovered in the heart. Each soul had an individual story, a different reaction, and distinct insight to standing inside Lazarus’ tomb, for that is how the Lord works in our lives, tailoring revelation to each unique and beloved creation of His. The Lord meets us where we are… only to draw us deeper into the mystery of a new path with Him. That is why our Lents look so different and our small group conversations so varied. And yet we learn from each other’s experiences, which makes our Lenten journey so beautiful and transformative. We’re approaching the end of our self-inflicted sacrifices, as next week we’ll open with Palm Sunday and Jesus’ crucifixion, then enter into the mysteries of the Triduum (Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday). Like Lazarus awaiting his call to depart the grave, we too now await the Spirit of the Lord to call our names. Listening to the promise of Ezekiel, we wait for the Lord to put his spirit within us so that we may live authentic lives of discipleship. Hearing the words of the Apostle Paul, we too desire to be alive in the spirit. And like Lazarus, we too want to be free of our darkness and joyfully enter into a new life with Jesus the Christ, the Lord of all. There is still time to prepare, still time to die-to-self, still time to consider how you want to wait for your resurrection day. What gifts do you want to share, which virtues do you want to practice, and what legacy do you want to leave behind? For the Lord will call us each by name from the darkness of our hand-hewn tombs one day. Like Lazarus, who didn’t know when the Lord would call his name, wait patiently this week in the calm of darkness and the quiet of mystery.

Our readings thus far in Lent have been ones of relational intimacy and transformation. Ash Wednesday had the Lord peering into the inner workings of our heart. The First Sunday of Lent found the soul-giving animation of man by the spirit of God, and the breaking of God’s heart through sin. We brought those two ideas with us into the Second Week with the power of friendship and its ability to transform a life, for good or for ill. And now we get an inside look at the gentleness of Jesus as he approaches the woman at the well; their encounter is a part of every retreat I lead, for we are all like this woman whose past choices weigh on the current situation, some of which may not have been our fault.

The ancient Greek philosopher, Heraclitus, once wrote, “Change is the only constant in life.” Indeed, if one is a serious student of philosophy, we say that each moment, each minute, each second - each nano-second - of life is new, as we bear each previous experience into the present one. Pretty heady thought, yes? And yet each moment of our lives is an opportunity to let the past define us… or to step into something radically different. Free will and grace make that possible.

But it’s not easy. Simple, yes. Easy, no. Moses is leading a people who yearn for the old because the new way is too difficult and unpredictable. Paul’s new Christians in Rome have only hope and the Holy Spirit to rely on, as they lose their livelihood to the authorities and their lives to wild animals. The Gospel recounts the initial difficulty of our woman at the well, whose life is defined by the religious constructs and social connivances of her past. It’s a very intimate encounter; Jesus and she alone at the well, identities revealed and souls laid bare. What does Jesus see deep within in your soul? What wounds does Jesus seeks to heal in your life? What relationship does Jesus want to have with you? How deep are you willing to go? #constantchange

Driving northward after Mass last weekend, I noticed that sections of the fence between the north- and south-bound lanes of Hwy 61 are in grave need of repair. There have been a few fatal missteps along that route this winter and it shows. Sometimes it’s folks driving too fast for conditions or distracted by the sound of their phones or not paying attention in general. Other times it’s not their fault, things *happen* and before they know it, they’re in the ditch and unable to move. Still, the fence is damaged.

That’s the gist of the readings today as we enter Lent, yes? Action and consequence, sometimes unintended. The laws are in place for our protection, but we – okay, at least yours truly – think that it won’t matter if I speed a bit or respond to a text or take a phone call. It’s the same in our faith journey. It won’t matter that much when I ditch my morning prayers for work, am subtly cruel in a response when I could have been kind or engage in my favorite bad habit. A few fatal missteps, as it were. No big deal, right? I hit the proverbial fence, again and again and again… and now that I got a good look at it? It’s in grave need of repair. It wasn’t always my fault, mind you, sometimes I got caught in the aftermath of someone else’s poor decision, but I didn’t handle it well and hit the fence nonetheless.

Lent is the time we look at our habits and correct our behaviors; it’s our time to repair the fence that keeps us out of oncoming traffic and certain death. Lent is a safety feature of the liturgical year, one that we shouldn’t ignore. The broken sections (choices and habits) of my life need repairing in order for me to fulfill my mission: to be a joyful disciple who makes Jesus Christ known and loved. I hope you join me over the course of the next 40 days for some “fence repair.” Our eternal lives depend on it. #hammerandnails

Fr. Mark Toups recorded a lovely homily series on walking through our “seasons of life” this past January. He said all seasons have three things in common: a definite beginning and end, a particular personality, and something the Lord wants to say to us. He also repeated a phrase that I have been pondering: “There is a difference in waiting for God and waiting WITH God.” Today’s readings are settling in alongside this phrase for me, because, frankly, the readings are pretty tough. “If you choose, you can keep the commandments and they will save you… before man are life and death, good and evil, whichever he chooses shall be given him,” writes Sirach. He’s looking at things like keeping the Lord the center of your life, worshipping God each Sunday, not using vulgarity in speech, valuing and protecting life and your marriage vows, being honest in speech and deed, and nurturing gratitude for what God has already bestowed and blessed you with. There are only 10 commandments, but they wholistically define the Christian life. We get to choose to follow them or not (free will), but our choices will define what-happens-now and what-comes-next. Sirach adds that God sees the heart in every deed and he does not give us license to sin. In other words, there’s no rationalizing our sin. When you stand before the Lord on judgement day, “everyone else was believing/doing it” won’t cut it. Yes, God dispenses mercy, but God also wields justice for the unborn, the elderly, the vulnerable, and the sacrament of marriage (Happy Valentine’s Day!). Jesus then cuts to the heart: make peace with your family and colleagues, be chaste in your thoughts, and no manipulating or changing the laws of God. WHEW! I don’t know about you, but I need friends to help me live out these words of Jesus. We’re quickly approaching the season of Lent. It has a beginning and an end (Feb. 22 – April 6), a repentant personality, and the Lord definitely has something to say to us. We’re asking you to join an online or in-person group or grab some friends and DIY using resources we provide. #embraceCHANGE

January 28 is the feast day of St. Thomas Aquinas, one of the most brilliant minds in all of history. It was also the birthday of my mentor, Dr. Don Briel, co-founder of the Center for Catholic Studies at the University of St. Thomas. Briel’s life-work was the integration of faith and reason, much like Aquinas. Both men now occupy the heavenly realm and I imagine, if rational conversation can occur where union with God is possible, the two of them debating various premises and conclusions in theological arguments. It’s also likely that St. John Henry Newman makes it an intellectual trifecta. Newman’s life work was as an apologist for Catholicism, but his true heart lay in explaining the purpose of higher education. For Newman, channeling Aquinas, the sole purpose of education is to teach men and women how to think, how to spot a flaw in a premise or a philosophical error in a conclusion. For if you teach a man to think, then you keep him from chasing after every whim and fancy of thought presented by the masses and falling into heresy, or worse, habitual sin. Faith and education are a union, a union with a profound ability to elevate culture. “A person with a well-trained intellect is a useful person, socially and in every other way,“ he writes. “Such persons raise the intellectual tone of society, cultivate taste, public spiritedness, give enlargement and sobriety to the ideas of an age, and refine private life.” A young person who receives an education focusing on growth in virtue, service, and intellectual training is able to change not only the course of his life, but the very fabric of society. Our patron saint, Elizabeth Ann Seton, also knew the gravity and power of the Catholic faith and education, devoting most of her life to the intellectual and spiritual formation of children. She taught Zephaniah’s urging to observe the law of God, seek justice, and practice humility. She sang today’s psalm of the poor in spirit. She believed Paul’s words that God chose the weak to shame the strong. And above all, she lived out Jesus’ Beatitudes, modeling them for her students. #Catholicschoolsforthewin

I’ve always loved to write letters. Perhaps that’s why I love St. Paul. He writes to the early Christian communities in the cities of Rome, Colossae, Thessalonica, Corinth, and one to the general province of Galatia. In every instance, his letters are in response to the general messiness and particular issues of a Church struggling against an openly hostile culture, a culture where speaking the Truth brings immediate retribution and retaliation. Hmmm. Sound familiar? Monsignor James Shea, president of the University of Mary (Bismarck) wrote a little book titled, “From Christendom to Apostolic Mission” that took the evangelical Catholic subculture by storm. Msgr, Shea details the signs and reasons why we are no longer living in a world called Christendom, and why evangelization and the passing on of the faith must look and feel like it did in the early Church led by the apostles. Which leads me back to Paul, an apostle himself. I often say, “If you want to see what the early church looked like, read the letters of Paul, since they were written before the four Gospels and are honest portrayals of Christian life.” They argued over worship practices, neglected the poor, and were imperfect in moral rectitude. Following Jesus and doing the will of God can be messy. Also familiar? To cap off our three-year Synod, Archbishop Hebda just wrote us a letter – you and me – on where the Church is going in the next few years. The first year’s focus is quite similar to the work we’ve already been doing here: launching small group ministries! You see, we’ve long recognized that we now live in an apostolic age, a time and space where the name and message of Jesus needs to be joyfully spread, a-few-people-at-a-time in small cozy spaces where people gather in friendship and conversation. That’s where new (or returning) followers of Jesus will be found, not here in Mass. Paul exhorts the people of Corinth to spread the Good News - that a life with Jesus is a beautiful adventure - in their own friendship circles. Archbishop Hebda, Fr. Dave, and Deacon Rod ask you to do the same. #whowillyoutell?

As a convert, I never really appreciated Our Lady. I understood the whole “perpetual virginity” thing. As a young woman bearing and birthing children of my own, I could see how conception by the power of the Holy Spirit, an uncomplicated pregnancy, a dramatic birth, and the amazing events that soon followed, would leave a girl who spent a lot of time reflecting in her heart to shy away from something as benign as physical intimacy with a man. When I returned to school to study Hebrew and Greek as an older adult, I learned that this Greek word, adelphoi, translated as brothers was used to indicated kinsman or covenantal brothers and sisters in Christ (see Acts 1:14). Totally made sense to me. But her depiction in art was always so… unrealistic.

But here we are today, celebrating the strong and courageous woman that National Geographic calls, “The Most Powerful Woman in the World,” (Dec. 2015). The official title of the day is “Solemnity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Mother of God,” which is quite a title, though I admit partiality to NatGeo’s, because she is the most powerful woman in the world. Who else would appear throughout time and within physical space, leaving love notes to us all, reminding us that Someone loves us? Who else could put Band-Aids on the world’s scrapes, applying the balm of peace with a kiss of compassion, preparing the wound for the grace of healing by her Son? Who else might see the approaching consequences of our thinking-only-of-ourselves actions and intercede on our behalf to One who has the ability to change the course of history? Yep, that would be Our Lady, whom, I imagine, has been underappreciated by more than a few folks since the day of her conception, and who really doesn’t mind the slight. She just keeps doing-what-she-does, continually converting hearts and saving souls for Jesus, maybe even invoking the prayer of her childhood: May the Lord bless you and keep you, May the Lord let his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you. #theworkofamotherisneverdone

My Dad has been in a Memory Care facility in Iowa since the end of October. He was admitted out of necessity, during a period of mental fatigue and physical distress on the part of my Mom. It was a surprise to me, since I was otherwise preoccupied with the business of death and new life during those weeks and wasn’t attentive to the quickly deteriorating situation of my parents. I thought we were following “the plan” we’d made in September, which was to bring my Dad to a facility near my home; that deposit was sent, the room reserved, and we were simply awaiting a move-in date. Alas. A sudden sickness here, an emotional whirlwind there, and before I knew it, my brother called to say he was on his way to the Iowa facility with my Dad. This wasn’t the plan at all. I was afraid. I imagine Ahaz and Joseph from the readings today felt the same way. Ahaz knows his forces should go up against their well-armed enemies in the Syro-Ephraimite war but is afraid of the outcome, so he won’t ask God for a sign. Joseph knows he should still take Mary as his wife, but is afraid of the future and neglects to ask God for a sign. Instead, both Ahaz and Joseph make naturally human decisions in the midst of chaos and desperation. I get them. I really do.Yet the Lord has a way of bring supernatural peace, hope, and calm into chaos, despite our fear of the future. Twice this month I’ve said to friends whose blown-up life plans came to surprisingly happy ends, “God writes straight with crooked lines,” and it’s true. In the midst of our self-inflicted and naturally-human decisions, God intervenes to make the right things happen. Ahaz and his forces win the war, and Joseph and Mary birth our Salvation. There is so. much. JOY. in each unpredicted outcome. And relief, hope, and peace. For me too. The Lord has intervened in my drama and I have renewed hope for bringing my Dad here to MN. #crookedlines 

Our Archbishop is thinking like John the Baptist in the reading today, preparing a way and making straight our path for the future of our Church. I imagine if he were trained as an actor instead of a Churchman, the news might have been delivered from the steps of the Cathedral in full regalia with fire and brimstone and no small amount of enthusiasm, rewriting the words of John: "Listen up people! Hasn’t anyone warned you to flee from the wrath that will surely come in a culture without faith? Let us now produce good fruit as evidence of our repentance and spread Catholicism throughout our Archdiocese!”

Instead, we have a very well-written and beautiful letter that sets our feet upon a three-year path, setting us up for success far into the future. This first year, our Good Shepherd would like everyone to surround themselves with a group of friends who will either (a) serve the poor, (b) grow in faith while evangelizing others, or (c) pray for our ongoing conversion. The second year we’ll focus on the stunning beauty of the Mass, experiencing the completeness of grace that the Jesus has to offer, fully present, body, blood, soul, and divinity in the Eucharist. Lastly, we’ll hone in on parent formation, encouraging parents to pass the faith joyfully along to their kids. To prepare for this last initiative, the Archbishop has moved the ”Office of Youth and Young Adults” out from under the auspices of “Marriage and Family Life,” so that there will be a dedicated staff focusing on the future of our church. Like John the Baptist, we are pointing to Jesus, our Lord and Savior. Like Paul, we’ll welcome newcomers with enthusiasm, showing them the joy of the faith that has been passed along to us. Like the prophecy of Isaiah, the Holy Spirit will rest upon us, giving us wisdom, understanding, counsel, strength, knowledge, and a healthy trepidation of the exciting years to come. On that day, we will be a signal for the nations, all will seek us out, and “his dwelling shall be glorious.”

There’s a foreign film that I rarely watch because of its violent and dark nature. Titled “Pan’s Labyrinth,” the majority of the film is color-bathed in dreariness, immersed in cruelty, and resplendent with violence. I’m compelled to look away from the screen and cover my ears many, many times. And yet. I’m thinking about that film this week, as we’ve left the beauty of autumn and stepped into a temporary starkness of the natural world. It’s awash in the grey-scale colors of politics and war too. Sigh. But the warmth, joy, and brightness of Advent and Christmas are just around the corner, we only need to wait out the season! You see, although the vast majority of “Pan’s Labyrinth” depicts the bleakness of war and human depravity, it suddenly ends with a stunning barrage of kaleidoscope color in stained glass and glory as the young heroine suffers a sacrificial death… then enters the regal courtyard of the-world-beyond. She stands before the radiant thrones of the King and Queen, reclaiming her long-forgotten identity as daughter of the King. I cry at this scene every single time. Partly because there is such astounding light and Love reflected in the cinematography after 90 minutes of sheer darkness. But more importantly, it’s because I’ve also forgotten this fact: I am the daughter of the King of the Universe, the One who knew me before I was born. The One who gave me life and purpose. The One who loves beyond all telling. I. Am. His. Beloved. Daughter. What awaits us after our long dark-and-dreary season on earth is brighter and more beautiful than words can describe. As we close out the liturgical year it is good to pause for a moment to reflect on our true identity. We are not merely sojourners in this battle-colored world, we are beloved sons and daughters of the King of the Universe. So despite the ugliness of this present time, our role is to advance the mission of the King by bringing Goodness, Truth, and Beauty to a dark world in desperate need. #rememberyourmission

When Jesus says, “Zacchaeus, come down quickly, for today I must stay at your house,” Zacchaeus jumps down out of the tree and receives Jesus with great joy. And off the two of them go, heads and hearts together in conversation for conversion, naysayers and grumblers notwithstanding. Notice that Jesus doesn’t take Zacchaeus to the synagogue. Jesus wants to be in Zacchaeus’ home, an intimate space where talk flows naturally over bread and wine. Jesus wants our hearts, souls, and minds, and not just on Sunday mornings. He wants to be in our homes and a part of our daily lives too, not just someOne we turn to when we need a little advice or a solution to a problem. As Jesus entered Zacchaeus’ home, do you think Jesus knew that Zacchaeus was a Jewish man? Did he have a mezuzah on his doorpost as a symbol to all those who enter that a Jewish faith resides within, and that his home was a holy place where all should act accordingly in all the comings-and-goings-on? Was his menorah strategically placed, so he and his visitors would remember that God can do miracles in their lives? And his candlesticks for shabbat, were they worn down from weekly Friday prayer? So… what does the inside of your home look like? We say that the home is the “domestic church.” If Jesus met you along Vermillion Street and said, “Today I must stay at your house,” would He see evidence of your Catholic faith as he crossed the doorstep? What about our spiritual home here at St. Elizabeth’s? The Benedictine tradition is to serve Jesus and honor God in your neighbor during the week and to worship the Lord on Sunday; we sometimes lose sight of the latter while adhering to the former. Where are our faith visuals? Can you point to our ancestors, the Apostles, who have gone before us? Does the Mother of God have prominence? Does our space reflect the holiness and heavenly-ness of the spiritual realm? Does it remind us that the Mass is where heaven-meets-earth? Does Divine Beauty have a home here? #ponderingsacredspaces

In all these things that swirl together into my-life-at-the-moment, there’s a small still voice that whispers, “Are you doing God’s will?” I wonder if Moses, Joshua, Aaron, and Hur question if they are doing God’s will. Amalek has come prepared for battle against the Israelites and, frankly, the war is touch-and-go. As long as Moses’ hands are raised in a your-will-be-done position of thanksgiving and glory, all goes well. But when he wearies of the task and lowers his arms… not so much. Did they ever think, amid the chaotic tug-of-war, “Is winning this battle God’s will for us?”

Then we have St. Paul writing to his new pastor Timothy. Did you catch the [realities] underneath all of his lovely advice? “Remain faithful” [you’ll be persecuted], “Scripture is useful for teaching, for refutation, for correction, and for training” [your people will need correcting], “be persistent whether convenient or inconvenient” [your people won’t pay attention], and “convince, reprimand, encourage through all patience and teaching” [it’s a long haul]. Will Timothy wonder in those moments of pastoral frustration, “Is this profession God’s will for me?” Even our persistent widow, who is turned down again-and-again-and-again by the judge, do you think she ever asked herself, “Is this judgement God’s will for me?”

In all of the above, the answer is a resounding YES. Just because it’s difficult, inconvenient, weary-ing, or downright life-altering, doesn’t mean it’s not God’s will or that you are on the wrong path. Sometimes there are setbacks, tensions, and wrong turns on God’s meandering pathway toward the creation of heaven-on-earth.

We’ve been traveling on a spiritual journey of forming joyful disciples who make Jesus Christ known and loved and envisioning a vibrant community where we radiate Christ’s hope and love to all we encounter, inside and outside of our sacred space here at St. Elizabeth’s. Like Moses, we might grow weary. Like Timothy, we might need a few refutations and corrections to make in our spiritual practice and theological thought. Like the widow, we might require a supernatural dose of perseverance. Let’s embrace the difficulties. Honor the chaos. Champion the change. #letgoandletGod

I’m not a huge fan of driving. Don’t get me wrong, I love fast cars, especially the European models, and in particular the Aston Martin DB9 Bond version. As a personal practice however, I prefer to walk over drive, even to the grocers. A few weeks back my Aldi store closed for renovation, and I am now forced to walk a wee bit further along a fairly busy and visible major road for my quick grocery run. With the drop in temps, there is now layering to consider. This past weekend, as I’m looking at my hoodie sweatshirt options, my thoughts went something like this: “‘UMary’? Too light. ‘Yellowstone’? Too heavy. ‘The Chosen’? Wrong colors. ‘St. Benedict image’? Too Catholic. Someone might flip me off or pull over. ‘Choose Joy? Maybe.” WAIT. BACK UP. Say what? Too Catholic? I couldn’t believe that thought walked into my head and took up residence. An evangelist afraid to wear a substantially Catholic hoodie out in public? Whew. Fire me now, Fr, Dave. I’m fairly certain St. Paul rolled his eyes too, then smiled, knowing his letter to Timothy would come up in the reading this week: “Stir into flame the gift of God… for God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather of power and love and self-control. So do not be ashamed of your testimony to Our Lord... but bear the hardship for the Gospel with the strength that comes from God.” I imagine I am not the only person here who is a reluctant to share the faith in a public setting, whether it be a saint quote in your professional office, a Mary statue in your front yard, or – gasp – praying with a friend at Froth&Cork. But if we are a mission church full of disciples, sharing the faith outside the confines of this sacred space is as important at worshipping our Lord at Mass. This week, take the risk. Witness to the faith off-campus. Talk about Jesus in public spaces. Pray to the Holy Spirit and start small like the mustard seed. #wearthehoodie

What is justice? To not promote the death penalty when a person is convicted of murder? To protect the pre-born when that innocent soul will enter a world fraught with neglect? To keep marriage between a man and a woman as the sacred bond when two people of the same gender adore each other? To house and feed a migrant from another country when others are equally as needy? To forgive others when they caused long lasting pain and incredible heartache in our lives? Is that justice? Or is it dishonest to the quid-pro-quo world of action-and-consequence? These are the questions asked of those who do not understand that Jesus’ way is not the way of the world.

To be a disciple of Jesus is to love him above all else and therefore to follow his teachings and his way of life. To be a disciple is to love poverty, practice chastity, promote justice, and be bound by obedience to the Gospel in our daily lives. It is to be kind, gentle, and grace-filled when responding to queries and criticism. It means to treat all souls with respect and dignity, regardless of their actions or attitude. To be a disciple means to treat others as Jesus has treated us. I don’t know about you, but Jesus has definitely been a dishonest steward with me, as he forgave my indolence, my self-righteousness, my many sins, and my past regrets… when he demanded the full account of my stewardship, as it were. Then he refused to serve me worldly justice and obeyed the will of his heavenly Father, showing me with mercy instead. And in return, I am filled with such joy and gratitude for my redemption that I am who I am today, a joyful disciple who wants to make Jesus Christ known and loved. And yet, I am also still a sinner in need of continual redemption. As Paul’s words to Timothy’s new church reflect, and as much as I try, I often fail to lead a tranquil life in all devotion and dignity. And Jesus begins with me anew. #Jesusjustice

On one of my trips to Iowa I listened to a cultural podcast titled, “We Can Do Hard Things.” While I disagree with most of the content, I find the philosophy captivating: “We talk honestly about the hard. We laugh and cry and help each other carry the hard so we can all live a little bit lighter and braver, free-er, less alone.” That’s the Gospel message, right? The Wisdom writer tells us that life is indeed hard since “the corruptible body burdens the soul and the earthen shelter weighs down the mind that has many concerns.” Paul’s life was just like that. In this letter to the slave-owner Philemon, he writes that in his old age, he is a prisoner for Christ Jesus, awaiting certain death for his beliefs. He’s asking Philemon to treat the new-convert Onesimus not as the slave he once was, but as a brother in Christ. All three of these are hard things: Paul contemplates his death, Onesimus his potential re-entry into slavery, and Philemon his reputation as a Christian verses a slave-owner. And then Jesus’ words about hating others, carrying our crosses, and renouncing all our possessions. Add to that mix the entirety of the Church’s moral teachings, the works of mercy we should be doing, and loving our neighbor as ourselves. And here, as we move from ‘maintaining the status quo’ to a new ‘way of living’ of falling in love with Jesus, being on fire for the faith, then inviting everyone to share our joy and our enthusiasm (our mission). Whew. Talk about hard things. But we can do hard things. With an open heart for the Holy Spirit, the grace of our Lord Jesus, and the strength of Our Heavenly Father, we can be joy-filled people who act like followers of Jesus (disciples), spreading his message of love and hope, creating a vibrant community (our vision). One that radiates Goodness, Truth, and Beauty in all we do and how we worship. One that others will take note of and want to be a part of. But it requires a tough choice that might reflect today’s Gospel, yes? #willyouorwontyou