Feast Day: May 1^st | Apostles, Martyrs | Imagery: implements of their martyrdom: cross (for Philip), club (for James).

The St. James we celebrate this week is the one described as “the younger” (or “the lesser”) in the Gospels (this, to distinguish him from the other apostle St. James, the son of Zebedee). This same man is given abundant additional description as “the just” (for his impeccable righteousness in leading the Church of Jerusalem, and his being the first martyr among the apostles there), the “brother of Jesus” (perhaps as a relative of Our Lord), “son of Alphaeus”, and “son of Mary [wife] of Clopas” (probably this is the “Cleophas” on the road to Emmaus, an additional name for Alphaeus).  

St. Philip, happily, easily, is just Philip, the Apostle. He probably carried the Gospel to areas of Greece and Syria and would have been martyred there at some point after the Council of Jerusalem. 

This week, I simply draw our attention to the unique fact for which we celebrate these men on the same feast day: their relics, after the early Christian centuries, were entombed together in Rome. Along with Bartholomew (in the Church of St. Bartholomew), Peter, as well as Simon and Jude (in St. Peter’s), and St. Paul (in St. Paul’s Outside the Walls), Philip and James make up the 6^th and 7^th apostles to find their final earthly resting place in the Eternal City (in the Church of the 12 Apostles). (Some hold that St. Matthias, or at least substantial parts of his bones, are also in Rome, in St. Mary Major).

All this leads me to a simple question: Where will you be buried? Who will you be entombed with? I don’t ask this in a macabre way, or even in preparation for your funeral or anything … but each of us will, at some point, come to our final day on this earth, and I think before then we should consider, and prepare, for that moment. Thing is, we often act as if our lives are all about holding onto life as long as we can and avoiding death, but if you think about it, I suspect you’ll find that the places of your life where you felt most alive, were probably marked by a certain kind of death.

Think of an occasion of great joy. Probably it was also a moment marked by sacrifice, by self-gift, by choosing somebody above yourself. What about a tremendous sense of freedom? Did it come after a period of dedication, effort, training, or cost?  What about a uniquely profound relationship? Didn’t it require you to let down your guard, to risk yourself, to accept another, to stay with them through hard times? Life comes in the midst of death. Resurrection comes in the midst of the cross.

I am writing this in the Boston Airport, flying back the day after running the Boston Marathon. I went into the marathon wanting, above all, to stay joyful throughout the race. As the hours ticked down ahead of time, my mind was filling with doubts. My training was too easy, too flat, too inconsistent. I had a sunburn, and a smashed big toe, and heavy legs from marching all over Boston in the days before the marathon. Plus, after the gauntlet of Holy Week, I was feeling a bit feverish and under the weather. Joy was getting eroded by fear. In the hours before the gun went off I collected dozens of prayer-intentions for the race, said Mass, ate and stretched and prepped as best I could, and tried to recover my excitement … but doubt and fear of the suffering to come was winning the upper hand.

I would like to say there was some magical moment when it all switched – perhaps as the rain poured down on us waiting to start?? – but it wasn’t quite like that. As the run began, my legs grew tired all too soon, and my prayerfulness seemed ragged as well. Yet one phrase resiliently stuck in my mind: “Let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross…” [Hebrews 12:1-2]. I wanted joy; I was feeling the cross, yet it was as that sacrifice went down, as I fought – body and soul – to keep running, as I endured the death that is any challenge of that sort, joy arose again, but alongside of suffering. The Lord carried me up those hills, and those hills carried me to the Lord. A little taste of death was in fact a little taste of Life.

– Fr. Dominic spent many hours trying to find a translation of the marvelous Menologio of Basil II, now 1000 years old, which has miniature illustrations and accompanying biographies of hundreds of saints including James the Just. Apparently, the internet can do no better than a scan from the Vatican Archives … 

On Holy Thursday, one of the points the Church desired for us to reflect on was that on that evening, the gift of the Holy Eucharist was instituted, a gift that would serve as a continual pledge of Christ’s love for us until He returns in glory.  On this Octave Day of Easter, the Gospel invites us to notice the institution of another sacrament, the Sacrament of Reconciliation.  After appearing to His Apostles after the Resurrection, Jesus tells them: “Receive the Holy Spirit.  Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.” (Jn 20:23)

It is therefore no coincidence that Jesus asked St. Faustina to ask for the institution of the Feast of Mercy on the Second Sunday of Easter each year, a request that was fulfilled by Pope St. John Paul II in 2000 shortly after St. Faustina’s canonization.  Every year since 2001, the Church has celebrated Divine Mercy Sunday on this Second Sunday of Easter, recalling the beautiful words of Jesus regarding this day:

My daughter, tell the whole world about My inconceivable mercy. I desire that the Feast of Mercy be a refuge and shelter for all souls, and especially for poor sinners. On that day the very depths of My tender mercy are open. I pour out a whole ocean of graces upon those souls who approach the Fount of My mercy. The soul that will go to Confession and receive Holy Communion shall obtain complete forgiveness of sins and punishment. … Let no soul fear to draw near to Me. … It is My desire that it be solemnly celebrated on the first Sunday after Easter. Mankind will not have peace until it turns to the Fount of My Mercy. (Diary, 699)

Notice how Jesus asks that people go to Confession and to receive Holy Communion, thus emphasizing the intrinsic connection between the two.  It is for that reason that I believe that to truly grow in our love for the Eucharist, we must grow in our love for Jesus’s Divine Mercy offered freely to us in the Sacrament of Reconciliation.

One of the ways to accomplish this is to resolve to never receive the gift of the Eucharist with mortal sin on our souls.  I find it interesting that when people come to Mass, almost everybody comes forward to receive Holy Communion.  Is everybody free from mortal sin?  I sure hope so, but I wonder.  I place myself in the shoes of one coming to Mass, and I realize there were times many, many years ago when I went to Holy Communion any time I went to Mass, even though I did not go every week, sad to say.  When I came to an awareness that my continuing to go to Holy Communion without first going to Confession was a very serious sin, it shook me to the core.  

Perhaps my situation from long ago does not apply to you, and thanks be to God if that is the case.  But, if it does apply to you (and it does not just have to be missing Mass, it can be having any unconfessed grave sins) I plead with you repent and ask for God’s mercy in the Sacrament of Reconciliation before coming to Holy Communion again, confessing anything that needs to be confessed, but especially any times you have received Holy Communion in the state of mortal sin.  What you will encounter will not be judgment, disappointment, or anger.  You will encounter a loving Father who rejoices to have His beloved child back in right relationship with Him.

Then, once we have received that gift of His Divine Mercy, we are cleansed and set free, ready to begin again, ready to receive Jesus in a worthy manner.  And when we receive Holy Communion in the state of grace, this gift will truly transform us.  But if we receive Him in an unworthy manner, we derive no benefit for ourselves and we in effect reject the gift that He made possible for us with His Passion, death, and Resurrection.  So let us run to His mercy and be renewed in His love for us, poured out freely in all of His sacraments, especially Reconciliation and the Eucharist.

Feast Day: April 26^th | Pope, Bishop of Rome, Martyr | Imagery: Pallium, Papal Tiara, Book, Beard | Patronage: Papacy, Rome, Priests

If we peruse the most ancient lists of the Popes, we find in the third place, after Peter and Linus, a man named Cletus. Now, some lists include a Pope Anacletus as well but Sts. Irenaeus, Augustine, and Optatus (as well as the historian Eusebius) indicate that these are simply two names for the same man. The Church in her official list of the Popes in the “Annuario Pontificio” takes this position, as was underscored by Pope St. John XXIII in 1960 when he merged the feast-day of St. Anacletus on July 13^th into that of St Cletus on April 26^th). Probably “Cletus” is simply the shorter, and more Christian, version of “Anacletus”. Though Cletus was born and died in Rome, his name is Greek in its roots, meaning “one who has been called” [Cletus] or “one who has been called back/from” [Anacletus]. The Greek verb “kaléō”, as you could guess even from its linguistic descendants in English, means “to call/recall”, and is related to another biblically-charged noun “kleos”, translated “glory”, meaning “what others hear about you”.

We know only the barest facts of St. Cletus’ life. He became a disciple of St. Peter in Rome along with St. Linus. Linus would become St. Peter’s successor as the second Bishop of Rome with Cletus becoming our third Holy Father when Linus was martyred around 76/79 A.D. St. Cletus would also be martyred, probably under the Emperor Domition arond 88/91 A.D. These were truly Golden Years for the papacy and the Church with 28 of the first 31 popes being martyred and 48 of the first 50 Popes acknowledged as canonized saints!

What captivated each of these men to take up the charge of Christ with knowing they would follow their Lord to the cross?! The only other detail that is mentioned again and again about Pope St. Cletus is that he ordained a number of men priests for the city of Rome (possibly 25, by some records). How many of these men also died? What compelled them to give their lives to that sacred ordination, most likely an oblation to the point of death? It was nothing less than the marvelous, utterly real, truth of Christ’s Resurrection! Cletus heard the Gospel, the kerygma, from St. Peter himself. Do you wish you could be similarly captivated by the natural audacity, and supernatural eloquence, of this fisherman-turned-apostle? Do you think you would could be convicted, and called, like Cletus, if you heard St. Peter’s preaching for yourself?!

May I recommend a reread of Acts chapter 2: “God publicly endorsed Jesus the Nazarene by doing powerful miracles, wonders, and signs through him, as you well know. But God knew what would happen, and his prearranged plan was carried out when Jesus was betrayed. With the help of lawless Gentiles, you nailed him to a cross and killed him.  But God released him from the horrors of death and raised him back to life, for death could not keep him in its grip. … God raised Jesus from the dead, and we are all witnesses of this.  Now he is exalted to the place of highest honor in heaven, at God’s right hand. And the Father, as he had promised, gave him the Holy Spirit to pour out upon us, just as you see and hear today. … So let everyone in Israel know for certain that God has made this Jesus, whom you crucified, to be both Lord and Messiah!” [Acts 2:22-24, 32-33, 36] 

Can you hear the man who himself denied Christ utter those words? The man whom Jesus still called to “feed my lambs”? 

Recall the similar proclamation in St. Peter’s first letter: “For Christ also sufferedonce for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, that he might bring us to God, being put to death in the flesh but made alive in the spirit,  in whichhe went and proclaimedto the spirits in prison, because they formerly did not obey, when God’s patience waited in the days of Noah, while the ark was being prepared, in which a few, that is, eight persons, were brought safely through water.  Baptism, which corresponds to this, now saves you, not as a removal of dirt from the body but as an appeal to God for a good conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ, who has gone into heaven and is at the right hand of God, with angels, authorities, and powers having been subjected to him.” [1 Peter 3:18-22] 

Christ crucified by me, by you. Yet the messiah was prophesied to suffer and be scorned. And sin and death cannot bind Him! … nor those who clasp His cross and be plunged, baptized, into His death. For Jesus is alive, and glorious, and wants to welcome me, and you, into His Eternal Kingdom! 

The Messiah murdered. Miraculously alive, marvelously merciful. He already died for me! In baptism, I have already died with Him. Can I choose Him again today?

– Fr. Dominic, on this past Easter Sunday, celebrated his 2000^th Holy Mass. Every one of them should have, could have, been a recommitment to his priestly consecration, a renewal of his union with Christ’s sacrificial offering to the Heavenly Father. Sadly, contritely, many times he forgot. Did those first popes and priests of Rome forget?

Alleluia!  He is Risen!  Several years ago, while I was a seminarian, I was involved in a conversation with a few teenagers who were debating on which day was better, Christmas or Easter.  The teenagers were learning toward Christmas, especially considering Christmas is often associated with receiving gifts.  Who doesn’t like receiving gifts?  And because our culture has put so much emphasis on Christmas, there can be a feeling that it is maybe more significant than Easter.

At the time, I recall defending the position that Easter was a more important day, since it recalls the Resurrection, the victory of sin over death.  Christ’s birth at Christmas has to be understood in light of the suffering, death, and Resurrection that He would undergo to save us from our sins.  Therefore, Easter should have the pride of place, while not really diminishing the significance of Christmas, for both days point to the common theme of God’s bringing about our redemption through the Savior, who took on our human flesh in order to save us through His life, Passion, death, and Resurrection.

As we consider these two peaks of the liturgical year, I would like to reflect on the notion of gift.  As I mentioned above, we tend to associate Christmas more with receiving gifts, but it is also on Easter where we receive gifts.  I am not talking about chocolate eggs or marshmallow bunnies (delicious as those may be), Easter invites us to appreciate the great gift of the Eucharist.  As I mentioned in my article last week for Palm Sunday, Holy Thursday is the day on which we celebrate the institution of the Eucharist, the beginning of the Church’s practice of celebrating this gift every single day.  The following line from the Catechism offers a simple yet profound description of this gift:

In order to leave them a pledge of this love, in order never to depart from His own and to make them sharers in his Passover, He instituted the Eucharist as the memorial of His death and Resurrection, and commanded His apostles to celebrate it until His return; “thereby he constituted them priests of the New Testament. (CCC 1337)

In short, the Eucharist is the gift of God’s love for us, a love that is given at the expense of His Son’s suffering and death on the Cross due to our sins.  It is a gift that has overcome sin and death and is now given to us so that we can share in the new life He has won for us.

Throughout this Easter Season, I would like for us to reflect on this gift of the Eucharist and how we can grow in our appreciation of this gift in our lives as Catholics.  He (for this gift of the Eucharist is a person, not a thing) is a gift, sad to say, that I think many Catholics have neglected, taking Him for granted.  As we begin this journey through this season of glory, I would like to issue a challenge.  It is simple, and may even sound obvious, but it is something I know many struggle with.  Here it is: come to Mass.  Come every single Sunday.  As a bonus, come to daily Mass as your schedule permits.  Even if you are not able to receive Holy Communion (more on that in a future article), come!  See it not so much as an obligation (which it most definitely is, and to intentionally miss Mass is a grave sin which must be confessed before returning to Holy Communion), but rather see is as an opportunity to receive this gift which is the pledge of God’s love for you and His desire for you to share in the gift of His Risen life, already available to us in this life, and fully in Heaven.

It had been a few crazy days leading up to the Illinois March for Life, so I had slept soundly and my conversation with God the morning after was filled with tremendous gratitude for all the graces that had carried us through the prior days, and all the ways that Our Lord had opened doors to make such a tremendous witness of His love for human life possible. On my mind, of course, was the visit I would be making later that day to the schoolkids at Sacred Heart in Effingham. Many rainy miles awaited me and my car bookending the several hours I would be spending engaging all the different grades down there throughout the day, so I leaned into the lesson that God had been teaching me all this Lent and asked Him to lighten the burdens that awaited me that day too. Gradually those voices of fear and fatigue were replaced by confident peace in the Lord and I genuflected before heading inside.

One frustration remained on my heart: I had forgotten the Cathedral’s book of the Gospels at the UIS Auditorium. I had realized this the day before as I put some of the things away (altar-cloths, chalices, the 7^th candle that indicates when a bishop is celebrating Mass…) I had texted some of the others that could have ended up with it, but the replies that were waiting for me Wednesday morning indicated that nobody had the book and it was my forgetfulness that had left it somewhere over there. Ah well, it couldn’t all go perfectly, and someone over there would probably have found (and not tossed) the giant red and gold book. Still, as I stepped past the sacristy, there was a niggling somewhere in the back of my mind, “what if God wanted to provide here too?” Without much expectation, I stopped in the sacristy and flipped open the cabinet that held all the sacred books. 

And there it was. 

I kid you not.

The Book of the Gospels was sitting there on its shelf already.

I was shocked, surprised, delighted, reassured. What does one do when confronted with a miracle? How do you respond to it, to such a small miracle? I didn’t know miracles came in a “small” size. I mean, I wasn’t blind and now I could see, or dead and returned to life again. I thought Jesus only tackled the big stuff: leprosy, hatred, unforgiveness, death … Does God care about me so fully that He would want to solve a problem I could have probably figured out with a phone call, or worst-case, a few hundred dollars?! Yes, it seems He does! 

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I was blind, and could now see; dead, and coming to life again. Some part of my heart had the expectation that God did not care about the small concerns of my life. I had internalized a distorted version of God as a Father Who would only help once I had proven myself, after I had lifted what I could on my own. I had fallen for the lie that I had to earn God’s Love. Here, placed on that shelf in our Cathedral sacristy, was proof to the contrary!

Thing is, God wants to marvelously, miraculously, restore the presence and power of His Gospel to all our hearts. What parts of you do you doubt God’s Love can heal? What relationships do you assume are irredeemable? What sins do you think will always plague you? What sufferings do you feel are too small for God to care about? When Christ stepped out of the tomb, He wasn’t just promising resurrection to those who were dead. He was also promising resurrection to those who are half-dead, to all the parts of us that aren’t fully alive, to all who are tired, afraid, burdened, or stuck. God’s Love doesn’t delay until disaster. God’s Truth doesn’t wait for us to hit rock bottom. God’s Gospel doesn’t depend on us finding it. 

God is not a Father who waits for us to get our act together.

Consider every encounter of someone and the Christ, Risen from the dead. Jesus steps into the garden of Mary Magdalen’s tears. He calls out to Peter swallowed by failure and shame. He beckons Thomas tormented by doubt and loneliness. He walks up to Cleopas and Mary as sorrow carried them far from Jerusalem. He knocks Saul away from his pride and brutality. 

This is the same Christ Who is alive, approaching us today. This is the same Gospel that is gently, miraculously, placed in your and my hands. Will I unwrap God’s gift today? Will I accept His Love? Will I allow Him into the small stuff too? 

– Fr. Dominic was recently with a family who had just received the news that their two-year-old daughter had brain cancer. On their family chalkboard were these words: “[Our daughter’s] situation is like that of the blind man in Saint John’s Gospel (Jn 9:1-38). The apostles said, Lord, who sinned, this man or his parents? And Jesus said, neither, but ‘so that the works of God might be displayed in him.’ God has important plans for [her] and for our family through all of this. Love, Mom & Dad.” 

Nothing can separate us from the love of God!

As we come to the culmination of our Lenten journey, it is my prayer that among the graces you have received, you have grown at least a little (if not a lot) in your appreciation for and love of the Holy Eucharist.  Holy Week is overwhelmingly Eucharistic.  Recall a few weeks ago when I reflected on the words in the consecration: “for you.”  We see on full display this week the offering Jesus made of His life for you.  In a particular way, we recall the institution of this great gift of His Body and Blood when as we begin the Sacred Paschal Triduum with the celebration of the Mass of the Lord’s Supper on Thursday evening.    

As we prepare for Holy Thursday this year, I note that this marks the 25^th anniversary of a very powerful moment that happened to me on this night.  I was a freshman at Eastern Illinois University at the time and I had attended the Holy Thursday Mass at the Newman Center.  Returning back to my dorm room, I did some homework and a friend asked if I was interested in going to a party with him.  As an aside, I’m not sure why he asked, I NEVER went to parties.  I politely declined and decided instead to head back to the Newman Center to pray before the Blessed Sacrament at the Altar of Repose, a tradition on Holy Thursday evening which recalls Jesus’s prayer to His Father in the Garden of Gethsemane.  At that point in my life, I did not know what adoration was, and I did not even have a clear understanding why I was even going back to church, but I felt drawn to do so.  I think a part of it was from having gone to Holy Thursday Mass growing up and how interesting it was for us to do a solemn procession to the Altar of Repose, then departing in silence.  Again, I can’t say that I really understood what was happening, but something about it stuck with me.

As I knelt in adoration that night in 2008, I do not remember the exact content of my prayer, but I remember that it moved me profoundly.  It could very well be one of the first times in my life that I realized Jesus’s personal love for me, that the suffering and death we would recall on Good Friday was for me.  I can’t say that my life changed drastically after that, but years later, probably sometime after I was ordained a priest, the memory of that night came back to me, and it occurred to me that that moment would prove to be a pivotal moment in my relationship with the Lord.  A seed was planted that would grow in a hidden way for several years before breaking through the surface and grow into the vocation that I have been blessed to live as a priest.

Much can be said about my experience, but perhaps we can leave it as an encouragement to anybody who, while showing up week after week to Mass, or who goes through the Triduum each year, may not walk away totally changed.  We should never doubt the value of our showing up.  The Lord is planting seeds, seeds which may take months if not years to grow hidden under the surface, but in God’s providential timing, will bring about a bud that will break through the surface and blossom into a new experience of God’s love, resulting in our realizing that because He has died for you, you will now resolve to live more fully for Him.

This week, instead of a reflection question, I will offer a spiritual challenge:  I am challenging us to commit to fully immersing ourselves into Holy Week.  This would include, to the extent possible, attending the Chrism Mass on Tuesday at 6:30 pm, and the Paschal Triduum liturgies.  As an added challenge, I invite you to spend some time in silent adoration of the Blessed Sacrament in the Atrium following the Mass of the Lord’s Supper on Thursday evening.  The Atrium will remain open until 11 pm that evening.

So we were going to have a Mass before our March for Life, and it was going to be at UIS, and we had 1700+ people registered to come. Last week I told the story up to the point where God seemed to be providing an altar and ambo for the Mass – actually the same one that JPII had used when he came to St. Louis! – but I had no good way to get it up here to Springfield. 

I asked around if anybody had someone that fit the bill. Coworkers, brother priests, Legion of Valor members, Knights of Columbus … Does anyone know someone, or know someone who knows someone, that would be willing to do it for us?? I sent out a battery of messages and joined Fr. Vahling in the gym to take out my worries on the squat rack. I was convinced already that only God could figure all of it out, and wondrously at the same time, somewhere deep in my heart was the further conviction that God had big plans and wasn’t going to let mere logistical impossibilities get in the way. 

As it turned out (coincidence?), the following day I would be seeing all of the priests of the diocese. Maybe someone would know someone? Fr. Arisman pointed me towards Fr. Goekner. Fr. Goekner pointed me towards Fr. Bergbower. Fr. Bergbower mentioned he already had a portable altar that might be big enough … but then said “Have you talked with John Hopkins?” I hadn’t even heard of the guy, but turns out he owns a truck-repair company, and he is a good Catholic, and he goes to daily Mass at the Cathedral Basilica in St. Louis! Fr. Bergbower texted him while we were eating our salads and before we had even gotten our meat and potatoes he had a response. It was an all-caps “LET’S DO IT!!!” (I do think there were three exclamation points. There certainly were in my memory of the moment). He would be returning from vacation on Sunday, would pick up the altar on Monday, and drop it off that afternoon at the auditorium with 12 hours to spare.

Amazing, providential, assistance came through at every turn. The four-week heads-up that our insurance needed to cover exterior collaborators came together in 24 hours. Meetings on Monday became unnecessary or were covered by other people giving time to hash out all the necessary details. Staff were on hand at the University to get everything moved in, and properly situated, when the altar showed up early Monday afternoon. Fr. Isaacson at St. Katherine Drexel had a glorious set of six candlesticks (and candles, and followers) for either side of the altar. None of the additional servers that I was expecting from high schools ended up showing, yet somehow between the pontifical servers and a few other guys who decided to help out, we had exactly 19 servers, one for each of the 19 places that we would have priests and bishops distribute Holy Communion.

Don’t get the wrong impression! Some crises were only solved at the last second. This was definitely like the Manna in the desert: God providing precisely what was necessary in the moment. The printer broke at the CPC and we only had 1950 programs. Then it turned out we only had 1900 seats anyway. 45 minutes before buses began arriving for the Mass, UIS asked us to count everyone who came through the door … and limit entries to 1750 people (we had 1800+ registrants by this point!) Dozens of members of the curia helped count programs and distribute them to groups, and when the time for Mass came there were still seats available. T-1 minute, we were still eight patens short to carry up to all the balconies Holy Communion. (Fr. Thompson had an emergency hospital call and could not come, along with the four patens we were borrowing from him for the Mass, and Fr. Arisman hadn’t yet arrived with his four either.) Yet by the time Mass had started, Fr. Arisman was there (with his four), and we were able to put into service one of the ciboriums we had off to the side giving us just enough to get by.

Two anecdotes remain. As bishop finished greeting all the groups from around the state during his homily, a starling fluttered down from the ceiling … and landed on one of the candles. Somehow the candle didn’t topple, or go out, and bishop happily used it as a reminder for all of us of the Holy Spirit’s presence there with all of us. And, in case I still doubted God was working through it all, a woman came up to me during the March afterwards (during which, I might mention, it did not rain as expected) and simply thanked me for the immense Peace that she experienced during the Mass. Now, if you’ve ever been at a Mass with thousands of people, and in an auditorium, you know that peace is not the obvious experience. Yet it was for her, and for many others, and I take that as a final testimony that God was working behind every detail.

– Fr. Dominic saw not only God’s providence in it all, but also his continued need to grow in trust in God. Every day the Lord wants to prove His Love for us; do we expect Him to?

Throughout Lent, we have been proposing reflection questions for you to consider while watching the episodes of Presence on the FORMED online platform.  For the final episode, the question we were invited to reflect on was: “How does Mary’s life show us how to approach the Eucharist in a biblical way?”

This question is especially timely given the fact that the Church just celebrated the Solemnity of the Annunciation this past Saturday, March 25.  Although we may not initially connect this mystery of the life of Jesus with the Eucharist, it is indeed very Eucharistic.  As we know, human life begins at conception, and so when Jesus was conceived in the womb of Mary at the Annunciation, the Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. (Jn 1:14)  This is what happens at every celebration of the Eucharist, the Word becomes flesh and dwells among us in the form of bread and wine, though in reality, truly as the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Jesus.

As I reflect on this scene from the Gospel where Mary welcomes the Savior into her womb, what strikes is what we hear in the next passage: “In those days Mary arose and went with haste into the hill country, to a city of Judah, and she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth.” (Lk 1:39–40)  With Christ in her womb, the love from the One who is love urges her to go in haste to serve her cousin Elizabeth who had conceived a child in her old age.  Learning of this joyful news, Mary went right away to share the love of God.

One of the options for the dismissal at the end of Mass is: “Go in peace, glorifying the Lord by your life.”  The first word is key: Go!  Having received the love of God in our body and soul in the Eucharist, we are sent out, and we should imitate Mary and go in haste to live the graces the Lord has blessed us with in His coming to dwell in us.  Like Mary, we should be eager to glorify the Lord by our lives, in both word and action.  Mary’s going in haste demonstrates this action, and she glorifies the Lord in her song of praise after she arrives at her cousin’s, saying those beautiful words: “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord; my spirit rejoices in God my savior.” (Lk 1:46–47)

These two incidents of the Annunciation and the Visitation show how Mary’s example invites us to live a Eucharistic life.  The Eucharist is far more than just coming to Mass to receive Him, only to forget about Him the rest of the week.  Coming to Mass is how we are fed and renewed with the love of God which cannot help but overflow in how we live the rest of the week, letting ourselves be instruments of His love in the daily details of our lives.  Everything that we do can be an opportunity for us to give glory to God by the way we live our lives.  And Mary teaches us how to do this.  This is why I often, when praying in thanksgiving after Mass, ask Mary’s intercession for me that the graces I have received may not be wasted, but shared generously with those whom the Lord will place in my path that day.

As a reminder, we have a weekly reflection question to keep in mind as you watch the next episode of Presence.  It can be found on the bottom right corner of this page.

Every week I try to tell the story of God’s grace alive in one particular person: how He made another ordinary, sometimes struggling, sometimes hurting, person into a saint.

This week I am going to try and tell the story of God’s grace around one particular event, basically one week here in our diocese where God, again and again, consistently, continuously provided as only He can. How He is at work right now to make you, and I, and so many others into saints.

It was a rainy afternoon in mid-March and had been a day filled just enough that I hadn’t had time to tackle any of the little tasks that tend to fall through the cracks, yet wasn’t so packed that I was worn and weary from the day’s events. We’ve all been there: the kind of day where you’re just barely getting by on your own steam. It’s not quite long or arduous enough that you are absolutely forced to turn to God, but not exactly “easy and light”. About 8 of us were having a final meeting to put the finishing touches on our plans for the March for Life that would happen about 10 days later. (Notice that all-important descriptor: our plan…) Little did I know as they asked me to open the meeting in prayer, how much we were going to be leaning on God going forward. (And how He was going to abundantly show that this was His plan.)

Turns out, our ballpark expectation of a maximum of 1200 people had been obliterated over the prior few days. We had 1700 people registered just for the Mass before the March (and 2500 at least for the Rally and March itself). Instead of one bishop and 8 priests, we had 6 bishops and 40 priests. Rather than using only the main floor of the auditorium, we were going to need every seat in there, and I was going to need to figure out how to distribute Holy Communion through every cranny of loge level. Of course, we rejoiced at the prospect of a biblical multitude, but at the same time I think every person on the team was taken-aback by the magnitude of the project we were now attempting to pull off. I cannot speak for all the other hurdles faced to pull everything off, but I would like to share a few that I got to see for myself, and the astonishing ways that God moved mountains all the way through.

Hurdle #1: We didn’t have an altar or ambo. Well, we had a little wooden one, but I already knew it would be dwarfed in the Sangamon Auditorium, and now I doubted it would even be of sufficient size to hold all the corporals, patens, chalices, and missal that we would need for the Mass (not to mention spreading 6 bishops behind it). I thought another member of the team had been in touch with the Archdiocese of St. Louis about borrowing the altar and ambo that they had which Pope St. John Paul II had used during his visit there, but no one had reached out, and I didn’t even have a contact for the person I would need to talk to. My heart whipped back and forth between frustration and discouragement and confidence and hope. Of course God would provide … but everything was falling apart. What are we going to do??!! … but it’ll all work out. I emailed someone at the Cathedral Basilica in St. Louis but knew I needed things to move faster than that, so I texted a priest I know down there and paused and said a prayer that God would open the doors that He wanted us to go down… And the priest called back within one minute, tracked down the business manager at their Cathedral for me, found out that the altar was available, and had him emailing me the details within another minute.

Hurdle #2: To borrow the altar and ambo, you have to have it moved by a honest-to-goodness moving company, and it has to be covered by $100,000 of insurance. Did I mentioned we don’t have a budget for this? The choice to move the March for Life down here to Springfield happened just a handful of months ago. Hence the skeleton crew. Hence the month-out contract with Sangamon auditorium. Hence me not having an Altar. And now I needed a moving company with a heap of insurance, this week, and willing to do it out of the goodness of their heart. God was going to ask for trust again, and I needed Him to move a few more mountains.

– Fr. Dominic Rankin will tell the rest of the tale, don’t worry. For now – spoiler alert, he survived the March for Life – but he needs some sleep before attempting any more storytelling.

Since 2006, I have been blessed to live and work in locations where I have never been more than 100 yards from Jesus present in the tabernacle.  In several places, I have not even needed to leave the building to gain access to the tabernacle.  This thought came to me as I was watching Episode 3 of Presence on FORMED.  A few of the speakers spoke about how, when faced with some challenge or question, they would go to the nearby adoration chapel or church to make a visit to Jesus in the Eucharist, speaking to Him and begging for His guidance.  Hearing that reminds me of how privileged I have been to do likewise on so many occasions over the past nearly 17 years.  But I am also aware of how many missed opportunities there have been, how I have taken for granted how close and available Jesus was to me, and yet I just went about my day without stopping in from time to time to visit Him, if for no other reason than to just tell Him that I love Him and to thank Him for His love for me.

During this time of Eucharistic Revival taking place throughout our country and in our diocese, there are many things that we can do to deepen our love for this gift of the Eucharist which the Church rightly calls the “source and summit” of our lives as Catholics.  I would like to suggest that one such practice is making regular visits to Jesus in the Eucharist.  That can be in an adoration chapel, like we have here in town at Blessed Sacrament Church.  If you ever find yourself at one of our two hospitals in town, both have a chapel that is accessible to visitors and where Jesus is present in the tabernacle.  Of course, most of our churches are open during the day for people to stop in and make a visit to Our Lord.  Here at the Cathedral, our doors are unlocked one hour before the morning Mass through shortly after the conclusion of the final Mass of the day.

While making your visit, you can talk to Him about anything!  Share the joys and struggles of the day with Him.  Ask for guidance to the questions that you have.  Give thanks to Him for His goodness and the blessings He has shared with you that day, blessings both known and unknown.  As I wrote above, you can just tell Him that you love Him and thank Him for His love for you.  And I highly encourage you to conclude your visit by making an  act of spiritual communion.  Here are the words I use, but you are free to use whatever works:

I wish, my Lord, to receive you with the purity, humility, and devotion with which your most holy Mother received you, with the spirit and fervor of the saints.

Since you have seemed to enjoy receiving Lenten challenges from me in the past, perhaps for the second half of Lent, I issue the challenge to make a visit to Jesus at least a couple of times a we, outside of your normal coming to the church for Mass.  If you can do every day, great!  But even if you do just once a couple of times a week, it will be more than you were likely doing, and I have great confidence that this practice will very much help strengthen your love for the Eucharist.  St. Alphonsus Liguori wrote that the time spent in visiting the Blessed Sacrament “will be the most profitable to you in this life, and the source of your greatest consolation in death and in eternity.”

As a reminder, we have a weekly reflection question to keep in mind as you watch the next episode of Presence.  It can be found on the bottom right corner of this page.