As he begins to unpack the biblical meaning of hope, Pope Benedict notes how the terms “faith” and “hope” seem to be somewhat interchangeable.  Though these are in fact two separate theological virtues, they do share much in common.  He cites St. Paul’s Letter to the Ephesians in saying that before they came to a life of faith in Christ, they were “without hope and without God in the world.” (Eph 2:12) Faith involves assenting to all that God has revealed as truth, and that opens the door for us to have hope in the promise that what He has revealed is that we are called to be with Him in Heaven, and that He will provide all of the graces necessary for us to get there.  Much more can be said to distinguish these two virtues, but I think this brief explanation will suffice to show how interrelated they are, while remaining distinct.

The line from paragraph 2 of Spe Salvi that I would like to focus on comes later in the paragraph after the Holy Father treats on faith and hope together.  He references a line from St. Paul’s words to the Church in Thessalonica: “We do not want you to be unaware, brothers, about those who have fallen asleep, so that you may not grieve like the rest, who have no hope.” (1 Thes 4:13)  The pope then writes:

Here too we see as a distinguishing mark of Christians the fact that they have a future: it is not that they know the details of what awaits them, but they know in general terms that their life will not end in emptiness. Only when the future is certain as a positive reality does it become possible to live the present as well…The dark door of time, of the future, has been thrown open. The one who has hope lives differently; the one who hopes has been granted the gift of a new life. (SS, 2)

This is a great gift to be able to leave the future in the hands of God, trusting His fidelity, believing in His promises, so that we can attend to where He wants us here and now, and by our saying “yes” to Him each day, we know that the hope we have for the future will not disappoint (cf. Rom 5:5).  In that regard, I want to share a part of a meditation from St. John Henry Newman that I think expresses this interplay of faith and hope in a beautiful way:

Therefore I will trust Him.
Whatever, wherever I am,
I can never be thrown away.
If I am in sickness, my sickness may serve Him;
In perplexity, my perplexity may serve Him;
If I am in sorrow, my sorrow may serve Him.
My sickness, or perplexity, or sorrow may be
necessary causes of some great end,
which is quite beyond us.
He does nothing in vain; He may prolong my life,
He may shorten it;
He knows what He is about.
He may take away my friends,
He may throw me among strangers,
He may make me feel desolate,
make my spirits sink, hide the future from me—
still He knows what He is about.…
Let me be Thy blind instrument. I ask not to see—
I ask not to know—I ask simply to be used.

St. John Henry Newman, Meditation (March 7, 1848)

Father Alford     

Feast Day: January 26^th 

337 A.D., about two decades after Constantine had allowed Christians to practice their faith throughout the Roman Empire, and a bit more than a decade after the First Council of Nicaea had articulated our belief in the Son’s consubstantiality with the Father (and the corresponding Nicaean creed), that great and complicated emperor, baptized at the very end of his life, died. The giant empire, united under him after so many centuries of being split between various emperors, rent by civil wars, and wracked by persecutions, had before it the possibility of unifying under the banner of Christ. Sadly, the coming decades would be more difficult than might have been hoped.

By 340, two of Constantine’s sons were at war with each other with Constantine II killed as he attempted to wrest Rome from Constans. Constans himself would be assassinated a decade later by the usurper Magnentius, leaving the third son, Constantius II, to wage his own civil war against that upstart, eventually gaining the entire empire for himself. He, as history had it, was Christian, but an Arian, and so it is he who exiles Athanasius for his staunch defense of Orthodox, Nicaean, Christianity, and around 355 demands Pope Liberius to appear before him and agree to a semi-arian statement (and a repudiation of his friendship with Athanasius). Theodoret records this epic conversation, the emperor of the world confronting the successor of Peter.

The Emperor: “One question only requires to be made. I wish you to enter into communion with the churches, and to send you back to Rome. Consent therefore to peace, and sign your assent, and then you shall return to Rome.”

Liberius: “I have already taken leave of the brethren who are in that city. The decrees of the Church are of greater importance than a residence in Rome.”

The Emperor: “You have three days to consider whether you will sign the document and return to Rome; if not, you must choose the place of your banishment.”

Liberius: “Neither three days nor three months can change my sentiments. Send me wherever you please.”

As history would have it, even this dramatic show down, and heroic position of Pope Liberius is clouded by the uncertainties of the following years. Constantius exiled the pope and set up his own puppet anti-pope, Felix II, but later he allowed Liberius to return – some say because the pope had finally capitulated to some of his demands – trying to have co-popes with Liberus and Felix both leading the Church… In any case, by 361, things managed to get decisively worse when Julian became the new emperor. He was the one who attempted to un-baptize himself by plunging himself in a vat of bull’s blood, and he did resume animal sacrifices, revived some of the persecutions of earlier centuries, and (begrudgingly recognizing something that Christians had done quite well) commands the pagan priests to increase their acts of charity. It is worth remembering his words here!:

“These impious Galileans not only feed their own poor, but ours also; welcoming them into their agapē, they attract them, as children are attracted, with cakes. Whilst the pagan priests neglect the poor, the hated Galileans devote themselves to works of charity; and by a display of false compassion have established and given effect to their pernicious errors. See their love-feasts and their tables spread for the indigent. Such practice is common among them, and causes a contempt for our gods.” – Julian, Letter to Arsacius, High Priest of Galatia (Letter 22)

But the turmoil outside of the Church was sadly just as evident within its walls (quite literally).  In 366, Damasus I and Ursinus were both elected Pope by their respective cohorts of priests and people in Rome (rifts that trace back to the conflict between Felix I and Liberius, and between the Arian and Nicaean disagreements). The gangs around them took up weapons and attacked each other, at one point 137 people were killed inside of the newly built Basilica of Sicininus (now St. Mary Major). Our records of all these events are hopelessly muddled and biased by the acrimony on each side. Those that leaned Arian, of course, side with Ursinus and defame Damasus, and vice versa. That said, the horrible scene stays before our eyes of hatred and bloodshed filling a place dedicated to the worship of Christ. Here is what one young man, baptized by Pope Liberius, and then a protégé of Pope Damasus, writes to his friend

“I was at that time in Rome, and I saw the bloodshed and the disturbance; the factions of Ursinus and Damasus were divided by mutual strife, and the churches were polluted with blood.” – St. Jerome, Letter to Heliodorus (Letter 15):

– Fr. Dominic will bring us back to St. Jerome next week. Crazy twist: the unification of the Christian world, and the conversion of the pagan world, would happen in large part because of Jerome’s efforts. And his life’s work depended on the humility and sanctity of one amazing woman, St. Paula, who we will finally encounter next week!  

On December 29 at the 10:00 am Mass, Bishop Paprocki celebrated the opening of the 2025 Jubilee Year for our diocese as we unite with Catholics throughout the world during this special year.  The theme for this year comes from St. Paul’s Letter to the Romans: “Hope does not disappoint.” (Rom. 5:5).  Our Holy Father, Pope Franics, writes the following about this Jubilee Year:

The coming Jubilee will thus be a Holy Year marked by the hope that does not fade, our hope in God. May it help us to recover the confident trust that we require, in the Church and in society, in our interpersonal relationships, in international relations, and in our task of promoting the dignity of all persons and respect for God’s gift of creation. May the witness of believers be for our world a leaven of authentic hope, a harbinger of new heavens and a new earth (cf. 2 Pet 3:13), where men and women will dwell in justice and harmony, in joyful expectation of the fulfilment of the Lord’s promises. (Bull of Indiction, no. 25)

As I was concelebrating the Mass that morning, listening to Bishop Paprocki’s homily and considering this topic of hope, I had a nudge from the Holy Spirit about an idea for my bulletin articles for this coming year.  The thought came to my mind to walk through Pope Benedict XVI’s Encyclical on Christian Hope, Spe Salvi.  After Mass, when I looked at the document, I saw that it was 50 paragraphs, which is perfect for doing one paragraph a week for the year!  I have long loved the writings of Pope Benedict, both before his becoming pope, and after.  Among my favorite of his writings is this document, so I am personally very excited to journey through his brilliant treatment on this topic.  It is my hope (no pun intended) that our reflections on this theme will be a very fruitful experience for all who read these articles, as I am sure it will be fruitful for me as I write them.

I do not intend to quote the entire paragraph each week, just the main points, but I encourage you to access the document to read the entire text, one week at a time.  If you search for “Spe Salvi Pope Benedict” on Google, the official Vatican translation should be one of the first results.

The first paragraph is rather short, but it sets the stage well for the document.  The Holy Father begins by quoting St. Paul’s words from his Letter to the Romans as he writes: “’SPE SALVI facti sumus’—in hope we were saved, says Saint Paul to the Romans, and likewise to us (Rom 8:24)” (SS 1)  He then goes on to write that this virtue of hope helps us in facing our present circumstances:

Redemption is offered to us in the sense that we have been given hope, trustworthy hope, by virtue of which we can face our present: the present, even if it is arduous, can be lived and accepted if it leads towards a goal, if we can be sure of this goal, and if this goal is great enough to justify the effort of the journey. (SS 1)

Notice how he uses the word “if” a few times in proposing this theme of hope.  This will be one of his main goals, to convince us that hope does indeed lead us to a goal, one that is certain, and one that is worth continuing the journey toward.  If you permit me to take St. Paul’s words slightly out of context, our hope in his providing a clear answer to that question will not be met with disappointment (Rom 5:5), but rather, it will only serve to strengthen our hope in what the Lord has “prepared for those who love Him” (1 Cor. 2:9) in the Kingdom.

Father Alford     

Feast Day: January 12^th 

The year was 1652. On a little island up the St. Lawrence River from Quebec, a small settlement of French colonists was living up to the phrase that the bigger city had named them: “une folle enterprise” [a foolish enterprise]. The little village however called itself “Ville-Marie”, City of Mary, and had been founded to bring the Gospel to the local tribes of the area. From the beginning, those organizing the enterprise had seen it as God’s work and had endured years of work acquiring the land, money, and provisions necessary to establish the colony. They went for no earthly profit, but to build a hospital and school to care for the indigenous population. Delayed by storms, and arriving too late to begin in the fall of 1641, the three ships worth of men, and four intrepid women, finally arrived at the island on May 17^th, 1642, building an altar and offering Mass as their first act in their new home.

Ten years later, after relentless attacks from the local Iroquois tribes the population of Ville-Marie was down to 50, with only 17 capable of bearing arms. The leader of the colony, Paul de Chomedey, a man known both for his leadership and his piety, decided to return to France and try to find men willing to come and work (and defend) the little town. If he could not find 100 or more, he told Jeanne Mance (another leader of the enterprise, a woman who was particularly dedicated to the mission’s hospital having received her calling to that charitable work while on pilgrimage in 1640) they would have to abandon the town. It was a long few years before he returned, with 95 recruits, including the extraordinary young woman, Marguerite Bourgeoys.

She was 33 years old and had long delighted in serving the poor in the city of Troyes, France. Marguerite had been a member of the sodality affiliated with the monastery of sisters in that town since she had turned 15, a group of lay women who would teach and take care of the poor girls who could not afford to board in the monastery school. One day in 1652, the resilient, weather-battered de Chomedey came to visit his sister, one of the canonesses in that monastery. Perhaps it was just a visit, perhaps he was begging her prayers for the colony, but either way it was she who pointed her brother to speak with the magnanimous Marguerite. And, in February of 1653, she accepted the daunting task to leave everything behind and lead the establishment of a congregation of women who could teach in that battered far-off village on the St. Lawrence named after Our Lady. 

A few years of work and they had built a permanent Church – oddly forgotten during those first difficult years – and a few more years and they had their first permanent school operating – albeit in a vacant stone stable (not unfitting given where her Lord had been born). Marguerite made trips back to France, recruiting more women for the work of educating the poor and indigent population around Ville-Marie, and often bringing back “filles du roi” [king’s daughters] as well, impoverished or orphaned girls from France sent over to the colonies by the Crown. They too were loved and protected by the little community of women headed by Marguerite. Each day the women would pray and eat together, a religious community sustain them amidst the hardships of the work and hold them all to the tremendous vision of teaching held out to them by Marguerite: 

Teaching is the work most suited to draw down the graces of God if it is done with purity of intention, without distinction between the poor and the rich, between relatives and friends and strangers, between the pretty and the ugly, the gentle and the grumblers, looking upon them all as drops of Our Lord’s blood

Again and again, church leaders enjoined the community to become cloistered – the almost universal way of life of female congregations at that time – but by 1669, Marguerite’s indefatigable efforts obtained permission from the Apostolic Vicar of New France to continue their active efforts. In 1670 they received a further approval from King Louis XIV. She would establish additional schools over the coming decades, some for different occupations, some in mission villages among the Native communities in the area. By 1692, she was asked to bring her sisters to the city of Quebec and establish there another school for poor girls. Finally, in 1698 the congregation was canonically established, setting a precedent for all active women’s communities today!

Marguerite was widely considered a saint upon her death in 1700, not only from her tremendous missionary work, but also her final years of intense prayer including offering her life so that a younger sister who had fallen ill could be cured. 

– Fr. Dominic will leave you with a final quotation from this saint: “It seems to me that we are charcoal ready to be kindled and that Holy Communion is entirely suited to set us on fire. But when this charcoal is kindled only on the surface, as soon as it is set aside, it is extinguished. On the contrary, that which is fired all the way to the centre is not extinguished, but is consumed.” What group around you needs the Love of Christ? Is the Holy Communion you have been given today the fire meant to carry you into that mission?