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The Face of Truth

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Truth, noun, the property (as of a statement) of being in accord with fact or reality.

Here we have a nice, neat, clinical definition of Truth. Something based in fact or reality. I’ve lived a fairly long time. I’ve seen the “truth” of things change over the years. Facts that once were a given as actually true are now skewed by the changing norms of society, especially special interest groups. Things taught to us as truth by the Church, are today under attack as archaic and obsolete. I believe I need not have to go into a detailed list of what we hear each day, in our relationships, on the news or in TV shows and movies. Society has moved away from seeking the truth of things in the most authoritative of places, and instead, are formulating for itself what the truth is, by listening to today’s false prophets. As Christians, it is a tough world to live in. Lent, especially, brings us back to this reality, as each year we dedicate 40 days to renewing our faith and returning to God.

So, what do we do? Where do we turn? How does the truth, as taught to us by Jesus Christ, again become a timely reality in our lives? How indeed? Well, we look squarely into the Face of Truth, Jesus, and start slowly whittling away at that which erodes our faith in all he teaches.

All of this comes from one of the great lines of today’s Gospel, which many of us quote:  “If you remain in my word, you will truly be my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” And I’ll bet each of us can pinpoint at least once in our lives when we adhered to the truth and realized how much freedom we can experience, in mind, heart and spirit. I recall when I was newly divorced, in my early 30’s, and living by the adage given most women in the 70s and 80s, “you can have it all.” I tried that for a bit. I was miserable. Relationships either fell apart or were destructive. My work and all else I did suffered because I was a slave to the “sin” of wanting to have it all, now, when and how I wanted it. I did not, in any way, rely on the good timing and good things God had in mind for me. After all, what did God know? As it turns out – everything.

The turning point for me was when I took the position of secretary/bookkeeper at the Basilica of St. Adalbert here in Grand Rapids. We had a priest in residence who was, at that time, the hospital chaplain for the Diocese—Fr. Donn Tufts. Father has since passed away. During that time at the parish, he would, every Monday morning, bring the coffee pot into my office and we’d sit for a couple of hours in deep conversation. We talked of the times, the news, personal fears as well as joys. Fr. Donn often would say things to me that nearly knocked me off my chair. He had a way of taking my troubles and pointing back to Christ, gently, yet firmly. I remember saying to him once: “Oh, %*$#%, now I have to think about this!” He would laugh. After he left to become a pastor, we continued monthly lunch meetings with great conversation, and the celebration of Reconciliation while sitting in his living room. I honestly have to say that Fr. Donn turned my life around. Not that I still don’t have much work to do, but I am farther along now than I ever thought I would be. Fr. Donn showed me the Truth and how to see it in the Face of Jesus. I often wonder if Pontius Pilot, who looked squarely into the Face of Truth, ever changed after the encounter.

I tell you all this to remind you that the Truth of Jesus Christ and his teachings are ever relevant, no matter the times. Whenever hearts are open to listening, they are changed, and lives are changed. And that Truth will truly set you free to be who you were intended, by God, to be. It comes to you sometimes with hardship and struggle, but it will come. Freedom will come. The world can swirl all around in its craziness, but you will be free.

I’ll leave you with the words Fr. Donn always said to me when we parted: “Strength and endurance!” I wish each and every one of you as you journey this Lent, “strength and endurance.”

God Bless.

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Jeanne Penoyar, an Accounts Manager here at Diocesan, is currently a Lector at St. Anthony of Padua parish in Grand Rapids, MI. While at St. Thomas the Apostle, Grand Rapids, Jeanne was a Lector, Cantor, Coordinator of Special Liturgies, Coordinator of lectors and, at one time, chair of the Liturgy Commission. In a past life, secretary/bookkeeper at the Basilica of St. Adalbert where she ran the RCIA program for the Steepletown parishes. And she loves to write! When relaxing, she likes reading and word puzzles. You can contact her at jpenoyar@diocesan.com.

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Be Strong and Vulnerable

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This past week, I received some emails from readers that thanked me for sharing with y’all. I thanked them kindly and kind of brushed it off at first, but as I got a couple more, I realized just how powerful sharing our own stories can be. It’s one thing to read about something in a book that was written thousands of years ago, and something entirely different to hear your friends, your colleagues, your children, share their little miracle. Still, as powerful as our own stories can be, we can be reluctant to share them with others.

A year ago, I wrote a blog post that was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever written. I shared with you all the fact that I’ve been diagnosed with depression and anxiety, something that I had only shared with a handful of family members and friends. I ended up sharing it, knowing full well that my coworkers and family would read it after having a conversation with my friend, Susie.

I talked to Susie about my reservations. I didn’t want to be seen as “that person,” especially since I’d only been at Diocesan for a few months. I wasn’t sure I wanted my aunts and uncles to know this about me. How would my parents feel, knowing others knew? Would my siblings be ashamed of me?

Susie told me that my embarrassment and fear was just the devil’s tools to keep me down. He was playing on my pride and my anxieties, making me feel unloved and unworthy. My coworkers would understand. My aunts and uncles would be happy to hear that I’m doing better and working on it. My parents would love me and know my pains. My siblings would support me. More importantly, she reminded me of why I write for the blog: to bring people to God.

I was still nervous, but I knew that God had given me the gift of writing and the gift of being able to rest in Him. I submitted the blog post.

Once the blog post was published, I realized how true her words were. It didn’t hurt my relationships or even my ego. Just like Susie said, everyone was supportive of me. My coworkers and readers appreciate my honesty. You all either sympathize or empathize with me. My parents and siblings were proud of my strength and faith in God’s plan.

The times where I find myself the most anxious occur when I consider just being vulnerable with people. Allowing them to see your struggles and weaknesses. On my journey, I was depressed and wanted to die, and it’s hard to admit that I had even gotten there. Yet, that dark place is one that so many share, thinking that they are all alone.

It was that same dark place that gave me the opportunity to see God’s glorious light and ask how I could serve Him, rather than myself.

That’s why I share this, and all of my struggles, with you.

How is the devil keeping us down and subservient to our pride? How are we letting our ego get in the way of helping others? Is it keeping us from being honest with even our loved ones? Pray with me, for yourself and others:

Oh, heavenly Father,
You have watched us grow and know the true contents of our hearts.
Help us to resist Satan’s quiet temptations.
Remind us to experience your love and acceptance.
Guide us towards honesty and gift of self.
Lend us your strength to rise above our pride.
Grant us the peace to share your saving grace with others.
Amen.

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Veronica Alvarado is a born and raised Texan currently living in Michigan. Since graduating from Texas A&M University, Veronica has published various articles in the Catholic Diocese of Austin’s official newspaper, the Catholic Spirit, and other local publications. She now works as the Content Specialist in Diocesan’s Web Department.

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Reliable

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Tim Cooper, my 7th grade teacher, brought Harper Lee’s “To Kill A Mockingbird” to vibrant life. Atticus Finch, champion of language and virtue, dares to defend the innocent without drawing a sword. The pen is surely mightier.

I wonder if Harper Lee was inspired by today’s First Reading. In both “To Kill A Mockingbird” and the passage from Daniel, an innocent, lower class person is convicted of a crime by higher class persons. The major difference between the stories is that Daniel proves to the assembly that Susanna is innocent and the elders are guilty. He does so by questioning them separately and finding the discrepancies in their stories:

“It was under a Mastic Tree.”

“It was under an Oak Tree.”

Oops; should have rehearsed that, elders. Guilty.

In the Gospel, Jesus proves the validity of a profound statement that He says by the same courtroom law:

Jesus: “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness but will have the light of life.” 

Pharisees: “You testify on your own behalf, so your testimony cannot be verified.” 

Jesus: “Even in your law it is written that the testimony of two men can be verified. I testify on my behalf and so does the Father who sent me.”
-John 8:12-20

On a literary plane, the first reading from Daniel holds up as a satisfying story. Reincorporating the reading’s motif into the Gospel heightens the message all the more: “The Author of Truth will defend the Truth.”

Together, they are an edifying collection of stories; They’re simply good! But these short stories are not just a “fun read” or for recreation. They are accounts that verify how reliable God is.

Innocent Susanna was saved from death because she cried out to God and the Holy Spirit moved Daniel to defend her. The Son, never without the Father, stands verified against the Pharisees’ test of law.

“Confidence and nothing else is what leads us to love.”

-The Little Flower

How great ought our confidence be if we know that we are never alone? When we call on One, we call on a Reliable/Divine Community Who will support us. Continue to grow in confidence in God’s reliability. Draw deeper into the life of the Divine Community. Return to Him with your whole heart.

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During the week, Matthew Juliano works as a Direct Support Professional with individuals who have intellectual and developmental disabilities. Visit his Patreon page to learn more about his job; there you can also find more reflections on life and faith. On weekends, he travels as the drummer for Full Armor Band to play retreats and conferences.  Most importantly, Matthew is planning and preparing to wed his fiancé this July.

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Neither Do I Condemn

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The Gospel reading today is much richer than the surface understanding that Jesus was merciful. Though his mercy is certainly shown in this verse, there is something deeper going on here that speaks to the level of God’s love and reminds us of Theosis, one of the most central teachings of the Catholic Church.

Here in this verse, Jesus states clearly that he who is without sin should cast the first stone. One by one everyone leaves, knowing they have all sinned. But then Jesus says the important words, “Neither do I condemn you.”

The same words that redeem this woman condemn Jesus himself. In saying he does not condemn her, he groups himself with those who have sinned. He takes on the sin of this woman and the sin of all those around her and though he could not be more different in his perfection, he associates with the sinner. Part of the reason that God became one of us is to take on our sin in order that we might rise above it. But not just rise above it to live according to the law, rise above it to the point that we can become divine.

God’s plan for us from the beginning was to participate intimately in his very divinity. Adam and Eve were set up for this beautiful destiny, but sin got in the way. The only way to pay back a blow against an infinite being is for that being to become one of us, or as scripture says “to become sin,” in order to redeem us.

But not just to redeem us, his love is so deep that he doesn’t just want to wipe away our sin. He wants to get his original plan back on track. He wants us to participate perfectly and completely in his divinity itself. He became sin so that we might become him. Or as the Catechism puts it, “God became man so that man might become God.” Our destiny is not only that of redemption but also of divinization.

When we get to heaven we will not just go back to the garden, we will go beyond. Scripture says there will be a new heaven and a new earth, not a return to the old. That sounds pretty great to me. As we journey through the pains of repentance during this Lent, remember that Jesus himself experienced these pains, even though he was innocent. He paid it all so we might eventually experience all of him. That is cause for rejoicing even through this penitential time. From all of us here at Diocesan, God Bless!

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Tommy Shultz is a Solutions Evangelist for Diocesan. In that role, he is committed to coaching parishes and dioceses on authentic and effective Catholic communication. Tommy has a heart and a flair for inspiring people to live their faith every day. He has worked in various youth ministry, adult ministry, and diocesan roles. He has been a featured speaker at retreats and events across the country. His mission and drive have been especially inspired by St. John Paul II’s teachings. Tommy is blessed to be able to learn from the numerous parishes he visits and pass that experience on in his presentations. Contact him at tshultz@diocesan.com.

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A Generous Heart

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There are many times when I have a friend come to mind. Some friends with whom I’ve not connected in a month or years, while there are others whose latest message I’ve just read. God has placed them in my heart and mind for a reason. I am not always able to reach out and speak directly to these folks, but they are lifted up in my prayers. In many instances, after the fact, I’ve heard that there had been some challenges to navigate. Some marriage strifes, innuendos, false accusations, or illnesses (physical, emotional, mental) to name a few of the situations. Recently, I heard that my friend had reached out to others for support and to help navigate a path for truth and justice, but then was judged or ridiculed because of the situation at hand; compassion and empathy were the farthest things from those to whom they had turned, even though many of them are ‘good, Catholic people.’

Today’s readings mirror these situations. The responsorial psalm pleads, ”save me from all my pursuers and rescue me, lest I become like lion’s prey…with no one to rescue me.” It is so hard to see your way through these types of situations. It’s hard to pray and keep the faith, through and with the grace of God. As the psalm continues, “ a shield before me is God, who saves the upright of heart.”  There is promise in the verse before the Gospel as well. “Blessed are they who have kept the word with a generous heart and yield a harvest through perseverance.”

Yet in the first reading from Jeremiah, we hear, “I knew their plot because the Lord informed me…” How many times in the Gospels are we told that Jesus knew their thoughts or what was in their hearts before he spoke to those gathered? In the Gospel, Nicodemus speaks up saying, “Does our law condemn a man before it first hears him and finds out what he is doing” as the Pharisees were ready to arrest Jesus because of his ‘breaking of the law’ through his teachings and miracles. If I am truly honest with myself, I see that I have done these things. I still sit in judgment or leap to conclusions about any number of situations. Am I too much a Pharisee?

Jesus faithfully ministered and instructed those around him who opened their hearts to the Lord God, his heavenly Father, as well as those who didn’t or wouldn’t. The disciples didn’t always understand what he was trying to teach them and they actually lived with Jesus for three whole years. How many times have I read or heard something and not seen the truth or even looked deeper for it? What does this say about the person I am to my friends or peers, to those who are in the media? What about me before the Lord my God?

As I encounter my friends, be it through social media, in person, or as they cross my mind, I need to remember to persevere with a generous heart, continually turning my thoughts and heart to Him.

Please offer the Act of Love prayer with me:

O my God, I love you above all things, with my whole heart and soul, because you are all-good and worthy of all love. I love my neighbor as myself for the love of you. I forgive all who have injured me, and I ask pardon of all whom I have injured. Amen.

 

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Beth is part of the customer care team at Diocesan. She brings a unique depth of experience to the group due to her time spent in education, parish ministries, sales and the service industry over the last 25 yrs. She is a practicing spiritual director as well as a Secular Franciscan (OFS). Beth is quick to offer a laugh, a prayer or smile to all she comes in contact with. Reach her here bprice@diocesan.com.

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Show Me

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Let’s be honest. Who actually remembers the responsorial psalm when walking out of Mass? I know I tend to forget the response halfway through the psalm itself, let alone remember what was sung or proclaimed.

Today’s responsorial psalm hit me like a ton of bricks – but in the best possible way.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.”

It’s the reality of this statement that hit me, not that I would consider myself brokenhearted though. Over this past year or so, there have been a number of challenges that left me in a spiritual “desert.” However, the Lord has used these difficulties to remind me of His mercy and love. He has been faithful to me in all the storms, invited me to return to Him, even when I haven’t been the most faithful.

Contrary to society’s popular belief, God is not a puppet master who decides to inflict pain on his subjects at will. He does not delight in our suffering. Rather, He uses times of struggle to gently draw us closer to Him. Revelation 21:4 says, “He will wipe every tear from their eyes and there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain, [for] the old order has passed away.”

I cried out to the Lord about youth ministry struggles, saying “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” and He delivered a boost of confidence in my ability to minister and also answered a very particular prayer of mine. God used even more youth ministry struggles to instead feed a very fruitful and blessed retreat weekend.

That should have been enough to convince me of His goodness but apparently, my fragile heart needed a little more convincing. When all seemed lost and I was braced for loss, despair, and desolation, God showed His healing hand and worked a miracle. He is still working miracles in my life to this day, small miracles but miracles nonetheless.

Through each of those experiences (and more), the Lord has awoken a deeper desire for prayer, the Mass, adoration. He brought me to my knees and I have never felt closer to Him than in the depths of the valley.

Brothers and sisters in Christ, if today you find yourself broken-hearted, do not despair! I invite you to close your eyes and picture this image.

A son or daughter in their Father’s lap. Head nestled up against His chest. Every beat of His Heart ringing out, “I love you. I love you. I love you” until you believe it with every beat of your heart. Listen as He draws you closer, secure in His ever-loving arms.

 

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Erin is a Parma Heights, Ohio, native and a 2016 graduate of Franciscan University of Steubenville. She uses her communication arts degree in a couple of different ways: first, as an Athletic Communications Assistant at Baldwin Wallace University and, secondly, as a youth minister at her home parish of Holy Family Church. Although both of her jobs are on complete opposite spectrums, she truly enjoys being able to span the realm of communications. You can follow her on multiple Twitter accounts – @erinmadden2016 (personal), @bwathletics (work) and @HFVision (youth ministry).

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Disappointed? Remind Yourself of this Instead

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One of the aphorisms with which we try to reassure ourselves when we’re feeling things we don’t want to feel is this: “into every life some rain shall fall.” In other words, at some point, you’re going to feel disappointed.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t find that any too amazingly comforting. I don’t want rain to fall in my life! I don’t want to feel hurt, or anger, or disappointment. Reminding me that those feelings are part of the human condition is about as helpful as telling someone who’s upset to calm down. Never in the history of calming down has the injunction to “calm down!” worked.

So I’m not going to write any of those neat little aphorisms here. I don’t have to: today’s readings convey the same message far more eloquently—and more forcefully—than any tidy fortune-cookie message ever could.

In the Gospel reading, Jesus is clearly doing something that, these days, we would call venting. He is exasperated, frustrated. He just arrived in Jerusalem, cured a crippled man at a healing pool, and now everyone around him is freaking out—not because he did it, but because he did it on the Sabbath. It must have been very clear to Jesus that people weren’t yet “getting it,” that their minds were still fixated on petty things, that their hearts weren’t yet engaged. He points out—again—as clearly as he ever does, precisely who he is and why he is there. He assures his listeners that anything he does comes from his Father. Imagine him, looking around at the faces surrounding him, faces that are incredulous, baffled, stupid, angry, self-righteous. No wonder he needs to vent! How many miracles does he have to perform before these people understand? How disappointing can they be?

That kind of frustration can’t be encapsulated in a neat saying or a fortune-cookie message. That is real anguish. God sent him to these people because God loved them so very much, and this is how they respond?

The Rev. Martin Luther King wrote, “there can be no deep disappointment where there is not deep love,” and that, too, is clear from this passage. Jesus loves these people. He wants them to understand, to respond, to love. He’s feeling a very human emotion that we’re all familiar with. Any parent reading this passage, in particular, is nodding in agreement: if there is one truth every parent shares, it’s that our children will inevitably in some way disappoint us. (The flip side to that, of course, is that it’s just as certain that we as parents will disappoint our children.) Humanity stumbles through life, making mistakes, exhibiting poor judgment, going for the quick win, even when we’re trying to do our best.

As a species, in fact, we’re a pretty disappointing lot.

This is especially clear in today’s first reading. Yahweh has taken the children of Israel out of bondage. He has freed them, given them a home and a life, and what did they do in return? Started worshipping a patently false god, a metal calf of their own creation. How disappointing is that?

Yahweh is apparently ready to do something drastic, but Moses—the consummate diplomat—intervenes. Moses doesn’t pretend there’s nothing disappointing in what is happening. He doesn’t try to justify anyone’s bad behavior. He knows there’s nothing he can say to defend the indefensible. What he does, instead, is remind Yahweh of his love for his people, of the promises made to his people. He reminds Yahweh to remember the bigger picture.

In other words, Moses—who has more reason than others to understand this—knows that, given the opportunity to disappoint, people will do it. That as a species we tend to take the easy way out, to be lazy and self-serving. We coddle ourselves and make excuses for our bad behavior. But just as the parent continues to love the child who isn’t living up to his or her promise, so has God engaged to love us, no matter what. He has promised love to a species intent on self-destruction, on waging wars, on oppressing the weak and glorifying cruelty and greed. Sit with that thought for a moment. What greater love could there be? Jesus didn’t come to earth to live and die because we’re all such perfect people. He came because of the tremendous love his Father has for us.

Martin Luther King was right: we can only be disappointed by those we love. And we can only disappoint those who love us. So instead of clinging to our outrage, our disappointment, our self-righteousness, and judgment of others, perhaps we can remember what Moses reminded Yahweh: that in the end, it is always (and perhaps only) love that matters.

 

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Jeannette de Beauvoir is a writer and editor with the digital department of Pauline Books & Media, working on projects as disparate as newsletters, book clubs, ebooks, and retreats that support the apostolate of the Daughters of St. Paul at http://www.pauline.org.

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I Am the Same Here and Now

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Vulnerability moment my friends, I am super overwhelmed with my life these days. I feel as though I constantly have a million things to do. My planner is filled minute by minute in my day and I’ve been left exhausted. I’ve found myself daydreaming of the sweet day of eternal life in Heaven. My friends and I joke about all the ice-cream and Chick-fil-A Jesus will provide there, here’s hoping. We giggle as we dream of a place where calories don’t exist. It sounds silly, but today’s Mass readings made me recall that memory. Our First Reading doesn’t remind us of the Heavenly banquet of waffle fries, but of our gentle God who guides us. He guides us away from hurt, & from danger. He says we shall not hunger or thirst, but be filled. He comforts his people and shows mercy to us. He’s compared to the tender love of a mother who can never forget her child. We are reminded in the Gospel as Jesus tells us, “Whoever hears my word and believes in the one who sent me has eternal life and will not come to condemnation, but has passed from death to life.”

In the hecticness of my own life, I forget to live out that joy of Heaven now. Yup, you heard it right. I can be way more joyful than I currently have been. I get overwhelmed with my to do list and tend to huff and puff about it. I can’t wait till Heaven where I can just be perfectly filled with complete joy, grace, and goodness. Plus I won’t have an annoying to do list of chores and work! I can’t wait to be completely embraced in the beatific vision with no more worries. Which yes, is true & so so good. I genuinely believe that we as humans experience this ache for Heaven. Sometimes that ache can be pretty painful, and I’ve been feeling that lately. But as I read these readings, I automatically thought about this longing and the goodness Heaven will be. As soon as that thought arose, I felt the Holy Spirit say, “I’m the same here and now.”

Yes, you and I ache for Heaven. I swear I could write a novel on what that means to me and the days I’ve felt it deeply. As Christians, it’s our goal. Heaven is the end of the race, the victory, the moment we long to hear “Well done, my good and faithful servant!”. But there is freedom in knowing that God wants to fill my heart here and now. There’s freedom in the fact that He is the same here and now. He’s the same God to us here on earth as when we are completely united to Him in Heaven. He still wants what is good for us. He still desires to guide, protect, and comfort us. He will not make us hunger or thirst, but fill our hearts with His love here and now. Don’t get me wrong, Heaven is the end goal. It’s the goal that we should be striving for always. Jesus just reminded me today that sometimes my planner is filled with too many goals. And Jesus is not just something to check off the to-do list. Our faith should not just be goals to check off and accomplish, but a relationship of love. Today He wanted to tell me that sometimes I need to slow down and receive. Maybe He wishes to tell you that too. He desires us to slow down and receive here and now on this side of Heaven. The beautiful truth is that He is the same God here and now as He is in Heaven. That has brought my heart freedom today, I hope it brings you a sense of freedom too.

 

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Briana is a Catholic youth minister at Our Lady of Mt. Carmel parish in Cleveland, OH. She is also a nanny and district manager at Arbonne. She received her Bachelor of Arts in Theology and Catechetics from the Franciscan University of Steubenville, OH and is excited to use these skills to bring her students closer to Christ and His Church. “My soul has been refined and I can raise my head like a flower after a storm.” -St. Therese

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Do You Want to be Well?

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In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus asks a man who has been ill for 38 years if he wants to be well. Your initial reaction to this might be, “Well, obviously. Who doesn’t want to be healed?” And you’re right. It does sound obvious. Still, when it comes to illnesses that are of the mind rather than the body, it can be a more difficult decision.

I tell myself that if Jesus came up to me right now and asked if I wanted to be well, I would say, “Yes, Lord, take away my worries.” It sounds so easy. To just sigh a sigh of relief and say, “God, Jesus, Holy Ghost, take my troubles away so that I may feel at peace with any issues that I may have now and forever. I’ve waited for so long for you to ask me. Just take it all away.”

The funny thing is… He’s already doing that. Jesus has already offered us the gift of peace and hope, we just choose not to take it. Or, at least, I choose not to take it. Why? Why am I fighting so hard against the love that He is trying to give me? Why am I fighting against the peace that he is so ready and willing to give me?

In my Lenten small group last week, we discussed some reasons that we may be so hard on ourselves and forgo God’s peace. Are we skeptical that God could do it?  Is it because we think we need to do everything by ourselves? Is our upbringing or society at fault? It sure isn’t God holding us back, because He knows our hearts and wants nothing more than for us to place our trust in Him.

I know that accepting Our Father’s love can be difficult, but that doesn’t mean that he stops offering it. Instead, he is patiently waiting for us to come to Him. He can wait. He knows when we are ready and want to be well, that we can come to Him.

So, today I want to remind you to be kind to yourself. Be patient with yourself. Be sympathetic towards your own situation. Remember that God’s peace is always offered.

Breathe in.
Breathe out.
“Yes, Lord, I want to be well.”

 

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Veronica Alvarado is a born and raised Texan currently living in Michigan. Since graduating from Texas A&M University, Veronica has published various articles in the Catholic Diocese of Austin’s official newspaper, the Catholic Spirit, and other local publications. She now works as the Content Specialist in Diocesan’s Web Department.

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God’s Words are Action. Do we Believe Them?

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The cure in today’s Gospel is not the most spectacular of Jesus’ miracles, certainly. At first glance, it seems rather un-spectacular: no conversation with demons, no mud in the eyes, no lifeless corpse or grieving mother. Just a public official asking Jesus to come and cure his little boy. And Jesus’ answer is also rather un-spectacular: “You may go; your son will live.” It is anti-climactic, almost dismissive.

The Gospel stories are like this sometimes – it requires some energy and attention on our part to see what’s really happening. Here, we have a royal official humbling himself (Roman courts were usually not full of particularly religious people) and risking some level of ridicule to travel 20 miles to ask Jesus to cure his son. We can imagine that there was at least a momentary internal struggle before this official decided to set out on his journey. Should he leave his son’s bedside for several days and take the chance? Would it be worth the trip? Would word get out and his well-groomed reputation be at risk? Would this rabbi even hear his request?

Ultimately, the official is driven to seek Jesus by his helplessness in this situation and his love for his son. He finds Jesus and submits his fear and hope to him, asking him for healing. Jesus does not need many words or dramatic actions to accomplish his mighty works; he is God, and his word IS action. So, he simply tells the official that his son will live. In that very moment, the son is healed.

The verse from this Gospel that should cause us to pause, to meditate, even to examine our consciences, is the one that comes immediately after Jesus’ words: “The man believed what Jesus said to him.” He did not demand proof or signs or wonders. He believed and then he left, even though he would not receive confirmation of his belief until the next day when his servants told him that the fever had left the boy just at the time Jesus had spoken.

This somewhat un-spectacular event has a spectacular ending: because of the faith and humility of the official, his son lives and the whole household comes to believe in Jesus.

Are we able to humble ourselves, recognizing our helplessness and dependence, and go to Jesus for all our needs? Do we believe the words of Jesus, without signs and wonders? Do we turn to him each day with our whole heart, in faith and trust? Are our spirits open to the surprises of God in our daily lives? Do we allow faith and love and hope in us to radiate to others around us so that they can also come to believe? This Lent, let us each examine our hearts and our attitudes, and let God shine through us to others!

 

Contact the Author

Kathryn Mulderink, MA, is married to Robert, Station Manager for Holy Family Radio. Together they have seven children (including Deacon Rob and seminarian Luke ;-), and two grandchildren. She is a Secular Discalced Carmelite and has published five books and many articles. Over the last 25 years, she has worked as a teacher, headmistress, catechist, Pastoral Associate, and DRE. Currently, she serves the Church as a writer and voice talent for Catholic Radio, by publishing and speaking, and by collaborating with the diocesan Office of Catechesis, various parishes, and other ministries to lead others to encounter Christ and engage their faith. Her website is https://www.kathryntherese.com/.