Here’s a great discipleship opportunity! Do you like to sing? Would you beinterested in singing in a group for one of the weekend masses? I would love to hear from you.

If you come to mass on Sunday Morning, the Cathedral Choir is hoping to add more singers to its ranks. If you come to Saturday Mass or Sunday evening Mass, we are hoping to have start a choir for those masses, too!

If you are not sure if you are qualified for one of the groups, but are interested, please get in touch with me and I’ll be happy to set up a time when you and I can meet and see if you might be a good addition to one of our choirs.

You can: Call me at the Cathedral. My extension is 132. Email me at [email protected].

Meet me in the choir loft after any mass that I’m playing.

Let’s make music together.

Mark E. Gifford, Director of music and Organist

“Holy Moly!” I exclaimed to my daughter after she told me the latest news breaking from her Pre-K 4 classroom; her teacher just had a baby! Gracey quickly took the opportunity to tell me that “Holy Moly” was a bad word. Did you know that? I sure didn’t! As I laughed it off, I tried to think about her Catholic formation, where did she hear that? How is she associating the word “holy” already? Her ability to soak up religious formation at such a young age, this summer she will turn five, impressed me.

Many will say, kids repeat everything! While that reigns true, I think they also are quick to believe everything. They have an innocence about them that places trusts in what the adults around them say. If an adult exhibits behavior that is good, typically, the child understands that is good. If an adult exhibits poor behavior, yelling, screaming, hitting, etc. the child picks up on that behavior as bad. They are reflections of the adults that surround them.

So, I need to seriously consider the adults I have around my child. Do they exhibit the values and character that I want as a role model for my child? Do they use language that is appropriate and not derogatory or mean? Do they interact with others the way Jesus would? If you find that the people you surround yourself with do not posses those qualities, it seems natural to me to find a group of adults that do. Where would you find such a group? Your parish.

Parish life has changed over the last few decades. In many places, what used to be a stroll with the neighbors down the block to Mass, turned into a 10 minutes drive. What used to be pews filled with known friends, sometimes can be filled more often with strangers. The importance of parish community can not be stressed enough. In many parishes, we have lost our sense of community in the pews, the friendships, the additional adult help that exemplifies the phrase, “it takes a village to raise a child.” In this case, “it takes a Parish to raise a child.”

So, how to we change that? How to we become closer to the people in the pews next to us? It could start with the person who might glance an understanding smile our way, when our 4 year decides it is time to act up in Mass or when our little one just had an accident. I can’t tell you how comforting it is as a mother to have that support surrounding you in the pews.

 From my peers, (older millennials you could say), I hear all the time that they don’t attend Mass because t h e i r c h i l d r e n a r e t o o disruptive. I respond, “and who cares?” I think one of the ways we can get families back into the pews, create a tighter community, and start to form our young children in the faith is by supporting each other. A small glance, a quick smile, a wave to a child, goes a long way. When my child stares at you while praying, thank you. You are the example I want her to see. When my child hears you sing the closing song and stay till the end, thank you, you are the person I need her to hear. When you compliment her on the way out for being such a good child during Mass (okay not always, but when they are) thank you, that is important for her to know.

We are each examples to these young children around us. Let us all work together, closely, and create a Christ-centered village to raise them. And, when we hear a child upset, let’s say a quick prayer and remember, we’ve all been there before when we were kids in the pews!

Katie Price is the Cathedral Coordinator of Stewardship. She received her Master’s Degree in Public Service Management from DePaul University and her research focus was on Catholic stewardship and giving. She can be contacted at [email protected].

Stewardship of Time & Talent
Time in prayer is a great practice for discerning your talents and what you may be able to share with the Parish!

Stewardship of Treasure
Weekly Collections: May 5th & 6th
Envelopes: $6,762.00
Loose: $3,430.29
Maintenance: $2,009.00
__________________________
TOTAL: $12,201.29
Needed to operate weekly: $15,907.89
Difference: $3,706.60
April EFT: $18,486.10
These are recurring electronic donations over the month.

We are adding a new section to the Weekly in the coming weeks. To celebrate our community and to get to know each other better, we are creating a section in the weekly that highlights parishioner news, prayer requests, and sacramental news to share.

Have some news you would like to share? Please email Katie Price at [email protected].

Many of the world’s religions attest to the reality that something isn’t quite right with humanity. We see suffering and evil in our lives and the lives of others, often conceding to it as some unfortunate aspect of our existence that we can’t seem to do away with. We understand that it doesn’t fit into what life should be like. C.S. Lewis wrote about this in his apologetic work , Mere Christianity. He argued that humanity has always known there is something wrong with the world—the existence of evil and suffering—which clues us into something about the way the world should be. Lewis thought that if a line is crooked, how can we identify that it is indeed crooked unless we have a straight line with which to compare? In his analogy, the straight line reflects goodness and peace, whereas the crooked one, evil and suffering. We can only judge suffering and evil as undesirable if we have a desirable state with which to compare it.

Christians talk often about the value—and unfortunate necessity—of suffering. Suffering is raw, telescoping our consciousness into our present pain, our state of helplessness. The saints suffered, and i f we read Scripture, we know that Jesus calls us to hoist up the cross on our shoulder—to trudge after him in a world that persecuted, beat, mocked and killed him. We know we are called to suffer, and to suffer sometimes without a satisfying explanation; but how do we endure? How do we carry the cross that leads to life, not the one that leads to death?

Suffering, in and of itself, is of no value. To suffer for the sake of suffering does not glorify God or bring about our sanctification. In some cases, it manifests a deep, dangerous pride that leaves no room for God’s grace.

 

In No Man Is An Island, Thomas Merton deeply contemplates the reality of suffering. Merton is quick, as many saints are, to speak of the necessity of suffering: its potential of edifying our souls and, when offered up with Christ’s ultimate act of sacrifice, of saving the souls of others. He echoes the wise words of the brilliant St. Augustine and mystical St. John of the Cross:

“Let us understand that God is a physician, and that suffering is a medicine for salvation, not a punishment for damnation.” (St. Augustine)

 “Would that men might come at last to see that it is quite impossible to reach the thicket of the riches and wisdom of God except by first entering the thicket of much suffering, in such a way that the soul finds there its consolation and desire. The soul that longs for divine wisdom chooses first, and in truth, to enter the thicket of the cross.” (St. John of the Cross)

Yet, Merton also turns from a limiting focus on the benefits of suffering in the spiritual life, to its varied and ample pitfalls. For suffering, as we all know, can tempt us to rage against God and others—to cry out in a smoldering bitterness that can burn up our very souls. As Merton writes:

 “Saints are not made saints merely by suffering. The Lord did not create suffering. Pain and death came into the world with the fall of man…[And so,] the Christian must not only accept suffering: he must make it holy. Nothing so easily becomes unholy as suffering.”

It’s human nature to believe that our own suffering is not only unique—which it is—but that it’s somehow greater than the suffering of others. When we don’t have the power to remove our suffering, we are left with only a choice: how we respond to it. It can be easy to lament that no one understands how difficult our trials, judging our warring interior with the seemingly pleasant exterior of others. As a result, we can become angry with God, accusing him of dealing with us unfairly. We may falsely craft the illusion that we are not pleasing to God because of his perceived punishment—believing God deals with us harshly because we are less loved by him, his ingrate children that he merely puts up with.

 Of course, we can also plummet into the opposite line of thinking, supposing that our own unique suffering makes us better and more loved than others. If God’s gift of suffering invites us into a greater closeness with his Paschal Mystery—which it can—then our ego can be tempted to sink its teeth firmly into the tender meat of pride. Here we can mistakenly pick up crosses that have not been left for us by Christ.

“Actually, the only sufferings anyone can validly desire are those precise, particular trials that are demanded of us in the designs of Divine Providence for our own lives.” (Thomas Merton)

We see some of the ways we are not called to suffer, yet again we must ask: How do we suffer well—in the way Christ calls us to?

We would do well to eschew the belief that we can ameliorate all suffering in this life through technology, modern innovations, medicine and a general capacity for human beings to transcend to a state bereft of any suffering. Of course, we do believe in the existence of this state—we call it heaven, or the Kingdom of God —but we must always remember God can only usher it in. We are incapable of remedying our own suffering completely. There is a level of peace that comes with accepting that our lives will always entail a certain degree of toil and difficulty. I’ve always been encouraged by the apocryphal words of St. Teresa, that even the greatest suffering in this life, when compared to the infinite joy and ecstasy of heaven, “is like a bad night in a bad inn.”

At the same time, we’re called to do as Jesus did: heal the sick, comfort the lonely, ease humanity’s collective burden by being sacraments of his love. And this includes easing our own suffering so that it does not prove a spiritual snare. We should reach out to others in our suffering so that they have the opportunity to become a sign o f Christ’s merciful love. Christ gave his hands, feet, and heart to the Church, and after we take advantage of the grace that’s offered in prayer and the sacraments, we must seek his healing through others. Christ didn’t heal those who were sick; he healed those who were sick and asked to be healed. We must ask God, as well as our brothers and sisters, to comfort and help us in our suffering.

 “Jesus who cannot suffer long to keep you in affliction will come to relieve and comfort you by infusing fresh courage into your soul.” (St. Padre Pio of Pietrelcina)

However, as much as God and others can relieve our suffering, we all know there will still be times when we’re left to our own pain—when it’s inescapable despite our prayers, the sacraments, and the mercy of others. In those moments, we are left with the choice to allow it to not only sanctify us, but others as well. This is a great gift that God gave to us by his suffering— by his sanctification of human suffering on the cross—that he enables us to join our suffering with him to help save the souls of others. We choose to suffer well as an act of love for God and others. And so we are never left to suffer without purpose or meaning as long as it’s ordered rightly to Christ. As soon as we allow our suffering to becomes meaningless, not in any way connected to our own sanctification or the salvation of others, then it becomes void and vacant—and that is never God’s will for us. Our suffering alone doesn’t save us; it points instead to Christ’s suffering that does.

 “To know the Cross is not merely to know our own sufferings. For the Cross is the sign of salvation, and no man is saved by his own sufferings. To know the Cross is to know that we are saved by the sufferings of Christ; more, it is to know the love of Christ Who underwent suffering and death in order to save us…In order to suffer without hate we must drive out bitterness from our heart by loving Jesus.” (Thomas Merton)

When a season of suffering overcomes us and leaves us on our knees, there is no intellectual explanation or clever bit of insight that will take away our pain. And at times there is no one person who can console our yearning, troubled soul. But we have Jesus, our God. And we can clutch onto his cross, look into his sorrowful eyes, and know that we are not alone. We can know that the God who suffers—ever loving and always compassionate—also suffers with us.

“The Son of God suffered unto the death, not that men might not suffer, but that their sufferings might be like His.” (George MacDonald)

Chris is the founder of The Call Collective, a blog exploring the intersection between faith, culture and creativity. He holds bachelors’ degrees in English and Economics from UCLA and currently works as a Lead Content Strategist for Point Loma Nazarene University.

Do acts of mercy in secret. Just do some good things that no one knows about. — Fr. Tom Hopko

There’s a tension in the Gospel between Jesus’ command to do good in public so others can see it and glorify God (Matt. 5:16) and the command do good in secret so only God sees it (Matt. 6:2-5).

The resolution of this tension is to be found in the intention of the do-gooder:

 why do you do what you do?

For Jesus, the only authentic intention of the disciple is summed up in the twofold commandment: love of God and love of neighbor. Love, which is willing the good of neighbor and the glory of God, takes us out of ourselves, out of our proclivity toward wound-licking and naval-gazing, and reorients us toward God and neighbor. The music of love takes as its refrain the words Jesus spoke as He consecrated the bread and wine:

 “…this is my Body which will be given up for you…my Blood…shed for you and for many…”

In those simple words is a revolution, as “my” is out-turned and placed in service to “you.” For those who dare to eat this Bread and drink this Cup, any and every claim to what is mine is immediately placed in service to the well-being of others and the glory of God(which is really saying the same thing). If I say this is “my body” or “my money” or “my home,” the Christian conscience obliges me at once to consider in what way God wishes me to rightly place those gifts I hold in my possession in service to the common good.

There’s no mistake that we call the bread and wine, after they have been transformed under the force of Jesus’ words “…for you…”, the Real Presence. Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est.

Doing good for others in secret is a wonderful asceticism for disciplining our broken tendency to turn everything back on ourselves. This is especially true when we do secret good for those who do not do good to us (Matt. 5:46). The early Fathers often counseled fasting and praying for one’s enemies without ever making it known. The frequent practice of secret mercies and kindnesses can also help prepare us for handling our public good deeds when they get praised. Not by mere protestations of pious humility — “No, really, it’s all God” [btw: no it’s not, it’s cooperating with grace] — but by very naturally experiencing an inner gratitude that you were able to benefit someone else and so manifest the glory of the God who is love. The joy of praise is found in its acknowledgment that love is the true measure of all things.

My spiritual director of 25 years ago used to say to me, “If anyone praises you for this or that, remind yourself:

 ‘How much God must love them to give me these gifts.’ It’s not about you. Gifts are ‘about you’ only inasmuch as they’re about those they were given for.”

 He continued, “The day that this thought naturally occurs to you when you are praised is the day you’ll know you’ve tasted real humility.”

Still waiting.

A number of years ago some unknown person began paying for our utilities every month, and would send us gift cards in the mail to a local grocery store. We tried every way of finding out who they were to thank them, but we were never able to. One of my children said, “Makes me want to be a better person knowing there’s someone like that out there.”

Yes. Glory to God, the hidden Giver of all gifts.

 Dr. Tom Neal presently serves as Academic Dean and Professor of Spiritual Theology at Notre Dame Seminary in New Orleans, Louisiana and has a particular passion for exposing the unlimited potential of theology to offer the faithful a deeper sharing in the mind and heart of Jesus Christ. Tom received a Masters in Systematic Theology from Mount St. Mary’s University and a PhD in Religion at Florida State University.

 

Here’s a great discipleship opportunity!

Do you like to sing? Would you be interested in singing in a group for one of the weekend masses? I would love to hear from you.

If you come to mass on Sunday Morning, the Cathedral Choir is hoping to add more singers to its ranks. If you come to Saturday Mass or Sunday evening Mass, we are hoping to have start a choir for those masses, too!

If you are not sure if you are qualified for one of the groups, but are interested, please get in touch with me and I’ll be happy to set up a time when you and I can meet and see if you might be a good addition to one of our choirs.

You can: Call me at the Cathedral. My extension is 132. Email me at [email protected].

Meet me in the choir loft after any mass that I’m playing.

Let’s make music together.

Mark E. Gifford, Director of music and Organist

“Be excellent to each other” is not only the catch-phrase of an 80s cult classic but also an excellent guide to life. And despite its dubious origin, there is wisdom contained in the memorable phrase, a wisdom of which we might need reminding.

Being excellent means much more than being polite or nice to each other. Although it certainly contains both politeness and pleasantness, there are times when politeness becomes an obstacle to the good and pleasantness a fruitless distraction from the bad, and sometimes excellence cannot be decorous.

Being excellent encompasses what is commonly called “tough love.” Because love requires giving a child his shots. Love requires uncomfortably confronting a friend’s self-destructive behavior. Love requires taking the car keys from an elderly relative. And in some cases, love demands unpleasantness, demands refusing superficial niceties. It calls for excellence, which means doing what is truly good for each other.

In a way, “be excellent to each other” is a consequence of Saint Thomas’s definition of love: “to will the good of another.” And thus, the Christian life proposes new forms of excellence, elaborated in the works of mercy. In one way, the memorable maxim recalls the work of admonishing the sinner. To be excellent to the sinner is to admonish him for his sin, at the proper time and in a prudent manner, in order to lead him back to Christ. It also recalls the work of evangelization, the sharing of the life-giving message of forgiveness and redemption purchased by Jesus Christ for each and every person.

Withholding the Gospel from someone, even if it’s easier and nicer and politer, is leaving someone lost in the darkness without the Light of Life. And that’s most un-excellent. Servant of God Dorothy Day, champion of the poor, says the same.

Together with the works of mercy, feeding, clothing and sheltering our brothers, we must indoctrinate. We must “give reason for the faith that is in us.” Otherwise our religion is an opiate, for ourselves alone, for our comfort or for our individual safety or indifferent custom.

We cannot live alone. We cannot go to heaven alone. Otherwise, as Peguy said, God will say to us, “Where are the others?” If we do not keep indoctrinating, we lose the vision. And if we lose the vision, we become merely philanthropists, doling out palliatives.

Don’t dole out spiritual palliatives when you know the Divine Physician who freely gives the miracle cure. Don’t be nice and polite at the expense of the good. “Be excellent to each other.”

This article was written by Br. Hyacinth Grubb, O.P., who entered the Order of Preachers in 2013. A Colorado native, he graduated from Columbia University where he studied Electrical Engineering. This article appeared in the Word on Fire blog, used with permission.

Stewardship of Time & Talent
Time in prayer is a great practice for discerning your talents and what you may be able to share with the Parish!

Stewardship of Treasure
Weekly Collections: April 28th & 29th
Envelopes: $7, 011.22
Loose: $6,531.08
Maintenance: $80.00
__________________________
TOTAL: $13,622.30

Needed to operate weekly: $15,907.89
Difference: $2,285.59

April EFT: $18,486.10
These are recurring electronic donations over the month.

Parishioner News

We are adding a new section to the Weekly in the coming weeks. To celebrate our community and to get to know each other better, we are creating a section in the weekly that highlights parishioner news, prayer requests, and sacramental news to share.222

Have some news you would like to share? Please email Katie Price at [email protected].

“Bring flowers the fairest, bring flowers the rarest, from garden and woodland and hillside and dale; our full hearts are swelling, our glad voices telling the praise of the loveliest flower of the vale!”

The preceding few lines will be familiar to some who read this but probably not to too many. These words are a part of a thirteenth century hymn entitled “Queen of the May” and this hymn was traditionally sung during May, especially at May crowning ceremonies, in honor of Mary our Blessed Mother. Growing up at St. Aloysius on the north side, the May crowning was a yearly event as it was in many Catholic schools and hopefully it remains so; our school children crowned the statue of Mary in the fountain courtyard this past week.

May is traditionally known as the month of Mary. Centuries ago, May was dedicated to the pagan Roman goddess Flora who was the goddess of blooms. The month was dedicated to her as a way of casting our winter and welcoming in the new life of spring. As the true Christian faith spread throughout the Roman empire and the rest of the world, this festival of Flora disappeared but various practices to welcome the change in seasons remained. Beginning in the Middle Ages, a popular devotion came about entitled Tricesimum which was a thirty-day period celebrated in honor of Mary. At one time, it was celebrated from August 15th (the Assumption) until September 14th (Our Lady of Sorrows) and still is today in some places. As time progressed, this celebration of Tricesimum was merged with honoring Mary in the month of May. By the 13th century, May was becoming synonymous with being the month of Mary throughout many parts of the Church.

During this month of May, as we continue our celebration of the Easter season and the new life won for us by the risen Christ, we are mindful again of the role that Mary played in the drama of our salvation. God’s plan for our salvation in his son Jesus began with Mary’s yes to God’s will for her. We are invited daily to echo Mary’s yes to God’s will in our lives because salvation is the ultimate end of God’s will for each and every person. We honor Mary throughout the Church year, but particularly in this month, because she is our great model of discipleship and our great intercessor with Jesus her son.

The refrain to the old hymn states:

 “O Mary, we crown thee with blossoms today, Queen of the Angels, Queen of the May!”

Let us crown Mary in our hearts with our own faithful discipleship in following Jesus her son, who invites all of us to fullness of life in him.

Father Christopher House is the Rector-Pastor of the Cathedral and serves in various leadership roles within the diocesan curia, specifically Chancellor and Vicar Judicial.