Over the next few weeks, you will be receiving information about our annual Season of Stewardship.  Perhaps you are asking – What is that?  Don’t worry too much if that term sounds new to you, as it is only really two years old, which in Church time, might as well be brand new!

Defined simply, Season of Stewardship is the opportunity for each parish household to pray and discern their commitment to stewardship as a way of life.  Although I cannot read minds, I am fairly confident that as you see that word “stewardship”, many of you are thinking that this is about asking for money.  If I could humbly, yet firmly push back on that, I would say that if that is what you are thinking, then your understanding of stewardship is unfortunately limited.  But thanks be to God that you are reading this to understand more clearly what stewardship is in reality!

One of the best definitions I have ever heard on stewardship comes from the Diocese of Wichita, and they define it succinctly:  Stewardship is the “grateful response of a Christian Disciple who recognizes and receives God’s gifts and shares these gifts in love of God and neighbor.”  Notice the first word in this definition – grateful.  Gratitude to God for the gifts that He has given to us must be the beginning of any discussion about stewardship.  Every gift that we have in our lives is just that, a gift.  A gift that has been received, not one that we own.  This is where we as Christians should be different from the rest of society.  It is easy to see that what we have – our time, our talents, our bodies, our possessions, our career, our money – is something we have earned, something that we deserve, something that we own.  And while it is true that we may have worked hard to achieve and acquire things, all is a gift from God.  If it were not for God’s grace and His willing us into existence, we would not have any of what we have.  As Christians, perhaps we know this is what we should believe, but do we really believe that?  Perhaps we should make that prayer of the Apostles from the Gospel a few weeks ago: “Increase our faith!” (Lk 17:5)

In the brief definition of Season of Stewardship that I give above, I say that this is an opportunity for all of us to pray and discern our commitment to our parish.  It is not accidental that we start with prayer.  And the beginning of that prayer is what I just mentioned – gratitude.  So for now, I am not going to say anything more about discerning what your stewardship to our parish might look like.  I simply want you to start with prayer – specifically the prayer of gratitude.  Spend some time personally praying about the gifts that are in your life.  Write them down if it helps.  As you reflect on those gifts, thank God specifically for each item.  Maybe keep that list for the next couple of weeks and go back to it every day or two, repeating the process of thanking God for each gift, adding new gifts as you become aware of them.

As an added challenge if you are willing to accept it, pay careful attention to each time you use words such as “my” or “mine” and consider, at least in your mind replacing that with “God’s”.  Whether it’s “my day”, “my time”, “my schedule”, “my plan”, “my money”, or “my life.”  When we see these things not as mine, but God’s, it might cause us to consider them differently.  Perhaps it will make us feel uncomfortable initially, but staying with that thought, it can open the door to an awareness of how all of those things we consider “mine” are in fact gifts from Him, gifts for which we can and should give Him thanks, for as we say at each Mass, to give Him thanks is “right and just.”

Father Alford

Feast Day: October 22^nd | Patron of Popes, Families, Youth, Laborers, Actors, Athletes, Human Life, Poland, the Elderly, and those with Parkinson’s 

This week, St. Pope John Paul II on finding the Holy Father wanted him to become a bishop, from Rise, Let us be on Our Way:

The year is 1958. I’m on a train traveling toward Olsztyn with my group of canoeists. We are beginning the vacation schedule that we have been following since 1953: part of the vacation we are to spend in the mountains, most often in the Bieszczady mountains, and part on the lakes in the Masuria region. Our destination is the Łyna River. That’s why—it is July—we are on the train bound for Olsztyn. I say to our so-called admiral— as far as I can remember at that time it was Zdzisław Heydel: “Zdzisław, I’m going to have to leave the canoe because I have been summoned by the Primate [since the death of Cardinal August Hlond in 1948, Cardinal Stefan Wyszyński was the Primate] and I must go to see him.” The admiral said: “That’s fine, I’ll see to it.” And so, when the time came, we left the group to go to the nearest railroad station, at Olsztynek. 

Knowing that I would have to see the Primate during our time on the Łyna River, I had deliberately left my good cassock with friends in Warsaw. It wouldn’t be right to visit the Primate wearing the old cassock I brought along on our canoe trips (on such trips I always brought a cassock and a complete set of vestments so that I could celebrate Mass). So I set off, first in the canoe over the waves of the river, and then in a truck laden with sacks of flour, until I got to Olsztynek. The train for Warsaw left late at night. I had brought my sleeping bag with me, thinking that I might be able to catch a few winks in the station and ask someone to wake me when it was time to board the train. There was no need for that in any event, because I didn’t sleep. 

In Warsaw I arrived on Miodowa Street at the specified hour. … As I entered the office of the Primate, he told me that the Holy Father had named me an auxiliary bishop to the archbishop of Kraków. In February of that same year (1958) Bishop Stanisław Rospond had died. He had been auxiliary bishop of Kraków for many years during the reign of the prince archbishop of Kraków, Cardinal Adam Sapieha. Upon hearing the words of the Primate informing me of the decision of the Holy See, I said, “Your Eminence, I am too young; I’m only thirty-eight.” But the Primate said, “That is a weakness which can soon be remedied. Please do not oppose the will of the Holy Father.” So I said, “I accept.” “Then let’s have lunch,” the Primate concluded. …

At the conclusion of this audience, of such great importance for my life, I realized that I could not return immediately to my canoeing friends: first I had to go to Kraków to inform Archbishop Eugeniusz Baziak, my Ordinary. While waiting for the night train to Kraków, I spent many hours in prayer at the chapel of the Ursuline Sisters in Warsaw on Wiślana Street. … The next day I went to see Archbishop Eugeniusz Baziak at 3 Franciszkańska Street and handed him a letter from the Cardinal Primate. I remember it as if it were today. The Archbishop took me by the arm and led me into the waiting room where there were priests sitting, and he said: “Habemus papam”—“We have a Pope.” In the light of subsequent events, one might say that these words were prophetic. When I said to the Archbishop that I would like to return to Masuria to join my friends who were canoeing on the Łyna River, he answered: “I don’t think that would be appropriate.” Somewhat troubled by this reply, I went to the Church of the Franciscans and prayed the Way of the Cross. I often went there for this purpose because the stations are original, modern, painted by Józef Mehoffer. Then I went back to Archbishop Baziak renewing my request. I said, “I appreciate your concern, Excellency, but I would still ask you to allow me to return to Masuria.” This time he answered: “Yes, yes, by all means. But I ask you, please,” he added with a smile, “come back in time for the consecration.” 

So that very evening I again boarded the train for Olsztyn. I had with me Hemingway’s book The Old Man and the Sea. I read it all night. Once I dozed off. I felt somewhat strange . . . When I arrived at Olsztyn, my group was already there. They had canoed down the Łyna River. The admiral came for me to the station and said, “So, did Uncle become a bishop?” To this I said yes. He said: “That is exactly what I imagined in my heart, and what I wished for you.” As a matter of fact, shortly beforehand, on the occasion of my tenth anniversary of ordination, he had wished me this. When I was named a bishop, I was hardly twelve years a priest. 

I had slept little. When I reached my destination, I was tired. First, however, before going to rest, I went to church to celebrate Mass. The church was under the care of the university chaplain, Father Ignacy Tokarczuk, who was later named a bishop. After a short rest, I awoke and realized that the news had already spread, because Father Tokarczuk said to me: “Oh, the new bishop. Congratulations.” I smiled and went to join my canoeing friends. When I took the paddle, I again felt somewhat strange. The coincidence of dates struck me: The date of my nomination was July fourth, the anniversary date of the blessing of Wawel Cathedral. It is an anniversary that I have always cherished in my heart. I thought this coincidence must have some special meaning. I also thought maybe this was the last time I could go canoeing. Later though, I should mention, it turned out that there were many opportunities for me to go swimming and canoeing on the rivers and lakes of Masuria. As a matter of fact, I continued until the year 1978. 

– Fr. Dominic Rankin has also found that some of the most beautiful moments of his priesthood have happened outside: spontaneous requests for confession, Masses in rugged “cathedrals” of trees and rocks and sunshine, conversations while hiking or running, sublime prayer next to streams or lakes.

Having recently returned from the retreat of which I have written in the past two weeks, I have been slowly unpacking the various graces that the Lord shared with me during that time, graces which I know were not just for me, but for the people I am blessed to serve as a priest.  I would like to share one particular grace that I think applies to our reflections on the topic of prayer.

As I began retreat, I could sense the Lord was trying to invite me to a central focus during my time with Him.  In previous retreats, I would often pray about my identity as a priest, the various duties that I carry out as a priest, and how to infuse those activities with a greater love for God and zeal for the souls of the people under my care.  To be sure, those have been very fruitful reflections.  But on this retreat, I got the very clear message from the Lord: “This retreat is not primarily about your becoming a better priest.  First and foremost, it is about become a better friend to me.”  That thought resonated so well in my soul, and I found great consolation and peace, for the Lord was helping me realize that if my friendship with Him was strong, it would yield a more fruitful ministry in service to His people.  I therefore kept going back to the words of Jesus to His Apostles: “No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends.” (Jn 15:15)

One of the great saints of the Church who has left us with a wealth of wisdom on prayer is the Spanish Carmelite St. Teresa of Avila.  When describing prayer, she wrote simply, yet powerfully: “For mental prayer in my opinion is nothing else than an intimate sharing between friends; it means taking time frequently to be alone with Him who we know loves us.” (The Book of Her Life, ch. 8, 5)  How lovely of an image that is for us to think about when we go to prayer!  Is that how we see Him when we pray?  Sometimes we might see Him like our boss, and our prayer consists in our asking what tasks He wants us to accomplish for the day.  Perhaps we see Him as our personal assistant, telling Him the tasks that we want Him to accomplish for the day.  The Lord desires for us to see our time of prayer as a time spent with a friend – not just any friend, but the very best of friends, the one who knows us best, and the one who loves us best.

Seeing prayer as a time of sharing between friends does not conflict with our also approaching Him as our Father.  After all, when teaching His disciples to pray, He invites us to address our prayer to Him beginning with these words: “Our Father.”  I have no problem calling my earthly father a friend, nor should I fear calling the Lord both Father and friend.  

I invite all of us to spend some time this week reflecting on those words of Jesus that I quoted above: “No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends.” (Jn 15:15) Although God is all-powerful and mighty, and we owe Him our service for all that He has done for us, He has also drawn very close to us through His Son Jesus, who makes it possible for us to live in an intimate relationship of friendship.

Father Alford

This past Tuesday, the Church celebrated the feast day of Pope John XXIII, who is best known as the pope who called for the Second Vatican Council. The Council was a great movement of the Holy Spirit in which the Church was impelled by God to communicate the truth of the Gospel ever more clearly to the modern world. It would be good for every engaged Catholic to be familiar with the texts of the Council. Pope Benedict XVI and Pope John Paul II, as much younger men, were both major contributors to the text of the Council documents, and their papacies helped the Church interpret the meaning of the documents. I have included below some selections of the speech that good Pope John gave when the Council was opened. 

The major interest of the Ecumenical Council is this: that the sacred heritage of Christian truth be safeguarded and expounded with greater efficacy.

That doctrine embraces the whole man, body and soul. It bids us live as pilgrims here on earth, as we journey onwards towards our heavenly homeland.

The great desire, therefore, of the Catholic Church in raising aloft at this Council the torch of truth, is to show herself to the world as the loving mother of all mankind; gentle, patient, and full of tenderness and sympathy for her separated children. To the human race oppressed by so many difficulties, she says what Peter once said to the poor man who begged an alms: “Silver and gold I have none; but what I have, that I give thee. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, arise and walk.” In other words it is not corruptible wealth, nor the promise of earthly happiness, that the Church offers the world today, but the gifts of divine grace which, since they raise men up to the dignity of being sons of God, are powerful assistance and support for the living of a more fully human life. She unseals the fountains of her life-giving doctrine, so that men, illumined by the light of Christ, will understand their true nature and dignity and purpose. Everywhere, through her children, she extends the frontiers of Christian love, the most powerful means of eradicating the seeds of discord, the most effective means of promoting concord, peace with justice, and universal brotherhood.

It is therefore an overwhelming source of grief to us to know that, although Christ’s blood has redeemed every man that is born into this world, there is still a great part of the human race that does not share in those sources of supernatural grace, which exist in the Catholic Church. And yet the Church sheds her light everywhere. The power that is hers by reason of her supernatural unity redounds to the advantage of the whole family of men. She amply justifies those magnificent words of St. Cyprian: “The Church, radiant with the light of her Lord, sheds her rays over all the world, and that light of hers remains one, though everywhere diffused; her corporate unity is not divided. She spreads her luxuriant branches over all the earth; she sends out her fair-flowing streams ever farther afield. But the head is one; the source is one. She is the one mother of countless generations. And we are her children, born of her, fed with her milk, animated with her breath.” ¹¹

Thus, venerable brethren in the episcopate, “our heart is wide open to you.” Here we are assembled in this Vatican Basilica at a turning-point in the history of the Church; here at this meeting-place of earth and heaven, by St. Peter’s tomb and the tomb of so many of Our predecessors, whose ashes in this solemn hour seem to thrill in mystic exultation.

Given October 11, 1962 by Pope John XXIII in St. Peter’s Basilica 

Text taken from catholicculture.org

Feast Day: October 22^nd | Patron of Popes, Families, Youth, Laborers, Actors, Athletes, Human Life, Poland, the Elderly, and those with Parkinson’s 

For the next few weeks, I’d like to introduce you to one of my favorite saint-friends: Pope John Paul II. He was one of the inspirations for my own call to the priesthood, and getting to spend 5 years living just a few minute walk to his tomb, and then to get to do additional studies at the Institute founded by him for the study of God’s Love manifested by Holy Matrimony and in family life … boy, it was an amazing gift! I would love to write so much more about his life, his papacy, his writings, and his sanctity, but I think you’d be given a better glimpse into his heart by reading his own words, so these next weeks will be taken entirely from his own reflections. First, from Gift and Mystery, about his first discovering within his heart his vocation to become a priest as a young man (some edits of my own in the following text to make for easier reading than the original clunky translation):

My preparation for the priesthood, which was finished in the seminary, had somehow been preceded by that given me in the life and example of my parents in our family. My gratitude goes especially to my father, who became a widower early. I had not yet made my First Communion when I lost my mother: I was just nine years old. I have not a clear awareness of the contribution that she gave to my religious education, though it was certainly great. After her death and, later, after the death of my brother, I was left alone with my father who was a deeply religious man. I was especially impacted by the austerity of his daily life. By profession he was a military man, and when he became a widower, his life became a constant prayer. I would wake up at night and find my father on his knees, as was always his practice in our parish church as well. Between us there was no talk of a vocation to the priesthood, but his example was for me in some way my first seminary, a kind of domestic seminary.

Later, after the years of my early youth, my seminary became the quarry and the water treatment plant in the baking factory in Borek Falecki. And it was no longer only a pre-seminary, as in Wadowice [my hometown]. The factory was for me, at that stage of life, a real seminary, although illegal. I began working in the quarry in September 1940 after a year spent at the water treatment plant in the factory. It was during these years that I came to my final decision [to follow God’s call the become a priest], and in the fall of 1942, while still working at Solvay, I, a former student of Polish Philology, undertook to enter into clandestine seminary studies. I did not realize then the importance that this would have for me. Only later, as a priest, during my studies in Rome, would I encounter through my brother-priests in the Belgian College the situation of worker-priests and the movement of the Young Catholic Workers (JOC). I realized then that, what had become so important for the Church and for the priesthood in the West – true contact with the world of labor, I already had in my own life experience.

In truth, my experience was not as a “worker-priest” but a “worker-seminarian”. Laboring by hand, I knew what it meant to endure physical fatigue. Every day I met with people who worked hard. I got to know the environment of these people, their families, their interests, their human value and dignity. Personally I experienced a lot of cordiality on their part. They knew I was a student and they also knew that, as soon as circumstances would permit, I would return to [full time] studies. I never met hostility for this reason. They did not give me trouble when I brought books to work; rather, they said: “We’ll watch out for you; you read well.” This happened especially during night shifts. Often they said: “Get some rest, we’ll watch out.”

I made friends with many workers. Sometimes they invited me to their house. Later, as a priest and bishop, I baptized their children and grandchildren, blessed marriages and officiated at many of their funerals. I also had occasion to note how many were hiding their religious feelings and profound wisdom of life. These contacts, as I mentioned, remained very close even when the German occupation ended and continued almost up to my election as Bishop of Rome. Some of them continue still in the form of correspondence.

– Fr. Dominic Rankin has to go out of his way to reach the end of the day bone-tired from plain hard work. Neither hard exercise, though tiring, nor the work that good prayer, liturgy, and preaching does require, results in the same tangible tiredness that breaking rocks or trudging to physical-work demands. Yet, I think that all of us know that some lessons can only be learned during a hard day working outside. Certain prayers are only drawn out of us, and strength built up in us, and quiet instilled within us from honest, physical, outdoor, labor. I need to find time for it more often!

As I mentioned in my last bulletin article, the retreat I just completed is a part of a Spiritual Direction Training program in which I am enrolled.  The first year of the program did not really say anything about the practice of giving spiritual direction.  Rather, the main focus was our own relationship with the Lord in prayer.  I could tell that some of the participants initially thought this was unnecessary, as they wanted to jump right into how best to direct others in the spiritual life.  But we all soon discovered the wisdom of taking time to ensure we as future directors were on solid ground with our spiritual lives.  As the saying goes:  You cannot give what you do not have.

As we began the program nearly a year and a half ago, one of the first resources we read was an article titled: “Prayer: A Personal Response to God’s Presence”, by Armand, M. Nigro, S.J.  Having read this article many years ago, I was surprised how returning to it was such a refreshing experience.  As the title explains, the author defines prayer in rather simple terms: “Prayer is a personal response to God’s loving presence.”

Though simple on the surface, this short definition is profound in depth.  It makes clear that prayer is first and foremost about God, not us.  God is the one who is present to us, inviting us to turn to Him in prayer.  We think that it is we who decide when to pray, but in reality, the initiative is on the part of the Lord.  Our deciding to pray is a response to His being present to us.

Beginning our prayer with understanding this dynamic is very important, because it will get us moving in the right direction.  It prevents us from becoming too self-centered in our prayer.  Instead of jumping into telling the Lord what we want, thinking about our needs, our desires, we first acknowledge that He is present.  He has called us, and He is delighted that we are present to Him who has never ceased to be present with us.

The author then proposes a beautiful recommendation on what our first step in prayer should be:

First of all, if prayer is a personal response to God’s presence, then, the beginning of prayer is to be aware of that presence, simply to acknowledge it, to be able to admit: “Yes, God my Father, You do love life into me.  Yes, You love life and being into the things around me and into all that comes into my senses.  You love talents and these longings into me, etc.”  The focus is on God and what God does.

Perhaps the next time you sit, stand, or kneel to pray, whatever form that prayer may take, you can pause and call this important truth to mind.  God, who loves you and delights in you, is already present, and your coming to pray is a response to that presence.  Take a moment to acknowledge His loving presence to you, and thank Him for that gift.  Beginning prayer in this way can be a game changer.

Father Alford

We are back again on the Theological virtue of faith, Hope, and Charity (Love). These Theological virtues are directly connected to God. They are not gain by human efforts but are given to us through sanctifying grace we received during our baptism. These theological virtues, “they are infused by God into the souls of the faithful to make them capable of acting as his children and of meriting eternal life” (CCC, # 1813). Today, I would like us to reflect on the theological virtue of charity, a virtue that invites us to examine ourselves on how we relate and our desire to will the good for another person. The theological virtue of Charity is the greatest of all other virtues, it is the one that unites all the other three virtues.  The Catechism of the Catholic Church defines: “Charity is a theological virtue by which we love God above all things for his own sake, and our neighbor as ourselves for the love of God” (CCC, 1822).  It is love that moves us to wish good for others and to do good for others. This love is entrusted to the Apostles and us by Jesus Christ, “As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you; abide in my love” (John 15:9); and ‘This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you” (John 15:12). Therefore, Theological virtue of Charity is the key virtue to love God and our neighbor.

Pope Benedict XVI, reminds us in his encyclical Caritas in Veritate, “Charity is love received and given, it is grace, its source is the wellspring of Fathers love for the Son, in the Holy Spirit, love comes down to us from the Son” This is expressed in countless ways as St. Paul testifies, love is patient, love is kind, it is not jealous, love is not pompous, it is not inflated, it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick- tempered, it does not brood over injury, does not reject over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” (1Cor 13:4-7). Love is the main point upon which the entire Christian life turns to. To possess the virtue of charity is to possess God; without it, one has nothing and is nothing. Charity is the greatest form of all the virtues. 

Prayer of St. Francis of Assis before the Crucifix at San Damiano

Most High Gracious God, enlighten the darkness of my heart
And give me true Faith, Certain Hope, and a perfect Charity,
sense and knowledge, Lord. That I may carry out your Holy and True Command.

Feast Day: October 5^th | Patronness of World Youth Day and of Divine Mercy

Last week we got to know Helena Kowalska, seeing how the Lord’s gently loved her into the convent. This week, I would like to pick up her story again, finding in this young woman an example of continuing to discern and follow the Lord. After three weeks in the convent the peace and consolations she had been flooded with fled from her heart. She was frustrated by the busy-ness of that particular convent, and found the chapel where once Jesus seemed so clear and close, to be now filled with other sisters, and a nagging feeling of futility in prayer. Helena thought that maybe she was called elsewhere, and this voice got ahold of her heart. She would try to bring the question to Jesus, but found that only silence and unrest filled her soul. One night, in anguish from the uncertainty, she was in her cell, unable to sleep, and threw herself into fervent, anxious, prayer. All the other sisters seemed so serene, so prayerful, so content, but her heart was breaking: where had Jesus’ love gone?

She was desperate. She planned to talk to the Mother Superior and ask to leave the convent. But she first took her breaking heart to Jesus, and He showed the constancy of His Loe. Again, she saw the face of Christ in His suffering, and her prayer immediately became one of concern for Him: “Jesus who has hurt You so?” The Lord seemed so clear then: “It is you who will cause Me this pain if you leave this convent. It is to this place that I called you and nowhere else; and I have prepared many graces for you.” What a gift to hear His voice! What a relief to have such clarity, at last, in her vocation. What a grace to finally realize that she would have to fight against the false voice that disquieted her soul, but that to flee that temptation was actually to make another act of love for Jesus! 

She would bring that prayer to her confessor the following day, and he would reassure her that the Lord’s voice was never the disquieting one nudging us away from love, but only the gentle, never-accusing, one that leads us to purer and greater love. We must all fight to listen only to Jesus’ voice! It takes time, effort, prayer, and trust to know the voice of the Good Shepherd! How easily we are also tempted away from our vocations, often by so many good, but false, reasons: “It would be easier over there.”; “I would do more good if I didn’t have to deal with this hardship or worry.”; “If God called me here certainly I wouldn’t be so annoyed at times … so weak … so unproductive … so humbled.” But the Voice of Truth, the Voice of Christ, is the one that speaks to us in that suffering, not necessarily eradicating it, but also not ignoring it. He knows our lives and vocations are hard sometimes, but that truer and more beautiful love is only found upon His path, sometimes carrying the cross with Him.

Sr. Faustina, as she would be called after completing her novitiate 2 years later (her full name being “Sr. Faustina of the Blessed Sacrament”, named after an early deacon and martyr, St. Faustinus: feast day February 15^th), would find tremendous peace and solace from this encounter with Christ in her suffering. Jesus did not promise that she would no longer suffer. In fact, right before receiving her habit, she had the joyous pain of knowing that her life would often require suffering, but the assurance that those would be crosses that always won the fruits of conversion and mercy for sinners all over the world, and that in accepting them she was stepping up to the cross with Jesus Who had already carried it so far for her.

During the following years of her novitiate she found herself at times completely engulfed in spiritual anguish, feeling the darkness of hell catch ahold of her. It was disconcerting, horrible, painful, and went on for months. Again, her soul cried out to Jesus “where are you?!” and He seemed so far from her. She fought the despair that filled her heart but all her recommitments and acts of trust seemed so ineffective against the torment. Little sparks of grace kept her going: during one time of prayer Mary’s voice broke through the shadows “I know how much you suffer, but do not be afraid. I share with you your suffering, and I shall always do so”, and later, when she professed her first vows (her mom and dad now present!) and found in her heart the ineradicable and ardent desire to empty herself for God. And then, so tenderly and lovingly, His response “You are My joy; you are My heart’s delight.” Somehow, at long last, these words finally broke the darkness and her soul was inundated with the light of knowing herself a daughter of her Heavenly, Beloved Father. Again, sufferings would return, but this bedrock assurance would never budge from her heart. 

Why such suffering for the good young sister? We cannot know, and she did not know then, but beautifully, the Lord would work through her heart so sorely tested, to bring His message of mercy to the world. In some way she had experienced the darkness that we all plunge into when we sin – though sometimes this abyss is not as clear to us as it was felt by her – but by this hard-won personal experience of God’s Mercy, Sr. Faustina would now be able to spread that message to the world.

– Fr. Dominic Rankin has often been puzzled by the particular set of circumstances he is going through. Why this Lord? Why this frustration, this experience, this conundrum? What good can it possibly be?!  Every single time, at some point later on, he has found that that hard-won wisdom and grace was something that someone else needed. Trust God that He will carry you through the fight, and that it is worth it in His larger plan.

As you read this article, I am spending five days in silence for my annual retreat that is part of a three-year Spiritual Direction Training program.  Very often, at the beginning of a retreat, I will repeat the request that the disciples of Jesus made to Him in the Gospel: “Lord, teach us to pray.” (Luke 11:1)  Perhaps that sounds a little strange to you.  As a priest of more than a decade, shouldn’t I already know how to pray?  Sure, I have learned a lot about how to pray and I have spent many hours in prayer, yet I know full well that the process of growing in prayer is far from over, and that I am constantly in need of learning how the Lord is inviting me into a deeper encounter with him through prayer.

I share that little reflection as a way of encouragement to all of us as we embark on this year of faith formation focusing on the topic of Christian Prayer, the fourth of four sections in the Catechism of the Catholic Church.  This first month will provide an opportunity to reflect on the basic question:  What is prayer?  As much as we think we know or don’t know about prayer, there is always room to grow.  So before we even begin to address that question, I think it would be beneficial for all of us to take some time this week making this very simple, yet powerful request: “Lord, teach us to pray.”

Making this request is an act of humility on our part, acknowledging that we are not where we desire to be in our prayer life.  But the Lord delights to receive this humble request, for He longs to share His life with us in prayer.  He will never force it upon us, though.  Rather, He patiently waits for us to invite Him in, to let Him reveal His presence to us, and to lead us to greater unity and intimacy with Him.

Asking the Lord to continue teach us to pray is also a recognition that prayer is first and foremost a gift.  Even though we express our desire to learn, perhaps the better word is that our request is a desire to receive the gift of prayer from Him, and in receiving it, to let Him instruct us in how He desires to draw closer to us in the various forms of prayer that make up our lives as Catholics.

Along those lines, we can identify those various forms of prayer in which we engage on a regular basis:  personal prayer and meditation, reading the Scriptures, praying the Rosary, intercessory prayer for our needs and the needs of others, and most importantly, praying at Mass.  We will be addressing all these forms of prayer throughout the year in various ways.  But once again, I invite us all to see these as places to receive anew the gift of prayer that these various forms of prayer are for us.

So before learning anything new (or reviewing what we think we already know) about prayer, let us first ask the Lord in all humility, faith, and love: “Lord, teach us to pray.”

Father Alford

Feast Day: October 5^th | Patronness of World Youth Day and of Divine Mercy

This week, I would like to take us back to central Poland in 1905 (though this was two decades before the country would actually be reestablished after WWI) to the poor Kowalska family. They lived in the town of Głogowiec, pronounced something like gwo’govjets if you’re wondering…  As a little girl, Helena, the 3^rd of 10 children, while her family was attending Eucharistic Exposition felt the first stirrings of a call to religious life. She described it as “God’s voice in my soul … an invitation to a more perfect life.” She discovered in her own heart that pull to give herself entirely to Jesus, a sense that Christ desired an exclusive relationship with her. It was a stirring that would at first delight her, but which as the years went by, she would find difficult to reply to.

In this case her parents flatly refused her request to enter the convent once she had finished school. They had good reasons: a big family, not much money, how would they make ends meet without Helena working? How would they possibly pay her dowry to whatever convent she was able to enter? Their daughter would have to live with the practical realities of their life and get a job to support the family. Other girls could listen to their hearts and join the convent, but not her, at least not right now. Helena got a job as a housekeeper, and filled her life with simple work and the pleasures of young life. But God’s love would not cease to tug at her heart. Now trying to turn her back on it, she found the Lord prodding her, her heart had that disquiet that often comes when we step off of God’s path. One day, at 18 years old, she was at a dance with her sister but found herself face-to-face with Jesus, seeing Him suffering, and speaking directly to her: “How long shall I put up with you and how long will you keep putting Me off?”

The vision shook her, cleared away all the distractions and distance that she had put between herself and Jesus, and reminded her of the gentle, loving voice that had once delighted her. She stumbled from the dance, fell prostrate before the Tabernacle in the Cathedral of Łódź (where she worked, and where the dance was happening), and knew clearly what the voice she had avoided for so long was trying to tell her: “Go at once to Warsaw; you will enter a convent there.” She didn’t know Warsaw, didn’t know any of the convents there, but was willing to take the next step she did know. She boarded a train for the big city, taking nothing but the dress she was wearing, and did not even stop to tell her family what was happening. Christ’s words so long ago had found a place in her heart: “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me.” [Matthew 10:37]

Getting off of the train, the magnitude of the unknown seemed to swallow her. She did not even know which way to depart from the train station. She whispered a prayer to Mary “Mary, lead me, guide me” and found, marvelously, that she knew where to go, at least for that night. God was good to her the following days, always giving enough insight to know her next step: she stopped in the first church she found the next morning, went to one of the Masses being celebrated that morning, and simply knew that she should talk to that priest. He connected her with a prayerful lady who helped her while she visited the different convents there in Warsaw, but Helena found to her sadness that each one closed the door in her face. Again, in the face of such uncertainty, she again appealed to prayer: Jesus “Help me; do not leave me alone”, and with that, finally came across the convent that would one day become her home, the Congregation of the Sisters of Our Lady of Mercy. The Mother Superior there did not immediately reject the poor girl who stood before her, but instead chose to also simply trust in Jesus. She directed Helena to the chapel with the Blessed Sacrament and waited outside as Helena asked Jesus if this was the right convent. ““Lord of this house, do You accept me?” she prayed (one of the other sisters there had told her to put it that way.) Jesus loves when we ask that question! And He responded immediately in her heart: “I do accept; you are in My Heart.” Helena stepped from the chapel with the quiet peace of someone placing themselves in God’s hands, and the Mother Superior asked “Well, has the Lord accepted you?” She answered, “Yes”, and the good sister responded “If the Lord has accepted, then I also will accept.”

Helena would have to work as a maid for another year in order to have enough money to pay for her habit, but that was all that the convent asked of her, and that year was a beautiful one during which the Lord continued to deepen that longing in her heart to be all His, and His own desire to give Himself intimately to her. She entered the convent on August 1^st, 1925 with much joy. The fight for her vocation wasn’t over, but the Lord’s Love had carried her to the community where He had many graces in store for her.

– Fr. Dominic Rankin is a guy. Jesus has not drawn him in the intimate and spousal way that He wooed Helena’s heart. It was not during a dance that Christ emphatically beckoning him to “come, follow Me”! But Faustina’s story is a beautiful glimpse at how Our Lord sometimes calls women into a life consecrated to Him. I have spoken to many sisters, and they often speak of a call along these lines – an invitation to an exclusive love – that they find the Lord offering to them. That’s beautiful!