A little under two weeks ago, word began to spread around social media regarding a young priest in a midwestern diocese who was found to have taken his own life. News of this kind is always hard because, as the Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches, “suicide contradicts the natural inclination of the human being to preserve and perpetuate his life (CCC 2281).” I must admit that, even though I did not know this priest, this news hit me at my core and dogged my thoughts for several days.

While priests have no special hold on grace or any unique immunity from suffering, it can be generally assumed that, in spite of the effects of sin in the world and in our own lives, we form a certain disposition to keeping our eyes on the things of heaven, which in turn yields a certain amount of hope. So what happened here with this young priest, Father Harkins, who had so much life, so much good work ahead of him? This question is not unique to this situation only as similar questions are often posed when people are made to deal with the heart-breaking reality of someone’s suicide.

Life is a precious gift, which is given by God and only God may call that gift back to himself. The Church teaches that the act of taking one’s own life is gravely wrong because it violates God’s own love of the individual, just love of self, and the good of others who will suffer because of the act (CCC 2281). However, the Church also recognizes that in many, many cases, if not all one might argue, the person who commits such an act does not do so freely because it goes against the natural inclination of self-preservation.

The Catechism states: “grave psychological disturbances, anguish, or grave fear of hardship, suffering, or torture can diminish the responsibility of the one committing suicide (CCC 2282).” In the case of Father Harkin, it is believed that he was the victim of a severe adverse reaction to a prescription drug that he had recently been given for serious digestive problems; the drug’s side effects for him included consistent nightmares and extreme levels of anxiety.

If you have been affected by the suicide of a loved one, please do not lose hope in the goodness and mercy of God. The Church teaches and believes: “we should not despair of the eternal salvation of persons who have taken their own lives. By ways known to him alone, God can provide the opportunity for salutary repentance. The Church prays for persons who have taken their own lives (CCC 2283).” Sadly, many Catholics do not know this aspect of the Church’s teaching. If you have been affected by suicide and suffered further from being told something completely different from what the Church teaches, please know how truly sorry I am for the additional pain that you experienced.

Our ultimate hope is in the mercy of the crucified and risen Christ, to whose love we commend all the faithful departed, especially those who may have lost sight of the Lord in a tragic moment of darkness and despair; may their souls, the soul of Father Harkins, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

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

Several years ago, my church hosted an Arise night. Arise Milwaukee is a group that helps people fall in love with Jesus in the Catholic Church. An Arise night is no small feat and I was the point person for the parish. After the first planning meeting, I heard God tell me to say a Rosary every night until the event. I’ll admit, my response was, “Are you sure? That’s” (quick counting) “forty days away!” I decided to sleep on it. The next morning the request returned and the fact that forty is a pretty biblical number was making it hard to say no.

So I said yes and again, I’ll admit, it was hard. I had never done a regular Rosary and it became a bit of a chore. I felt guilty about that, but I’d made a commitment to God and I wasn’t going to quit. The Arise night arrived and was beautiful and I stopped praying a daily Rosary. But the idea persisted. I felt guilty for not wanting to do it while at the same time feeling like I did want to do it. Not wanting it to be an obligation; I wanted to do it in love. I started with a weekly Rosary and began having some lovely prayer experiences. This summer when I found my life upended, I started praying it daily. It became an important part of each day.

Rhythm and Meditation
The rhythm of the Hail Marys quiets my mind to reflect on Christ’s life. I began having insights into the important parts of his life and grew in appreciation of his sacrifice, and as a result I have grown in my desire to sin less and pray more. I have also experienced spiritual attack which is not unexpected. Mary wants to help us be closer to her son. Satan is not a fan of that. As Padre Pio said, “Love the Madonna and pray the Rosary, for her Rosary is the weapon against the evils of the world today.” The Rosary is most effective when we meditate on the mysteries. Below are some thoughts to help in your own prayer.

Joyful Mysteries
The Annunciation – Fruit of Humility
Mary said yes. God was asking a great amount of her. She could face disapproval. Joseph could abandon her. She might not be believed. Mary risked a lot because she had faith in God’s goodness. I imagine her kneeling in wonderment at the angel Gabriel, his hands encompassing hers, his forehead pressed against hers as he tells her of God’s great plan. She whispers “yes” knowing that her life is forever changed and possibly going to be much harder. She allows God’s will to be done and with that fiat the salvation of the world is set in motion. I pray that I can put God’s will before my own.

The Visitation – Love of Neighbor
Newly pregnant, Mary walks several days to visit her cousin Elizabeth. She is greeted with great joy and exclaims her Magnificat. While knowing that all will call her blessed, she spends several months serving Elizabeth. I imagine her performing the tasks of life so that Elizabeth, in her third trimester when the physical burden of pregnancy is greatest, can rest. Despite her own possible exhaustion and morning sickness, she serves her cousin. I imagine them at the end of the day sitting together and sharing their feelings about these two miraculous babies. I pray that I can serve as Mary did.

The Nativity – Poverty of Spirit
Mary and Joseph are far from home and she is about to give birth. They find nowhere to stay. Rather than panicking, they rely on God who leads them to a safe, warm place for his son’s birth. I imagine their worry but also their sense of calm. They know God cares for them and he will not abandon them on this holy journey. As the angels announce Jesus’ birth and the shepherds come to pay him homage, Mary and Joseph are surrounded by God’s love. I pray for the grace to depend on God completely.

Presentation in the Temple – Obedience
Mary and Joseph obey the law and bring their newborn son to the temple and offer a sacrifice. There they meet Simeon who has waited many years to meet the Messiah. I imagine Simeon gazing at Jesus. The Christ for whom he has waited has arrived just as God promised. He raises his eyes to heaven in thanks. He also warns Mary that her own heart will be pierced. She continues to trust God, not knowing what lies ahead. I pray for trust in God’s plan and patience in waiting for it to unfold.

Finding Jesus in the Temple – Piety
After not knowing where he was for three days, Mary and Joseph find Jesus in the temple. I imagine the fear they felt when they realized Jesus was not with them as they returned from Jerusalem. I imagine how scared they felt as they looked for him and the increasing anxiety they experienced as time passed. At last they find him in his father’s home. What relief and joy. We look for Jesus too and we can always find him in church. He is there waiting for us. I pray that I will not find reasons to avoid visiting Jesus regularly.

Luminous Mysteries
Baptism of Jesus – Openness to the Holy Spirit
Though Jesus is without original sin, John baptizes him and God announces that Jesus is his son and he is pleased. I imagine standing in that cool river, feeling the water rush past me. The sounds of the crowd are muffled as my head goes below the surface. I imagine hearing God’s great voice proclaiming he is pleased with his son. I desire God to be pleased with me too, and pray that I can accept the movement of the Holy Spirit in my life.

Wedding at Cana – Jesus Through Mary
It is here Jesus’ public life is put into motion. I imagine Mary noticing that the wine is running out and hearing her ask Jesus for help, confident in his assistance. His respect for Mary is so high, he performs his first miracle at her request. Her command, “Do whatever he tells you” is for us too. The wine stewards listen and water is turned into wine. When we pray the Rosary she intercedes with her Son on our behalf. I pray to grow closer to Jesus with Mary’s help.

Proclamation of the Kingdom – Repentance
Jesus went about the land preaching the coming of the kingdom of heaven. He healed the sick and cast out demons. I imagine the awe of the people watching this man proclaim the importance of repenting of our sins as he healed people of their paralysis or leprosy. He preached about love and forgiveness. We too need healing and repentance. I pray for the ability to be humbly and genuinely sorry for my sins against others and against the God who loves me and made me.

The Transfiguration – Desire for Holiness
Peter, James and John accompany Jesus up Mount Tabor where Jesus is transformed before them in glorious light and Moses and Elijah appear. Peter desires to build tents for them so they may stay. God again proclaims pleasure in Jesus, his beloved Son and tells them to listen to him. I imagine the disciples seeing Jesus with the prophets of the past and hearing God’s voice. They received a beautiful gift from God and comforting words from Jesus to not be afraid. I pray for the desire to spend time with Christ thinking about his message and striving for holiness. Institution of the Eucharist – Eucharistic Adoration Jesus gives us the greatest of gifts in his presence in the Eucharist—body, blood, soul and divinity. I imagine the disciples hearing these words of the New Covenant and the directive to do this in his remembrance. We reflect on this at every Mass as we genuflect before the tabernacle. We are also invited to visit Jesus in adoration. It takes great faith to believe in the Real Presence. I pray for the grace to have that faith, to seek him in adoration and surrender myself humbly to his service.

Sorrowful Mysteries
The Agony in the Garden – Conformity to God’s Will
Jesus knows torture and death lie ahead and he prays that the cup will pass. He also prays God’s will be done. In his agony, he carries the weight of our sins so that we may be saved. I imagine the courage it took to give himself to God’s plan. We too suffer and while we may pray the suffering will end, we are given support from Our Lord to endure, as Jesus received strength from the angel in the garden. I pray for the courage to conform to God’s will especially when it may be difficult.

The Scourging at the Pillar – Mortification
Jesus is brutally tortured to near death. Scourging was more than mere beating; it involved using instruments to inflict the most pain and blood loss possible without actually killing. Jesus was beaten for our sins. His mother watched as her son’s blood spilled on the ground. I imagine the horror she felt watching her precious child be brutalized, and how hard it must have been to not run to his rescue. I pray for forgiveness for my sins, the sins that contributed to the torture of my Lord.

The Crowning with Thorns – Moral Courage
Jesus is stripped, reclothed with a scarlet robe and crowned with thorns. He is mocked and spit upon by the soldiers. The people demand his crucifixion. Despite his innocence, he does not defend himself. He is strong in the face of hatred. I imagine his sadness at the people’s ignorance, his sorrow at their contempt. I pray for courage to defend God’s truth and strength to withstand the criticism and hatred of others.

The Carrying of the Cross – Patience
Jesus’ humiliation continues as he carries the Cross he will be crucified on through the town and people continue to mock him. I imagine the pain of the heavy wood against his back, rubbing against the open wounds from the scourging, the hot sun on him, the thirst, and hunger. I imagine his grief at seeing Mary, knowing she is watching her son die. Jesus is patient in enduring this suffering for us. I pray for more forgiveness, knowing my sins add to the weight of that Cross. I pray for patience in my own times of difficulty.

The Crucifixion – Salvation
Jesus arrives and is nailed to the cross. As he hangs, slowly dying, he is comforted by the presence of Mary, her sister, John and Mary Magdalene. Mary is strong. She has watched him suffer and now die and she never leaves him. I imagine her heartache. In his words to Mary, “Woman, behold, your son” all of us are entrusted to her love. I pray in thanksgiving for Christ’s suffering and sacrifice so that I may be saved.

Glorious Mysteries
The Resurrection – Faith
Jesus did as he foretold; he rose from death, thus securing for us everlasting life in heaven with him and his father. The women who went to visit him are greeted by an angel who gives them this good news. They see him on their way to Galilee and he tells them to tell the disciples of his resurrection. I imagine the joy they feel when they see the one they love living again, the celebration of the disciples and Mary when they are able to touch him and talk to him. I pray for faith that I too may one day be with Jesus in heaven.

The Ascension – Hope
As Jesus ascends to heaven he tells his followers to go and make disciples. He sends them to the world to share his story and he promises he will always be with them. I imagine their surprise to see him lifted up and away to the clouds and their wonderment as all that occurred. I imagine them considering what will happen next and how they will do as he told them. They are filled with hope and maybe fear. I pray for hope when I don’t know the way forward or when times seem dark.

The Coming of the Holy Spirit – Wisdom
The apostles and Mary are hiding in the upper room in fear of the future. When the Holy Spirit, the Advocate Jesus said he would send, comes to them they are filled with the gifts they need to go out into the world: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. We receive these same gifts at our baptism and confirmation. I pray that I can use these gifts to share the love of Jesus and the story of his good news.

The Assumption of Mary – Devotion to Mary
Mary is taken to heaven to her rightful place with Jesus where she intercedes for us in prayer. I imagine her excitement at being with her son again, and her pleasure at being in heaven with God. I pray for her intercession and help in growing closer to Jesus, while asking her to help me love him more. She will keep pointing the way toward her son.

The Coronation of Mary – Eternal Happiness
Mary is the Queen of Heaven and Earth. She listened to God’s will and stayed true to his plan for her life. Mary was not spared suffering but her reward in heaven is great. She is our queen too, and if asked she will help us in all facets of our life. I imagine her lovingly looking down at us and her happiness at our requests for help. I pray for her humility, patience, and trust.

Merridith Frediani’s perfect day includes prayer, writing, unrushed morning coffee, reading, tending to dahlias, and playing Sheepshead with her husband and three teenagers. She loves leading small faith groups for moms and looking for God in the silly and ordinary. She blogs and writes for her local Catholic Herald in Milwaukee.

The prophet Isaiah is both concise and profound: “If you remove from your midst oppression, false accusation, and malicious speech; if you bestow your bread on the hungry and satisfy the afflicted; then light shall rise for you in the darkness, and the gloom shall become for you like midday.” These words direct our attention to the sacredness of human life and human dignity. Without mincing any words, Isaiah sees no compromise when it comes to our relationship with the hungry, homeless, naked, and afflicted. Jesus insisted on the centrality of these relationships and directly stated that what you do to one of the least of these you do to him.

How much clearer does it need to be? Our faith speaks directly to every aspect of human need. But even today, there are many who believe that faith and social issues need to remain separate and be treated differently. There are many places where the sacredness of human life and human dignity are sacrificed. The unborn child, the immigrant, the young victim of sex trafficking, victims of war and violence, the poor and the homeless, those struggling to make ends meet who cannot find sustainable work, those on death row, victims of sexual and emotional abuse, the forgotten elderly, those who are physically or emotionally challenged, those suffering from addictions, and those who profit from enabling them are just a few examples. For every one of these and more, there are two things that are needed. The first is an immediate compassionate response that helps to ease their burden. The second is an understanding of why each challenge exists and what needs to be done to fix it.

Both are difficult. And both require more than what social services can provide and law can accomplish. The solution requires an acceptance of what our faith directs us to do and then working towards real systemic change. There is a great deal of work to do, and it will require communities of salt and light to accomplish it. Our faith brings us into the marketplace, to the streets, to politicians, to teachers, to leaders, to governments, and to people who really do not care what Jesus has to say or what Christianity directs.

Salt brings taste, zest, and joy to life. We are asked to liven things up by allowing the joy of our faith to spill over into the lives of others. Once we are able to develop a sincere and deep relationship with God, it will define us and flow out of us.

Because of that relationship, humanity can be freshened and set on proper course. This is especially true if these relationships are cultivated, shared, and enriched in communities that share the same beliefs. To be light means that our faith must translate into action so that we can be Christ for others and extend the same arm of mercy and compassion that Christ did. To be light means that through perseverance, learning, determination, and discernment, the darkness of the cause of injustice can be illumined, challenged, and remedied. None of this is easy work.

St. Paul came to the table with weakness and a lot of trembling. He did not have persuasive words of wisdom that swept people off their feet and set them on proper course. His effectiveness came because of his relationship with Jesus Christ, which brought a demonstration of Spirit and power. His relationship with God flowed over into his life and created an example of convincing integrity. It was from this simple example that the early communities flourished and grew. Numbers were added to the faith not because of what people said, but because of how they lived. They prioritized their lives and solved their problems differently than the rest of the secular world. If it happened once, it can happen again.

As with any group poised with tackling a challenge, some members have the gifts to train hard and get right into the heart of what needs to be done. Others have different gifts and talents and may find themselves suited more for a supportive role, lending their voice of encouragement and contributing to the mission as they can. We all come with different means, but we are all on the same team. Our Lord and Master has given us the blueprint and game plan. All we need to do is put it into action! I wonder how the world would look if Christianity was actually tried for a change.

Jesus wouldn’t have gone through all of the trouble of gathering a bunch of people together, teaching them about the kingdom of God, and sending them off on a mission if he didn’t think we had the ability to handle this. A good teacher knows what his students can handle. Do we see in ourselves what God sees in us? We have the ability to be both salt and light. We can do this!

Fr. Mark Suslenko is Pastor of the Community of Ss. Isidore and Maria in Glastonbury, CT. Fr. Suslenko publishes reflection articles regularly to his parish’s blog. To read more of Fr. Suslenko’s reflections, visit https://isidoreandmaria.org/category/pastor-reflections/.

I was 50 years old before I learned that I had a superpower and that it would help me carry out a special and unique mission. And that I wasn’t the only one; every baptized person has a mission and “superpowers” with which to accomplish their mission. My mission, or call, and yours comes from God. But most Catholics do not know that they have been given a call from God. It is not just for Saints or a small number of special people. It is an ordinary experience. All of us have a contribution to make to the Kingdom of God that is unique and irreplaceable and that really matters.

At Baptism and Confirmation the Holy Spirit pours spiritual gifts into us. Some of these gifts are sanctifying gifts, meant for our own holiness; and some of these gifts are meant to manifest God’s love and mercy to others. The catechism states Within the communion of the Church, the Holy Spirit “distributes special graces among the faithful of every rank” for the building up of the Church. (951) These special graces or gifts are called charisms. And our charisms are the “superpowers” granted by the Holy Spirit that give us a special empowerment to bring God’s redeeming love into the world. We don’t use our charisms for our own gain or betterment, only for God’s purposes or to serve others.

Charisms bear three marks that allow us to recognize them with confidence:

1. An unmistakable inner experience of peace, energy and joy when you are using this gift.
2. Unusually effective and successful results in what you are trying to accomplish.
3. Other people’s direct or indirect recognition of the gift’s presence.

Charisms are profoundly and directly connected to our relationship with God and grow in power and purity as our relationship with God grows. In other words, you cannot begin to discern your charisms until you have “dropped your nets” to follow Christ. Over the next few weeks I will share with you some information about some of the most common charisms, starting with Intercessory Prayer. I hope and pray you will be intrigued by the charisms and curious to discover what yours might be.

Vicki Compton is the Coordinator of Faith Formation and Mission at the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception in Springfield, Illinois.

Punxsutawney Phil can thank Catholic culture and tradition for his notoriety. In national lore, Phil, America’s favorite rodent, has been prognosticating longer winters or early springs since the late 19th century. The tradition of Groundhog Day comes from a German tradition, via the Pennsylvania Deutsch, of a badger being the weather predictor. Both are secularizations of an old Candlemas tradition, a feast that goes back to the 4th century. There is an old rhyme that says: If Candlemas be fair and bright, come winter, have another flight; if Candlemas bring clouds and rain, go winter, and come not again.

This Sunday, February 2nd, we celebrate the 40th day since Christmas with the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord. The Church remembers that, in fulfillment of the Levitical law (Lev. 12:1-8), having circumcised Jesus on the 8th day, the Holy Family came into the Temple to complete Mary’s purification as commanded by the law and to offer the proper sacrifice because of the newborn Jesus. The Feast of the Presentation’s more traditional name is Candlemas, literally meaning the Mass of Candles, because this is also the day when the Church traditionally blesses all her candles for the coming year. Candles are blessed on this feast because Jesus is the light that has come into the world, a light even for the Gentiles, as Simeon states and is recorded for us in the second chapter of the Gospel of Luke.

Luke’s narrative of the Presentation introduces us to Simeon and Anna. We are told that Anna was eighty-four years old, was a prophetess, and remained in the Temple constantly. Luke does not recount an encounter between her and the Holy Family but we can deduce that it happened because tells us that Anna “spoke about the child to all who were awaiting the redemption of Jerusalem,” and this encounter must have brought her great joy. Luke does recount for us Simeon’s encounter with the infant Jesus and the mystery that God had made a personal promise to Simeon that he would not die until he had seen the Messiah. After many years of waiting, God’s promise to Simeon is fulfilled and Simeon’s response is one of a prayer of praise that heralds who this child is and what this child shall be. This prayer or Canticle of Simeon, known in Latin as the Nunc Dimittis, is central to the Church’s life of prayer in the Liturgy of the Hours and is prayed at the end of every day in the Church’s night prayer.

From whether or not winter will end early, to Simeon’s heralding of the infant Jesus as a light of revelation, to the blessing of candles, the Feast of the Presentation is a feast of light; not just any light, but Christ who is the light who has come to scatter the darkness. Unlike Simeon, we don’t have to wait for the light to appear. The Lord Jesus remains. He is always present to us, especially in our darkest times, but we, as disciples, must make the conscious choice to walk with Him who is Light from Light.

The light of Christmas in the crèche and the poinsettias and the trees, all these things now finally fade away at the end of these forty days, but not our Lord Jesus Christ. He is the true light of Christmas that knows no season, in whom there is no darkness, and who seeks to show us the way each and every day. May we cooperate with the grace of God given to us so that we might follow the Light wherever He leads us, ultimately home to the Father.

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

I once sat behind an older man who was angry because our then-3-year-old was talking in church. The man spent the entire Mass huffing and puffing, visibly rolling his eyes, and shooting dirty looks at us. As if that didn’t make me feel bad enough, at the sign of peace, he refused to shake any of our hands, or even make eye contact. Embarrassment turned into anger as we left, and I let his attitude of disapproval get the best of me for the rest of the day.

Whenever I write about kids being distracting at Mass, someone always comments that it’s because parents don’t discipline or teach kids how to behave.

Their kids behaved in Mass.

Their grandkids do.

Their neighbor’s friend’s second cousin has a 3-year-old who is so pious, they canonized her right after Mass at doughnuts and coffee in the hall!

For years, I dreaded Sunday mornings. I tried to talk myself out of going to Mass so we wouldn’t have to bother with any of it. Each week, my husband reminded me that we needed to go, and our very normal kids were just being kids.

Sometimes, people were thoughtful and kind. We once had an older couple ask to hold our son. We let them, and he sat and quietly played with the woman’s necklace for the remainder of Mass. Another woman stopped us to say she enjoys watching our family every Sunday. We’ve had people lean over and tell us we’re doing a great job even if our family had been one elephant short of a circus (we have plenty of clowns). But, I can probably count on one hand the times I’ve felt affirmed for bringing my kids to Mass compared to the times we’ve visibly bothered other people.

I think I speak for a lot of parents when I say that I wish people were more patient and understanding. Our kids have a right to be at Mass. As baptized members of the faith, they are part of the Catholic community, and they’re the future of the Church.

Families are not trying to be disruptive. We don’t want to take away from the Mass, but we also don’t want to teach our kids that all they have to do is be loud and we’ll take them out of the church. I understand many parishes have cry rooms, but by sitting in the chapel, most of us want to set an example for our kids of how to behave. We want them to see what goes on, be a part of the congregation, and understand what’s expected of them so they can learn the routine. Our kids can’t learn how to behave in Mass if they are never in Mass.

I liken this season of life with small kids to a test of patience and perseverance. Like a dark night of the soul, I’m often left feeling blah about attending Mass. I get nothing from the readings and homilies most weeks because I’m interfering with my child to stop dropping the hymnal, or telling him to be quiet so people around him can pray. I’m faced with the choice to give up on Mass because it feels like going through the motions: I can surrender to the temptation of just staying home (because it’s easier), or persevere (despite the dry feeling I often have).

Sometimes all we have when it comes to our faith is perseverance, especially when it’s hard. If I stop going to Mass because my kids are little and loud, or busy and distracting, I set an example for them that church isn’t important. If I quit, I will have failed God, who entrusted my children to me so that I could love them and raise them to love him.

When we baptized our children, we promised we would raise them in the faith. I have come to understand that motherhood is my vocation and a huge part of that is to make sure my kids have a foundation in their Christian faith. Even though they don’t seem to be doing much praying during Mass, they are immersed in prayer. (I know because our 5-year-old sometimes recites snippets of the creed when he plays with his trucks.)

I, like many parents, have discovered that children learn by continual repetition. They don’t learn to walk the first time you stand them up. They don’t learn how to eat from a spoon after the first feeding. It all takes practice and patience. So, of course they don’t learn how to be silently still in Mass just because they are there.

My hope is that people will grow to make families with little kids feel more welcome. We should not only embrace young families at Mass, but celebrate them. We have to nurture our community or there won’t be one.

My hope is the next time someone finds themselves getting annoyed by someone’s child, they ask God to show them how they can serve these people. Maybe a friendly smile is all it takes to keep that family coming back and not giving up on their faith because they’re made to feel like an annoyance. I often think back to the kind couple who held our son at Mass. I don’t think they realized how meaningful their gesture was. For the rest of that Mass, we felt like we were part of a community of people who embraced our family. It was refreshing.

So, you never know, maybe your gesture really is the first step in the future canonization of one of these little ones. Or, maybe you’ll just befriend the family and have new friends to eat doughnuts with in the hall after Mass.

Christina Antus lives with her husband and her three cute, but noisy, kids. When she’s not writing, she’s running, reading, folding forever-piles of laundry, and probably burning dinner. You can read more of Christina’s writing at www.heykristeenuh.com/

New York City isn’t known for its stars (of the celestial variety, at least). It may be one of the world’s greatest cities — boasting of culture, theater, restaurants, and museums—but one thing it doesn’t have is a clear night sky. As much as my fellow New York transplants lament visiting our hometowns where restaurants are barely open past 10 p.m., we equally despise the claustrophobia that comes from spending too many hours in the city underground. Sometimes, quite simply, it can be hard to catch your breath.

So while the city lights can dazzle, they tend to drown out the lights sparkling in the night sky. Recently a friend and I were in Central Park at dusk, and while critiquing the one “tall, horrible” building peeking up above the tree line and ruining the illusion of our wooded haven, we spotted a noticeably bright star. We were transfixed. Could a star be that bright? Maybe it was just a plane? Perhaps it was a planet? “Yeah, I see that, too!” a stranger chimed in, unashamedly eavesdropping as we murmured our theories to each other.

In reality, it mostly looked so bright to us because we aren’t used to seeing twinkling lights that aren’t on theater marquees or in fancy lounges. But this moment of wonder transported me from the bustle of the city back to one of my favorite vacation memories. My family had rented a small beach house in a relatively remote section of North Carolina. A local resident informed us one night that there was going to be a meteor shower, and I was instantly intrigued. So because we were on vacation — and when you’re on vacation, there are no rules — I stayed awake past my usual bedtime to see the shower. I remember lying on the deck on my beach towel (still dotted with grains of sand and damp in some spots) surrounded by my family. Even though a day well spent running around in the sun meant that sleep was tugging at my eyes, I kept them wide open and aimed at the sky and waited.

The meteors were spectacular. I remember seeing about a dozen, my family and me shouting out the count and pointing at each little spark. Just these tiny streaks of light deciding in turn when to make themselves known, hardly seeming any bigger than a firefly passing by my nose but a million times more thrilling.

Stars and the sky evoke a lot of images — usually all wishes and romance — but I most remember how the meteor shower made me feel both big and small … and a little bit unsettled. This beautiful vastness has helped me come to better understand the spiritual gift of Fear of the Lord. I first learned about this “gift” in religious education classes in middle school, and I was immediately skeptical. It’s jarring to think of fear as a gift (I’d much rather get a gift card or something from Etsy). And it couldn’t possibly be true that we’re supposed to be afraid of God … right?

And we’re not, really. This type of fear is a humility that empowers and nourishes us. It’s experiencing a world — and a God — so big we can never fully understand it, yet letting it blanket us with comfort. It’s perhaps more easily thought of as awe: that sometimes indescribable feeling of being in the presence of something that feels much greater than us. Feeling small can be scary, and the antidote is recognizing that there is something much bigger that can reassure us. It’s why as children we climb into our parents’ beds during a thunderstorm, and it’s why we have the instinct to turn to God in prayer when we’re feeling troubled. It’s why, even though the meteors were farther away than my 7-year-old mind could conceive, they also made me feel as though I were a part of something, a spectacular show just for my family of four. I still feel a peaceful wonder to think about this meteor shower now, almost 20 years later.

Once I was able to recognize this fear as a kind of awe, I understood it was a gift I actually wanted. Fear often preserves, and this is the type of fear that unlocks the humility that keeps us yearning for God and looking for opportunities to grow closer to and trust Him. Vacation itself helps unlock this very yearning; it helps us break from our routine and experience something new, cloaked in the comfort of a renewed spirit. It’s why we go seek the places we do: the crashing ocean waves that also soothe, the wondrous mountaintops we try to summit, exotic foreign cities teeming with culture. We want to feel refreshed and awed — and also humbled — by what’s out there.

That evening in Central Park, it was wonderful to ponder the one sole speck of light in the night sky above the city. So bright we couldn’t define what it was. Granting a small respite from the typical gray skyline and background static of honking cars, the moment brought back the memories of my childlike wonder … not unlike that of a few New Yorkers remembering to look up at the night sky.

Natalie Vielkind lives in Brooklyn and works in children’s book publishing. She has a degree in English from the University of Pennsylvania.

St. Luke tells us that Mary and Joseph, in keeping with the Law of Moses, presented the Child Jesus to God in the Temple in Jerusalem 40 days after his birth. This would also have been the time of Mary’s ritual purification following the birth of her child. We read that they offered to God the sacrifice of poor people: a pair of turtledoves or young pigeons. Simeon and Anna, elderly prophets, received the grace of seeing the longawaited Messiah. All of these mysteries are woven together in the Feast of the Presentation, which is a sort of “little Christmas” marking the end of our reflections on the Nativity and Epiphany of the Lord.

There are three elements of this feast that are worth considering: On the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord, we reflect on the unique way God chose to free the world from sin and death. The texts of the Mass weave together themes and images from the Old and New Testaments to help us enter more fully into mystery of this child who has been born for us. The second reading of the Mass reminds us that by sending His Son, God has given His new chosen people (i.e., the Church) a high priest who is able to complete and perfect the sacrifices of the old covenant by offering his very self.

So firstly, on this day the Church celebrates the entrance of Christ, the new high priest, into his Temple. The sacrifice of this priest will be offered on a cross, and the gifts that he’ll offer will be his own flesh and blood.

Secondly, we are invited to take part in an ancient tradition that comes to us from the Eastern churches. Early on, this feast was known as the meeting of Jesus and Simeon, and it was marked by a procession with lights to celebrate “the light of revelation to the nations.” This custom was adopted by the Roman Church, and the blessing of candles remains an important ritual for this day. We find this image of light in both the first reading and the Gospel.

The Canticle of Simeon, which we hear proclaimed in the Gospel and which is at the heart of the Church’s prayer on this feast, is prayed each evening during Compline, the church’s official night prayer. In this hymn, we join the old man, Simeon, in recognizing that the infant he held in his arms is the light and the Promised One who would bring true and lasting freedom to God’s people.

Simeon stands as a symbol of Israel’s watching and waiting in a time when God’s chosen people were being oppressed by the conquering Romans. In Simeon’s song of praise, we find a faith that speaks to us of a Presence that is stronger than death and darkness. When we may feel the emptiness that comes when hope seems far away, Henri Nouwen looks to Simeon as a witness:

“In that emptiness, God’s unconditional love could be sensed and we could say what the old Simeon said when he took the Christ child in his arms: ‘Now, Master, you can let your servant go in peace as you have promised.’ There, in the midst of dreadful emptiness, was complete trust, complete peace, and complete joy. Death no longer was the enemy. Love was victorious.” (from “The Return of the Prodigal Son”)

Thirdly, we are invited to stand with Mary in praise and adoration. As St. Sophronius of Jerusalem reminds us,

“The Mother of God, the most pure Virgin, carried the true light in her arms and brought him to those who lay in darkness. We too should carry a light for all to see and reflect the radiance of true light as we hasten to meet him.”(from the “Office of Readings for the Presentation of the Lord”)

The example of Mary “carrying a light” is an invitation for each of us to carry the light of faith that burns within our hearts and minds into a darkened world where so many are still looking for the light and warmth of hope and love that can only come from this Holy Child.

In the end, the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord is an invitation for us to reflect on who this Child is and to help us make a connection between the mystery of Christmas and the saving work of Jesus embodied in the fullness of the Paschal Mystery. As the preface for the feast reminds us, this Child is truly “the glory of Israel and the light of the nations.”

A Benedictine monk for nearly 11 years, Br. Silas Henderson, SDS, is an author, retreat leader, and catechist, and former managing editor of Deacon Digest Magazine and Abbey Press Publications. You can find more of Br. Henderson’s blogs at www.fromseason2season.blogspot.com.

Do me a favor and please read this all the way through, not stopping until you get to the end. Growing up, there were two basic rules at home (there were more than two but two in particular really stick out in my memory). One was that you were to get a job when you turned sixteen; the second was that you went to Mass every Sunday and holy day. If you were too sick to go to Sunday Mass, then you were obviously too sick to do anything else. When we would go on vacation, the first thing my Dad would do when we got to our hotel was to find out where the nearest Catholic church was and what their Sunday Mass schedule was. You can take a break from work, school, and many other things in life, but you can’t take a break from God. Imagine for one moment if He took a break from us (and you think this world is messed up now?); it would be cataclysmic.

Sunday Mass is an obligation. The Third Commandment handed down by God to Moses is that the Sabbath Day is to be kept holy. In our Christian tradition, the Church understands this as participating at Mass on Sundays. Sunday is the Christian Sabbath (the original day being Saturday) because it was on Sunday that our Lord rose from the dead to new and everlasting life. Participation at Sunday Mass is a precept of the Church and to willfully miss Sunday Mass, without serious reason or without a dispensation, is a grave sin according to the Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC 2181).

When an act is determined by the Church to be gravely sinful and the act is done freely and knowingly as being gravely sinful, then it is mortally sinful. What does this mean? The Church teaches that mortal sin that is not repented of excludes a soul from heaven. Having said this, in the same section of the Catechism, the Church teaches that final judgment ultimately belongs to the justice and mercy of God (CCC 1861). For those who willfully miss Sunday Mass or Mass on holy days of obligation, the Cathedral offers daily opportunities to celebrate the Sacrament of Reconciliation.

So why am I bringing this up? Last weekend Mass attendance dropped significantly. This happens from time to time, sometimes due to holiday weekends and sometimes due to reasons known only to God. Last weekend I suspect it was due to the cold weather. It’s not fun going out in the cold. For some, they should not venture out in extreme weather due to the necessity of not endangering their personal well-being. For others, it is not so much about necessity but convenience or preference.

At times, we can fall into the trap of misplaced priorities or false judgments about what is good and what is better: vacations, kids’ sporting events, too much “fun” on Saturday night, personal comfort, etc. If we are contemplating missing Sunday Mass (not including being sick or caring for someone who is, or having to work for the sake of being able to live), we have to honestly ask ourselves if there is a duty or serious reason that necessitates our absence; put another way, is what I am doing instead of going to Mass going to deepen my relationship with the Lord or weaken it and possibly break it? Furthermore, if I am responsible for others getting to Mass, like children, how is this judgment going to help or hinder their relationship with God?

Am I casting judgments or aspersions? No; but I am trying to fulfill both my sacred duty as a shepherd of souls as well as fulfilling the prophetic call that we all have by virtue of baptism by calling folks back to right relationship with God. Like the prophets of old, I may be risking having stones thrown at me but I care enough about the salvation of those who come to this Cathedral that I am willing to risk the displeasure of some.

I have focused on the “negative” aspects of missing Mass but the positive reasons should be our greater motivation. First and foremost, we come to Mass for love of God and in gratitude to Him for his graces and mercies; even here, the goodness of God cannot be outdone because when we come to Sunday Mass not only do we encounter Him but we are able to receive him truly and totally in the Eucharist. If we truly want to be disciples, holy Mass is where that desire should be strengthened and renewed each week: “the Sunday Eucharist is the foundation and confirmation of all Christian practice (CCC 2181).”

Sunday Mass is far more of an opportunity than an obligation. Faithfully coming to Mass on Sunday will not necessarily make your life easier nor will it make your problems and crosses disappear. It will, however, draw you closer to God and give you graces to push forward through challenges and difficulties, and families that worship together at Sunday Mass will find their bonds strengthened. Absence from Sunday Mass is absence from the divine presence in the Eucharist; removing ourselves from the Eucharist puts us, spiritually, on a dangerous and slippery slope.

So, literally, for love of God, come to Sunday Mass (and on holy days too). God in his goodness has given us 168 hours each week; rendering one hour back to Him in praise and thanksgiving is truly not too much to ask. Sometimes it may not be convenient, but so goes life. By faithfully participating at Mass you will find that the Lord will offer you more than you can offer Him and you will be all the better for it…we will be all the better for it because together we are the Mystical Body of Christ, called to be His presence in the world.

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

Looking up at the stars on a warm, quiet night is one of my favorite things to do. I revel in the chance to soak in the vastness around me, staring at the charming character of stars that are so massive and powerful in existence but seem so tiny to my eyes. I remember driving through the jungles of Honduras at night in the back of a pickup once in college. The sweet-smelling dirt swirled around me, the bump and thud of the truck hitting mud hummed under my feet, and I looked up. It was simply pure beauty. There were no lights from cities or towns to adulterate the sky. Miles of mountain villages and the deep Caribbean Ocean spilled darkness to everything around us. I couldn’t make out a tree in front of me if it weren’t for the headlights. Because of the impenetrable darkness, the stars sprinkled about the night sky became alive. Each one was more beautiful than the one next to it. There seemed to be thousands more than I had ever seen before.

The readings this Sunday remind me of this paradox — that within some of the darkest parts of our history, the light of Christ has shone even more brilliantly. Tertullian observed the same when he said that “the blood of martyrs is the seed of the Church.” Some of the most trying times in the history of the Church brought about the greatest saints who were willing to die for the faith. Those lights in the darkness allowed the Church to flourish. This reminds us that no matter how dark the world seems to get around us, the light of Christ shines even brighter, leading his people to healing and hope.

As I look around at our world today, I see this darkness. I see a darkening of intellect and will when celebrities like Michelle Williams publicly praise abortion and twist the truth of freedom to be self-serving. I see a darkening of hope when the world sits on the precipice of war. I see darkness when friends lose hope of ever being able to afford to pay bills and provide for their children. How are we to respond to the enveloping darkness around us? How do the readings this weekend teach us to respond?

In the second reading, St. Paul attempts to show us the answer. He chastises the Corinthians to avoid divisions and rivalries among them. While we aren’t arguing who is a follower of Paul or Apollos in our times, we can see the divisions we’ve allowed to take root in our lives in a similar way. We hear things like “I’m a Trump supporter!” or “I will never vote Republican!” and more. The point Paul makes is that to combat the darkness, we need to follow the light. In other words, our lives must be entirely Christ centered, or Christocentric. Our primary identity must lie in belonging to Christ. Everything else must become secondary.

In the Gospel, Christ beckons the first Apostles to follow that primacy and light. The darkness they experienced in their day may have been in the context of different circumstances than we are in, but it wasn’t completely unlike our own. Jesus spoke to the darkness surrounding the Apostles spiritually and answered it with the call to follow him. The challenge for us today is to be deeply convicted of that same call and to recognize that Christ is reaching into the impenetrable depths and darkness of our own hearts and cultures and calling us to follow him in a new, profound way. After this, we need to follow the example of the Apostles and act on it. We need to answer the question, “What is God calling me to let go of so that I will be freer to live a life for Christ?”

In one of his sermons, St. Bernard says that “the incarnation teaches us how much God cares for us and what he thinks and feels about us.” Like the brilliance of the stars I experienced in that dark drive in Honduras, when we truly accept that Christ loves us and is calling us “out of darkness and into his marvelous light,” we can stop fearing the darkness and division around us (1 Peter 2:9).

Angie Windnagle, BSC is an author for Liturgical Publications, Inc. and writes reflections on the Sunday readings.