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What Most People Miss About Life’s Journey

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I need to admit to you that I was thinking about this Gospel commentary on January 6, the Feast of the Epiphany. The month of January opens with the wise men making their way to the manger to offer the new-born King gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Epiphany, sadly for most of us, is the signal that the crèche and Christmas decorations can now be put away for the year.

 The Wise Men from the east, however, in the words of Benedict XVI, “mark a new beginning.” In them, we find “the journeying of humanity toward Christ.” They initiate a human procession that continues throughout history. What I want to draw attention to in these words is Pope Benedict’s sense of an ongoing journeying that is a part of humanity’s reality on our pilgrimage to the Kingdom.

Today, near the end of the month of January, we celebrate the “conversion” of St Paul. Jesus clearly comes to meet Paul on the road to Damascus. He calls him to a mission to proclaim his name to the Gentiles, to be a part of this ongoing procession of humanity seeking Christ and to play a part in proclaiming Christ to humanity across the ages. We can easily make the mistake of viewing the Feast of the Epiphany as a commemoration of something three wise men did two millennia ago, playing their part in the Christmas narrative, an act in the drama that Christmas plays love to include. But we can’t get away with that on this celebration of the Conversion of St. Paul.

The Feast of the Conversion of the apostle Paul, he shows us that we need to be actively a part in this journeying of humanity today. In what way?

  1. Like Paul, we are each pursued by Christ because he has ordained for each of us a mission in the narrative of salvation. We are called for ourselves, but also for the others.
  2. The three Wise Men from the east went back home and probably thought about the tiny Child they had worshipped for the rest of their lives. Paul’s encounter with Christ, however, shows us that our own encounter with Christ is part of a longer story of personal transformation that takes place through the gift of the sacraments, the Christian community, transformation of life, and mission to others in the name of Christ. It has a beginning and a goal, and every day is a step toward, in the words of Paul, “becoming Christ.”
  3. We can never, ever be grateful enough for the unmerited gift of our Baptism. Paul remained in darkness and blindness until he was baptized by Ananias. The moment of his baptism Paul received his sight, but Paul also was admitted into the community of those he had sought to destroy. Our call, our mission, is never carried out alone as if we were some kind of “lone ranger.” We are always members of a community, in communion with others, and, as Paul would write, members of the Body of Christ.

 

So, on this feast of the Conversion of St. Paul take a moment to reflect on how Jesus sees you with a specific mission in this humanity on a pilgrimage to the Father across the centuries. And, as Paul teaches us, may each day of this year may you be more and more filled with Jesus, until you are like him in every way.

Kathryn James Hermes, FSP, is the author of the newly released title: Reclaim Regret: How God Heals Life’s Disappointments, by Pauline Books and Media. An author and spiritual mentor, she offers spiritual accompaniment for the contemporary Christian’s journey towards spiritual growth and inner healing. She is the director of My Sisters, where people can find spiritual accompaniment from the Daughters of St. Paul on their journey.

Website: www.touchingthesunrise.com

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For monthly spiritual journaling guides, weekly podcasts and over 50 conferences and retreat programs join my Patreon community: https://www.patreon.com/srkathryn.

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God Wants Us to Suffer, A Pious Heresy

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When I teach junior high classes about creation I usually draw a large circle on the whiteboard. I tell my class that this represents everything God created and I ask them to shout out the things that would go inside the circle. “People!” is one of the first things the student’s shout and the circle quickly gets filled in with things like plants, animals, time, matter, and angels. At this point, I like to have fun with them and write “Hell” and “Satan” in the circle and a lively discussion usually ensues.

There are a couple things, however, that aren’t in this circle, namely, death and suffering.

Much like how darkness is not a thing in itself, merely the absence of light, death, and suffering can only be understood in a negative sense, that is, as a lack of something else. The book of Genesis says, “the LORD God formed the man out of the dust of the ground and blew into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being” (Gen 2:7). God gave Adam and Eve life, but through their sin they rejected life. God created the garden with order and integrity, but through their sin, our first parents rejected this wholeness. It is here that death and suffering first entered creation.

Thus suffering ought not be. God did not create suffering, it only exists because we live in a cosmos fractured by sin. Our bodies and minds are supposed to be whole and integrated, but because of our limited and broken world, and because of our sin, we experience illness, suffering, and death.

Simply put: God does not want us to suffer. Period.

But how often do we get this wrong, do we lie about God? In the midst of other people’s suffering, we say “This is all a part of God’s plan.” And in our own suffering, we say, “God wants me to suffer so I can offer it up for a greater good.” Sometimes we say these things because we don’t know what else to say when our friend’s loved one just died. Sometimes we say them because the question of why God will allow us to suffer is too difficult for us to understand. But while these statements are well intended, they are also wrong.

Now, there is the mysterious and wonderful Tradition within Christianity that we can offer up our suffering. We believe in a God who not only stoops to our level and suffers with us (which is an incredible thing in itself), but who also allows us to give our suffering meaning by uniting it with his suffering for the sake of others.

However, to say that God, in his eternal goodness, can transform the evil of suffering into something good doesn’t mean that God wills the suffering in the first place. The pious heresy that our suffering is a part of God’s plan distorts our understanding of God and turns Our Loving Father into a monster.

Suffering, illness, and death are not a part of God’s plan. God is able and deeply desires, to heal us from these things. And, as we see in Gospel today, the life and ministry of Jesus is a demonstration of this desire. Through sin, we gave dominion of this world over to suffering and death, but Christ comes as a conquering king to reclaim lost territory. Jesus gives his power and authority over these consequences of sin to not only his apostles, but to all who follow him, to all who share his divine life through baptism. Through baptism, the Catechism says,  we become “other Christs.'” The Acts of the Apostles and the historical records on the early Church demonstrate that miraculous healings and signs and wonders are a normative part of what it means to be baptized, Christian.

In the midst of our sickness and suffering, do we run in faith to Jesus for healing like the crowds in today’s Gospel? Or do we tell ourselves that God wills our pain? When we’re in the presence of other people’s sickness, do we model Jesus and boldly pray for their healing? Or do we tell them their illness is a part of God’s plan?

Let us pray for the same faith the crowds had, the faith that drove them to run to Jesus with their sickness and pain, fully expecting him to heal them.

Paul Fahey is a husband, father, and a parish director of religious education. If you like what he has to say, read his work at Where Peter Is, check out his blog, The Porch, or follow him on Facebook.

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In the Line of Melchizedek

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Melchizedek. I admit that I signed up for this day so I could learn more about Melchizedek. It’s a technique I’ve been using since college. It forces me to learn new things and go out of my way to (hopefully) see things in a different light or achieve a shift in my focus and thought process. Friends and family insist I need to do this more frequently, as they find me a bit eccentric, but I correct them with eclectic, and we all laugh.

The first reading and the psalm speak of the order or in the line of Melchizedek. Melchizedek first appears in the bible in the book of Genesis (ch 14). It is the first time that someone is referred to as a priest of God Most High and the King of Peace (Salem or Shalom).

While researching, I found a really fascinating talk given by Dr. Scott Hahn that breaks this open. Melchizedek means righteous king in Hebrew. The King of Righteousness, the King of Shalom (peace). Does this ring any bells for you? It’s hard to miss these titles of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Now, let’s hold onto this thought and dive into today’s Gospel.

Today, we find Jesus and the man with the crippled hand. People are all around Jesus, wondering if he will cure on the Sabbath if he will ‘work’ on this holy day. If he does, Jesus is seen as a lawbreaker, which triggers the Pharisees search for a permanent way to silence his ‘heresy’.

Jesus is the first priest of the Catholic Church. Our priests today are all priests in the line of Melchizedek. Jesus is Divine and all knowing. He asked while on the cross for his Father to forgive, for we do not know what we do. Our priests are human and learn through trial and error as each of us does. We humans can learn from divine inspiration, the wisdom of others, through study, and experience. We each have the opportunity to invite others to learn of God’s love and forgiveness as well as experience it ourselves.

God’s love and forgiveness are available to each and every one of us. His love is unconditional. His forgiveness, grace, and mercy are too, however, we have to ask for it. Our priests through the grace and wisdom of the sacrament of Holy Orders they received when ordained are anointed to minister to all those on earth, not just a select few. The line of Melchizedek is continued on today in each of these men. Let us pray today for our priests with these words from Pope Benedict XVI:

Lord Jesus Christ, eternal High Priest, you offered yourself to the Father on the altar of the cross and through the outpouring of the Holy Spirit gave your priestly people a share in your redeeming sacrifice. Hear our prayer for the sanctification of our priests. Grant that all who are ordained to the ministerial priesthood may be ever more conformed to you, the Divine Master. May they preach the Gospel with pure heart and clear conscience. Let them be shepherds according to your own heart, single-minded in service to you and to the Church, and shining examples of a holy, simple, and joyful life. Through the prayers of the Blessed Virgin Mary, your Mother and ours, draw all priests and the flocks entrusted to their care to the fullness of eternal life where you live and reign with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, forever and ever. Amen.

Beth is part of the customer service team at Diocesan. She brings a unique depth of experience to the team from her time spent in 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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Living and Effective

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As I write, I am in the midst of difficulties on both sides of the family. Granted, I come from a large family and my husband’s family has lived through many trials, but sometimes I want to throw up my hands and say “Why can’t we just all get along?!” And then I begin my rant, “Why does so and so have to be that way? Why does he/she have to do that?!…”

When my soul is finally tranquil enough to refocus, I try to consider what their world might be like. What are they living through at this moment? What is the state of their mind and heart? Who has hurt them and how deeply? Am I judging them? Do I consider myself holier than thou?

And once again I realize that the only solace for suffering humanity is our loving God and His holy Word. Here is today’s First Reading:

“The word of God is living and effective,
sharper than any two-edged sword,
penetrating even between soul and spirit,
joints and marrow,
and able to discern reflections and thoughts of the heart.
No creature is concealed from him,
but everything is naked and exposed to the eyes of him
to whom we must render an account.

Since we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens,
Jesus, the Son of God,
let us hold fast to our confession.
For we do not have a high priest
who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses,
but one who has similarly been tested in every way,
yet without sin.
So let us confidently approach the throne of grace
to receive mercy and to find grace for timely help.”

Lord Jesus, YOU are what I need. You penetrate the soul and the spirit. You discern the thoughts of the heart. All that I am is openly exposed to you. You are able to sympathize with all of my predicaments. You have also been tested. So I approach you and beg for your mercy, grace and help.

Tami grew up in Western Michigan, a middle child in a large Catholic family. Attending Catholic schools her whole life, she was an avid sportswoman, a (mostly) straight A student and a totally type A sister. She loves tackling home projects, keeping tabs on the family finances and finding unique ways to love. She spent early young adulthood as a missionary in Mexico, studying theology and philosophy, then worked and traveled extensively before finishing her Bachelor’s Degree in Western Kentucky. Her favorite things to do are finding fun ways to keep her four boys occupied, quiet conversation with the hubby, and grocery shopping with a latte in her hand. She works at Diocesan, is a guest blogger on CatholicMom.com and BlessedIsShe.net, runs her own blog at https://togetherandalways.wordpress.com and has been doing Spanish translations on the side for the past 18 years.

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Paralyzed

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We are all paralyzed. Not necessarily in the physical sense but mentally, emotionally and spiritually.

 Paralyzed by fear. By tragedy. By anxiety. By overthinking. By addiction. By sin. By Satan. On purpose or by accident, we are paralyzed. And sometimes we are even paralyzed by hope. By joy. By faith. By love.

 Today’s Gospel offers hope for all of us: the healing of the paralytic. Three different aspects of this passage stick out to me.

 One, Jesus was starting to attract so much attention that throngs of people came to hear Him preach, even the religious authorities and scholars who criticized Him. The paralytic couldn’t even get close to Jesus if he tried. Without the help of his friends who opened up the roof and lowered him down to the Lord, the paralytic would not have been healed and forgiven.

 Strong relationships are essential to living the Christian life. Between our families, friends, colleagues, etc., our relationships can either bring us closer to God or tear us away from Him. But relationships run both ways. We ourselves need to be good family members, friends, colleagues, etc. in order to bring others to Jesus through our words, our actions and, most importantly, our love.

 When we are paralyzed, we cannot approach Jesus on our own so we must rely on others to help bring us to Him. Trusting others is hard, especially with the deepest and darkest parts of our lives, those things that paralyze us, but coming to Jesus is always worth it in the end.

 Two, Jesus first forgives the sins of the paralytic. As a result of their faith (the paralytic and his friends), Jesus says, “Child, your sins are forgiven.” Jesus has the power to forgive sins, not just heal which He had been previously doing (see Mark 1:21-45).

 The scribes who were sitting among the crowd, scholars of the Mosaic law who studied Scripture, they knew that no human had the power to forgive sins and so they questioned Jesus’ words in their hearts. They were unaware of His full humanity and divinity. But Jesus knew exactly what they were thinking which led him to…

 Three, Jesus poses a question of “which is easier, to say to the paralytic, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise, pick up your mat and walk’?” After which, He tells the paralytic to do exactly that. Jesus does the harder thing of healing the paralytic to prove that He can do the easier thing of forgiving sins.

 Forgiveness is the cure for paralysis. When we are so paralyzed by fear and sin, we have the opportunity to receive God’s great mercy and forgiveness in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. All we need to do is approach Him, sometimes with the help of others.

 I invite you to name your fears, what is paralyzing you and keeping you from God, and take it to the Lord in Confession. Bask in His love and grace. And when we are paralyzed again, may we remember that freeing feeling we have when we step out of the confessional and use that power and strength to begin the healing process again.

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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Following the Rules

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I am the firstborn of my parents. My mom knew just what she wanted her daughter to be like. I started dance classes when I was three in the hopes that I would become graceful and elegant. I did all of the “right” things and I was raised very conscious of the importance of my being a role model to my siblings for what to do and what not to do. I am a born and raised rule follower.

So it is difficult when I encounter someone like the leper in today’s Gospel, who, after receiving God’s mercy, receives a direct command from Jesus and then does the complete opposite. Jesus shows pity and touches the man, heals him and gives him very clear instructions, “See that you tell no one anything, but go, show yourself to the priest and offer for your cleansing what Moses prescribed.” But what happens? “The man went away and began to publicize the whole matter.” What!?! Didn’t you hear what Jesus told you? How could you not follow this one simple rule?

To top it off, no more is said about the man’s apparent disobedience. Mark continues on to Chapter 2 and the healing of the paralytic. The commentaries I consulted had nothing to say about this portion of the story but it is the part of the story that my well-trained eldest child brain can’t let go.

And when I am really honest with myself, some of my problem is that I am jealous. Not of the obvious things like the direct miracle of his healing, but because the man was so excited he just couldn’t stop talking about Jesus. He may not have followed instructions, but he sure followed the leader. I want that.

I have been so fortunate to not have had any major health issues in my 57 years. I have had the usual bumps and bruises (Sorry, Mom, despite your best efforts, I am neither graceful nor elegant!), bugs and bothers, but nothing that has disrupted the long term trajectory of my life. Yet, there are countless small healings and blessings that have graced my path through life. Times when things could have gone bad and didn’t. Yet, I don’t focus on those things. I fuss when things don’t go the way I think they should, when my way is not The Way. Sometimes I get so busy following the rules, that I neglect to follow my leader. There are times when I need to let go of what I think should be and just revel in the fact that God’s got this. His healing and his blessings come in his time. He has his eye on me. “Even all the hairs on your head are counted. So do not be afraid…” (Matthew 10:30-31)

“He spread the report abroad so that it was impossible for Jesus to enter a town openly. He remained outside in deserted places, and people kept coming to him from everywhere.”

Dear Jesus, Lead me so that my life is such a reflection of you, your healing and joy that when I meet others, they too want to find come and find you.

If you catch Sheryl sitting still, you are most likely to find her nose stuck in a book. It may be studying with her husband, Tom as he goes through Diaconate Formation, trying to stay one step ahead of her 5th and 6th-grade students at St Rose of Lima Catholic School or preparing for the teens she serves as Director of Youth Evangelization and Outreach in her parish collaborative. You can reach her through her through www.youthministrynacc.com.

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Memento Mori

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It’s one of those thoughts that occur to you when it’s three o’clock in the morning and it feels like you’re the only person in the world who’s awake and everything that is moderately upsetting during the day turns into something Really Scary. You know those nights.

And you know those thoughts, too: you think about death.

It’s been said that death has replaced sex as the taboo subject of our era. Certainly, it feels that way, even within our own community of faith: our Church’s mission is to bring life and love to the world, and talking about death seems inappropriate somehow, even grotesque. The irony, of course, is that what we’re trying to avoid thinking about—dying—is the one human event guaranteed to happen to every one of us.

Today’s first reading addresses death, and our fear of it, with directness: “Since the children share in blood and flesh, Jesus likewise shared in them, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the Devil, and free those who through fear of death have been subject to slavery all their life.”

It’s an intense image: being subject to slavery out of fear of death. Yet death’s hold on us is exactly that—we’re enslaved to fear: the fear of pain, the fear of nothingness, the fear of the unknown. The thought that fifty or a hundred years from now, our name will be forgotten, our life will be unremembered. The knowledge that in the transition moments of death we will be alone, that whatever we’ve accomplished or accumulated during our lives will become meaningless. Those terrible three-o’clock-in-the-morning thoughts.

I’d pretty much call that enslaved, wouldn’t you? Yet it also tells us we’re ignoring the most important part of today’s reading: that Christ has already freed us from that slavery. If we persist in our fear, then the onus is on us—it’s a choice we’ve made. Jesus frees from the fear of death by destroying evil and assuring us we have eternal life beyond death.

So—how do we bridge the gap between our faith and our fear?

One first step might be to put life (and therefore death) in perspective. There’s a story about a young man traveling through the mountains in search of wisdom, and he visits the hut of a famous learned monk. He is disappointed by its austerity. “But where are your books?” he asks. The monk counters, “Where are yours?” The traveler shakes his head. “I don’t have them; I’m just passing through,” he says. “Ah,” responds the monk. “And so am I.”

We are all travelers. Travelers might enjoy the journey, but no matter what adventures happen along the way, the experience takes place with the certainty of eventually arriving at a destination. We can—and should!—enjoy our lives, but keep the perspective that there’s somewhere else we’re going.

The perspective alone isn’t enough: it’s time to start thinking about death, and not at three o’clock in the morning. The wisdom of keeping death always at the forefront of our thoughts has been pointed out by non-Christians: Buddhist Geshe Kelsang writes that “preparing for death is one of the kindest and wisest things we can do both for ourself (sic.) and others,” while the ancient practice of reflection on mortality goes back to Socrates, who said that the proper practice of philosophy is “about nothing else but dying and being dead.” If those who do not have our certainty of eternal life can focus on death so positively, then how much more should we be able to!

The practice in the Roman empire of memento mori—”remember your death”—passed into Christianity and became especially prevalent in the middle ages, when plague and lack of sanitation kept death uppermost in people’s minds. Stories of banquets where skulls were used as mugs might be apocryphal, but the concept of memento mori inspired a whole genre of art and literature that was hugely popular throughout medieval Europe and practically exploded into the Victorian era. And it’s even coming back into usage today.

Christ died to deliver us from fear of death: making the journey from fear to hope is intrinsic to our call as Christians, and it’s a great deal easier if we stop giving death such an influential place in our psyches. It is; that is all. Thinking about it, planning our lives to include it, even following the custom of keeping an imitation skull as a constant reminder—all that strips death of its power and reminds us that, like the traveler, we are only passing through.

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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Amazed and Astonished by the Power of Christ

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Two events happen in today’s Gospel: Jesus astonishes the people of Capernaum with his Sabbath teaching, and then Jesus amazes the people by casting out a demon.

It was customary in a synagogue to invite others to read the Scriptures and comment on them; leaders would welcome a young, promising voice, and Jesus took many opportunities to express the Truth in this way (Take note that in Mark’s Gospel, Jesus never again enters a synagogue after he is rejected in the synagogue at Nazareth in Chapter 6!). What is astonishing is not the fact that Jesus is teaching but that, unlike the scribes, his teaching does not simply repeat traditional and accepted opinions of other rabbinical leaders. It is “new teaching with authority” – Jesus speaks on his own personal authority, a fact which will soon turn the scribes against him.

We do not know what passage Jesus read, or how he commented on it. Mark’s Gospel contains precious little of Jesus’ actual teaching and is focused on the arrival of the Kingdom in the person and authority of Christ, and the astonishment this stirred in those who encountered him. Mark repeatedly shows us that the coming of Christ was altogether astounding, his words and actions unprecedented and challenging to the status quo, his authority, and power noted by all – even the demon who acknowledges him as “the Holy One of God.” Jesus, with authority, tells the unclean spirit literally: “Be muzzled” and orders him to leave the man. And the evil spirit must obey, stirring new amazement through the crowd.

Both of these events give evidence of the power and authority of Jesus, and the widespread attention he drew. People heard him teach and saw him healing and overcoming demons and were amazed and astonished.

In a world that seems to take everything for granted (even the Gospel) and that undervalues vulnerability, openness, and wonder, we should examine our own hearts:

Do we really believe in the transforming power of Christ in every facet of our being?

Are we truly open to the God of surprises, opening ourselves fully to a sincere encounter with the living God?

Are we still capable of wonder and amazement at the peaceful presence of God in each moment?

Are we able to celebrate the bright moments of grace in our lives and in the lives of others?

Let’s all ask for the great gift of recognizing and marveling at the mighty power and authority of Christ, which can be found everywhere we turn: in the sky and the sea, in the hearts of those we encounter, in the seed and bloom and fruit of the earth, and in every tabernacle that holds the very Presence of God in the Eucharist.

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 www.KathrynTherese.com.