Over the past decade or so, one of the most popular phrases in the Catholic Church has been “missionary discipleship.”  Because of this, there should be no surprise that this term was included in the mission statement adopted by our diocese and, by extension, our parish.

Jesus has invited all Christians to be His disciples, and that word is worth a brief consideration.  A disciple is one who learns from a master, following their example, and letting the master’s teachings guide their thinking and acting.  The first disciples of Jesus spent time with Him to do just this.  Since His Ascension and sending of the Holy Spirit, this discipleship is accomplished through reflecting on His words in the Scriptures, learning His truths more deeply through the teaching of the Church, and letting His life be lived in us and through us through the grace of the sacraments.

Being a disciple, however, is more than just learning and following the Master.  After their initial formation, Jesus sent His closest disciples, the Apostles, to go and spread this message far and wide: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you; and behold, I am with you always, to the close of the age.” (Mt 28:19–20)

Nearly two-thousand years later, this same expectation of spreading the Good News of the Gospel pertains to those who are disciples of Christ.  Before the Second Vatican Council, there was a sense (though not really officially the Church’s teaching) that the missionary work of spreading the Gospel belonged to priests and consecrated religious.  But the Council presented a robust view of discipleship as it applies to all Christians, that we are all called to have a missionary aspect to our discipleship.  How this looks will vary based on our state in life, but nevertheless, we cannot truly claim to be living discipleship if we are not also missionary in some way.  Pope Francis articulates this in a compelling way, in words that have become the heart of this resurgence in the notion of missionary discipleship in the Church:

In virtue of their baptism, all the members of the People of God have become missionary disciples (cf. Mt 28:19). All the baptized, whatever their position in the Church or their level of instruction in the faith, are agents of evangelization, and it would be insufficient to envisage a plan of evangelization to be carried out by professionals while the rest of the faithful would simply be passive recipients. The new evangelization calls for personal involvement on the part of each of the baptized. Every Christian is challenged, here and now, to be actively engaged in evangelization; indeed, anyone who has truly experienced God’s saving love does not need much time or lengthy training to go out and proclaim that love. Every Christian is a missionary to the extent that he or she has encountered the love of God in Christ Jesus: we no longer say that we are “disciples” and “missionaries”, but rather that we are always “missionary disciples.” (Evanglii Gaudium, 120)

Perhaps this sounds a little intimidating, but it does not have to be so.  In next weekend’s bulletin, we will explore this topic a little more, especially as it applies in our daily lives, the special missionary field to which we are called.

Father Alford     

Feast Day: August 11^th   

Let us begin by heading to Rome on May 25^th, 1802. In the wider world, we are shortly after Napoleon’s concordat with Pius VII (in 1801, allowing Catholicism to be practiced again in France) and shortly before the same Napoleon sold the Louisiana territory to Thomas Jefferson (in 1803, doubling the landmass of our country). We step down into one of the most ancient, and most revered, of the catacombs, that named after St. Pricilla, North and West of the ancient city where the bones of several early popes and our friends St. Praxedes and St. Pudentiana were all buried before being reinterred elsewhere in the 900s. A group of workers are working in the old and empty tunnels and erupt in excited shouts: there is a small shelf-grave that appeared unopened. Sure enough, behind a set of three tiles inscribed with the ancient letters “LUMENA PAX TE CUM FI” and symbols of arrows, a lance, anchor, and lily (or flame), were found the bones of a teenage girl, her skull fractured, and a glass vial with the residue of what appeared to be blood.

Archeologists are fairly certain that the bones are those of a young maiden, though the vial and head injury are not certain indicators of martyrdom (though that assumption is a sensible one). The letters and symbols do indicate that this is a tomb from the second century, BUT (crucially), the tiles are actually in the wrong order. They should read “Pax te cum Filumena” (“Peace be with you Philomena”), and with the way they are written, we can tell that the reason they are out of order is because at some point they were taken off (a different?) grave and placed over this one.

In any case, the relics were translated a few years later (June 8^th, 1805) to the church of Mungano (near Naples), and later (in 1827) that church was given the earthen tiles with the inscription as well. People began to visit the shrine of the little saint and reports of miracles quickly grew. Popular accounts record that a 10 year old boy, crippled and unable to walk, stood up during the consecration of one of the Masses celebrated in the octave after Philomena’s relics were brought to Mungano. On the same day, during vespers, a two year old little girl, blind from smallpox, received her eyesight after her mother put some of the oil from the lamp above Philomena’s tomb on her eyes. And then a man who did not believe, seeing the miracle, spontaneously received the gift of faith and offered to fund the construction of a chapel to the martyr! More certified accounts record a lawyer from Naples, D. Alessandro Serio, who suffering from an internal illness came to Philomena’s tomb in 1814 hoping for a cure. The illness actually grew markedly worse and he seemed to be on the brink of death, and worse, was incapacitated to such an extent that he could not make a good confession. His wife, still asking for Philomena’s intercession, brought a picture of the saint to him, begging that at least he would recover enough to receive the last sacraments. His pain disappeared and the disease with it. 

The account of these and other miracles led the Congregation of Rites in 1834, to approve Philomena’s veneration during Mass in the region around Mungano. Pope Gregory XVI confirmed (on January 30, 1837) that preliminary permission after having met the paralyzed, and desperately ill, Pauline Jaricot, who returned to Rome after her visit to Philomena’s tomb in 1834 entirely cured. She it was who carried a relic of Philomena back to her home country of France and gave it to a certain Curé de Ars, who was said to have converses with the martyred saint in his prayer, and who routinely credited St. Philomena with marvelous cures of his own health and others (this also handily kept that attention from being given to himself!)

But here’s the hard truth that this whole story gives to us as well. August 11^th was only ever a local feast-day for Philomena. And the possibility of her martyrdom, and all these miracles, and the saints and mystics who loved and spoke so highly of their little “Lover of Light” (as Philomena’s name means), are not the same as canonization. Canonization is an infallible proclamation by the Pope that someone is in heaven, a saint before God whom we can all ask their intercession. No Pope has ever infallibly declared such about the young woman who was buried in the catacombs of Pricilla. In fact, on January 30^th, 1961, Pope St. John XXIII decided to remove St. Philomena from even the local calendars where she had been venerated. That doesn’t mean she’s not a saint, it just means that the Church has not done the careful work to verify the miracles attributed to her (and, considering that saints are canonized also to hold their lives up for our veneration; with no solid historical details of Philomena’s life, it is unlikely that she could be formally canonized.)

– Fr. Dominic is just as disappointed as any of you by this (and other places where the Church’s slowness and caution challenges my own devotions). But here’s a key lesson for all of us: Healings are real whether proven or not. Saints are in heaven whether canonized or not. BUT ALSO, no devotion or personal affection should trump our fidelity to Christ’s Body, the Church, and Christ’s vicar, our Holy Father. Docility to the Church’s way of praying are higher goods than my own pious preferences!

The year 2020 was a year that many people would like to forget, given all of the concerns,  confusion, and complexity surrounding the COVID-19 pandemic that was impacting almost every aspect of our lives.  In the early months of the pandemic, this parish had to experience a pretty major change, the departure of your Rector, Father Christopher House, and your Parochial Vicar, Father Michael Friedel.  As public masses were just resuming, you all had to get used to several new faces, with me assuming the role as your new Rector, and welcoming two newly ordained priests, Father Dominic Vahling and Father Peter Chineke.

Over the past four years, we have come a LONG way in our society and in our parish, even as it relates to the priests who have been assigned here.  Just over a month ago, we said farewell to Father Paul Lesupati, who had spent two years with us, and we welcomed our two new Parochial Vicars, Father Pius Nwiyi and Father Daniel McGrath.  This week, we will bid farewell to Father Dominic Vahling, who concludes his four years here at Cathedral to head off to Ottawa, Canada to complete his studies in Canon Law.

I had mentioned that 2020 was a year that many would like to forget, but for me, it is a year that I will remember fondly, especially because it began a new chapter in my priesthood.  Over and over again, I tell people that one of the greatest graces of being here at Cathedral is the household of priests with whom I get to live and minister.  As Father Vahling prepares to leave, there is a certain amount of sadness, as my entire time here has been with him.  He has been a great priest to live with, and how he has lived his early years of priesthood has been an inspiration to me in many ways, and I have no doubt that I am a better priest for the time I have spent with him.  As his first pastor, I pray that I have been helpful to him as he begins what will undoubtedly be a life in which he will bring many people closer to Christ.  I have found in Father Vahling a good friend and I will be forever grateful to God for our years together here at Cathedral.

One experience stands out as particularly memorable.  In January 2021, we were forced to enter a 2-week quarantine due to close contact with somebody who had tested positive for COVID-19.  We were confined to our floor in the Rectory, but we certainly made the best of it.  Each morning at 7 am, we would celebrate Mass together.  In the evening, we would pray Evening Prayer together, have dinner, then maybe watch something together, concluding the day by praying Night Prayer.  Individually, we each made the best use of our time, but those times we spent together helped make the isolation that much more manageable and even, I daresay, enjoyable!

I will also miss having a “birthday buddy” in the house, as we share the same birthday, though I am 15 years older than he is.  Being a twin, I am no stranger to sharing a birthday, so I am grateful to have another person with whom to celebrate my birthday, especially since my twin sister lives in Texas and we only see one another once a year or so.

Please join me in wishing Father Vahling well in this next year in Canada.  I know that you join me in giving thanks to God for the gift of his presence among us these past four years.  Let us entrust him to our Blessed Mother, the patroness of our parish, that she will continue to pray for him, and keep him close to her Son, inspiring him to do likewise for the countless souls he will touch through his ministry in the years to come.

Father Alford     

Feast Day: August 4^th

St. John Vianney usually, rightly, calls to mind images of a wizened priest in a violet stole. Something like Mother Teresa mixed with Padre Pio, a kindly character whose intense preaching, fervent fasting, and long hours in the confessional have been softened by the two centuries since. 

History gives us our first aid in recovering the actual sanctity of the Cure D’Ars. Take yourself back to 1776 in Philadelphia. 56 men sign the Declaration of Independence, they are the heroes that capture the minds and hearts of 13 colonies, inspiring them to fight for freedom. A decade later, in a small town in rural France, the 4^th child of Matthieu and Marie Vianney was born, and was baptized Jean Marie that same day. Three years later the French Revolution begins, with their Catholic faith and a bloodbath commencing in pursuit of liberty, egality, and fraternity. Hundreds of priests would be killed, and tens of thousands of them would be forced out of the country over the coming decade. His parents, shepherds, would do what they could to care for those impoverished, persecuted, or mourning and their faith impelled them to travel far to find Masses celebrated in secret. At the age of 13, the boy Jean received his first Communion in the kitchen of a farmhouse, receiving into his own body for the first time the Body of His Savior. The windows were covered, because if they had been found, they would have been killed. 

Blessedly, the persecutions abated, but the heroism of the priests who had stayed behind and risked their necks indelibly inspired the young man. By the age of 20 he wanted himself to become a priest. Two obstacles presented themselves: he was woefully behind in his studies, only now beginning his formal education. The shortfall would never be fully overcome. Secondly, just a few years into his studies he was drafted into Napoleon’s army. No exemption for the ecclesiastical student. While reporting for duty he became sick, fell behind, was incorporated into another group of soldiers only to fall behind again. Following a fellow young man who promised to catch them both up, he instead found himself in a company of deserters hiding in the mountains through winter. Only in 1810 were all the deserters throughout the country granted amnesty and he was able to resume his studies. 

The years of seminary slowly flowed by, with Vianney’s ignorance constantly calling into question his capacity to be a priest. Still, his home pastor, Fr. Balley, kept interceding on his behalf, pointing out the piety and perseverance of the young man, and on August 12^th, 1815 Vianney was ordained a priest and became Fr. Balley’s assistant. He continued in that role for 3 years and was then sent to the village (only now famous) of Ars. 230 souls lived there, though none were waiting for him when he arrived. Few came to Mass on Sunday. Work and fun had a bigger place in their hearts than God. It’s true that the gates of hell will never prevail against the entire Church, but they had prevailed against the Church in France. 

And here’s the thing, it wasn’t some gallant St. Paul or St. Francis Xavier who marched into the village that day. Vianney’s first homilies fell flat. There wasn’t an instantaneous turnaround. Multiple times over the coming years the beleaguered pastor walked out of town having given up on converting people back to the faith. But slowly, unperceptively, God’s grace was molding the heart of the ignorant, shepherd boy/deserter and transforming the hearts of the inhabitants of Ars. He began preaching without notes, simply expressing in his own simple way the truth of the Gospel. His piety grew into an all-out dedication to Christ. He ate little, endured the attacks of Satan at night, and sat in the unheated and un-airconditioned confessional for hours. And somehow, slowly, his daily martyrdom drew others back to God. 

Hit the QR Code inserted in this article for more quotations from St. John Vianney on the Eucharist. They are all beautiful. I will leave you with this simple one: “I throw myself at the foot of the Tabernacle like a dog at the foot of his Master.” A dog accomplishes little, knows little, earns little …  yet expects (and receives) everything from its master. A dog takes delight in the simplest gift of attention or play. A dog, without counting the cost, gives itself with abandon to the whims and for the joy of its master.

What if we did the same to Our Lord Jesus in the Tabernacle? What if we didn’t consider whether we had anything to give, but simply gave ourselves, and received Him? What if we didn’t go looking to find joy anywhere else but just stayed at His feet and listened for His voice? What if every little gift God gave us we received with the utter delight, the frenzy of freedom seen in a happy dog?

– Fr. Dominic just came back from the Eucharistic Congress. One line I keep coming back to is this: “Act like a saint.” How would John Vianney pray right now? How would St. Paul preach this Sunday? How would Mother Teresa love this person? What if you, or I, lived like that? 

The mission statement for our diocese and our parish commits us to building a community of disciples, but not just any kind of community.  The mission statement uses three different adjectives to describe this community:  fervent, intentional, and dedicated.   Being intentional and dedicated are fairly easy to understand, so perhaps we can start by considering the word fervent.

A definition I found on Dictionary.com defines fervent in this way: “1.  having or showing great warmth or intensity of spirit, feeling, enthusiasm, etc.; ardent:  2. hot; burning; glowing.”  The word comes from a Latin word which means “boiling.”  As we read that definition, perhaps we focus on the phrase “intensity of spirit.”  As I consider this definition, the first image that comes to mind for me is St. John the Baptist.  He was a fiery preacher, dressing in a strange manner, eating locusts and wild honey, and boldly preaching a fiery message of repentance.  That is certainly one example of what it means to be fervent.  But I think we could also say that both Mary and Joseph were fervent.  When we think of them, we don’t quite get the same image.  St. Joseph does not have any of what he said recorded in the Scriptures, and Mary has very little recorded.  But because they were so close to the Lord and filled with His love, they were no doubt fervent in a different way, a way that was no doubt warm, radiating peace, but not in a way that coming close to them would leave you feeling burned!  The Church needs Christians who are fervent, and that looks different for different people.  What should be common should be that we all have hearts that burn with the love for the Lord and are eager to share that in a manner that fits our state in life.  Perhaps we do not feel particularly fervent when it comes to our faith.  The best way to “turn up the heat” is through prayer and the sacraments.  Here we encounter the God who is love, and by drawing close to His Sacred Heart, our hearts will begin to burn more brightly with love for Him, which will necessarily then overflow in our desire to share that love with others.

Having considered what it means to be fervent, let me say a few words about being intentional and dedicated.  A word that comes to mind that encapsulates these two words is that of being committed.  When we commit to something, we make a decision to take a certain path, and having taken that path, we stay on it.  Think of how this works with one who wants to be in better shape.  One can wish to be more healthy, but until an intentional decision is made to actually do something about that desire, and then to stick with the plan, it remains just an idea.  So too with being a disciple.  We like the idea of being a follower of Jesus, of being called a disciple, but in order to actually be one, a commitment needs to be there, one that is specific in how it will be lived out.  When difficulties arise, as they are bound to, we need to be dedicated to staying on the path when it can be tempting to give up.  In a culture that finds it hard to commit to something, and to give up easily in the face of setbacks, being a disciple of Jesus can be hard.  While we can try to point at the many causes for people falling away from their practice of the faith, I think we have to be honest that giving up ion the face of challenges is a big reason.  That reminds me of a line by the great Catholic author G.K. Chesterton:  “The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult; and left untried.”

Let us draw courage from the words of St. Paul, who wrote: “I can do all things in Him who strengthens me.” (Phil 4:13)  Being fervent, intentional, and dedicated may sound like a lot of work for us, but we take peace in knowing that our commitment is not ultimately dependent on our trying harder, but is dependent on our willingness to surrender to the grace He makes available to us, grace which is both generous and sufficient for us to remain on the journey to the very end!

Father Alford    

On Thursday, July 11, the Serra Route of the National Eucharistic Pilgrimage passed through Springfield.  After a Mass attended by more than 300 people, we took to the streets of Springfield with a Eucharistic Procession that spanned 5 miles, making stops at the Capitol, Blessed Sacrament Church, the Dominican Sisters Motherhouse, and St. Agnes Church.

I must say that my experience of this procession was amazing!  I’ve been a part of Eucharistic processions before, but this was by far the longest, and it struck me as a powerful witness to the world of the gift of the Eucharist, a gift that we are not ashamed of, but that we delight to share with the community that we call home.  No doubt many people who saw our group of a few hundred people were intrigued by what they were seeing.  Overall, I think people were respectful and there did not seem to be any hostility or disrespect for what we were doing.  The Springfield Police Department was extremely helpful as they kept us safe, ensuring our path was clear.  The weather was beautiful and there was such a reverent, peaceful, and even joyful spirit that was present throughout the journey.

I was blessed to carry Our Lord in the monstrance for a few blocks fairly early on in the procession.  Being able to have Jesus just a few inches in front of my face was such a gift.  I could not really see around me, but I just kept taking one step after another, always with my eyes fixed on Him.  This strikes me as a perfect image of the life of a disciple of Jesus.  We cannot always see exactly where we are headed, or what is happening, but as long as we let Him lead us, and we cooperate by taking one step at a time, we will go where He wants to take us.

As I have been reflecting on this experience of the procession, especially my carrying Jesus for a few blocks, I keep thinking of the passage from Matthew’s Gospel that was proclaimed at Mass just a couple of days before our procession: “At the sight of the crowds, His heart was moved with pity for them because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd.” (Mt 9:36)

As I held Jesus so close to my eyes, it struck me that as He was looking at me, He was at the same time looking at the crowd behind me, and in fact all of the people we encountered along the way who were not following.  He saw those in their cars, those walking down the street, even those in their homes.  He saw the struggles in their lives, how so many feel “troubled and abandoned” and how He was longing for them to look to Him, and see in Him a ray of hope, an invitation to come to Him for healing and peace.  Perhaps we will never know how the people we encountered that day were touched by Jesus passing by, but the Lord knows, and we can give thanks to Him for the graces He bestowed that day.

I have begun writing about the mission of our parish and our diocese, and how we ultimately rely on the Lord to do the building of this community of fervent disciples.  I have great hope that our experience of our Eucharistic Procession here in Springfield will renew our commitment to being a part of this mission.  After all, it is the gift of the Eucharist which gives us the graces we need to go and cooperate with the Lord in building His Kingdom, beginning right here in our families, our workplaces, and our community.  This is the mission field to which He has called us, let us continue to bring Him everywhere we go by living the Gospel day in and day out.  

Father Alford     

Feast Day: July 21^st 

Our saint this week takes us back to the earliest days of the Church in Rome. When St. Peter arrived in the capital of the empire, one of his first converts was a man named Pudens. He was the son of a Roman senator and is actually mentioned in St. Paul’s second letter to Timothy. As Paul concludes the letter, Pudens is mentioned as one of a few leaders in the Church in Rome who send their greetings.. Pudens was martyred himself, and had two sons (Novatus and Timotheus) and two daughters (Praxedes and Pudentiana). 

Praxedes, with her sister, used the wealth inherited from her family’s upper-class standing to house (and hide) Christians during the persecutions that swept through Rome against the fledgling community, as well as themselves provided for those in prison and buried the martyrs. They were both martyred as young women and buried in the Catecomb of Priscilla, though their relics would eventually be returned to a Church named after St. Praxedes (called “Santa Prassede” in Italian) and built on top of the location of their home in Rome. 

And I would like to actually take part of this article to explore that Church BECAUSE. These saintly sisters, but apparently especially Praxedes, were very quickly venerated in the Church of Rome. Already under Pope Evaristus, the 4^th successor of St. Peter (he was the one who established the first 7 parishes in Rome, each with their own priest), we have him dedicating a Church “Titulus S. Praxedis”, that is, under the title, or the “titular” Church of St. Praxedes. It may have been on this site, perhaps still mainly the Pudens household, but at least we know that by the time Christianity was no longer against the law (4^th century A.D.) a more formal Church was built on the location of their home and dedicated to St. Praxedes.

Fast forward to the 800s and Pope Paschal I is leading the Church through an artistic and theological revival (now called the “Carolingian Renaissance”, this is during the time of the Emperor Charlamagne), and included the building and restoring of numerous Roman Basilicas and the restoration of the bones of the martyrs to prominence in the city (rather than remaining in the catacombs outside). And this Church, much of it intact from the 8^th century, gives us a glimpse back in time to the Church over a thousand years ago.

As you walk into the Church, you see a typical example (if especially splendid and marvelously preserved) of Roman Churches from that time. The Church is rectangular (“basilica”), with side aisles pushing out wider than the main roof, coffered, and towering above you. Granite columns (repurposed from other more ancient buildings that had crumbled) support large walls covered in frescoes (those much later, from the 1500s) that pull your eyes forward. Under your feet is a cosmaotesque floor, with colored stones and gold inscribing spirals and other geometric shapes between larger pieces of marble. (I should say, this is another way they recycled in the olden days: taking pieces of long-broken buildings and using them to create these splendid floors to give glory to God.)

But, as I said, all this draws your eyes forward. There, arching over the main altar, is a triumphal arch – this one unlike the ones of ancient emperors, with Christ enthroned in the center. Our Lord, carefully depicted by the mosaics, steps down from heaven, robed like the emperor, and holds a scroll in one hand, his other arm raised in blessing. St. Peter and St. Paul flank him, presenting Ss. Prassede and Pudenziana to God (this actually is similar to the mosaics found in San Clemente, a few hundred years prior). Other mosaics fill the corners and smaller arches. A side chapel has angels reaching up towards Jesus, Who fills the center of the vault of the ceiling and looks down on all of us below. But I want to draw our attention off to another saint off to the side of St. Praxedes. Well, not yet a saint, there a Holy Father is depicted, his head surrounded by a square (rather than circular) halo, holding in his hands a model of a church. Actually, it’s a model of this church. It is Pope Paschal, before he ever became a saint, standing there with these great saints and offering this little church he built to Jesus. 

– Fr. Dominic since he was little has had a disposition to hurry from thing to thing, but these saints – Peter and Paul, Pudenziana and Praxede, and Pope Paschal – show us instead a willingness to preserver in offering very little things to God each day and letting Him build it into something great. For Peter it was often his foibles, for Paul his anxiety about his little Christian communities, for Pudenziana and Praxede the carefully collected blood and bones of the martyrs, for Paschal at first a few stones, then a few walls, and by the end a grand basilica. Like the floor, and those pictures that fill the walls, each of them could only bring little gifts to God each day, but by consistently doing that every day by the end of their lives they all had a spectacular mosaic of a Christian life well-lived to show for their perseverance. 

After a two week break to say goodbye to Father Paul Lesupati and to welcome Fathers Daniel McGrath and Pius Nwiyi, I would like to return to what I started a few weeks ago, namely unpacking our mission statement, which, as a reminder, is on the inside cover of our bulletin each week.  Having reflected on the word “mission”, I would like for us to focus on the following words that begin to describe this mission: “to build a fervent community of intentional and dedicated missionary disciples of the Risen Lord.”

Perhaps we can start with the word “build”.  The use of this verb can be a little confusing, as though the goal of having a fervent community of missionary disciples is the sole product of our efforts.  As Christians, we can appreciate theologically that this is not the case, for it is the Lord who ultimately does the building.  I am reminded of this every time I pray the following words from Psalm 127: “Unless the LORD builds the house, those who build it labor in vain.” (Ps 127:1) This should give us some comfort, knowing ultimately that it will be the Lord who brings about the growth.

At the same time, our efforts matter.  We can do (or not do) things that can prevent or slow the Lord from doing His work of building us up, and there are things that we can do that allow His building to come about more quickly.  So as we consider this aspect of the mission, we are called to have faith in the Lord and His desire (which is far greater than ours) to build us up into a fervent community, while at the same time to have the commitment to following the divine architect’s plan for building this community by obeying His plan and working diligently at the task in which He has asked us to cooperate.

In the series on praying the Mass, I hope this point came across more than once.  When we come to Mass, the Lord does something remarkable every time.  We hear God speaking to us in the Word of God, and He becomes present – Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity, in the Eucharist.  And yet, we sometimes just drift through Mass, walking away feeling dissatisfied, unaffected by what has taken place.  When the liturgy is celebrated properly and reverently, there is nothing lacking in what the Lord gives to us, but the fruitfulness depends on a variety of things, including our attention and willingness to actually pray intentionally during Mass.  It also helps when we have good music, a beautiful church, good preaching, etc., as those elements can also assist us to be more open to experiencing the beauty and power of the Mass.  But if we just show up, unwilling to engage, we will likely be disappointed because we are not willing to put in the effort to let the Mass transform us.

This is true with regards to living the mission of building a community of fervent disciples.  We all must be willing to be invested far more than just showing up to Mass and putting our donation into the collection.  Those can and do contribute to the mission, but there is much more to it.  So much more!  And we will continue exploring that next week! 

Father Alford