It had been a few crazy days leading up to the Illinois March for Life, so I had slept soundly and my conversation with God the morning after was filled with tremendous gratitude for all the graces that had carried us through the prior days, and all the ways that Our Lord had opened doors to make such a tremendous witness of His love for human life possible. On my mind, of course, was the visit I would be making later that day to the schoolkids at Sacred Heart in Effingham. Many rainy miles awaited me and my car bookending the several hours I would be spending engaging all the different grades down there throughout the day, so I leaned into the lesson that God had been teaching me all this Lent and asked Him to lighten the burdens that awaited me that day too. Gradually those voices of fear and fatigue were replaced by confident peace in the Lord and I genuflected before heading inside.

One frustration remained on my heart: I had forgotten the Cathedral’s book of the Gospels at the UIS Auditorium. I had realized this the day before as I put some of the things away (altar-cloths, chalices, the 7^th candle that indicates when a bishop is celebrating Mass…) I had texted some of the others that could have ended up with it, but the replies that were waiting for me Wednesday morning indicated that nobody had the book and it was my forgetfulness that had left it somewhere over there. Ah well, it couldn’t all go perfectly, and someone over there would probably have found (and not tossed) the giant red and gold book. Still, as I stepped past the sacristy, there was a niggling somewhere in the back of my mind, “what if God wanted to provide here too?” Without much expectation, I stopped in the sacristy and flipped open the cabinet that held all the sacred books. 

And there it was. 

I kid you not.

The Book of the Gospels was sitting there on its shelf already.

I was shocked, surprised, delighted, reassured. What does one do when confronted with a miracle? How do you respond to it, to such a small miracle? I didn’t know miracles came in a “small” size. I mean, I wasn’t blind and now I could see, or dead and returned to life again. I thought Jesus only tackled the big stuff: leprosy, hatred, unforgiveness, death … Does God care about me so fully that He would want to solve a problem I could have probably figured out with a phone call, or worst-case, a few hundred dollars?! Yes, it seems He does! 

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I was blind, and could now see; dead, and coming to life again. Some part of my heart had the expectation that God did not care about the small concerns of my life. I had internalized a distorted version of God as a Father Who would only help once I had proven myself, after I had lifted what I could on my own. I had fallen for the lie that I had to earn God’s Love. Here, placed on that shelf in our Cathedral sacristy, was proof to the contrary!

Thing is, God wants to marvelously, miraculously, restore the presence and power of His Gospel to all our hearts. What parts of you do you doubt God’s Love can heal? What relationships do you assume are irredeemable? What sins do you think will always plague you? What sufferings do you feel are too small for God to care about? When Christ stepped out of the tomb, He wasn’t just promising resurrection to those who were dead. He was also promising resurrection to those who are half-dead, to all the parts of us that aren’t fully alive, to all who are tired, afraid, burdened, or stuck. God’s Love doesn’t delay until disaster. God’s Truth doesn’t wait for us to hit rock bottom. God’s Gospel doesn’t depend on us finding it. 

God is not a Father who waits for us to get our act together.

Consider every encounter of someone and the Christ, Risen from the dead. Jesus steps into the garden of Mary Magdalen’s tears. He calls out to Peter swallowed by failure and shame. He beckons Thomas tormented by doubt and loneliness. He walks up to Cleopas and Mary as sorrow carried them far from Jerusalem. He knocks Saul away from his pride and brutality. 

This is the same Christ Who is alive, approaching us today. This is the same Gospel that is gently, miraculously, placed in your and my hands. Will I unwrap God’s gift today? Will I accept His Love? Will I allow Him into the small stuff too? 

– Fr. Dominic was recently with a family who had just received the news that their two-year-old daughter had brain cancer. On their family chalkboard were these words: “[Our daughter’s] situation is like that of the blind man in Saint John’s Gospel (Jn 9:1-38). The apostles said, Lord, who sinned, this man or his parents? And Jesus said, neither, but ‘so that the works of God might be displayed in him.’ God has important plans for [her] and for our family through all of this. Love, Mom & Dad.” 

Nothing can separate us from the love of God!

As we come to the culmination of our Lenten journey, it is my prayer that among the graces you have received, you have grown at least a little (if not a lot) in your appreciation for and love of the Holy Eucharist.  Holy Week is overwhelmingly Eucharistic.  Recall a few weeks ago when I reflected on the words in the consecration: “for you.”  We see on full display this week the offering Jesus made of His life for you.  In a particular way, we recall the institution of this great gift of His Body and Blood when as we begin the Sacred Paschal Triduum with the celebration of the Mass of the Lord’s Supper on Thursday evening.    

As we prepare for Holy Thursday this year, I note that this marks the 25^th anniversary of a very powerful moment that happened to me on this night.  I was a freshman at Eastern Illinois University at the time and I had attended the Holy Thursday Mass at the Newman Center.  Returning back to my dorm room, I did some homework and a friend asked if I was interested in going to a party with him.  As an aside, I’m not sure why he asked, I NEVER went to parties.  I politely declined and decided instead to head back to the Newman Center to pray before the Blessed Sacrament at the Altar of Repose, a tradition on Holy Thursday evening which recalls Jesus’s prayer to His Father in the Garden of Gethsemane.  At that point in my life, I did not know what adoration was, and I did not even have a clear understanding why I was even going back to church, but I felt drawn to do so.  I think a part of it was from having gone to Holy Thursday Mass growing up and how interesting it was for us to do a solemn procession to the Altar of Repose, then departing in silence.  Again, I can’t say that I really understood what was happening, but something about it stuck with me.

As I knelt in adoration that night in 2008, I do not remember the exact content of my prayer, but I remember that it moved me profoundly.  It could very well be one of the first times in my life that I realized Jesus’s personal love for me, that the suffering and death we would recall on Good Friday was for me.  I can’t say that my life changed drastically after that, but years later, probably sometime after I was ordained a priest, the memory of that night came back to me, and it occurred to me that that moment would prove to be a pivotal moment in my relationship with the Lord.  A seed was planted that would grow in a hidden way for several years before breaking through the surface and grow into the vocation that I have been blessed to live as a priest.

Much can be said about my experience, but perhaps we can leave it as an encouragement to anybody who, while showing up week after week to Mass, or who goes through the Triduum each year, may not walk away totally changed.  We should never doubt the value of our showing up.  The Lord is planting seeds, seeds which may take months if not years to grow hidden under the surface, but in God’s providential timing, will bring about a bud that will break through the surface and blossom into a new experience of God’s love, resulting in our realizing that because He has died for you, you will now resolve to live more fully for Him.

This week, instead of a reflection question, I will offer a spiritual challenge:  I am challenging us to commit to fully immersing ourselves into Holy Week.  This would include, to the extent possible, attending the Chrism Mass on Tuesday at 6:30 pm, and the Paschal Triduum liturgies.  As an added challenge, I invite you to spend some time in silent adoration of the Blessed Sacrament in the Atrium following the Mass of the Lord’s Supper on Thursday evening.  The Atrium will remain open until 11 pm that evening.

So we were going to have a Mass before our March for Life, and it was going to be at UIS, and we had 1700+ people registered to come. Last week I told the story up to the point where God seemed to be providing an altar and ambo for the Mass – actually the same one that JPII had used when he came to St. Louis! – but I had no good way to get it up here to Springfield. 

I asked around if anybody had someone that fit the bill. Coworkers, brother priests, Legion of Valor members, Knights of Columbus … Does anyone know someone, or know someone who knows someone, that would be willing to do it for us?? I sent out a battery of messages and joined Fr. Vahling in the gym to take out my worries on the squat rack. I was convinced already that only God could figure all of it out, and wondrously at the same time, somewhere deep in my heart was the further conviction that God had big plans and wasn’t going to let mere logistical impossibilities get in the way. 

As it turned out (coincidence?), the following day I would be seeing all of the priests of the diocese. Maybe someone would know someone? Fr. Arisman pointed me towards Fr. Goekner. Fr. Goekner pointed me towards Fr. Bergbower. Fr. Bergbower mentioned he already had a portable altar that might be big enough … but then said “Have you talked with John Hopkins?” I hadn’t even heard of the guy, but turns out he owns a truck-repair company, and he is a good Catholic, and he goes to daily Mass at the Cathedral Basilica in St. Louis! Fr. Bergbower texted him while we were eating our salads and before we had even gotten our meat and potatoes he had a response. It was an all-caps “LET’S DO IT!!!” (I do think there were three exclamation points. There certainly were in my memory of the moment). He would be returning from vacation on Sunday, would pick up the altar on Monday, and drop it off that afternoon at the auditorium with 12 hours to spare.

Amazing, providential, assistance came through at every turn. The four-week heads-up that our insurance needed to cover exterior collaborators came together in 24 hours. Meetings on Monday became unnecessary or were covered by other people giving time to hash out all the necessary details. Staff were on hand at the University to get everything moved in, and properly situated, when the altar showed up early Monday afternoon. Fr. Isaacson at St. Katherine Drexel had a glorious set of six candlesticks (and candles, and followers) for either side of the altar. None of the additional servers that I was expecting from high schools ended up showing, yet somehow between the pontifical servers and a few other guys who decided to help out, we had exactly 19 servers, one for each of the 19 places that we would have priests and bishops distribute Holy Communion.

Don’t get the wrong impression! Some crises were only solved at the last second. This was definitely like the Manna in the desert: God providing precisely what was necessary in the moment. The printer broke at the CPC and we only had 1950 programs. Then it turned out we only had 1900 seats anyway. 45 minutes before buses began arriving for the Mass, UIS asked us to count everyone who came through the door … and limit entries to 1750 people (we had 1800+ registrants by this point!) Dozens of members of the curia helped count programs and distribute them to groups, and when the time for Mass came there were still seats available. T-1 minute, we were still eight patens short to carry up to all the balconies Holy Communion. (Fr. Thompson had an emergency hospital call and could not come, along with the four patens we were borrowing from him for the Mass, and Fr. Arisman hadn’t yet arrived with his four either.) Yet by the time Mass had started, Fr. Arisman was there (with his four), and we were able to put into service one of the ciboriums we had off to the side giving us just enough to get by.

Two anecdotes remain. As bishop finished greeting all the groups from around the state during his homily, a starling fluttered down from the ceiling … and landed on one of the candles. Somehow the candle didn’t topple, or go out, and bishop happily used it as a reminder for all of us of the Holy Spirit’s presence there with all of us. And, in case I still doubted God was working through it all, a woman came up to me during the March afterwards (during which, I might mention, it did not rain as expected) and simply thanked me for the immense Peace that she experienced during the Mass. Now, if you’ve ever been at a Mass with thousands of people, and in an auditorium, you know that peace is not the obvious experience. Yet it was for her, and for many others, and I take that as a final testimony that God was working behind every detail.

– Fr. Dominic saw not only God’s providence in it all, but also his continued need to grow in trust in God. Every day the Lord wants to prove His Love for us; do we expect Him to?

Throughout Lent, we have been proposing reflection questions for you to consider while watching the episodes of Presence on the FORMED online platform.  For the final episode, the question we were invited to reflect on was: “How does Mary’s life show us how to approach the Eucharist in a biblical way?”

This question is especially timely given the fact that the Church just celebrated the Solemnity of the Annunciation this past Saturday, March 25.  Although we may not initially connect this mystery of the life of Jesus with the Eucharist, it is indeed very Eucharistic.  As we know, human life begins at conception, and so when Jesus was conceived in the womb of Mary at the Annunciation, the Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. (Jn 1:14)  This is what happens at every celebration of the Eucharist, the Word becomes flesh and dwells among us in the form of bread and wine, though in reality, truly as the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Jesus.

As I reflect on this scene from the Gospel where Mary welcomes the Savior into her womb, what strikes is what we hear in the next passage: “In those days Mary arose and went with haste into the hill country, to a city of Judah, and she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth.” (Lk 1:39–40)  With Christ in her womb, the love from the One who is love urges her to go in haste to serve her cousin Elizabeth who had conceived a child in her old age.  Learning of this joyful news, Mary went right away to share the love of God.

One of the options for the dismissal at the end of Mass is: “Go in peace, glorifying the Lord by your life.”  The first word is key: Go!  Having received the love of God in our body and soul in the Eucharist, we are sent out, and we should imitate Mary and go in haste to live the graces the Lord has blessed us with in His coming to dwell in us.  Like Mary, we should be eager to glorify the Lord by our lives, in both word and action.  Mary’s going in haste demonstrates this action, and she glorifies the Lord in her song of praise after she arrives at her cousin’s, saying those beautiful words: “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord; my spirit rejoices in God my savior.” (Lk 1:46–47)

These two incidents of the Annunciation and the Visitation show how Mary’s example invites us to live a Eucharistic life.  The Eucharist is far more than just coming to Mass to receive Him, only to forget about Him the rest of the week.  Coming to Mass is how we are fed and renewed with the love of God which cannot help but overflow in how we live the rest of the week, letting ourselves be instruments of His love in the daily details of our lives.  Everything that we do can be an opportunity for us to give glory to God by the way we live our lives.  And Mary teaches us how to do this.  This is why I often, when praying in thanksgiving after Mass, ask Mary’s intercession for me that the graces I have received may not be wasted, but shared generously with those whom the Lord will place in my path that day.

As a reminder, we have a weekly reflection question to keep in mind as you watch the next episode of Presence.  It can be found on the bottom right corner of this page.

Every week I try to tell the story of God’s grace alive in one particular person: how He made another ordinary, sometimes struggling, sometimes hurting, person into a saint.

This week I am going to try and tell the story of God’s grace around one particular event, basically one week here in our diocese where God, again and again, consistently, continuously provided as only He can. How He is at work right now to make you, and I, and so many others into saints.

It was a rainy afternoon in mid-March and had been a day filled just enough that I hadn’t had time to tackle any of the little tasks that tend to fall through the cracks, yet wasn’t so packed that I was worn and weary from the day’s events. We’ve all been there: the kind of day where you’re just barely getting by on your own steam. It’s not quite long or arduous enough that you are absolutely forced to turn to God, but not exactly “easy and light”. About 8 of us were having a final meeting to put the finishing touches on our plans for the March for Life that would happen about 10 days later. (Notice that all-important descriptor: our plan…) Little did I know as they asked me to open the meeting in prayer, how much we were going to be leaning on God going forward. (And how He was going to abundantly show that this was His plan.)

Turns out, our ballpark expectation of a maximum of 1200 people had been obliterated over the prior few days. We had 1700 people registered just for the Mass before the March (and 2500 at least for the Rally and March itself). Instead of one bishop and 8 priests, we had 6 bishops and 40 priests. Rather than using only the main floor of the auditorium, we were going to need every seat in there, and I was going to need to figure out how to distribute Holy Communion through every cranny of loge level. Of course, we rejoiced at the prospect of a biblical multitude, but at the same time I think every person on the team was taken-aback by the magnitude of the project we were now attempting to pull off. I cannot speak for all the other hurdles faced to pull everything off, but I would like to share a few that I got to see for myself, and the astonishing ways that God moved mountains all the way through.

Hurdle #1: We didn’t have an altar or ambo. Well, we had a little wooden one, but I already knew it would be dwarfed in the Sangamon Auditorium, and now I doubted it would even be of sufficient size to hold all the corporals, patens, chalices, and missal that we would need for the Mass (not to mention spreading 6 bishops behind it). I thought another member of the team had been in touch with the Archdiocese of St. Louis about borrowing the altar and ambo that they had which Pope St. John Paul II had used during his visit there, but no one had reached out, and I didn’t even have a contact for the person I would need to talk to. My heart whipped back and forth between frustration and discouragement and confidence and hope. Of course God would provide … but everything was falling apart. What are we going to do??!! … but it’ll all work out. I emailed someone at the Cathedral Basilica in St. Louis but knew I needed things to move faster than that, so I texted a priest I know down there and paused and said a prayer that God would open the doors that He wanted us to go down… And the priest called back within one minute, tracked down the business manager at their Cathedral for me, found out that the altar was available, and had him emailing me the details within another minute.

Hurdle #2: To borrow the altar and ambo, you have to have it moved by a honest-to-goodness moving company, and it has to be covered by $100,000 of insurance. Did I mentioned we don’t have a budget for this? The choice to move the March for Life down here to Springfield happened just a handful of months ago. Hence the skeleton crew. Hence the month-out contract with Sangamon auditorium. Hence me not having an Altar. And now I needed a moving company with a heap of insurance, this week, and willing to do it out of the goodness of their heart. God was going to ask for trust again, and I needed Him to move a few more mountains.

– Fr. Dominic Rankin will tell the rest of the tale, don’t worry. For now – spoiler alert, he survived the March for Life – but he needs some sleep before attempting any more storytelling.