Bishop David L. Ricken of Green Bay, Wisconsin, former chairman of the Committee on Evangelization and Catechesi s of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB), offers “10 Things to Remember for Lent”:

Remember the formula. The Church does a good job capturing certain truths with easy-toremember lists and formulas: 10 Commandments, 7 sacraments, 3 persons in the Trinity. For Lent, the Church gives us almost a slogan—Prayer, Fasting and Almsgiving—as the three things we need to work on during the season.

It’s a time of prayer. Lent is essentially an act of prayer spread out over 40 days. As we pray, we go on a journey, one that hopefully brings us closer to Christ and leaves us changed by the encounter with him.

It’s a time to fast. With the fasts of Ash Wednesday and Good Friday, meatless Fridays, and our personal disciplines interspersed, Lent is the only time many Catholics these days actually fast. And maybe that’s why it gets all the attention. “What are you giving up for Lent? Hotdogs? Beer? Jelly beans?” It’s almost a game for some of us, but fasting is actually a form of penance, which helps us turn away from sin and toward Christ.

It’s a time to work on discipline. The 40 days of Lent are also a good, set time to work on personal discipline in general. Instead of giving something up, it can be doing something positive. “I’m going to exercise more. I’m going to pray more. I’m going to be nicer to my family, friends and coworkers.”

It’s about dying to yourself. The more serious side of Lenten discipline is that it’s about more than self-control – it’s about finding aspects of yourself that are less than Christ-like and letting them die. The suffering and death of Christ are foremost on our minds during Lent, and we join in these mysteries by suffering, dying with Christ and being resurrected in a purified form.

Don’t do too much. It’s tempting to make Lent some ambitious period of personal reinvention, but it’s best to keep it simple and focused. There’s a reason the Church works on these mysteries year after year. We spend our entire lives growing closer to God. Don’t try to cram it all in one Lent. That’s a recipe for failure.

Lent reminds us of our weakness. Of course, even when we set simple goals for ourselves during Lent, we still have trouble keeping them. When we fast, we realize we’re all just one meal away from hunger. In both cases, Lent shows us our weakness.

This can be painful, but recognizing how helpless we are makes us seek God’s help with renewed urgency and sincerity.

Be patient with yourself. When we’re confronted with our own weakness during Lent, the temptation is to get angry and frustrated. “What a bad person I am!” But that’s the wrong lesson. God is calling us to be patient and to see ourselves as he does, with unconditional love.

Reach out in charity. As we experience weakness and suffering during Lent, we should be renewed in our compassion for those who are hungry, suffering or otherwise in need. The third part of the Lenten formula is almsgiving. It’s about more than throwing a few extra dollars in the collection plate; it’s about reaching out to others and helping them without question as a way of sharing the experience of God’s unconditional love.

Learn to love like Christ. Giving of ourselves in the midst of our suffering and self-denial brings us closer to loving like Christ, who suffered and poured himself out unconditionally on cross for all of us. Lent is a journey through the desert to the foot of the cross on Good Friday, as we seek him out, ask his help, join in his suffering, and learn to love like him.

We do not hear about lepers today. Generally, when the word is used, it is used more as a figure of speech to describe someone who has become an outsider for one reason or another. The term leprosy was a wide-ranging term for any visible skin ailment in ancient times. One form of leprosy in Biblical times was known as nodule leprosy. It would discolor the skin and skin nodules would form in the folds of the face, on the nose, lips, and forehead, ultimately disfiguring the person who was afflicted with it. The disease would also cause ulcers on the body and vocal chords, and eventually even affect the person’s mental state. Another form of leprosy was known as anaesthetic leprosy. This form of the disease would attack a person’s nerves, especially in their hands and feet, eventually causing them to lose fingers, toes, and whole limbs. Finally, any type of skin disease was considered leprosy including psoriasis.

Besides the intense physical suffering that this disease inflicted on its victims, there was also the pain of the social stigma that came with it. People long ago did not understand the nature of disease, how they were contracted, or how they occurred. Disease and illness were seen as punishments from God for sins that a person had committed. For this reason, and also for the contagious aspect of diseases, those who were found to be sick with leprosy were cast out of society. The first reading this Sunday from the Book of Leviticus tells us what was expected of those poor souls who found themselves afflicted. The unjust social stigma and shame that they faced, through no fault of their own, only compounded the suffering that they were already experiencing in their bodies. Leprosy was essentially an undeserved excommunication for which there was no real remedy. Only those who had a passing affliction, which would not have been true leprosy, were able to find themselves “clean” and able to rejoin the community.

This Sunday, Mark’s Gospel recounts the scene where our Lord Jesus is approached by a leper. The encounter was unthinkable as this man, because of his condition, was forbidden to be around others, let alone approach someone. He asks Jesus to heal him, if Jesus wills to do so, and Jesus does. The Gospel tells us that Jesus was moved with pity. Other translations say that he was filled with compassion; however, some scholars say that both of these are wrong, that the proper translation was that he was filled with anger. Anger?

Jesus’s anger would not have been with the man, but rather with the social injustice that further victimized the man, causing him to qualify his request to be healed with “if you wish.” Of course, Jesus wanted to heal the man, to “make him clean,” to bring him from the outside back into the community.

Are we willing to do the same for the “lepers” among us?

We know all too well of societal sins: racism, sexism, and other forms of discrimination. As Christians, it should be second nature for us to be angered by the injustices around us and for us to seek to end them, to bring those on the outside in. Sadly, these sins find their way into the Church’s members as well and there is no room for these attitudes and behaviors whatsoever. There are also “lepers” around us whom we do not recognize; those who carry shame and guilt for reasons unknown to us. For them we must always be ready to be sources of the mercy and compassion of God.

Why does Jesus tell people that he has cured, such as the man in this Sunday’s Gospel, not to tell anyone? He does this because he knows that there is going to be pushback from the powers of the world who do not want to hear and heed his message or to accept the change that Jesus seeks to bring. Jesus knows that this pushback is inevitable, but he wants to be able to preach and minister as freely as possible in the time that he has, which is limited. If we would follow the Lord’s example and seek to bring in those who have been cast out, we too can expect pushback from the powers of the world. These powers do not accept the Gospel today any more than they did 2,000 years ago. So, do what is right and holy and let the world pushback. Seek those who have been pushed out, those who are the modern “lepers.” The world will not like it, but the world’s opinion is ultimately worthless. Remember, we who bear the name “Christian” do not belong to the world.

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

We’ve probably all received an unexpected gift or act of love. Perhaps this past Christmas someone we didn’t know very well— and from whom we didn’t expect anything—brought us a gift or wrote us a nice card. Since we didn’t expect it, we may feel uniquely loved and valued. We’re touched by the act, possibly more so than gifts by our loved ones, which we expect on some level. The urge breaches to do something nice for that person, to offer them something tangible as well—to remit payment for the free, unexpected act of kindness. Since they did something nice for me, surely I must do something similar in return.

There is obviously nothing wrong with showing affection or love to another who has first shown it to us, and in fact, that’s what we are called to do with God who first loved us. However, there can be the subtle temptation to believe that if we don’t respond in kind, if we remain only the receiver of love, then we’ll lose out on this person’s love—and potential gifting—in the future; if I don’t gift them in return, then they’ll love me a little less, or perhaps not at all. It’s a natural and reasonable feeling because we live in a world ordered by justice. And with other people, that is usually true. If we don’t respond to their love with love, we can lose it.

It’s a great challenge not to let this paradigm of justice sour our relationship with God. We can fall prey to judging the measure of God’s love for us based on our actions or behavior. Now, to be clear, our relationship with God is dependent in some sense on our behavior—clearly a life of grace looks different than a life of sin. We must respond to his love with love, otherwise it’s a oneway relationship, which isn’t a relationship at all. We choose to receive God’s love—and receive it to an infinite number of degrees—or reject it altogether. In this case, any lack of union with God is our fault, as God doesn’t love us any more or less depending on the state of our souls:

“But I say to you, love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your heavenly Father, for he makes his sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust.” – Mt. 5:44-45

With our intellect we may believe God loves us unconditionally, but it’s hard to believe it with our hearts. It’s easier instead to believe that if we do good, God will reward us with good, and if bad, then God will punish us with bad. This can bleed into our relationships with others. If others do good to us, then we can rightfully love them, but if not, then they don’t deserve our love. In short order, this can snatch the joy and freedom of living in God’s friendship. If we’re perpetually nervous that God’s favor with us might slip, then we become overly critical of ourselves, doubtful of God’s mercy, and unable to image God’s love to our neighbor. For if we worship a God—even unintentionally or implicitly—who loves us based on our actions or good deeds only, then we have no hope of loving others without condition.

One of the most beloved parables in the Gospel is that of the Prodigal Son. When I initially came back to the faith, I empathized strongly with the younger son (something to be expected by those of us who have strayed from God before being embraced again by his mercy). I was also quick to dismiss the elder son as pharisaical—a blind, arrogant, jealous, and judgmental man without a heart of flesh. And while the elder son doesn’t respond to the celebratory feast with love and joy, there is something understandable about his response. As I matured in my faith I was able to see the elder son in a more empathetic gaze. He is simply living within the confines of the natural world— one built on the pillars of justice and fairness. Day after day, he weathered the sun and rain to work for his father out in the field. He has been patient, obedient, dutiful, and virtuous. And so when he finds out that his prodigal brother is back, and his father has killed the fattened calf, he is understandably upset.

“He said to his father in reply, ‘Look, all these years I served you and not once did I disobey your orders; yet you never gave me even a young goat to feast on with my friends. But when your son returns who swallowed up your property with prostitutes, for him you slaughter the fattened calf.’” – Lk. 15:29-30

While his response is reasonable, it only is through the eyes of the world—one bereft of radical mercy. I see his bitterness stemming not so much from a blatant maliciousness—a stony hatred that opposes his brother’s salvation—but rather from being hurt. Perhaps he is deeply hurt because he assumes that if his father never slayed even a goat for him, despite his good and obedient behavior, then his father must love him less. And if we too believe God loves us less than others because of what befalls us in this life or the blessings that others receive, then we can become angry and bitter—a deep wound can fester unchecked.

Henri Nouwen echoes this same thought in his insightful and touching The Return of the Prodigal Son:

“When I listen carefully to the words with which the elder son attacks his father—self-righteous, self-pitying, jealous words—I hear a deeper complaint. It is a complaint that comes from the heart that feels it never received what it was due.”

If we live in this space, we aren’t able to understand the reality of a God who is merciful, a Father who bestows love on us—and others—without our deserving it. The elder brother sees through the eyes of the world, and in his account, he is right: the younger son deserves punishment, justice. However, God responds with a radical mercy that can only be understood in the light of grace. It’s the kind of mercy that the world itself doesn’t understand.

On May 13, 1981, Mehmet Ali Agca, a man who had escaped from a Turkish prison, shot Pope John Paul II four times in St. Peter’s Square. Two years later, in 1983, the Pope would image the Vicar of Christ in a profound, concrete way. He visited his would-be assassin—the man who willed his death and caused him much physical pain and suffering—and befriended him. And in 2000, the Pope requested that the man be pardoned. Here was a man who knew that the Father loves all men unconditionally—even the “unjust.” This was a man who understood what it meant to look into the heart of every single person and love them freely, not expecting anything in return, no matter the cost.

If we don’t see God’s love as truly unconditional—that God does really love us more than we love ourselves, no matter what evil we’ve done—then we are empty vessels without the capacity to share his love with others. In this state, the good we do is coerced in some way, done to appease a peevish father or to ensure a life of continued blessedness.

“Yet there can never be happiness in compulsion. It is not enough for love to be shared: it must be shared freely.” – Thomas Merton, “No Man Is An Island”

Love can only be shared freely if we believe it has been given to us freely in the first place. We never do find out what the elder son does, and I think for good reason. As we stand outside, the sun burrowing beneath the hills, and God pleads with us to join the celebration inside, what will our response be? Will we refuse to share our love with those who seemingly don’t deserve it? Or will we walk back with God into a room filled with laughter, mirth, and music, with hearts ready to share God’s mercy with all?

Chris Hazell is the founder of The Call Collective, a blog exploring the intersection between faith, culture and creativity. This article was written for the Word on Fire Blog, printed with permission.

I can’t imagine being a nurse or doctor. Medicine is tough, from the hours, to the demanding situations, to the needy patients at all times of the day. I would imagine time alone for a few quick minutes could be a luxury! But all too quickly, the silence breaks and it is back to saving lives and tending to the sick.

This week we saw Jesus’ ministry in this same fashion. He is in high demand. As we follow His ministry in Mark’s Gospels, he continues to preach and heal. To this end, as he takes care of one person, he need simply turn around and see another in need. Again, and again. “Everyone is looking for you.” (MK 1: 37)

It might be more obvious to reflect on his healing ministry, but I wanted to focus today on prayer. Of course, Jesus was fully aware of the needy around Him. However, we witness the importance of prayer life to Jesus through today’s Gospel.

“Rising very early before dawn, he left and went off to a deserted place, where he prayed.” (MK 1:35)

Prayer was a priority Jesus made at the start of the day before anything else. Taking away distraction, Jesus sought to find a private place of prayer. He sought alone time, which is something too often many of us are without.

In this Gospel, Jesus models for us Stewardship of Time. Stewardship of Time is our opportunity to make time with God a priority. He also shares a model for a personal prayer life, drawing us closer to our relationship with God. It takes an intentional decision to place your relationship with God above all else, as Jesus has shown us.

Katie Price is the Stewardship Coordinator for the Cathedral. She can be reached at [email protected].

The books of the Bible each have their own innate beauty because each is the inspired word of God, but that is not to say that the individual reader may not have different preferences for one book over the other. This is usually the case with the four Gospels. For me, my favorite is the Gospel of Luke because it gives us one of the two infancy narratives (Matthew does also), it is full of parables and stories (as in Matthew also), and the Passion narrative is one where Jesus continues to minster throughout his own suffering as he makes his way to Calvary (rather different from Matthew). The Book of Job is another standout for me among the Scriptures.

We do not know who wrote the Book of Job, but it was likely written between the 7th and 5th centuries BC. The book centers on numerous tragic events that happen to Job, who himself is a good and holy man, and these events are the source of great suffering for him. The book contains varying discourses from Job, his neighbors, and finally from God. In the first reading for this Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time, we hear of Job’s frustration, sorrow, and even anger at the events that have happened to him and the direction that his life has taken. Towards the end of the book, God speaks to Job in a wonderful, vivid discourse, reminding Job, and us, that God’s ways are far beyond us. At the end of the book, God makes all things right for Job, yet there is one thing in reading the Book of Job that you will find lacking: an answer to the question of why do bad things happen to good people.

This question is as old as time and if I had an answer for you I would be selling books and appearing on talk shows. We can delve into philosophy and theology to address this question and we can come up with some answers but they will not be definitive and many will not find them satisfactory. Fully grasping the problem of evil, especially concerning the innocent, is something that none of us will be able to fully this side of heaven. While we may not be able to answer the question, that does not mean that there is nothing to do in the face of suffering and evil.

This Sunday finds us continuing in the first chapter of Mark’s Gospel. Jesus is preaching and healing, the crowds are coming to him, and in the midst of it all he attempts to briefly get away. Our translation says that his disciples “pursued him” but the actual Greek is closer to “hunted him down.” The crowds were eager, desperate to get to Jesus because they recognized in him the ability to make things better: to cure, to forgive, to heal, and to console. Jesus leaves his solitude and goes back into the fray of the crowds who have been searching for him. The crowds knew that Jesus could make a difference. Do we believe the same when faced with suffering in our own lives?

When faced with suffering, we want it gone, we want nothing to do with it; that is a natural reaction. In dealing with suffering, when deciding where we turn to or where we go, is God one of those options, or, rather, shouldn’t God be our automatic “go to?” Jesus tells his disciples in this Sunday’s Gospel that preaching the Kingdom is why he has come and so he sets off. The coming of the Kingdom is about our liberation from the power of sin and the cares of the world. With this proclamation, the Lord also God’s desire for our good through his healing actions and his generous compassion.

The good news for us is that whenever we turn to God in the face of suffering, he is already turning towards us. God does not will our suffering and while God will not always address our suffering in the way we might want him to, he will always be present in it as he was to Job and as Jesus was to the crowds. The Psalmist this weekend reminds us that God “heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” You may not have an answer for why bad things happen in life, but in the midst of sorrow, pain, and loss, God will draw near to you, to love you and to console you. In the end, on the other side of heaven, he will make everything right as he did for Job. In the meantime, make sure that you are always seeking to draw near to him, whether in joy or in sorrow.

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.

As cited in the Catechism (No. 2043), the Precepts of the Church maintain that each person has the duty to support the material needs of the Church. Of course a person fulfills this obligation according to his abilities. The Code of Canon Law also states, “The Christian faithful are obliged to assist with the needs of the Church so that the Church has what is necessary for divine worship for apostolic works and works of charity end for the decent sustenance of ministers” (No. 222). However, the Church does not mandate a “tithe” as such of any percentage of income or other resource.

The word tithe comes from the Anglo-Saxon word teotha meaning “a tenth. ” The first mention of a tithe in the Bible occurs in G e n e s i s w h e n Melchizedek, a king and a “priest of God Most High,” offered a sacrifice of bread and wine in thanksgiving for Abraham’s victory over several enemy kings. As an o ff e r i n g t o God, A b r a h a m g a v e Melchizedek “a tenth of e v e r y t h i n g . ” (Co n f e r Genesis 14.) However, this tithe was not seen as i n i t i a t i n g some new practice, but rather as fulfilling an established custom. Apparently, one tenth of one’s bounty was customarily given to the priests in their service to God.

 The Torah laws prescribe the offering of tithes A person offered to God, or “tithed,” one-tenth of the harvest of grain of the fields or the produce of fruit of the trees, one-tenth of new pressed wine and oil, and every tends firstborn animal of herd or flock (Leviticus 23 30-33. Deuteronomy 12:17. 14:22-29). Such tithing recognized that God had graciously bestowed these blessings upon man, and man in return offered a thanksgiving sacrifice of one-tenth of the “first fruits.”

The Book of Numbers also records how God prescribed that the Levites, the priestly class of the Jewish people were entrusted with these tithes: “To the Levites I hereby assign al} tithes in Israel as their heritage in recompense for the service they perform in the meeting tent” (Number 18:21-24). Therefore, these tithes were contributions offered to the Lord and distributed to the Levites for their support.

Interestingly, the practice of tithing whether as a sacrifice in honor of God or as a tax in payment to a ruler was common among the ancient people of Greece, Rome, Lydia, Arabia, Babylon, and Persia. Some archaeologists suggest that the portion one-tenth constituted the tithe because the number ten was the basis for the numerical system and thereby signified totality. Since God governed totality, any blessing received from it was a gift of God, and an appropriate act of thanksgiving one-tenth-ought to be returned to God.

In the early history of our Church, the priests depended upon the generous support of congregations for their sustenance. This custom was based on the New Testament instruction: Jesus taught the apostles to depend upon charity when He sent them on mission “Provide yourselves with neither gold nor silver nor copper in your belts; no traveling beg. no change of shirt, no sandals no walking staff. The workman after all, is worth his keep. (Mt. 10 10). St. Paul also instructed the early Church community to provide for the needs of their priests “Do you not realize that those who work in the temple are supported by the temple and those who minister at the alter share the offerings of the altar? Likewise, the Lord Himself ordered that those who preach the gospel should live by the gospel” (I Cor inthians 9:13- Such support, of course, was spontaneous and within a person’s means.

However, as the Church grew, the Church enacted laws to insure such support, based on the precepts of the Old Testament. The first recorded legislation is found in a letter of the Bishops assembled at Tours, France m 567 and the canons of the Council of Macon in 585. The Church viewed tithes as in accord with divine law since they were instituted by God Himself. The practice of tithing fluctuated throughout Europe. After the Protestant Reformation and then especially the French Revolution, and the growing secularization of civil government, mandatory tithing fell into disuse.

In the United States, churches have relied on the voluntary contributions of the faithful. Prior to Independence, a different situation existed. During the early colonial period in those areas governed by France and Spain a mandatory “tithing” was sometimes imposed which supported the Catholic Church. In the same way, in the English colonies tax revenue was used to support the Church of England.

 Although we may not have a rule of tithing, we do have the duty to support the needs of the Church, whether at the international, diocesan or parish level. Each of us should evaluate what we do “give back to God” through our support of the Church and charitable organization. For example, we should ask, “Do I give to God each week at least what I spend on entertainment, such as movies? Do I give to God at least one hour’s worth of my 40 hour pay check?” St. Paul in his Second Letter to the Corinthians (8:1-7) praised the generosity of the faithful in Macedonia: “In the midst of severe trial their overflowing joy and deep poverty have produced an abundant generosity According to their means — indeed I can testify even beyond their means — and voluntarily, they begged us insistently for the favor of sharing in this service to members of the church. “Each of us should be more of a “tither” than a “tipper” in returning a portion of our bounty back to God.

Father William Saunders is pastor of Our Lady of Hope parish in Potomac Falls, Virginia. He is dean of the Notre Dame Graduate School of Christendom College. The above article is a “Straight Answers” column he wrote for the Arlington Catholic Herald. Father Saunders is the author of Straight Answers, a book based on 100 of his columns, and Straight Answers II.

“I just want you to be happy.”

These words are some of the most confusing in all of man’s vocabulary. Through those simple words, many lives have been restored. However, through those same words, many lives have been wrecked. To take an extreme example, imagine a man with an addiction to heroin. The man who gives him his fix states these words. The man who drags him kicking and screaming to a local rehabilitation program states the exact same words. Yet the end results of both situations are vastly different. As another example, a husband and wife decide to get divorced and they both say to one another, “I just want you to be happy,” yet the lives of the children will never be the same.

Philosophers, pastors, teachers, and mentors have echoed man’s natural desire for happiness since the beginning of time. In many philosophy 101 classes, regardless of culture, ethnicity, religion, or creed, this is the first principle from which our attempts to make sense of the world flow. The desired end is always the same, but it is often the road to that end that marks the great difference.

Fr. Robert Spitzer once laid out four levels of happiness after reviewing Greek and Christian writers. These are: laetus, felix, beatitudo, and sublime beatitudo. Laetus is happiness in a thing, perhaps food or a new toy, but this happiness is short-lived and we know it can’t completely fulfill us. Felix is a happiness based on competition, such as “I am better at math than Lucy,” but this happiness is unstable as the constant pursuit to outdo those around us, should we fail, could lead us bitter and broken. Beatitudo comes from our altruistic behavior and seeing the good in all those we come into contact with; however, while this happiness is better than felix, we might make our happiness contingent upon being everything to everyone. Lastly, sublime beatitudo is the full perfection of happiness, particularly the fullness of the transcendentals: beauty, truth, and goodness.

With this in mind, any person in their right mind would naturally ask, “How do I attain the highest level of happiness?” So often we get stuck on the first level of happiness and focus on accruing numerous things, nice houses, big cars, etc., but this has been shown time and again to be a false sense of contentment. As the sage spiritualist Jim Carrey stated, “I think everybody should get rich and famous and do everything they ever dreamed of so they can see that it’s not the answer.” We’ve seen the seemingly irrational suicides of men who had every bit of laetus, like Chester Bennington and Chris Cornell, who in the eyes of the world ought to have been the happiest men on planet earth. In America, during arguably the most affluent era of history, only 33% say that they are happy overall.

Yet time and again we see the desire for fame, wealth, and honor listed as non-negotiables for a fulfilling life.

The next stages of happiness, felix and beatitudo, which are certainly steps in the right direction, can still potentially come up short in true, interior fulfillment. Felix, for example, can help a man or woman’s drive to be excellent in their work and their pursuits. Competition is a healthy passion which can motivate us to do things we never dreamed of. However, it can also lead to an unhealthy fear of our inadequacies and put us in depression. Beatitudo is also healthy and a great reminder that we indeed are called to live for others. This sort of happiness can lead people to start soup kitchens or build homes for the homeless, but it has also led to violence in the name of helping the helpless.

I think many of us would agree that we all ought to be aiming for sublime beatitudo, and I’m sure many of our readers can easily see the role that a relationship with Christ will play in the growth of our overall happiness; however, with the rise of the nones who have very little interest in religion as a source of happiness, how is it that perhaps we can and ought to use this natural desire for happiness to better engage the path of virtue as a first step in the process of evangelization?

My assertion is that we must have a robust apologetic of happiness.

This apologetic would aim to awaken the senses of the interlocutor to the vast expanse of potential happiness that is offered because of the very fact that they are human. This apologetic could not rest on the esoteric religious experience as many of the “nones” we would encounter have already experienced religion in their own subjective way and have decided to step away. So simply telling them that Jesus is what will make them happy will probably either be brushed off as it reminds them of the childhood religion they left, or it is so abstract of a concept that they have absolutely no context from which to understand the statement.

Rather this apologetic would need to focus on what is important in the lives of those we want to reach. In the book Churchless, put together by the folks over at the Barna Group, there’s a poll that was taken in which the most important life goals of the unchurched were listed. The top four are: staying in good health, career success, being a good parent, and being comfortable financially. Within those goals, there is a healthy mixture of laetus, felix, and beatitudo. Now what I am suggesting is that as evangelists we need to be able to speak directly to these types of concerns. How can Christianity offer to deepen good health, career success, money, and parenting to such a degree that the religiously unaffiliated cannot ignore it? How is it that making Jesus the Lord of our life practically applies to these concerns and affects them in such a way that the start of evangelization and an introduction to Christ might become a real possibility? How is it that we can begin with laetus, felix, and beatitudo in order to introduce the highest happiness, sublime beatitudo, which is Christ Himself as the fulfillment of beauty, truth, and goodness?

The apologetic of happiness would by necessity begin with a recognition of our desire to be happy. Money, health, and being a good parent all stem from our natural desire to live a life of happiness. The beauty of the Christian thing is that the vision of these aspects of human life is that of balance. Do we need to work hard and make money? Yes. Do we need to be concerned with our physical health? Yes. But Christianity deepens our understanding of these goals. It teaches that money is needed to provide but not to fulfill, and that while seeking physical health requires self-discipline and can assist in overall well-being—both excellent goals to attain—the healthiest man alive isn’t necessarily the happiest. Christianity does not negate these things. Rather, they give them a deeper meaning and a healthy sense of detachment so that we don’t seek these good things as if they were sublime beatitudo itself.

Money, career, and health, all aspects of the first two levels of happiness, can disappear in an instant. We’ve seen numerous men and women who have these things take their own lives or live in utter depression for years. This isn’t to say they aren’t important but rather to put them in context. Indeed, these are good and wonderful aspects of human flourishing; but again, they are not something that lasts forever.

One that stands out to me is the desire to be a good parent. Now you are beginning to reach the third level of happiness. In the Ted Talk by Dr. Robert Waldinger, What makes a good life? Lessons from the longest study on happiness, we learn that after seventyfive years of research, they found that one thing is better equipped than most to make us happy: good relationships. He states that good social connections lead to happier and physically healthier lives. The problem is that what we want is a quick fix. But that isn’t the nature of relationships. Relationships are hard work. They require sacrifice and an emptying of our own egos. Community and family life is the foundational principle of a happy life, and I believe that in the necessity of an apologetic of happiness, we need to offer the abstract ideal of human happiness, but then equalize that with the very practical reality of having a deep relationship with those we intend to evangelize.

Climbing the levels of happiness requires us to slowly eschew our own faults and failings, and to recognize that perhaps what we thought made us happy is only the first step. This ladder can often appear as a difficult climb ahead, so when we use the words, “I just want you to be happy,” we need to be viscerally aware of the fact that the happiness we are presenting is going to hurt, in the sense that our egos will be tested, but also restore in the loving embrace of Christ’s divine life which can best be found in the sublime beatitudo.

Jared Zimmerer is a Catholic author, speaker, blogger, husband and father of 6 and the Director of Outreach and Mission at Word on Fire Catholic Ministries. He holds a bachelor’s degree in Kinesiology, He also holds a Master’s Degree in Theology from Holy Apostles College and Seminary.

How can someone have authority over my stewardship?

This week in the Gospel we are learning about Jesus’ authority. The Gospel tells us how Jesus departed from the traditional habits of the teachers in the synagogues to teaching with new authority. Of course, his authority came from God, but people were “astonished” because this occurred early on in his ministry and was not the norm. In the second part of the Gospel, Jesus expels a demon. But also in non-traditional habit for the day, he does so much quicker, not relying on long ceremonies or ordeals which often did not work. Jesus did not need to rely on ceremonies because He had the authority of God, the same authority we referred to earlier in the Gospel. The positive reaction from the people when He ministered with this authority started to build their trust in the Lord, the same trust we should have with him.

God is the authority in our lives. In fact, while we may personally discern our stewardship practices, he is the real authority that reminds us that all we have, is what is needed. In most instances who has authority also has priority. This authority is linked to a Christian Steward’s way of life. Stewards consider giving their first fruits in return for all the gifts they have received from God. Each breath we take, each child we hold, each family member we cherish is a gift. A gift we are to return.

With God at the helm of stewardship, how could anyone go astray? But, as many of us know, we have. The culture seems to have lost the voice of authority. We have lost the authentic sense of giving. We give because we are told to by some other authority. There is a carrot at the end of that gift, not a holiness achieved. For example, in speaking with a group of friends who are parents of young children, I heard of the responsibilities to give time and money to this or that. However, the conversation had a tone of frustration or anger, like “how dare the school ask me to give more.” Despite knowing charity is needed to support many of our Catholic missions, we typically need to be reminded to do it, and even asked. I wonder what a community looks like when everyone is freely giving? Giving with no “checkbox” next to their name, giving without condition, giving to the fullest extent, freely, without reminders and without the need to ask for more because more is always given.

Part of an interesting exercise I get to be a part of each week, is watching my daughter “withdraw” from her piggy bank to share what she has with the Parish. In no organized fashion (clearly accounting might not be in our future) she takes a handful of her coins and throws them into her purse, never hesitating or counting. Her measurement is the size of her hand, but in comparison to what she has, that is close to everything. She like many other kids, have a natural ability to give. Often without asking, if they see someone in need they try to help. Sadly, when many adults see someone in need we avoid eye contact and try to go the other way. There is so much we can learn from these little people in our lives. Sure, they may not have the bills to pay, the responsibilities we have, but they do know the value of giving. Understanding that it was God wants for them and as authority in their lives, they act to please Him first. What authority are we placing before God’s in our lives?

Katie Price is the Coordinator of Stewardship for the Cathedral.

No, the tagline for this article is not a mistake nor are we jumping the gun because, believe it or not, A s h We d n e s d a y a n d t h e beginning of Lent is less than three weeks away. With that in mind, I thought it might be good for us to being to turn our minds toward this holy season. Like many things in life, what you get out of Lent will depend on what you put into it and, with Lent, attitude is everything. I will confess that in my younger days that I saw Lent as nothing more than a forty-day slog through drudgery and Friday nights of limited options for going out to eat; once again, attitude is everything. So how do we see/approach Lent?

Lent is a great love story. It may not seem to be so on the surface but what is the season all about? If we first focus on sacrifice, self-denial, and penance then we will be placing our focus in the wrong area. Lent is a great love story because it is about a God, our God, who has a love for us that is unbreakable, unrelenting, and inexhaustible, even though we are guilty of rejecting his love time and time again. The selections that the Church gives us from the Scriptures demonstrate this. We are reminded that God has chosen us to be his own and that he has done this is a wonderful way in his only Son through baptism. Through sin, we have squandered the grace that God has given us through this sacrament, but Lent is about a call to return to that grace again. This is what the first four and a half weeks of the season speak to, from Ash Wednesday until the Fifth Sunday.

The second part of Lent continues to tell that same great love story but recalls how this love of God was perfectly manifested in the Paschal Mystery of Jesus, that is, in his passion, death, and resurrection. The fifth week of Lent transitions us to Holy Week which ends with the triumph of Easter. It is at this glorious feast that we renew our baptismal promises, having focused on allowing God to renew the grace of that same sacrament in us throughout Lent.

Sacrifice and self-denial are our responses to the gift of God’s grace that is offered to us for our renewal. The penances and pious acts that we may choose to adopt are not ends in themselves, but acts by which we seek to root out in our lives what does not belong so that the grace of God may find a welcome place deep in our lives. The same is true about the reception of Ashes on Ash Wednesday. The ashes we receive are nothing more than the ash of old palms that has been blessed. There is nothing mystical about the ashes in themselves. What is important about the ashes is that we receive them as an outward sign of an inner desire to change our lives, to be converted back to right relationship with God. Ashes and pious acts of sacrifice and self-denial must come from a genuine desire to change; if not then these acts are empty.

There are many things that we can do for Lent: add daily Mass to our daily routine, pray the Stations of the Cross, ready the Scriptures daily, participate in giving to CRS Rice Bowl, give alms in the special collections for charity, give your time to a good cause, add time for daily prayer, and the list goes on and on. Whatever you may do or not do, make whatever choice you do in the hope of growing deeper in the love that God has for you. Lent is not about what do I have to give up but rather how can I respond to the Lord’s call to turn back to him. The first reading of Lent on Ash Wednesday begins God’s word spoken through the Prophet Joel: “even now, says the Lord, return to me with your whole heart.” Make sure that this coming Lent is about your journey going deep into the grace, love, and mercy that is freely offered to us by our God through Jesus.

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

The relics of holy people – parts of the body after death , item sused during life – are a fundamental part of mankind’s religious imagination

One of the world’s most remarkable Christian relics, the right forearm and hand of St. Francis Xavier, the great 16th-century Jesuit missionary, is on a pilgrimage across Canada this month.

We hosted the relic in Kingston, Ont., this week, with thousands venerating the relic in our cathedral, after the students at the chaplaincy on campus completed an all-night prayer vigil in the presence of the relic. No doubt the enormous number that came by day were the fruit of the prayer by night.

English Canada’s religious culture is largely shaped by a Protestantism that does not emphasize the relics of the saints. In a secular culture that does not recognize saints, their relics hold no interest.

But it is humanly impossible for a culture to exist without relics. Even those who turn murderously against God need their relics. The communists drenched the soil of Russia with the blood of tens of thousands of priests, burned their churches and attempted to abolish their faith, only to install in the Kremlin their own unholy sepulchre, with Vladimir Lenin still on display for his dwindling faithful. The real holy sepulchre in Jerusalem is, of course, empty, which makes all the difference.

Others simply lose interest in the things of God, and flock instead to the hall of fame to see the sweat-soaked jersey of this superlative hockey player, or the puck that scored that historic goal. An entire global restaurant chain, The Hard Rock Café, was built on the premise that a burger is better when dining in the presence of Eric Clapton’s guitar.

Biblically the power of relics goes back to the defining moment of the Jewish people, the exodus from Egypt, when Moses carried the bones of Joseph, son of Jacob (Israel), from slavery toward the promised land. The prophet Elisha’s bones were the occasion for a corpse returning to life. In the New Testament, we find that even handkerchiefs and aprons touched to St. Paul were brought to the sick for their healing.

In Islam, hairs of the Prophet Muhammad are treated with great reverence and preserved in several Islamic holy places.

This universal desire to honour relics shapes the noble practice of visiting graves, and keeping as heirlooms items used by beloved relatives — often prayer cards, books, jewelry or clothing. Today, the cutting edge of the funeral industry fashions new jewelry out of cremated remains.

So it should not surprise that when important relics from Christian history are taken on pilgrimage, the response of the faithful is both numerically impressive and profoundly moving. And among relics, the forearm and hand relic of St. Francis Xavier is one of the most impressive. There are few relics — short of incorrupt bodies, which are miraculously preserved from normal decomposition — as large. The body of St. Francis Xavier itself is incorrupt, venerated for more than 400 years in the cathedral of Goa, India, the site of his most impressive missionary work. It is only the forearm and hand that is kept in Rome, and which is now visiting Canada.

The pilgrimage is being organized by Catholic Christian Outreach (CCO), a movement of full-time missionaries on uni – versity campuses, which is another sign that the young faithful are often more inter – ested in their religious tradi – tions than their parents. But the pilgrimage is for everyone, and when the relic visits the St. Francis Xavier parish in Mississauga, Ont., on Sat – urday — a parish with many immigrants from Goa in its history — it will be all generations on hand. Indeed, one of the missionary couples of CCO had a baby boy last week and named him Xavier.

It’s a rare honor — and responsibility — for Canada’s young Catholics to host such a continental tour. The relic itself must be accompanied at all times, even on flights between cities, which is why it travels in a seat on the plane, not as cargo. The young man accompanying the relic, D’Arcy Murphy, noted that it is like the Stanley Cup in that way. Except that after 9/11, even the Stanley Cup goes into the (special) luggage hold. And except that it is unlikely that after 465 years it will be still around.

The visit of St. Francis Xavier’s relic has occasioned much curious and informative news coverage, which is to the good because it tells the true story of religion in Canada, namely that tradition is more attractive to young people than innovations, and that immigrants are making our country more religious, not less. I often visited St. Francis Xavier’s relic during my years of study in Rome. Having it in Canada is like welcoming an old friend for a visit — and introducing him to thousands of new friends.  Father Raymond J. de Souza is a chaplain to Newman House, the Roman Catholic mission at Queen’s University, Kingston, Ontario. Reprinted with Permission by Catholic Education Resource Center