I love watching replays of great sports highlights. Sometimes you see something so extraordinary that you tell others they have to see it to believe it. The one-handed catch, the in-the-park home run, and the photo finish are all examples of these types of moments. They are amazing feats that boggle the mind.

I wonder how many people in biblical times saw Jesus perform miracles and told others they wouldn’t have believed it unless they saw it with their own eyes. Of course, we believe the stories of his miracles, and we didn’t see them in person. We do believe them, don’t we?

There is no television program that features replays of the actual miracles Jesus performed 2,000 years ago. However, there are miracles every day for the world to see. Many of those come about by allowing God to work through us. People are waiting to be healed and fed, and mountains are waiting to be moved. There might not be a replay for these miracles either. However, people will be amazed by the power of God. Jesus said we could do these things if we had faith. Blessed are those who believe but who have not seen. Furthermore, blessed are those who perform great works with God so that others may see.

–Tracy Earl Welliver, MTS

When my wife and I put our house on the market, by the grace of God we had three showings in less than a week. It occurred to me that when people I have never met come into my home, I often wonder what goes through their mind as they enter and take the inevitable tour. It’s probably quite obvious that we are a family with many children as there is a bunk bed and a single bed surrounded by toy boxes full of weaponry and basketballs in one room and a crib accompanied by a play kitchen and pink, frilly dolls in another. However, another aspect that simply can’t escape the inquisitor is that this home is also one where religion is a deeply rooted aspect of the family dynamic. Specifically, a Catholic dynamic.

I remember one day when I was finishing a quick run, and as I was about thirty meters away from my home, I noticed a nice man in a suit carrying a book and a few materials. It was obvious to me that he was either a Mormon or a Jehovah’s Witness, and my delight in the possibility of a discussion made my adrenaline kick back in after a two-mile jog. However, just before he was going to knock on the door I saw him peer over to a plaque that my family has on the front of the house. This plaque has the images of the Sacred Heart and the Immaculate Heart along with the words, “May the Blessed Mother and Christ our Lord protect this house from harm.” After gazing over to the picture in detail he neglected to knock and started walking to his car. As I jogged into the driveway, he noticed me and we had a decently short conversation about the importance of faith, but the man wasn’t that interested in talking. I don’t know whether it was the picture that scared him off or he simply felt the need to leave, but one thing is for sure: that man knew where I stood before we even had a discussion.

As the individuals receiving a walk-through of my home took a look around, they might have noticed much of the same type of art, statues, and the holy water font by the front door. And if they took a quick gander into any of my four bookshelves stacked full, the same impression might have been produced. I wonder how much of an effect this might have had. Are these people Christian? If so, where do they worship? Are they secularists? If so, I wonder what their synopsis of my home decoration was. Did they think that some quack lives here, some religious fanatic with crucifixes in every room who must be out of his mind? Or did they respect the fact that this home is inhabited by a family with priorities? Either way, I hope that they came away knowing that in these walls for the past four years has lived a family who has dedicated their lives to something higher than themselves, and that in this home Jesus Christ is Lord.

Blessed John Henry Newman, an evangelistic game-changer, taught extensively on the concept of “Real Assent” versus “Notional Assent.” Real Assent is based on an experience of the senses which draws man to recognize a higher good. For example, a beautiful church or seeing the good sisters helping the poor in Calcutta would cause an instinctive rise of an emotional response to the beauty of the situation and a desire to strive for its Source. Notional Assent is much more of an educational standpoint, convincing a person of truth through the reasonable and recognizable facets of humanity’s relationship with the divine. And as Newman stated in his Grammar of Assent: “Real apprehension (assent), then, may be pronounced stronger than notional, because things, which are its objects, are confessedly more impressive and affective than notions, which are the objects of notional. Experiences and their images strike and occupy the mind, as abstractions and their combinations do not.”

It is in this boundary, that of Real Assent, in which I think families ought to see their homes. When a person visits your home, whether or not he shares the same faith, could they recognize that you are indeed a Catholic Christian? And in your dealings with them do you treat them in such a manner that those pictures, statues, and regalia ring true? The domestic church is undeniably a place where God dwells.

Now, I am not saying that we ought to fill our homes with a ridiculous amount of overpowering images which would cause the average person to squeak in fear. Rather, what I am hinting at is that in today’s culture the average American person doesn’t really get to experience the beauty of the Catholic faith’s tradition in the arts and the senses, unless they are willing to step into the doors of a church or visit the beauty that is Europe or the borders of the old Byzantine Empire. In the public square they won’t see any of it. In many of our separated brethren’s churches they will not see it. Perhaps their only opportunity up to this point in their lives to see such works is in the home of their “Catholic friend.” We shouldn’t disappoint. Take pride in your Catholic heritage and be willing to put it on full display.

 Jared Zimmerer is a Catholic author, speaker, blogger, husband and father of 6 and the Director of the Word on Fire Institute. He also holds a Master’s Degree in Theology from Holy Apostles College and Seminary.

I have been hesitant to dive into the conversation surrounding the latest scandals, but working to promote good stewardship and discipleship leads me to many Catholics who question why. The questions I have received include: “How can I support a church with this type of scandal?”: “Why are we asked to practice good stewardship when others clearly have not?”: and the most common, “What happens now?” Personally, I too am upset, confused, disappointed and fooled. I had the opportunity to meet and sit with one of the accused at a Catholic Awards conference, and yes, this man was being honored. Looking back at that experience, I am left feeling fooled for having thought this was a man of God, a Shepherd, a model for Christian discipleship.

I think we have all asked the question recently, “What now?” It becomes too easy in these situations to jump to conclusions or make rash judgements without due diligence. Many, including the Pope, have advocated for a time of repentance and prayer. The most important tool we have in our “stewardship toolkit,” as I often call it, is the power of prayer. Drawing closer to our relationship with Jesus through prayer provides comfort and clarity. Whether you are in a time of hardship or profound joy, fully committing to the act of prayer and opening your heart to how God is calling you is one of the greatest gifts we can receive. In conversations with some of my colleagues and friends, we discussed how our prayer is needed now more than ever. We, the faithful and committed, are needed to help heal, strengthen, and respond to these challenges through our collective prayer.

Prayer during this time isn’t a radical suggestion. Or is it? Maybe it is exactly the solution needed, but the one we least understand in a time like this. Many of us might be searching for something more concrete, severe, or “just.” However, those thoughts indicate to me that we don’t fully comprehend the power prayer holds in our lives.

The type of prayer that I am referring to isn’t normal or routine. It is beyond reciting a common prayer before meals or a quick prayer before bed. The prayer we need requires our full commitment and presence—mind, body and heart. This type of prayer places yourself in the position of receiving and witnessing powerful, meaningful, and lasting relationship with God. Not to mention, staying focused on Christ, who is the only one we can rely on to heal, renew, and bring good out of the worst situations. I believe if we lead with prayer, we will get through this turbulent time and find ourselves in a place of comfort, healing, mercy and peace.

 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].

As football season comes to its long-anticipated start, it seems the nation has been cast into a frenzy of excitement. I can’t recall the number of times I’ve heard, “It’s finally football season again!” and “Thank God for Sundays!” in some form or another. And yes, I agree. I love football (especially college football), and I’m glad it’s back.

A few years ago college football meant everything to me. I remember late nights in my dorm room, my tired eyes lit up by the pale flicker of my computer, where I unremittingly combed various blogs and sites breaking down the upcoming season: everything from the star rankings of recent recruits to the particular strengths and weaknesses of our secondary. I obsessed over it. And since my school fielded a relatively mediocre team when I was in college, it was beyond painful to watch. Before every year I envisioned my team raising the BCS trophy like a king his scepter, garnering the nation’s admiration and respect. And there I would be, amidst a sea of other Bruin faithful celebrating the win in ecstasy—it would validate our existence as a school, and in some way, my identity as a man. Say what you will about my character, my football team is a winner.

I recall one Saturday morning in December tailgating before a rivalry game at USC. Every year this game cast an all encompassing sense of anticipation and exhilaration. Bursting with eagerness, I couldn’t sleep the night before (it was reminiscent of my eight year old self before a day at Disneyland). We set up camp at 7am for a 12:30pm game on campus, enjoying all of the festive fair that accompanies a tailgate: grilled carne asada, charred hot dogs, a variety of chips and lukewarm Bud Lights. The campus was electric, and as the game neared a growing sense of emotion seemed to endlessly crescendo. Clad in “Powderkeg blue,” about thirty minutes before the game, we set forth through enemy woods to the stadium. Chanting, taunting, clapping and heckling accompanied our arrogant strut through campus—all pretty standard. I recall near the end of our arduous journey getting into a man’s face—a fan who admittedly had three inches and sixty pounds on me—and yelling with full might. In my fit of sports-induced hysteria I became unreasonable, illogical and stupid. I was ready to fight this man. Why? Because he didn’t like the same football team I did. And so as my friends pulled me back from the incipient confrontation, I continued to hurl taunts toward a faceless crowd in red.

 Looking back on it now, it’s obvious that I idolized the sport. It provided me with certain things that I wanted: a sense of belonging, an end goal to root for, something to occupy my idle time, an enjoyable escape.

I still think sports can provide these things, and they’re a great gift to be enjoyed by all means. I’m still a huge college football fan, as evidenced by my continued tendency to yell at the T.V. and pace nervously in front of it on 3rd and long. But at least in my case, I worshiped it. I allowed the game to influence me to an unhealthy degree. My moods and feelings were fettered to the outcome of a game. If we won, especially a game we weren’t expected to, there was a great sense of joy and thrill. If we lost, a dark cloud of agitation and deep disappointment plagued me.

Our stadiums have become our shrines. It’s hardly surprising that football games fall on Sunday (in addition to Saturdays, Thursdays and Mondays), subtly reflecting what our country worships today. According to the NFL, the average NFL game received 17.6 million viewers, and 205 million Americans watched at least one game last year. Our Sabbath day has morphed into a twelve-hour stint of binge watching, especially with the recent popularity of fantasy football.

 If we’re busy giving all of our time and selves to this sport, then how can be fulfill the role God calls us to fulfill?

We’re called to live fruitful lives, and to invest our gifts and time into building his kingdom. On Sundays, are we setting aside time to reach out to our loved ones, be present with our families, spend time with friends in a spirit of rest, serve those in need, or, especially, take time for quiet reflection and communion with God?

In Saint John Paul II’s apostolic letter, On Keeping the Lord’s Day Holy, he raises these very same questions:

 Why not make the Lord’s Day a more intense time of sharing, encouraging all the inventiveness of which Christian charity is capable? Inviting to a meal people who are alone, visiting the sick, providing food for needy families, spending a few hours in voluntary work and acts of solidarity: these would certainly be ways of bringing into people’s lives the love of Christ received at the Eucharistic table.

Even though this day should offer us rest from the toils of our workweek, it doesn’t mean we rest from bringing Christ’s love to our communities and homes. In addition to allowing us time to serve and love others, it gives us time for reflection—the opportunity to reassess our lives and order them properly in light of the Gospel. Saint John Paul II speaks about this as well:

 Through Sunday rest, daily concerns and tasks can find their proper perspective: the material things about which we worry give way to spiritual values; in a moment of encounter and less pressured exchange, we see the true face of the people with whom we live. Even the beauties of nature—too often marred by the desire to exploit, which turns against man himself —can be rediscovered and enjoyed to the full. As the day on which man is at peace with God, with himself and with others, Sunday becomes a moment when people can look anew upon the wonders of nature, allowing themselves to be caught up in that marvelous and mysterious harmony which, in the words of Saint Ambrose, weds the many elements of the cosmos in a “bond of communion and peace” by “an inviolable law of concord and love..

And this time for reflection—this quiet re-molding of the soul to align better with our Father’s will—is not merely a checkbox to be checked; rather, it allows us to forge a conscience that is capable of answering the demands of love in our lives—to become the unrepeatable and inimitable light we’re all called to be in the world:

 “The whole function of the life of prayer is, then, to enlighten and strengthen our conscience so that it not only knows and perceives the outward, written precepts of the moral and divine laws, but above all lives God’s law in concrete reality by perfect and continual union with His will.”
 – Thomas Merton, No Man Is An Island

Being a Trappist monk, Merton knew well the indispensable character of reflection in forming our lives toward God’s will. There is also no doubt that when so many of us are burdened by the necessary obligations of our working and family lives during the week, that Sunday should serve as a cool fount of respite—a day to place our packs to the grown and drink from the waters of God’s flowing grace and nourishment. Yet, again, even Merton wouldn’t say that the enjoyment of something like football is a bad thing. It’s not insomuch as it allows proper rest and enjoyment without hindering the other vital aspects of the Sabbath needed for our continued spiritual journey: the mass and the Eucharist, time for reflection, visiting with family and friends, serving others in need of love and compassion. Instead, we come to find that by limiting our consumption of a certain good— even our nation’s new favorite past time—we are able to drink of its enjoyment more fully:

 “Pleasure, which is good, has more to do with virtue than it has with sin. The virtue that is sufficiently resolute to pay the price of self-denial will eventually taste greater pleasure in the things it has renounced that could ever be enjoyed by the sinner who clings to those same things as desperately as if they were his God.”

So the good news for football and sports fans, like me, is that it can still serve to nourish us in wonderful ways. However, it must not be heralded as the source and summit of our week. At that point we’ve begun to worship as opposed to enjoy it. It then becomes an unsatisfying attempt to fill a void—something to render our lives meaningful, or in some cases, keep us distracted from our otherwise unhappy and listless way of living. The result, inevitably, will be a greater sense of ennui and boredom. Our source for meaning and identity must be God—a life offered to him and others in love. If that conviction rests at the heart of who we are, then we’ll be able to order the role of sports—and all entertainment and pleasure—properly in our lives.

So yes, thank God for Sundays. And also for football.

 Chris Hazell is the founder of The Call Collective. He holds bachelors’ degrees in English and Economics from UCLA and currently works as a Lead Content Strategist for Point Loma Nazarene University.

This Sunday is the fifth and last Sunday of our journey through the sixth chapter of John’s Gospel known as the Bread of Life Discourse. Beginning with feeding of the five thousand with five loaves and two fish, Jesus seeks to move the crowd to understand that in him is something far greater than the wonder of the loaves and fishes. He is the Bread that has come down from heaven and he repeatedly tells the crowd in this chapter that whoever eats his flesh and drinks his blood will live forever. As one can imagine, this teaching by the Lord Jesus causes quite a stir among his audience.

At the end, there are some who hear this teaching and immediately dismiss Jesus for what he says. There are others who hear him and are filled with sorrow because this teaching is more than they can bear and they leave him, heartbroken and disillusioned. Then there are the Apostles who remain. Jesus asks them “do you also want to leave?” Peter responds, “Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God.”

Over the past few weeks, many in the Church have had their faith wounded, shaken, or even broken. Many of you are angry, hurt, confused, and disillusioned. You are not alone. When I was ordained a priest in May of 2002, the Church in the United States was reeling from the major child sex abuse scandal that had been broken open four months earlier by the Boston Globe. The revelations started first in the Archdiocese of Boston and then spread like wild fire throughout the American Church. Those in authority promised that this would never happen again. We all hoped that was the case.

Most grievously, we have come to find out that some did not keep that promise. While many dioceses moved forward to bring past sins into the light of day, others continued to hide theirs, and here we are now in the horror of this present moment. Each day when I check the news I worry that there is going to be some new revelation; if there is going to be another “wild fire” effect. As a priest of this diocese, I trust in the work and the oversight done here by Bishop Paprocki, and Archbishop Lucas before him, and I trust that effective work has also been done in a majority of other dioceses.

Many have rightly asked how could this happen again? Why were these past sins and omissions not disclosed fifteen years ago? It is because the focus of some shifted from where it was supposed to be. For all of us, no matter who or what we are in the Church, our focus is supposed to be on Christ and on the good of our sisters and brothers, but, for some, the focus shifted. It shifted to a protection of power or privilege or to a false notion of the Church as institution that had to be protected. The Church is nothing, literally nothing, without the people of God who are its living stones; the well-being of the people of God is where the focus of those in authority should have been. Some ignored that responsibility and here we are again and because we are a people of communion in the Church, when one is hurt, all are hurt.

For the sins that have been revealed in Pennsylvania, I offer you no other explanation and I certainly do not offer you any excuse. I offer you my heartfelt apology

for the sins of some in the clergy against the most vulnerable of the Lord’s flock and against your good faith and the good faith of so many others.

Let us again recall the words of St. Peter: “Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God.” We are Catholic because of Christ; not because of popes or cardinals or bishops or priests. We are Catholic because of the life given to us by Christ through the Church in her sacraments. Let us pray for one another that we may together keep our focus on the Lord Jesus. If together, with the Lord’s grace, we are able to do this then we can truly be what Jesus is calling us to be as his Church: his spotless bride, built of living stones, a sign of his goodness and love in the world for all people.

May the light of Christ dispel the darkness of these days and lead us onward to his Kingdom. God bless you and yours

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

When I was going through school, the devil was presented to us as a myth, a literary device, a symbolic manner of signaling the presence of evil in the world. I will admit to internalizing this view and largely losing my sense of the d e v i l a s a r e a l spiritual person. What shook my agnosticism in regard to the evil one was the clerical sex abuse scandal of the nineties and the early aughts. I say this because that awful crisis just seemed too thought-through, too well-coordinated, to be simply the result of chance or wicked human choice. The devil is characterized as “the enemy of the human race” and particularly the enemy of the Church. I challenge anyone to come up with a more devastatingly effective strategy for attacking the mystical body of Christ than the abuse of children and young people by priests. This sin had countless direct victims of course, but it also crippled the Church financially, undercut vocations, caused people to lose confidence in Christianity, dramatically compromised attempts at evangelization, etc., etc. It was a diabolical masterpiece.

Sometime in the early aughts, I was attending a conference and found myself wandering more or less alone in the area where groups and organizations had their booths. I came over to one of the tables and the woman there said, “You’re Fr. Barron, aren’t you?” I replied affirmatively, and she continued, “You’re doing good work for the Church, but this means that the devil wants to stop you. And you know, he’s a lot smarter than you are and a lot more powerful.” I think I just mumbled something to her at that moment, but she was right, and I knew it. All of this has come back to me in the wake of the Archbishop McCarrick catastrophe. St. Paul warned us that we battle, not against flesh and blood, but against “powers and principalities.” Consequently, the principal work of the Church at this devastating moment ought to be prayer, the conscious and insistent invoking of Christ and the saints.

Now I can hear people saying, “So Bishop Barron is blaming it all on the devil.” Not at all. The devil works through temptation, suggestion, and insinuation—and he accomplishes nothing without our cooperation. If you want to see the principle illustrated, Google Luca Signorelli’s image of the Antichrist in the Orvieto Cathedral. You’ll see what I mean. Archbishop McCarrick did wicked things and so did those, it appears, who enabled him. And we have to come to terms with these sins.

Before I broach the subject of how to do this, permit me to say a few words about unhelpful strategies being bandied about. A first one is indiscriminate scapegoating. The great philosopher René Girard taught us that when communities enter into crisis, people typically commence desperately to cast about for someone or some group to blame. In the catharsis of this indiscriminate accusation, they find a kind of release, an ersatz peace. “All the bishops should resign!” “The priesthood is a cesspool of immorality!” “The seminaries are all corrupt!”

As I say, these assertions might be emotionally satisfying at some level, but they are deeply unjust and conduce toward greater and not less dysfunction. The second negative strategy is the riding of ideological hobby horses. So lots of commentators— left, center, and right—have chimed in to say that the real cause of the McCarrick disaster is, take your pick, the ignoring of Humanae vitae, priestly celibacy, rampant homosexuality in the Church, the mistreatment of homosexuals, the sexual revolution, etc. Mind you, I’m not saying for a moment that these aren’t important considerations and that some of the suggestions might not have real merit. But I am saying that launching into a consideration of these matters that we have been debating for decades and that will certainly not admit of an easy adjudication amounts right now to a distraction.

So what should be done? The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB) has no juridical or canonical authority to discipline bishops. And even if it tried to launch an investigation, it has, at the moment, very little credibility. Only the Pope has juridical and disciplinary powers in regard to bishops. Hence, I would suggest (as a lowly back-bencher auxiliary) that the bishops of the United States—all of us—petition the Holy Father to form a team, made up mostly of faithful lay Catholics skilled in forensic investigation, and to empower them to have access to all of the relevant documentation and financial records. Their task should be to determine how Archbishop McCarrick managed, despite his widespread reputation for iniquity, to rise through the ranks of the hierarchy and to continue, in his retirement years, to function as a roving ambassador for the Church and to have a disproportionate influence on the appointment of bishops. They should ask the ecclesial version of Sen. Howard Baker’s famous questions: “What did the responsible parties know and when did they know it?” Only after these matters are settled will we know what the next steps ought to be.

In the meantime, and above all, we should ask the heavenly powers to fight with us and for us. I might suggest especially calling upon the one who crushes the head of the serpent.

 Bishop Robert Barron is the founder of Word on Fire Catholic Ministries and Auxiliary Bishop of the Archdiocese of Los Angeles. He is also the host of CATHOLICISM, a groundbreaking, award-winning documentary about the Catholic Faith, which aired on PBS.

With the publication of a partially redacted Grand Jury report detailing the often stomach-turning actions of over 300 priests in Pennsylvania, and the equally repugnant actions of too many bishops working to conceal rather than reveal these criminal sins, the week has felt “apocalyptic” in the truest sense of the word: there is a great revelation, a great revealing, beginning to unfold throughout the Church.

We realize that Pennsylvania is not an isolated aberration of filth in a pristine ocean of pure Catholicism, but more likely the harrowing first reveal of a twisted vein of evil within the Body of Christ, the Church, and not just in the American church.

Reading that horrific report makes it clear that we are living within a true battle between darkness and light, between what is evil and what is good. Instinctively we have urged each other toward “prayer and fasting” – essential armaments in the spiritual arena.

Padre Pio famously called the Rosary “the weapon for our times.”

With that in mind, it seems reasonable that the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary, prayed and meditated upon with specific reference to this apocalypse of filth within our Church, among our clergy, can be a weapon deployed daily, inviting in the assistance of the saints and, most importantly Our Lady — Mary, the Mother of Sorrows — who will implore her Son for our sake as she prays with us.

 THE AGONY IN THE GARDEN
And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground.” (Luke 22:44)

 Prayer
Lord Jesus, you prayed in Gethsemane knowing that before you lay an ongoing torture, exquisite pain, and finally death for the sake of the world. Today your Church is facing something torturous too – gut-wrenching, shameful and soul-killing. We know our own agonies will be long and ongoing, but that they too must be endured for the sake of the world. In your humanity you begged your Father for deliverance, even as you surrendered your will to secure our redemption. Help us, now, to pray beyond the intensity of our anguish and anger, that we might gain wisdom and begin to see our way forward, toward restoration.

 Meditation
Ponder Jesus’ desolation. His humanity here eclipses his own divinity; fear is brought to the fore and acknowledged before trust and surrender are able to take hold. Anguished by what we have learned, and what we fear is yet before us, reach for Christ, the knowing companion who is beside us in this new Gethsemane.

 THE SCOURGING AT THE PILLAR
Then Pilate released Barabbas to the mob, [and] had Jesus scourged. (Matt 27:26)

 Prayer
Suffering Lord, Pontius Pilate was an adequate administrator but a moral coward; he permitted what he knew to be an injustice against you for fear of the crowds, and of what unrest might do to his ambitions. This very ancient human failing is one that often brings about deep, sinful offenses and crimes, against the innocent. Our current crisis is rooted in this. But we cannot simply “wash our hands” and push away what is before us. Help us to see clearly all that must be done to repair what has been broken.

 Meditation
Place yourself as a witness to the crowd. Hear the self-serving, cynical, or hate-laden, often dishonest remarks that people unleash. At the peripheries are some who knew Jesus but keep silent in the face of it all. Jesus looks at their reserve, and challenges it. He is merciful, but deserves their voices, and ours, raised in truth.

 THE CROWING OF THORNS
Weaving together a crown of thorns, they put it on His head, and a reed in His right hand; and they knelt down before Him and mocked Him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!” (Matt 27:29)

 Prayer
O Christ, ignorant brutes unwittingly acknowledged your Eternal Kingship, even as they mocked and struck you. You could have ended it, yet you permitted their callous assault. The mystery of your consent to being abused by self-gratifying thugs is one we repeatedly revisit as we wonder why heinous, unjust afflictions are permitted to occur. We cannot understand and that sometimes causes us to doubt. You know that our struggles reside in our inability to know what you know. Help us to perceive your constant reality and presence, even as we wander, and to trust in your mercy and justice.

 Meditation
Like a mouse in the corner, watching the guards abuse Jesus, we are all incomprehension at the violence and evil before us, and we tremble. Yet we stay rooted, willing to be witnesses to the pain, and to feel the shame, and even to pray for the salvation of the soul-shriven brutes.

 THE CARRYING OF THE CROSS
A large crowd of people followed Jesus, including many women who mourned and lamented him. Jesus turned to them and said, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me; weep instead for yourselves and for your children. ..for if these things are done when the wood is green what will happen when it is dry?” (Luke 23:27-28,31)

 Prayer
True Christ, you warned the very women (some who had greeted you with hosannas only a week earlier) that even when worship and humility before God are practiced, injustice and evil against their children may still occur, but when our faith goes neglected and unnurtured, even greater catastrophes await. We are weeping, now, for the ones who have carried heavy crosses due to the faithless-and-dry within your Church, and beg you to be their companion of consolation as they journey.

 Meditation
Our instinct is to make a lot of noise at the revolting things we are learning about members of our Church whose faith was either an illusion or had become corrupted. As Jesus carries his cross, as do their victims, let us walk beside them, in spirit, and cry out both our lamentations for their sake, and our support.

 THE CRUCIFIXION
…And the veil of the temple was torn in two. And Jesus, crying out with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” Having said this, He breathed His last. (Luke 23:45-46)

 Prayer
My Jesus, as you reached your culmination, the veil of the temple was torn in two. Sometimes it is easy to believe that the devastating and as yet unresolved issues before us will break us, and tear the faith asunder. But with your death you became the Eternal Bridegroom to your own Bride, the Church, everfaithful to her, regardless of how or where she fails you. Into your hands we commit your Bride, now so stained and unlovely. We know that you have received her, and redeemed her, and poured your flesh and blood into her, in order to bring about her fullness. We plead now for her sake – offering fasts, and sacrifices of our sufferings – that she may be promptly reconciled to you, renewed in faithfulness, and eager to serve your will, for the sake of the life of the world.

 Meditation
Hyssop is used to cleanse sacred places, including the body, for it has anti-inflammatory and disinfectant properties. It can help free constricted lungs, reduce and soothe bruises, and treat infections. It is a tonic to rejuvenate the whole body, and spiritually, for the Body of Christ

 Cleanse me with hyssop, that I may be pure; O wash me, and I will be whiter than snow. (Psalm 51:9)

 Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on us, the sinners. Our Lady of Sorrows, prayer for us.

 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).

This Sunday the Church stands in between two wonderful liturgical commemorations of the Blessed Mother: the Solemnity of the Assumption and the Memorial of the Queenship of Mary. The belief that Mary was taken body and soul into heaven has been held by the faithful since the early years of the Church, but Pope Pius XII only recently defined the dogma itself in 1950.

Tradition holds that Mary died in the presence of the Apostles except for St. Thomas. After the Apostles had placed Mary into her tomb, Thomas returned and wanted to look upon her face one last time. The tomb was opened, but Mary’s body was not there, presumed by the Apostles to have been taken to heaven. From earliest times, the Church has understood that, having lived a life of total discipleship that was free from any trace or stain of sin, the Lord Jesus commanded that the effects of death and decay would not defile Mary’s body from which he had taken his own human nature.

While Mary was the recipient of a gift of redemptive grace from the moment of her conception, her own discipleship was not a passive reality. Throughout her entire life, Mary cooperated with the grace given to her by God. She placed her total trust in God and that trust moved her to act. The same should be true for us. We are called to place our trust each day in the goodness of God. If we truly trust in his promises, we should then be moved to active and intentional discipleship.

Mary’s life was in no way easy. She had to trust God and cooperate with his grace when the world around her would have advised her otherwise. Her discipleship meant that she also had to share in the mystery of the Cross, but her faith was not confounded. Having lived a life of fidelity to God’s will, Mary was taken to heaven and crowned Queen of Heaven and Earth. Where she has gone, we, her adopted children, hope to follow. God has given us a wonderful model of discipleship in Mary. Through her intercession may we experience an increase in faith to move us to act on the grace given us by God so that we may seek his will in all things. Finally, having persevered faithfully in this earthly life, may we join with Mary and all the saints in the praise of God forever in the heavenly kingdom.

A little gratitude can work wonders. In fact, it’s scientifically proven that gratitude makes us healthier. Study upon study has shown that people who give thanks regularly have positive social relationships, feel more relaxed, make better decisions, and are generally happier people. Sounds good, right?

Today, it’s easier than ever before to show your thankfulness. From apps to trending hashtags, there are so many creative choices of forums for spreading a little positivity from the comfort of your smartphone. Here are five easy ways to get on the (digital) path to an attitude of gratitude:

1. Keep a digital gratitude journal
   There are a number of apps that focus on cultivating a spirit of thankfulness. The Gratitude! app challenges users to write five things they’re grateful for every day. Developers say that recording gratitude consecutively for three weeks creates a brighter outlook and a new habit of happiness. Plus, it’s pretty cool to be able to look back on all of the things that made you thankful. Other apps to try include Gratitude 365 and The Gratitude Journal.
2. Take a thankfulness challenge
   Chances are you’ve seen one of these challenges floating around your Facebook news feed at one point or another. The premise is simple: every day, for a week, or two weeks, or a month, post what you’re thankful for. Hesitant to be so public? Try private messaging different friends every day, letting them know why you’re grateful to have them in your life.
3. Get some Twitter inspiration
   When Thanksgiving rolls around, many people turn to Twitter to share the reasons why they’re thankful, but several trending hashtags prompt sharing your appreciation all year long. Follow the hashtags #AttitudeofGratitude, #WhyImThankful, and #Thankful to read through thousands of reasons why people all over the world are giving thanks. Tweet your own to join the uplifting conversation.
4. Master the “thank you” email
   While it’s no handwritten letter, sending a short “thank you” email can be a huge pick-me-up for someone in the middle of a long day. Thank a coworker for his or her hard work preparing for the morning meeting, or send digital appreciation to your roommate for listening to your worries about tomorrow’s big presentation. Knowing someone’s thinking of you makes a person feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
5. Pay it forward
   Random acts of kindness work in the digital world, too. Browse through Kickstarter campaigns, and donate a few dollars towards somebody’s dream of opening a gallery or creating a documentary. Visit GiveForward.com, a fundraising platform where people raise money for loved ones in need. Can’t contribute financially? Share a story that speaks to your heart and offer words of encouragement.

Jen Sawyer is digital content manager at Busted Halo. This article is published with permission from Busted Halo. The article can be found here: https://bustedhalo.com/life-culture/ digital-gratitude.

 

“Okay,” Jack earnestly responded, as he looked into my eyes and then drank from the chalice. I was serving as a Eucharistic minister at the Confirmation Mass for the teenagers I had prepared for the sacrament over the past two years, and needless to say, I was taken aback by the realization that I had neglected to review with my students one very important detail: the proper, prayerful response when receiving the body and blood of Christ.

Jack’s “Okay” was joined by several “Thank yous,” a handful of blank stares, a nod or two, and a smattering of the appropriate “Amen.” Mixed with surprise and a dose of mortification (if they didn’t know to say Amen to me, they didn’t know to say Amen to the bishop as he  distributed the host!), the varied responses of our parish’s new confirmandi filled me with regret. My remorse stemmed not from the young people’s failure to memorize a line, but from the fact that the meaning of the response was lost on them.

While most of us know to say Amen when receiving Communion, chances are that we’ve all said the word habitually rather than heartfully at some point or another. This is natural. When we repeat words over and over again — whether “Amen,” “and to the republic for which it stands,” or “Thank you”— they run the risk of becoming mechanical. We probably all remember being told to “Say it like you mean it” when apologizing or expressing gratitude as a child, and so we know that the number one antidote to a rote response is to have genuine feelings behind the words we say. But in order to have the feelings necessary to say it like we mean it, we have to know what we’re saying.

 So, what do we mean when we say “Amen”?

Our English Amen appears to be derived from a Hebrew verb meaning to confirm, support, or uphold, and it’s also associated with a Hebrew noun conveying veracity, certainty, and dependability. When we say Amen at the end of a prayer, we are confirming that we mean what we’ve said and that our words are truthful and dependable. Like a stamp of approval or a signature on a formal document, an Amen is a way of saying, “I stand by this.” The Catechism of the Catholic Church explains the word as meaning “So be it,” and that in using it to close a composed prayer, we’re personally ratifying the words and practices that we share with countless others across time and space (CCC 2856). In other words, we claim an ancient tradition as our own when we say “Amen.”

This claiming is not without consequences.

In the case of the Eucharist, if we truly mean “So be it,” if we verily agree that we are receiving the body of Christ, the implications are profound. Because if we really believe that the body of Christ enters us when we receive communion, that means that we are united with God and that we carry Christ into the world with us as we leave Mass each week. And this is a call to action for every one of us. It’s a call to be in relationship with the God who longs to be so close to us that he offered himself as nourishment for us. And it’s a call to let the light of Christ shine forth from us; to make that body that we’ve received manifest in the world through our words and deeds. When we claim our faith, our faith claims us.

To be sure, I’ll be returning to the basics and reminding students of the important Mass parts and responses before their Confirmation service this year. But more importantly, I want them to know what they’re saying and why so that they can say it like they mean it. Because when spoken with sincerity,

 “Amen” is more than a perfunctory sign-off from prayer: It’s an affirming statement of faith and an openness to the transformation that faith can have on our lives.

 This article was published with permission from the Busted Halo editorial staff. The article was written by Teresa Coda. Teresa Coda works as a director of faith formation at a Catholic church. She has a master’s degree in Divinity from Harvard Divinity School where she studied theology and pastoral care and counseling. She lives in Providence, Rhode Island, with her husband. You can find the original article here: https://bustedhalo.com/ministry-resources/amen-say-like-mean