“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

We’ve all heard the Golden Rule a thousand times. We’ve all told people to remember the Golden Rule another thousand times. It seems, though, that nine times out of ten, when someone tells you to remember the Golden Rule, what they’re really saying is: “Don’t do unto others what you wouldn’t have them do unto you.” The Golden Rule gets twisted into one more rule telling you what you can’t do. This may seem subtle, but it’s the difference between the sheep and the goats in Matthew 25:31-46, and that is the difference between heaven and hell. We learn to be nice and tolerant, we learn how not to hurt others, but we don’t learn how to be kind or merciful, and we don’t learn how to help others.

It’s much harder to rise up from our bed of apathy and help others than it is to learn to leave other people alone. But that is the challenge we receive from the Gospel: to move from apathy to empathy. The first step we need to take is to consider what we “would have them do unto us.” One of the greatest obstacles to extending mercy to a friend or a stranger is the nagging thought that they would much rather just be left alone. But it’s precisely those moments when we’re absolutely miserable to be around that we need mercy the most. Another obstacle can be the perception that “everyone” we show mercy to is ungrateful and unpleasant. Here we need to call on God to increase in us the gift of fortitude so that we can be bold enough to be merciful and fully live out the Golden Rule.

For a sterling literary example of courage and mercy, look no further than the character of Sam Gamgee. Consider this scene toward the end of The Fellowship of the Ring:

“Of all the confounded nuisances you are the worst, Sam!” he said.

“Oh, Mr. Frodo, that’s hard!” said Sam shivering. “That’s hard, trying to go without me and all. If I hadn’t a guessed right, where would you be now?”

“Safely on my way.”

“Safely!” said Sam. “All alone and without me to help you? I couldn’t have borne it, it’d have been the death of me.”

“It would be the death of you to come with me, Sam,” said Frodo, “and I could not have borne that.”

“Not as certain as being left behind,” said Sam.

“But I am going to Mordor.”

“I know that well enough, Mr. Frodo. Of course you are. And I’m coming with you.”

“Now, Sam,” said Frodo, “don’t hinder me! The others will be coming back at any minute. If they catch me here, I shall have to argue and explain, and I shall never have the heart or the chance to get off. But I must go at once. It’s the only way.”

“Of course it is,” answered Sam. “But not alone. I’m coming too, or neither of us isn’t going. I’ll knock holes in all the boats first.”

Frodo actually laughed. A sudden warmth and gladness touched his heart. “Leave one!” he said. “We’ll need it. But you can’t come like this without your gear or food or anything.”

“Just hold on a moment, and I’ll get my stuff!” cried Sam eagerly. “It’s all ready. I thought we should be off today.” He rushed to the camping place, fished out his pack…grabbed a spare blanket, and some extra packages of food, and ran back.

“So all my plan is spoilt!” said Frodo. “It is no good trying to escape you. But I’m glad, Sam. I cannot tell you how glad. Come along! It is plain that we were meant to go together.”

 This article was written by Br. Bartholomew Calvano, O.P., who received a B.A. in Molecular Biology and Biochemistry/ Mathematics/Computer Science from Rutgers. He worked for two years with The Brotherhood of Hope, helping out with campus ministry at Northeastern University in Boston, before entering the Order of Preachers in 2015.

We tend to over complicate stewardship. We see it as a large task, a hurdle, a burden. Stewardship seems countercultural and unattainable. However, at the heart of discipleship and stewardship is simply being willing to get on the cross with Jesus. He reminds us that we have a cross to bear, and we will all endure struggles. However, it is often through the struggles and adversity that the most joyful and grace filled moments present themselves.

I had someone ask me the other day if I believed in tithing. “Really, Katie, how do you make it work?” I understand that tithing is a leap for many of us. Considering that we are asking to give 10% of our time, our talents, and our treasures back to Him is a challenge for most Catholics that give 1-2%. So, how do I respond to that question. My first thought was how I would respond to Jesus. He might ask, “good and faithful servant… were you?” How am I to respond? Like this, “Sure did! I gave 10% to you!”… really? Is that all we have? Is that all I have budgeted for Him, for His church? Why am I even budgeting my faith life?

The first pillar of stewardship is prayer. Through prayer we are able to more deeply and fully commit our lives to Jesus. We prioritize the Eucharist in our lives. We open our hearts and minds to follow Jesus’ teachings, not just when and where we are comfortable but when and where we are uncomfortable. Are we comfortable praying before meals at a restaurant? Are we comfortable sharing a prayer with a friend or family member who has fallen away? Are we comfortable saying no to Sunday activities that may take us away from the Mass?

When we join Jesus on the cross it hurts! It is suppose to hurt. This last week I was able to listen to a Norbertine Canon of the Abbey of St. Michael, Fr. Sebastian Walshe, who reminded us that “If you don’t have a cross, you are not following Jesus.” We are meant to be uncomfortable when we sacrifice. We are meant to be uncomfortable when we evangelize. We are meant to be counter cultural, so that we can be witness to the Gospel in our daily lives.

So how do we begin living a stewardship way of life? We begin with prayer, with devoting 5%, 10%, 20% or more of our time to building a relationship with Jesus. As we live out this call to discipleship, we will find that we increase our stewardship in other ways. We will begin to prioritize our treasure and our talents. As you do these good works, be aware of the blessings you receive, despite the cross you bear. The fruits of this relationship with Jesus will be everlasting and grace filled!

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

 

We are excited to announce a series of faith formation programs at the Cathedral this fall! Please bring a friend and join us for any or all of these formative programs. All are welcome and we will do our best to provide light hospitality. If you have any questions, please contact Katie Price at [email protected].

Book Study

Facilitated by parishioner Mary Francis and open to all, the book study group will choose a book on saints, spirituality, prayer, Church teaching, or something else to read and discuss. Bring your book suggestions and a snack to share if you like.

 Cathedral School Hall, Wednesdays beginning September 19, 6:30-8:00pm

Bible Study

With men and women of Cathedral parish on the first and third Tuesday of the month beginning on September 18. Facilitated by parishioner Larry Travis.

 Cathedral parish library, 1st and 3rd Tuesdays beginning September 18, 6:15-7:45pm

Catholicism Series

Bishop Robert Barron journeys around the world and deep into faith to teach us what Catholics believe and why. This video and discussion program uses the spiritual and artistic treasures of the Faith to illuminate the key teachings of the Church. Facilitated by Vicki Compton.

School Hall, Tuesday mornings
September 18-November 20, 10:00-11:30am

The Mystery of God: Who God Is and Why He Matters

Join Father House for a DVD presentation by Bishop Robert Barron followed by discussion. This series will explore the mystery of the Triune God as understood in the Church’s Tradition and taught by such individuals as St. Augustine, St. Thomas Aquinas, and Pope Benedict XVI.

Cathedral Atrium, Tuesdays September 25th and October 2nd & 9th, 7:00pm

Festival Choir Concert

Choirs from throughout the diocese will come together for a musical celebration of the 90th anniversary of the Cathedral.

Cathedral, Saturday, October 13, 7:00pm

Priest, Prophet, and King

The three-fold ministry in which all of the baptized share comes from Jesus himself as Priest, Prophet, and King. Father House will present this DVD series by Bishop Robert Barron that explores who Jesus Christ is as God-made-man and Savior of the world.

 Cathedral Atrium, Tuesdays October 23rd, 30th, & November 6th, 7:00pm

The Last Things

As the Church year comes to an end and the faithful are reminded to turn their attention to the Second Coming of Christ, Father Stock will explore the concept of the Four Last Things as taught by the Church: Death, Judgment, Heaven, and Hell.

 Cathedral Atrium, Mondays November 19th & 26th, 7:00pm

In 2014, I knelt in the pew at the Easter Vigil Mass having just been confirmed in the Church moments before. Many months of prayer, study, and conversion culminated at that moment, and my heart fluttered with excitement at the thought of receiving the Eucharist for the first time.

The emotions I experienced during this Mass were intense. Despite my deep-seated fear of discerning my vocation, the rush of devotion I felt made me pray more sincerely than I ever have, “Lord, I will do whatever you want me to do, even if it means the religious life or married life or being a missionary. I’ll do it.”

For the first few years after becoming Catholic, my new faith stirred my emotions almost constantly. At Mass, singing “Lamb of God” brought me to tears every week. Once, while praying at Eucharistic Adoration, I suddenly experienced a very real, overwhelming sense of being embraced by Jesus as he welcomed me home. And when I went to Confession, if acknowledging where I’ve fallen short of God’s hopes for me didn’t make me feel loved by a merciful God, then the priest’s beautiful prayer of absolution certainly did.

I not only believed and appreciated the beauty of my new faith, but I also felt the beauty of Jesus Christ and the Catholic Church deeply in my soul.

But a few years after my initial conversion, I began to notice a gradual, creeping spiritual desolation — a sense of abandonment and darkness and a loss of the strong feelings of love and devotion I’d had early in my conversion. I still loved God, of course, perhaps even more than in years prior, but I felt less emotionally moved by that love. I left the confessional feeling hollow — like I’d heard the words of absolution with my ears, but not with my heart. In fact, I quite literally felt nothing, no matter the Sacrament, prayer, or devotion.

I became frustrated and confused, thinking this was some fault of my own. But my spiritual director reassured me that faith is not about our feelings, but about fidelity. He likened my relationship with Christ to a human relationship: We “fall in love,” and the beloved is all we can think about. We’re walking on air whenever we’re around them. But after a few months or years, those feelings subside, and then the real work of love begins: loving even when we don’t feel the emotional consolation of that love.

Thankfully, the truth of our faith isn’t contingent on our emotions. Still, experiencing this spiritual desolation can be a bit unnerving and confusing. Accepting spiritual low points as opportunities for growth is the first step; but once you’ve done that, there are a few helpful ways to keep your faith when you’re just not feeling it:

 Pray (even when you don’t want to)

Once, I confessed to a priest that “I didn’t feel like praying.” He responded, “But did you pray anyway?” I told him yes, I did, and he assured me that praying, even when you don’t feel like it, is actually quite virtuous.

When prayer feels especially difficult, I take the opportunity to pray in ways I haven’t tried before, like the Divine Mercy Chaplet, the Divine Office, or a novena to a particular saint. More devotions won’t necessarily help you recapture spiritual joy — and you shouldn’t pray more for that purpose! — but prayer is essentially extending your heart to God. He reaches back for you, even if you can’t feel it at the moment.

 Grow in knowledge, grow in love

After losing a close family member, I struggled with understanding and believing what happens to a soul after death. This struggle made me feel farther from God than I’d ever been.

Along with honest prayer, learning what the Church teaches on this matter by consulting the Catechism, Scripture, and Catholic writers helped me grow in knowledge of God. Specifically, I read articles by Tim Staples and Jimmy Akin of Catholic Answers during this struggle. Their theological explanations of the great love God has in preparing a place for us in Heaven and giving us the grace here on Earth to get there helped me come to love God more. In times of spiritual drought, focus on the intellectual side of faith by reading the Bible, studying the Catechism, consulting with priests, and reading helpful articles.

 Turn your faith into action

Though you may not feel the presence of Christ emotionally, you can find him in serving others — whether that means volunteering at a soup kitchen, serving at a parish event, or doing something selfless for your family or spouse. For me, making dinner for my parents on the weekends and doing an extra chore or two around the house to lessen the burden on my husband really helped me to stop focusing so much on myself, and instead, focus on loving those closest to me.

 Continue to make the Sacraments

Even if you don’t feel the consolation you once did when going to Mass or Confession, keep going anyway. Just because you don’t feel a rush of love and devotion when receiving the Eucharist or deeply sense God’s mercy after Confession doesn’t mean that sacramental grace isn’t working within you.

When I started focusing more on the different parts of the Mass and truth of the Eucharist and less on how going to Mass made me feel, I actually experienced even more awe of the Sacrament. I came to realize that the truth of Christ’s presence remained even when my emotions didn’t reassure me.

Times of spiritual desolation are actually a great grace because they allow us to come to love Jesus for his own sake — not for the warm, fuzzy feelings we get when we go to Mass. Learning to embrace spiritual low points and make them fruitful not only benefits our souls immensely but can make times of spiritual consolation even sweeter.

Sarah Coffey is a freelance writer and copy editor as well as an archives assistant for the Archdiocese of St. Louis. She and her husband, Jesse, both converted to Catholicism in college, and they reside in the St. Louis area with their cat Stella. She blogs at sarah-coffey.com/blog. The original article can be found on the Busted Halo blog: https://bustedhalo.com/ministry-resources/ how-to-keep-your-faith-when-youre-just-not-feeling-it and is used with permission.

The Christian writer C.S. Lewis in his book Mere Christianity posed the question that Jesus Christ had to be one of three things: a lunatic, a liar, or, actually Lord as he claimed to be. Lewis was not the first to frame this conundrum, but he was the one who “popularized” the question. The question cuts to the point of stating who Jesus is. If he is not who he claims to be as Messiah and Lord then he is out of his mind for claiming to be the Son of God or he is a liar and a charlatan who deceived the masses. Surely we agree that Jesus was not insane nor he was he a liar, so, therefore, Jesus is Lord. Well, aren’t we glad that we settled that? If only it was that easy.

The question of who Jesus Christ is for each of us is far more pointed because each of us must offer a personal response. What makes this all the more difficult is that our own personal integrity is tied to our answer. “Who do you say that I am,” Jesus asks the Apostles and Jesus asks each of us. He is not looking for an answer from the Catechism or an answer that you can search for on Google. Jesus demands a personal response from each and every one of us.

Yes, he is Lord. Isn’t that why we call ourselves Christians? Isn’t that why we come to Mass on Sunday, and say our prayers, and wear crosses around our necks, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera? Yes, but is Jesus the Lord of all of my life, not just for one hour on Sunday or Saturday evening or just when I need him or when I feel guilty about something or when its convenient? We, you and I, have to ask ourselves honestly that if we acclaim Jesus to be who he says he is then we, as self-proclaimed Christians, have to reflect that truth in every aspect of who we are. True discipleship is not about giving a portion of ourselves but it is about giving over our total selves: thoughts, actions, words, desires, everything for Christ!

An honest read of the Gospels lets us know that there is no “fine print” with Jesus’s invitation to us to be his disciples. The Gospels are a perfect example of full disclosure and this is demonstrated this Sunday when Jesus not only asks us such a pointed question but then he tells us what those who want to be true disciples must be willing to embrace: the cross. However, that full disclosure is not just about hardship and sacrifice. The Gospels also tell us about the love, the life, the grace, and the mercy that Jesus wants us to know and possess in and through him. Making that personal statement that Jesus is Lord and Messiah means going “all in” for Christ. To offer all to and for Christ can be rather intimidating, but, as the Lord repeatedly says, do not be afraid! The Lord Jesus is with us with his grace to strengthen us and with his mercy for when we fail.

Saint Francis Xavier Seelos once said “no one was ever lost because his sin was too great, but because his trust was too small.” Do we trust in the Lordship of Jesus Christ? Do we trust in his power to change us and make us new? Do we trust in his power to save? Jesus’s question of “who do you say that I am,” presupposes trust if we are to answer the same as Saint Peter. Our total trust and reliance must be in the Lord Jesus. That trust is proven in our willingness to hold nothing back from him. We want to see the world renewed, the Church renewed, and ourselves renewed. This can and will happen, but if not in and through Jesus Christ then in and through whom?

 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 must confess. I have not always prayed for someone if I told him or her I would. I have fallen victim to making the phrase, “You are in my prayers,” a sentence void of real emotion or intent. It is like asking the question, “How are you?” Do I always want to know how you are at the time? Then fol lows the mos t common responses of “fine” or “good.” I could have had the worst day, but I still utter a response that does not reflect my true state. Many of us say things to be nice without really thinking about it. At least, I hope I am not the only one.

The truth is that words are meaningless without action. We sometimes make ourselves and others feel better by saying we will do things only to provide no action at all. Offering best wishes to those in real need without any action is worth little. Even if we think we are sincere, true faith without works is dead.

Good stewardship requires us to say what we mean and mean what we say. Stewardship is a way of living. It does ask for sentiments of love. It asks for profound actions of love. We need to offer our gifts, talents, time, and prayers to one another and then follow through. This means we need to be more mindful of what we are saying, more committed to following through, and more accountable for our actions if we fail. If we practice this way of living, not only will we be able to say we are doing the right thing, but our integrity will be intact and we will bear witness to the transforming power of Jesus Christ.

–Tracy Earl Welliver, MTS

 Tracy Welliver works for Liturgical Publications Inc. in Stewardship. He is currently the Director of Parish Community and Engagement for LPI, having previously served for 22 years as Pastoral Associate at Saint Pius X Catholic Church in Greensboro, NC.

The question has been put to me again and again. Ever since the stories of child sex abuse broke out of Boston in 2002 and threw the Catholic Church headlong into an ongoing and painful Lent, people have asked me: “Why are you still a Catholic?”

Over the course of this summer, in the wake of revelations about former Cardinal Theodore McCarrick’s criminal abuse of minors and his longstanding sexual exploitation of seminarians, the soulshattering Grand Jury report out of Pennsylvania, and the ugly, repellently partisan sniping among Catholics (both clerical and lay) over the controversial and still-unresolved testimonio of a former papal nuncio to the United States, the question has been asked more frequently and with growing urgency: “Why are you still part of this Church, so beset by ecclesial politics, run by so many feckless leaders, so saturated with a mindset of secrecy as to hide acts of real evil perpetrated against innocence? How do you maintain your faith amid so much darkness?”

Well, when have darkness and light been anything but co-existent? How do we recognize either without the other?

I remain within the Catholic Church because it is a Church that has lived and wrestled within the mystery of the shadowlands ever since an innocent man was arrested, sentenced, and crucified, while the keeper of “the keys” denied him, and his first priests ran away. Through two thousand imperfect years—sometimes glorious, sometimes heinous—the Church has contemplated and manifested the truth that dark and light, innocence and guilt, justice and injustice all move together, back and forth like wind-stirred wheat in a field, churning toward a culmination imaginable yet out of reach.

Yes, in a Church of billions, a number of her clergy have sinned, and gravely—criminally—against too many. If this darkness were her only reality, how could I remain?

But the other reality is one of light—the light that shines through the service of innumerable priests, religious, and layfolk who have faithfully labored in the fields of the Lord and honored his creation, and his creatures, by offering him the best of their energies. I read of the Passionist priest Father Rick Frechette building hospitals in Haiti and burying her dead, and I see light.

I meet Sacred Heart of Jesus Sister Rosemary Nyirumbe and see how her mission to teach one skill has saved the lives of thousands of exploited people touched by evil, and I see light.

Both Father Rick and Sister Rosemary shine with it, as do the Benedictines of Mary, the old-school Benedictine nuns who are building an abbey, one psalm and one song at a time, in order to give worship and praise to God on our behalf—to pray day and night for those of us who cannot or will not pray—for the sake of the whole world.

So do the thousands of volunteers who assist the poor through the St. Vincent de Paul Society or the Knights of Columbus. So do the anonymous people in our parishes, who work the outreach, light the candles, knit the prayer shawls, visit the sick, teach the young, or shovel the walkway after a snowstorm. All of it helps to illumine the dark, brighten the light.

And then, of course, there is the brightness of the Holy Eucharist, the incomparable Bread of Life, supersubstantial and luminescent. To be before it is to know, “Yours is more than mortal beauty; every word you speak is full of grace.”

If the Church is a paradox of light and dark, that is really not so unusual, is it? Consider our nation: we are a “beacon of freedom” but formed by men who owned slaves. We are a nation of demonstrated goodwill and generosity—quick to send aid to others in the face of natural disasters—yet also the only nation that has ever deployed a nuclear weapon of mass destruction.

Consider the darkness and light that resides within ourselves too. I am a woman with very generous instincts, and I try to love everyone, but I am capable of corrosive scorn. Have I been much sinned against? Yes. So have you. Have I sinned against others? Oh, yes. So have you.

Like a pebble cast into a pond, our every action ripples out toward the edges, reaching farther than we intended, touching what we do not even know, for good and for ill. It all either means nothing, or it means everything.

As a Catholic, I believe it means everything.

That doesn’t mean I do not suffer for the sins of my Church; we people in the pews are roiling with feelings of betrayal, shame, revulsion. My stomach aches with it; I am sometimes sleepless and edgy, and wondering what will happen next.

But I will remain, because on the other side of this darkness I see the light that is faith working within me, and many others, specifically due to this crisis. I have dug in my heels for the sake of this Church and her people, so I am also praying more for the victims and for all of us; for the Truth to triumph, for Wisdom to reign. I am fasting more, and being quicker to “offer it up” when pain or anxiety arises. I am “working my faith” in a new and more mindful way than I have in a long time, and I know I am not alone in any of it. I see light in the determined faith of other Catholics.

Having survived sexual abuse in the family and the public schools, I identify deeply with the pain, the sense of powerlessness and abandonment that the victims of some of our priests and leadership have endured. I grieve for them—and for my Church, and for all of the countless good priests and religious who are tarnished by the actions of a depraved minority.

I am saddened beyond words to know that the Church’s sins of commission and omission are casting doubt into the hearts and minds of many, and that some are leaving. They will miss the consolations of the Church in light, out of understandable concern for its shadows.

Finally, I see light in the crucifix. There, on the wood of the cross, we encounter Jesus, son of Mary, who knew shame, betrayal, abandonment, scorn, jeering, ridicule, unimaginable pain and sorrow, and submitted to them in order to draw us into a consoling embrace that says, “I know what you are feeling; I know what you are thinking. You tortured ones, you shamed ones, you innocent ones, you slandered ones; I am the One who knows, and we are actually all in this together, and quite outside of time.”

The darkness within my Church is real, and it has too often gone unaddressed. That absolutely must change.

I will do my part, because I want my Church to shine. But I understand that everything, from our institutions to our innermost beings, are now seen only as through a glass, darkly. Arms outstretched, listening for the Word and its echoing liturgy, I make my way forward, in bright hope.

 Elizabeth Scalia is a Benedictine Oblate and author of several books including the award-winning Strange Gods: Unmasking the Idols in Everyday Life (Ave Maria Press) and Little Sins Mean a Lot (OSV). Her work can be found on the Word on Fire Blog and is used with permission.

We are excited to announce a series of faith formation programs at the Cathedral this fall! Please bring a friend and join us for any or all of these formative programs. All are welcome and we will do our best to provide light hospitality. If you have any questions, please contact Katie Price at [email protected].

Book Study
Facilitated by parishioner Mary Francis and open to all, the book study group will choose a book on saints, spirituality, prayer, Church teaching, or something else to read and discuss. Bring your book suggestions and a snack to share if you like.
Cathedral School Hall, Wednesdays beginning September 19, 6:30-8:00pm

Bible Study
With men and women of Cathedral parish on the first and third Tuesday of the month beginning on September 18. Facilitated by parishioner Larry Travis.
Cathedral parish library, 1st and 3rd Tuesdays beginning September 18, 6:15-7:45pm

Catholicism Series
Bishop Robert Barron journeys around the world and deep into faith to teach us what Catholics believe and why. This video and discussion program uses the spiritual and artistic treasures of the Faith to illuminate the key teachings of the Church. Facilitated by  Vicki Compton.
School Hall, Tuesday mornings
September 18-November 20, 10:00-11:30am

The Mystery of God: Who God Is and Why He Matters
Join Father House for a DVD presentation by Bishop Robert Barron followed by discussion. This series will explore the mystery of the Triune God as understood in the Church’s Tradition and taught by such individuals as St. Augustine, St. Thomas Aquinas, and Pope Benedict XVI.
Cathedral Atrium, Tuesdays September 25th and October 2nd & 9th, 7:00pm

Festival Choir Concert
Choirs from throughout the diocese will come together for a musical celebration of the 90th anniversary of the Cathedral.
Cathedral, Saturday, October 13, 7:00pm

Priest, Prophet, and King
The three-fold ministry in which all of the baptized share comes from Jesus himself as Priest, Prophet, and King. Father House will present this DVD series by Bishop Robert Barron that explores who Jesus Christ is as God-made-man and Savior of the world.
Cathedral Atrium, Tuesdays October 23rd, 30th, & November 6th, 7:00pm

The Last Things
As the Church year comes to an end and the faithful are reminded to turn their attention to the Second Coming of Christ, Father Stock will explore the concept of the Four Last Things as taught by the Church: Death, Judgment, Heaven, and Hell.
Cathedral Atrium, Mondays November 19th & 26th, 7:00pm

The other day I came across this comment on Catholic social media: “We often think saintliness is the product of the right circumstances. If only we had more time, we would pray. If only there were no annoying people, we could love others. If only nothing bad ever happened, we might be thankful and patient. But holiness isn’t a matter of perfect circumstances. They don’t exist. Holiness is what we do with imperfect circumstances.”

The problem of evil, inside and outside of the Church, is nothing new. The problem is that we become complacent in the struggle. Like a war that drags on and on, there are times when there are lulls in the fighting and the danger of being caught off guard becomes very real. We may be tempted at times to look for the lulls, to desire a misunderstood notion of peace, namely a lack of hostility or struggle, but for the Christian, this can never be the case.

In Matthew’s Gospel, the Lord Jesus states: from the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent are taking it by force (Matthew 11:12). Evil is at work in the world and it seeks to do two things. First, it seeks to prevent souls from coming to Christ and entering into his kingdom, or, second, it seeks to separate those souls from Christ who have already chosen him and life in the kingdom. Each of us individually is called to respond to the problem of evil. We need to answer the call to holiness. We need to answer the call to become saints.

Now that sounds like a tall order, but it isn’t. Let’s take a moment and look at the big “S” saints, those who have been formally canonized by the Church. Why were they canonized? It was not because they were miracle workers (God works the miracles) or because of the pious legends associated with them, but rather because of the quality of their lives. For those who did not suffer martyrdom, before the Church ever looks at purported miracles, it first looks into the life of a candidate for what is termed heroic virtue. This type of virtue is not to be confused with perfection. Heroic virtue is the result of an imperfect soul living this life in cooperation with the grace of God. It is living defiantly for Christ in the face of evil and the temptation to be absorbed by self-interest.

The Saints have not been declared so by any unique merit of their own, but because they allowed the grace of God to be living and effective in them, by living ordinary lives in extraordinary ways, many times in adversity. The same graces that were offered to them are offered to each of us. Like the saints, we have to want the grace of God, to cooperate with it, and, at times to seek that grace out. If we are simply waiting for the perfection of times and circumstances, then we are going to have to wait until the Lord’s return when he will make all things new. We cannot wish dark times away. We are called to act, to be light that scatters the darkness. The world needs our witness. The world needs us to be striving to become saints.

In the great novel The Fellowship of the Ring, part of The Lord of the Rings trilogy by J. R. R. Tolkien, an unlikely character named Frodo is given a tremendous and unenviable task of having to destroy a ring associated with a great and evil power. To destroy the ring will take great effort and sacrifice on his part. He laments this task to his friend and guide named Gandalf.

Frodo states: “I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.” Gandalf replies: “So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. There are other forces at work in this world, Frodo, besides the will of evil.”

God’s grace is present in the world and he wants that grace to be manifested and working in our lives each day. When we want that too, then evil is pushed back, darkness recedes, and the Kingdom is advanced. Times are not perfect, life is challenging, but the Kingdom is worth fighting for. Answer the call to become a saint, not waiting until heaven, but striving for it here and now.

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

Many of you may have witnessed quite a setup on Wednesday evenings after you come out of daily Mass. We have the linens out, pitchers of cool refreshments, a team busily working to set out quite a spread of food, and usually me struggling to get technology perfect. If you were to stay for the Alpha session you would witness even more hospitality. This program has introduced many to the loving and welcoming embrace of Jesus Christ through open discussion and dialogue. We have had Catholics, non-Catholics, searchers and seekers of all different walks of life. Particularly, we have served guests that others, like in the Second Reading this week, may have shut out. This is radical hospitality, and there is a case to be made for why Cathedral should be the epicenter of radical hospitality.

At many parishes, Alpha consists primarily of a crowd of parishioners. What has been surprising at Cathedral is that while we do serve many parishioners, some of the most engaged participants have been those whom we have never met before. I won’t say names, but at least two tables I have led have provided me the opportunity to step out of my comfort zone and to witness exactly what the Second Reading is calling us to do this week. James 2: 1-5 is short and to the point. How are we to consider ourselves intentional disciples if we only surround ourselves with what is comfortable or known? How many times did Jesus perform miracles to outsiders, lay hands on the “unclean,” or provide ministry to the outcasts? The answer: All. The. Time. This is radical hospitality, not the typical donuts after Mass or the fancy entryway and kiosk. While both are nice, neither are radical.

Cathedral is just the place to be radical. We share Communion each week with about 50% guests in our pews. We serve the community at large as they ring the doorbell at the church offices looking for help. We answer calls of searchers and seekers who don’t know how they got here, but who know something is calling them to Jesus. We are a hotspot for radical hospitality. Where do we begin? Well, start today in the pews. Notice anyone unfamiliar around you? Reach out a hand and say “Hello,” or send over a friendly smile. Ultimately, radical hospitality starts with each of us—so why not start now?

Katie Price is the Coordinator for Stewardship at the Cathedral. She can be contacted by calling the Parish Offices or emailing her directly at [email protected].