As we begin our reflections on the various invocations of the Litany of the Sacred Heart, we do so having spent the past several weeks reflecting on the mystery of the Word becoming flesh in the Incarnation.  For that reason, it seems that a good place to start is with the second invocation of the litany: 

Heart of Jesus, formed by the Holy Spirit in the womb of the Virgin Mother, have mercy on us.

This invocation expresses what the Angel Garbiel reveals to both Mary and Joseph, that the child in Mary’s womb was to be conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit (cf. Mt. 1:20, Lk 1:35) From Mary’s womb, Jesus, the Word made flesh, receives His human nature.  But this humanity in Jesus is united consubstantially with His divine nature, such that we can speak of Jesus as true God and true man.  Mary’s “yes” to God makes this union possible, as she gives her permission to have her womb be the very place where God joins Himself with our humanity.

As Jesus’s humanity develops in the womb of Mary, it follows the same pattern of every human life, including the development of organs, including the heart.  One of the most exciting moments for a woman who is pregnant is to hear the heartbeat of the child in her womb for the first time.  Unfortunately, there was no ultrasound technology at the time of Mary’s pregnancy, but we know that Jesus’s heart was indeed beating.  Unlike an embryo who is not yet conscious, the beating Sacred Heart of Jesus was already an expression of the love He has for each of us, for the divinity of God, who is love, is constantly loving all whom He has created from all eternity.  As that heart would grow and develop, inside and outside of the womb of Mary, it remained a human heart, while always united with the divine heart of God.  

Trying to understand the mystery of what is called the hypostatic union – that in Jesus, there is one divine Person, who has two complete natures, human and divine – is beyond what we can consider in this brief article.  Yet, it is a mystery that is central to our faith, and central to the devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus.  In the last major document that he wrote before his death, Pope Francis offers the following explanation that makes this point:

Since the heart continues to be seen in the popular mind as the affective centre of each human being, it remains the best means of signifying the divine love of Christ, united forever and inseparably to his wholly human love. Pius XII observed that the Gospel, in referring to the love of Christ’s heart, speaks “not only of divine charity but also human affection”. Indeed, “the heart of Jesus Christ, hypostatically united to the divine Person of the Word, beyond doubt throbbed with love and every other tender affection” (Dilexit nos, 61)

Of all human beings, Mary’s Immaculate Heart was most in union with the Sacred Heart of her son, both physically and spiritually.  We can ask her to help us to better appreciate the gift of the Sacred Heart, and that by our union with Him through grace, our hearts will beat more consistently with His with love for Him and for our brothers and sisters.

Every year as the Church comes back into Ordinary Time after the Christmas season, or later on after the Easter Season, it can feel a bit like letting out a long breath after a strenuous exercise. We’ve just finished celebrating a lot of major feast days right in a row: The Immaculate Conception, Christmas, Holy Family, Mary Mother of God, Epiphany, and the Baptism of the Lord. These are incredibly meaningful feasts and are deep mines of truth for reflection. They console us with their simplicity and reveal to us the humility of God, who came among us as a child born from the pure womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary. 

Still, despite the beauty of these feasts and the joy we experience celebrating them, it can be a real spiritual “exercise,” in every sense of the word, to reflect in a profound way, feast after feast on the mystery of God’s love. There is thus a certain sigh of relief given by the Church in the liturgical rites as we come back into a simpler season. It is with peace and readiness that we enter back into Ordinary Time.

As we breathe this sigh of relief, I think we’re due also for the yearly reminder of the exact meaning of that term, “Ordinary.” Does it mean plain, boring, and monotonous? No! 

While there is a sense in which this season is filled with a simplicity not found in other seasons, that is not the reason this word is used to describe the seasons. 

“Ordinary” refers not to the “feeling” or “vibe” of the season, but rather to the simple fact that the weekends of Ordinary Time are numbered in a way we call “Ordinal.” This is a seldom used word. Its antonym is “Cardinal.” An ordinal number is listed in reference to a list and the number’s place in the list, whereas a cardinal number is simply the number as such. A list of ordinal numbers, for example, looks like: First, Second, Third, etc., and a list of cardinal numbers looks like: One, Two, Three, etc.. 

As we move through ordinary time, then, our weekends are numbered as “The Second Sunday of Ordinary Time,” “The Third Sunday of Ordinary Time,” etc. What we reflect on in this time is deeply profound and exciting yet so varied that it doesn’t fall into its own seasonal designation. We delve deeply into the mystery of the life of Jesus Christ in his public ministry. We hear stories of his miracles, his teaching, his parables, his disciples, and his encounters with the Jewish people and authorities. 

We reflect, in other words, on every action of the life of God made man. There is nothing more exciting than this; there is nothing more extraordinary than this. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us! The evangelists were excited men, and present to us in writing the exciting message of salvation. 

True, the Lord does so often come to us precisely in the ordinary moments of everyday life. True, the life of Jesus was overwhelmingly filled with ordinary human moments. Yet, Ordinary Time is not named so because of that. We enter an ordered time in which to reflect on the most extraordinary occurrence known to man. Rejoice and be glad! Breathe deeply – we have met the Lord at his baptism and now we enter his public ministry. We walk with him toward the cross and receive God’s steadfast love. Jesus, lead us in your love. Teach us your humility!

Over the past couple of weeks, I have been asked by a few people if I had plans for the next series for my bulletin articles.  I answered that nothing specific had come up, but I was certainly open to being nudged by the Holy Spirit, as happened with the last two series.  Well, that nudge came the week after Christmas while I was with our seminarians for their annual Christmas gathering.  It has been our practice to have Bishop Paprocki meet with them as a group the morning before they depart.  This year, he brought up a few different topics, one of which piqued my interest.  He shared with the men that at November’s gathering of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, the bishops voted to consecrate our country to the Sacred Heart of Jesus in 2026 as a part of our country’s 250^th anniversary.  This will likely take place in June, which is the month of the Sacred Heart.  The idea that formed in my mind as Bishop mentioned this was to focus on the Sacred Heart for the next several months as a way of preparing ourselves for this important moment in the life of the Church here in the United States.

In 1846, the Bishops of the United States had approved the decision to place our country under the patronage of the Immaculate Conception, which was approved by Blessed Pope Pius IX in 1847.  In this most recent decision to consecrate our country to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, the bishops do not see any conflict, for Mary is intimately united with Jesus, and it was in light of the Incarnation of Jesus that she was given the special privilege of the Immaculate Conception.  This mystery only makes sense in light of Christ, the Word made flesh, who came to us through the humanity of Mary.  Therefore there is no problem with this proposed consecration.

Personally, in addition to devotion to Mary, especially in the Rosary, my other favorite devotion is to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, so I was very excited to hear about this decision.  I have always been fascinated by the heart, having grown up making regular visits to the cardiologist to check on my heart which had been affected by a congenital defect to my aorta, the major artery that delivers oxygen-rich blood to the rest of the body.  When I discovered devotion to the Sacred Heart in my mid-twenties, it was something I immediately was drawn to and has continued to be a rich source of reflection for my spiritual life.

In particular, I love the Litany of the Sacred Heart, a prayer which includes 33 invocations that describe various qualities of the Heart of Jesus.  The number 33 is intentional as it corresponds to the 33 years in which Jesus lived among us from His birth in Bethlehem to His Ascension into Heaven following His Resurrection.  Each of these invocations offer an image that invite us to reflect more deeply on the gift of Jesus’s love for us.  

Here is what I am proposing.  Each week, I would like to reflect on one of the invocations from the Litany of the Sacred Heart.  The number of Sundays between now and the Solemnity of the Sacred Heart (June 12) is less than 33, so I will not be able to touch on all of them.  I need to do some more praying about which ones to include, to see if there is a pattern I want to follow, or if I want to just choose the ones that I like the best.  We will see what the Holy Spirit has in mind, but in the meantime, we can pray the final invocation, which is technically not part of the 33, but which, in some ways, summarizes the whole prayer, and it just happens to be my favorite part of the prayer:

Jesus, meek and humble of heart, make our hearts like unto Thine!

One of the most well-known Psalms is Psalm 23, beloved for its first words: “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.” These words and the imagery of the rest of the Psalm remind all of us that Jesus is watching out for us in every part of our lives. He is there in the good times and in the bad times, and he leads us to himself into eternal life. That is one of the reasons this Psalm is so often used at funerals – it gives us a chance to remember how Jesus shepherded us throughout our lives and continues to do so into death. 

One of the primary ways that our Good Shepherd, Jesus, leads and guides us is by bringing us to the sacraments. A shepherd leads his sheep to food, water, and shelter, and nourishes and heals his sheep when they need medicine of any sort. Jesus works similarly with us. He brings us to life-giving water in Baptism, feeds us with his body, the Eucharist, brings us into the shelter of the life of the Church, and offers us healing through Penance and Anointing. 

The sacraments can be seen in the different imagery used throughout the Psalm, but because today is the feast of the Baptism of the Lord, I will focus on the first image used – water. In verses two and three of the Psalm, we pray, “He leads me beside still waters, he restores my soul.” One may interpret this in many ways regarding the various comforts that God gives to his faithful people in this life – the consolations in the soul during prayer, good people he places in our lives to be refreshing streams, good books, good scenes in nature, actual cool springs of water when we find ourselves thirsty, etc. – God refreshes us because of his goodness and even brings us a solace of his presence while we are suffering, or, at the very least, a recognition that we are not alone whether we feel it or not.

One way to interpret these verses that we find in the tradition and which is arguably the best interpretation in terms of its messianic fulfillment, is that the Good Shepherd leads us beside the restoring waters of Baptism. This interpretation is the one used by St. Augustine in his very short commentary on this Psalm. St. Augustine notes, “He has nurtured me beside regenerating water: this means that he nurtured me beside the water of baptism, where those who have lost their soundness and strength are made new” (Expositions of the Psalms, 22.1-2, translated by Maria Boulding). In the sacrament of baptism, our souls are restored to new life and filled with the life of God!

Really, as St. Augustine explains elsewhere, “God could have granted no greater gift to human beings than to cause his Word, through whom he created all things, to be their head, and to fit them to him as his members” (ibid. 85.1). It is the grace of Baptism that causes us to be joined into that body, which is the greatest gift God could give us. To be joined to the body of Christ is to share in his divine life – his relationships with the Father and the Holy Spirit. Before baptism, a human being is a child of God in the sense of being created by him and loved as such. After Baptism, however, a human being is a child of God as one adopted into the Son, the second person of the Trinity. This is a far greater sonship or daughter-ship than before. The Father looks on us and loves us as he does Jesus. That is a great gift. 

We call this grace “filiation” – from the Latin, filius, meaning “son.” We also call this gift, “divinization.” In the sense that we are drawn into the life of the Trinity, we share the divine life of God. We don’t become God himself, but he gives us a share in his divinity by adoption (see 2 Peter 1:4). Today, we celebrate the institution of this great sacrament of new life. We thank Jesus for the gift of this adoption and our ability to call out “Our Father!” Praise be Jesus Christ. Amen!

As we celebrate the Epiphany of the Lord, we always hear the account of the visit of the Magi to Jesus after His birth in Bethlehem.  Guided by the star, they sought to see the “newborn King of the Jews.” (Mt. 2:2) As they set out, they prepared for this encounter, bringing with them “gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh” (Mt 2:11) which they presented to Him when they finally reached their destination.

In a homily on this feast day, the Church Father St. Peter Chrysologus reflected on this scene, emphasizing how these gifts were an expression of the belief in what they encounter:

Today the Magi gaze in deep wonder at what they see: heaven on earth, earth in heaven, man in God, God in man, one whom the whole universe cannot contain now enclosed in a tiny body. As they look, they believe and do not question, as their symbolic gifts bear witness: incense for God, gold for a king, myrrh for one who is to die. (Sermo 160: PL 52, 620-622)

These three gifts invite us to reflect on what we bring to the Lord each time we encounter Him, as they are an expression of what we believe of Him.  The gift of gold acknowledges that Christ is a king.  He is our King, and yet there are no doubt areas of our lives where we have yet to let Him rule in us.  What aspect of our lives are we still clinging to, unwilling to let Him be in control?  As we begin this year, let us present to Him our lives, giving Him freedom to reign in us in a way like never before, a reign that takes nothing from us, but gives us the gift of peace, joy, and freedom. 

The gift of incense acknowledges that Christ is God.  As such, He is worthy of our adoration and prayerful worship.  As we begin this year, we can consider the place that prayer and worship to God have in our lives.  Are we giving Him our very best when we come to Mass, the place of worship par excellence? Do we prioritize going to Mass every Sunday and Holy Day of Obligation?  Are we mindful of how we prepare for Mass?  Are we intentional about trying to be as attentive as possible, with that full, active, conscious participation the Church asks?  Perhaps we are not where we desire to be with our worship of Him, and that is okay.  Let us ask Him for the grace to love Him more with a love that overflows into a more fruitful expression of our praise, especially at Mass.

The gift of myrrh acknowledges that Christ, while being fully God, is also fully man.  As such, He will one day die.  The myrrh is used for preparing a body after death.  As we begin this year, we might want to consider those places where we are dead or dying and in need of the new life that Jesus offers us.  I have in mind here our relationship with the Sacrament of Penance, or Confession.  When we go to confession, we present to the Lord those places in our lives which cause us pain, guilt, and shame.  We would rather not bring them to Him, but they cannot be healed and brought back to life unless we bring them to Him, whose death alone can destroy sin, and whose Resurrection promises us new life not just after we have confessed, but also for eternal life.  Perhaps this year we can make a more firm commitment to frequent the Sacrament of Penance and so experience the more abundant life that comes from experiencing His healing mercy.

As we begin this new year, let us seek to imitate the Magi in our adoration of this newborn King and offer Him the gifts of our obedience, our worship, and our desire to live anew in the life of grace He offers to us.

When a gift is given, the full and proper response of gratitude is not always automatic or quick. Depending on the quality and type of gift, it can take some time to truly appreciate the magnitude of the generosity and love that were involved in the offering. St. Thomas Aquinas even reflects on this truth when he writes about gratitude in his Summa Theologiae (this section is in II.II.106.4). To truly give thanks, one often needs to take some time after the gift is given in order to reflect and recognize just how meaningful the gift was. This time taken allows the gratitude to be full.

This weekend, we celebrate the appearance (epiphany) of Jesus Christ, the King of Kings, to the magi, or the men commonly known as “the three kings.” They offer him gifts of Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh. These gifts are kingly and meaningful, and it was only after a great deal of reflection that the Christian community saw the true significance of the gifts. Practically, they may have been a huge support to Mary and Joseph as they escaped to Egypt. 

More symbolically, however, these gifts are seen as prophetic signs revealing who Jesus truly is. He appeared as an ordinary baby boy, and yet he was the Messiah and the God of Israel, the second Person of the Trinity. The Gold, therefore, signified his kingship and royalty. The Frankincense symbolizes his Divinity and his Priesthood. Finally, the Myrrh signified his future death. The darkness of that “hour” at the end of his earthly life overshadows even his beginning as an infant. 

Our understanding of a gift matures upon deeper reflection.

This weekend at Cathedral, we celebrate our Epiphany party. It is an annual chance for parishioners to come together, enjoy fellowship, and celebrate the gift of Christmas. At this point we’ve had some time to relax after the festivities, and we can look back over the past year and give thanks together. 

I look back over this past year with a good deal of happiness. In particular, I am grateful for my assignment here at the Cathedral. In the context of the Epiphany party and this reflection on gratitude, I want to express my own deep thanksgiving to God and to all of you at this parish for the gift of my time here. 

I arrived here right before July 1, 2024, after my ordination as a priest. It’s kind of hard for me to believe but it has been a year and a half now that I’ve been both a priest and a priest at the Cathedral. I’d say that’s a good amount of time for my sense of the gift of this place and God’s goodness to me here to begin to mature and deepen. I certainly am not finished, and after I leave here someday, I’ll be able to look back and truly (or at least as much as I can in this life) realize just how great a gift God gave me in sending me here. 

Truly, I can say I love the people, the priestly fraternity, the prayer, the Masses, the hospital visits, time in the office, time at SHG, weddings, funerals, and so many other gifts that God has blessed me with that I don’t have room to list here. This first assignment has been a true gift from God and is exactly where God knew I needed to be. I pray I have served you well in this time and that God continues to grow and shape me through my time here to serve well all those he will send me to in the future. I could say much more, but I hope that as you enjoy the party this weekend, or if you celebrate the Epiphany elsewhere, you look at your life with the Cathedral family with gratitude. It is a gift from God. May he bless you today and every day!

As the Church celebrates the Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph within the celebration of the Christmas Octave, we find ourselves coming to the conclusion of the Jubilee Year of Hope.  It has certainly been an eventful year in the Church as we watched our beloved Holy Father, Pope Francis, pass away on Easter Monday.  In the midst of our sorrow, though, we began to hope, looking forward to how the Lord would provide for His Church with a successor.  To take St. Paul’s words on hope slightly out of context, our hope as Americans was not disappointed as we witnessed the election of one of our own to be the new pope, Pope Leo XIV.

Leading up to that surprise, the standard belief was that no American would likely ever be elected to be the pope.  But our belief was proved wrong, and as I have reflected on that, it offers us an invitation to examine other beliefs that we might have about what we think might be impossible, or at least highly unlikely.  We may believe things about ourselves, about others, about the Church, about our country, and about our world that we are convinced will always be true.  But perhaps an experience like the election of an American pope will give us pause and challenge us to re-evaluate our beliefs.

When Mary was visited by the Archangel Gabriel at the Annunciation, as an additional verification that what he said about her becoming the Mother of God was indeed possible, he shared with her that her cousin, Elizabeth, in her old age had conceived a son, and that it was already “the sixth month for her who was called barren.” (Luke 1:36) Then the angel proclaimed these powerful words: “For with God, nothing will be impossible.” (Luke 1:37)

This is not meant to be read that anything we want to happen will happen.  Rather, this line serves as a reminder that when we factor God into any problem, question, or concern that we face in life, no matter how unbelievable, how desperate, or how impossible the situation may seem, with God, nothing will be impossible.  No suffering will be impossible to bear when it is born with God.  Not fear can paralyze us when we face it with God.  No desire for conversion, personally, or in another, is wasted when it is expressed with God.  

When we live with hope, we believe that nothing we face in life will be impossible when we lean into it with God.  As Pope Benedict wrote early on in Spe salvi, his encyclical on Christian hope: “The one who has hope lives differently; the one who hopes has been granted the gift of a new life.” (SS 2)

Coming to the end of this Jubilee Year of Hope, we are confronted with some important questions: Are we ready to embrace this hope and so live differently?  Are we ready to hope in the promise that nothing will be impossible with God?  With faith, it is indeed possible for us to live this new life of hope, because hope Himself has been born for us.

Today’s Gospel for Mass on the feast of the Holy Family quotes the prophet Hosea: “Out of Egypt I called my son.” Because this weekend is the celebration of the Holy Family and not a reflection on Matthew’s use of Old Testament quotations, that line probably won’t get much air time in the homilies. Because of that, I want to reflect on it here, and really, the whole of Hosea 11, the chapter that line comes from. 

During the several silent retreats that I went on as a part of my seminary formation, Hosea 11 was an often-used scripture passage assigned to me by my spiritual directors. In it, the prophet speaks in the person of God – or God speaks through the mouth and pen of the prophet – about the “person” of Israel, the whole people. “Israel” becomes the name of the whole people seen as a single person growing up from childhood to adulthood – a common way of speaking about the people of Israel throughout the scriptures. We even see this more maturely formulated in St. Paul’s consideration of the Body of Christ, the Church, though the unity of the Body of Christ is even more profound than the unity of the people of Israel. 

Still, the Lord speaks of his mercy toward the people of Israel in this passage. He has called his child, Israel, out of Egypt, and they saw his wonders. They knew his might, but they still turned away from him, repeatedly. This caused God’s wrath to flare up, but in his love for Israel, he did not destroy them. Instead, he continued to draw them to himself, to heal them. We see in this passage one of those places even in the Old Testament that the merciful and Fatherly love of God is displayed in full force. 

This passage is well-worth reading in the season of Christmas as well. We read in the letter of St. Paul to the Romans 5:8, “While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” We could take it back a step and recognize that while we were still sinners, the Word chose to become flesh for us in order to die for us. Since the fall of man in the Garden of Eden, God has continued to call his people back to himself, calling the patriarchs, Moses, the Kings, and the Prophets. He made covenants with them and people did draw near him. Without fail, though, his people continued, time and again, to turn away from him.

He did not abandon his people. Out of Egypt he called his son, and he only continues to do so. Back in Hosea 11, the Lord cries out in anguish over his rebellious child, “How could I give you up, O Ephraim!” (another name for Israel). The Lord continues after several more statements of that sort, “My heart recoils within me; my compassion grows warm and tender. I will not execute my fierce anger; I will not again destroy Ephraim; … I will not come in wrath.” Truly, centuries later, God did not come in wrath. He did not abandon his people or give them up. He did not execute his fierce anger by destroying them. Instead, he gave vent to that anger by entering our human condition and destroying the cause of our downfall, sin, and its consequence, death. 

Praise be Jesus Christ for the redemption wrought through his incarnation. What a work of grace! What a work of the beauty of the heart of God! What a powerful testament to the grandeur of God’s mercy! Jesus entered the “Egypt” of the human condition to bring us all out of that place of slavery. May we never stray from his loving heart. He draws us by that love. Jesus, draw me to the Father. Amen.

The final two paragraphs of Pope Benedict’s encyclical on Christian Hope, Spe salvi, fittingly turn our attention to the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Star of Hope.  He references an early hymn which greets Mary, the Mother of God as “Star of the Sea”: Ave maris stella. (SS 49) This is a beautiful title for Mary as we consider the topic of Christian hope.  The Holy Father writes:

Human life is a journey. Towards what destination? How do we find the way? Life is like a voyage on the sea of history, often dark and stormy, a voyage in which we watch for the stars that indicate the route. The true stars of our life are the people who have lived good lives. They are lights of hope. Certainly, Jesus Christ is the true light, the sun that has risen above all the shadows of history. But to reach him we also need lights close by—people who shine with his light and so guide us along our way. Who more than Mary could be a star of hope for us? With her “yes” she opened the door of our world to God himself; she became the living Ark of the Covenant, in whom God took flesh, became one of us, and pitched his tent among us (cf. Jn 1:14). (ibid.)

As I read these words, I recall a particularly important point in my life in which Mary indeed served as a star of hope for me.  Perhaps I have shared previously that I was not always an intentional disciple of Christ.  Sometime during my college years, I had drifted from practicing my Catholic faith.  I was not angry with God, nor was I upset with the Church.  I just took my focus off of Him and followed my own pursuits.  As I was in the early years of my career, I began noticing a restlessness in my heart, a feeling of emptiness and hopelessness.  Something was missing in my life, which in reality, that something was actually a someone.  I recall vividly going to bed early on New Year’s Eve in 2004 with a heaviness of heart.  The next morning, the first of 2005, still feeling burdened, I looked next to my bed and saw a Rosary sitting there.  Prompted no doubt by the Holy Spirit and the intercession of Mary, I decided to reacquaint myself with how to pray the Rosary, and then I did.  Though there was nothing mystical or spectacular that happened, what had seemed so dark in my heart now seemed to not be so overwhelming.  It is as though there was a dim light the promised hope.  

I continued to pray the Rosary each day and that light of hope continued to grow and I began to be intentional about getting to know Jesus on a personal level.  As I look back on that time, I know that Mary played such an important role in leading me back to her Son.  Even though I have read this paragraph from Pope Benedict before now, this image of Mary as a “Star of Hope” resonates deeply now, and my heart is renewed with gratitude for Mary’s assistance in guiding me through the shadows into the bright light of Christ’s love for me.  Regardless of how confusing, difficult, or dark the journey may be for me, I know that I can always turn to Mary who always reflects the light of hope which invites me to trust in her Son.

The final paragraph of Spe salvi is a beautiful prayer to Mary, and it is well worth your read.  In the interest of space, I offer the final line as a prayerful plea to her to continue to show herself our Mother and our Star of Hope:

Thus you remain in the midst of the disciples as their Mother, as the Mother of hope. Holy Mary, Mother of God, our Mother, teach us to believe, to hope, to love with you. Show us the way to his Kingdom! Star of the Sea, shine upon us and guide us on our way! (SS 50)

Details, details… When reading the scriptures, it can be easy to gloss over little details that seem to be insignificant or repetitive. Very often, we need a great saint or insightful person to shake us out of whatever stupor we are in when reading the sacred words so that the full meaning can flow from the fountain of life that is the divine Word. One example of this happening to me comes in that most well known of passages: the Annunciation from the Gospel of Luke. 

In the first chapter of Luke, we hear of the Archangel Gabriel visiting the virgin named Mary to ask for her consent to be the mother of God. Mary humbly asks, “How can this be, since I do not know man?” (Lk 1:34). Luke records this as the response: “The angel said to her, ‘The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God’” (Lk 1:35). Simple enough. Still, whenever I read this passage, I tend to conflate the two actions of God here into one phrase, seeing them as simply parallel lines: The Holy Spirit will overshadow you. 

There is nothing wrong with reading this verse the way I just described. It is possible to interpret them as a Jewish way of speaking in parallel, repetitive phrases to emphasize a point. We see that all the time in the Psalms, and in like manner, Luke could simply be highlighting the power of the overshadowing of the Holy Spirit. In my case, I did not even consider another way of reading them until I came across a commentary passage in the writings of St. Bonaventure. 

St. Bonaventure clearly sees this verse as describing two actions of God: One action: the Holy Spirit coming upon Mary; and a second, simultaneous action: the power of the Most High overshadowing her. Near the beginning of his short work, The Tree of Life, St. Bonaventure explains, “When she gave her consent to him, the Holy Spirit came upon her like a divine fire inflaming her soul and sanctifying her flesh in perfect purity. But the power of the Most High overshadowed her (Luke 1:35) so that she could endure such fire.” In this fascinating description, St. Bonaventure sees God as both descending upon Mary to incarnate the Son of God in her womb, and at the same time, powerfully accustoming her to receive the Divine presence of God in perfect peace, enduring the fire of God’s life and love. 

As an addition here too, I cannot help but be reminded of the invocation to the Holy Spirit in the prayer to the Holy Trinity by St. Elizabeth of the Trinity. St. Elizabeth calls out to the Holy Spirit, recognizing that His desire for each of us is to become little “Christs” in the world, Christians in name and in truth. She prays, “O Consuming Fire, Spirit of Love, overshadow me so that the Word may be, as it were, incarnate again in my soul. May I be for him a new humanity in which he can renew all his mystery.” Though only the Blessed Virgin Mary was privileged to bear Jesus bodily in her womb and to be his mother in the flesh, every Christian is called to bear Jesus to the world by being a member of his body and living His life, death, and resurrection in the world in our own lives. He chooses to come to the world in us and through us, and he joins us to his body by the power of the Holy Spirit, ordinarily working through the sacraments. 

The Holy Spirit once came upon Mary and the power of the Most High overshadowed her. May that same Holy Spirit come upon our Church to fill us with the fire of his life and his love. May he draw us ever more deeply into the mystery of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, the Son. May we rejoice at the birth of our King, and may he be born ever anew in our hearts and in our lives. Come, Lord Jesus! Come, Holy Spirit! Lead us to the Father!