As you read this article, I am spending five days in silence for my annual retreat that is part of a three-year Spiritual Direction Training program.  Very often, at the beginning of a retreat, I will repeat the request that the disciples of Jesus made to Him in the Gospel: “Lord, teach us to pray.” (Luke 11:1)  Perhaps that sounds a little strange to you.  As a priest of more than a decade, shouldn’t I already know how to pray?  Sure, I have learned a lot about how to pray and I have spent many hours in prayer, yet I know full well that the process of growing in prayer is far from over, and that I am constantly in need of learning how the Lord is inviting me into a deeper encounter with him through prayer.

I share that little reflection as a way of encouragement to all of us as we embark on this year of faith formation focusing on the topic of Christian Prayer, the fourth of four sections in the Catechism of the Catholic Church.  This first month will provide an opportunity to reflect on the basic question:  What is prayer?  As much as we think we know or don’t know about prayer, there is always room to grow.  So before we even begin to address that question, I think it would be beneficial for all of us to take some time this week making this very simple, yet powerful request: “Lord, teach us to pray.”

Making this request is an act of humility on our part, acknowledging that we are not where we desire to be in our prayer life.  But the Lord delights to receive this humble request, for He longs to share His life with us in prayer.  He will never force it upon us, though.  Rather, He patiently waits for us to invite Him in, to let Him reveal His presence to us, and to lead us to greater unity and intimacy with Him.

Asking the Lord to continue teach us to pray is also a recognition that prayer is first and foremost a gift.  Even though we express our desire to learn, perhaps the better word is that our request is a desire to receive the gift of prayer from Him, and in receiving it, to let Him instruct us in how He desires to draw closer to us in the various forms of prayer that make up our lives as Catholics.

Along those lines, we can identify those various forms of prayer in which we engage on a regular basis:  personal prayer and meditation, reading the Scriptures, praying the Rosary, intercessory prayer for our needs and the needs of others, and most importantly, praying at Mass.  We will be addressing all these forms of prayer throughout the year in various ways.  But once again, I invite us all to see these as places to receive anew the gift of prayer that these various forms of prayer are for us.

So before learning anything new (or reviewing what we think we already know) about prayer, let us first ask the Lord in all humility, faith, and love: “Lord, teach us to pray.”

Father Alford

Feast Day: October 5^th | Patronness of World Youth Day and of Divine Mercy

This week, I would like to take us back to central Poland in 1905 (though this was two decades before the country would actually be reestablished after WWI) to the poor Kowalska family. They lived in the town of Głogowiec, pronounced something like gwo’govjets if you’re wondering…  As a little girl, Helena, the 3^rd of 10 children, while her family was attending Eucharistic Exposition felt the first stirrings of a call to religious life. She described it as “God’s voice in my soul … an invitation to a more perfect life.” She discovered in her own heart that pull to give herself entirely to Jesus, a sense that Christ desired an exclusive relationship with her. It was a stirring that would at first delight her, but which as the years went by, she would find difficult to reply to.

In this case her parents flatly refused her request to enter the convent once she had finished school. They had good reasons: a big family, not much money, how would they make ends meet without Helena working? How would they possibly pay her dowry to whatever convent she was able to enter? Their daughter would have to live with the practical realities of their life and get a job to support the family. Other girls could listen to their hearts and join the convent, but not her, at least not right now. Helena got a job as a housekeeper, and filled her life with simple work and the pleasures of young life. But God’s love would not cease to tug at her heart. Now trying to turn her back on it, she found the Lord prodding her, her heart had that disquiet that often comes when we step off of God’s path. One day, at 18 years old, she was at a dance with her sister but found herself face-to-face with Jesus, seeing Him suffering, and speaking directly to her: “How long shall I put up with you and how long will you keep putting Me off?”

The vision shook her, cleared away all the distractions and distance that she had put between herself and Jesus, and reminded her of the gentle, loving voice that had once delighted her. She stumbled from the dance, fell prostrate before the Tabernacle in the Cathedral of Łódź (where she worked, and where the dance was happening), and knew clearly what the voice she had avoided for so long was trying to tell her: “Go at once to Warsaw; you will enter a convent there.” She didn’t know Warsaw, didn’t know any of the convents there, but was willing to take the next step she did know. She boarded a train for the big city, taking nothing but the dress she was wearing, and did not even stop to tell her family what was happening. Christ’s words so long ago had found a place in her heart: “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me.” [Matthew 10:37]

Getting off of the train, the magnitude of the unknown seemed to swallow her. She did not even know which way to depart from the train station. She whispered a prayer to Mary “Mary, lead me, guide me” and found, marvelously, that she knew where to go, at least for that night. God was good to her the following days, always giving enough insight to know her next step: she stopped in the first church she found the next morning, went to one of the Masses being celebrated that morning, and simply knew that she should talk to that priest. He connected her with a prayerful lady who helped her while she visited the different convents there in Warsaw, but Helena found to her sadness that each one closed the door in her face. Again, in the face of such uncertainty, she again appealed to prayer: Jesus “Help me; do not leave me alone”, and with that, finally came across the convent that would one day become her home, the Congregation of the Sisters of Our Lady of Mercy. The Mother Superior there did not immediately reject the poor girl who stood before her, but instead chose to also simply trust in Jesus. She directed Helena to the chapel with the Blessed Sacrament and waited outside as Helena asked Jesus if this was the right convent. ““Lord of this house, do You accept me?” she prayed (one of the other sisters there had told her to put it that way.) Jesus loves when we ask that question! And He responded immediately in her heart: “I do accept; you are in My Heart.” Helena stepped from the chapel with the quiet peace of someone placing themselves in God’s hands, and the Mother Superior asked “Well, has the Lord accepted you?” She answered, “Yes”, and the good sister responded “If the Lord has accepted, then I also will accept.”

Helena would have to work as a maid for another year in order to have enough money to pay for her habit, but that was all that the convent asked of her, and that year was a beautiful one during which the Lord continued to deepen that longing in her heart to be all His, and His own desire to give Himself intimately to her. She entered the convent on August 1^st, 1925 with much joy. The fight for her vocation wasn’t over, but the Lord’s Love had carried her to the community where He had many graces in store for her.

– Fr. Dominic Rankin is a guy. Jesus has not drawn him in the intimate and spousal way that He wooed Helena’s heart. It was not during a dance that Christ emphatically beckoning him to “come, follow Me”! But Faustina’s story is a beautiful glimpse at how Our Lord sometimes calls women into a life consecrated to Him. I have spoken to many sisters, and they often speak of a call along these lines – an invitation to an exclusive love – that they find the Lord offering to them. That’s beautiful!

So, we have always taught our kids to avoid using the phrase “Oh my God” due to the commandment to not take the Lord’s name in vain. But what about sayings that invoke the word “hell” such as “what the hell” or “hell, yeah/yes”? Those don’t necessarily seem to fall as clearly under the commandment but they feel similarly inappropriate? Or am I over analyzing?

Your question is one that I have thought about a lot during different periods in my life. Most recently, I have had several conversations and read some articles about Mark Wahlberg’s movie Father Stu, which depicts the amazing story of an adult convert named Stuart Long who was ordained a priest after a long journey of sin mixed with God’s providence. I saw the movie with one of my seminary classmates this spring, and at the end of it I was tearing up as it showed a clip of the real Father Stu before he died of a muscle disorder. The only problem with the movie was that it was rated R for language. According to one count I saw, there were around 100 cuss words in the movie, fifty of which were sexual in nature. Before his conversion, Father Stu had a foul mouth, but the movie didn’t really depict that his language changed along with the rest of his life, although that was actually a significant part of his life story. 

I share this because it makes me ask the question, “Does it really matter what language we use?” I think the answer seems to be “yes,” although expressing why is not so easy. It seems to come down to the nature of speech and why God gave us this ability. He gave us speech to be used for building others up, to express truth, and to offer praise to God. Surprisingly, the Catechism doesn’t explicitly address the morality of using “cuss words,” although there is a significant section on the Second Commandment, using God’s Name in vain.

You are right to teach your family to avoid the phrase, “O my God,” and other similar phrases that use the name of Jesus, Christ, or Mary. Even if we are not intentionally using these names to curse someone/something, we are using them for a reason that is not worthy of the honor due to them. The Catechism says in paragraphs 2143-2144, 

Among all the words of Revelation, there is one which is unique: the revealed name of God. God confides his name to those who believe in him; he reveals himself to them in his personal mystery. the gift of a name belongs to the order of trust and intimacy. “The Lord’s name is holy.” For this reason man must not abuse it. He must keep it in mind in silent, loving adoration. He will not introduce it into his own speech except to bless, praise, and glorify it.Respect for his name is an expression of the respect owed to the mystery of God himself and to the whole sacred reality it evokes.

But this still doesn’t exactly address the second part of your question about using the word “hell” or similar phrases. I had a high school teacher who would sometimes quip that hell is a place, not a cuss word. There are some words that seem to be appropriate in the barnyard but not at the kitchen table. As human beings, God has made us naturally attracted to goodness, truth, and beauty. Everything in harmony with these three things is worth striving for and loving. It seems that using God’s name in vain, along with all other foul language, does not fit in these categories! Jesus was the most persuasive speaker to ever live, and he never resorted to using bad language to make his point. He appealed to the deepest part of our heart which longs to be known and loved by God. Using cuss words may have gotten attention for a time, but it would have distracted from his message. I think the same is true for our own use of speech. There are better ways to express ideas and feelings that do not include words which refer to hell (a truly horrific place) or various bodily functions. (But, even as I write this, part of me rebels and wants to justify times in which some words really do get the point across. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak!) 

Here are a few scriptures for consideration on this topic:

Colossians 3:8 “But put them all away: anger, wrath, malice, slander, and foul talk from your mouth.”

Ephesians 4:29 “Let no evil talk come out of your moths, but only such as is good for edifying, as fits the occasion, that it may impart grace to those who hear.”

Matthew 15:11 “It is not what goes into the mouth which defiles a man, but what comes out of the mouth, this defiles a man.” 

There are also a lot of fiery quotes from saints on avoiding foul language, that I don’t have space to include today! 

It is good to teach children (and ourselves) to avoid using all sorts of inappropriate words. As they grow up, their vocabulary will undoubtedly expand beyond what we teach them, but practicing purity in speech helps provide a loving, affirming environment in which to raise a family. I hope this answer was helpful. Thank you for your witness to raising your family in a spirit of encouragement in the Lord! 

Several years ago, I came across the story of Father Patrick Peyton, a member of the Congregation of the Holy Cross.  He was ordained to the priesthood in 1940, but his ordination almost did not happen.  He became severely ill with tuberculosis and a priest challenged him to turn to Our Lady, believing that Mary would give him 100 percent of what he asked.  Father Peyton turned to the Rosary and he was miraculously cured.  At that moment, he promised that if he would be ordained, he would dedicate his ministry to Mary, who had interceded for him to save his life.

Father Peyton did indeed dedicate his ministry to Mary, becoming one of the greatest promoters of the praying of the Rosary.  In particular, he promoted the practice of praying the Rosary as a family, and he became known for the phrase: “The family who prays together, stays together.”

I offer that brief story as a way of introducing a new year of A Family of Faith: Catechesis for the Whole Family.  For those of you who may not already be aware, we have been using this program over the past three years and we have been intentional about making it apply not just to our school-age families, but to all families, for we are all a part of one parish family here at the Cathedral.  This program follows the four sections of the Catechism of the Catholic Church.  Having completed the first three sections (the Creed, the Sacraments, and the Moral Life in Christ) we are set to focus our attention this year on the final section: Christian Prayer.

The Catechism begins this section by showing how prayer ties all the sections of the Catechism together:

“Great is the mystery of the faith!” The Church professes this mystery in the Apostles’ Creed (Part One) and celebrates it in the sacramental liturgy (Part Two), so that the life of the faithful may be conformed to Christ in the Holy Spirit to the glory of God the Father (Part Three). This mystery, then, requires that the faithful believe in it, that they celebrate it, and that they live from it in a vital and personal relationship with the living and true God. This relationship is prayer. (CCC 2558)

I am looking forward to what lies ahead for us as we delve more deeply into what prayer is and how to pray.  But as we look forward, I invite you to let that slogan of Father Peyton resonate in your hearts this week and consider how the Lord is inviting you to pray more regularly with your family, whether it be your family at home, or your family here at church – hopefully both!  The strengthening of our relationship with the Lord in prayer over this coming year will undoubtedly strengthen our families and our parish.

Father Alford

This past Monday, the Church around the world celebrated the feast day of St. Januarius. He is not a household name, and he is spoken about more today for a phenomenon relating to a very odd but consistent miracle. Little is known about the life of St. Januarius, but tradition tells us that he was a bishop in Italy during the reign of the Emperor Diocletian. Januarius was killed during one of the persecutions of the Church, and a local woman named Eusebia collected some of his blood to keep as a relic. Now, here is the odd thing: three times a year, Januarius’ blood liquifies inside of the transparent glass holders where it is venerated and displayed. This phenomenon was first recorded in 1389, and it just happened again this past Monday on his feast day. The other days that it traditionally happens is on the first Saturday of May and December 16, the anniversary of the 1631 eruption of Mount Vesuvius. 

Now, to a skeptic, I know that this is a very bizarre and somewhat pointless miracle – not near as useful as Jesus healing a cripple! However, the evidence is pretty clear to me that this miracle does in fact occur. I have never seen it in person, but I have seen videos and images that pretty clearly depict liquid blood inside the display case. It may be surprising to some that the Church is actually the biggest skeptic when it comes to miracles. Some occurrences that may seem to be obvious miracles to many people would be written off by Church investigators because there may be a possible natural explanation. This is the case with any miraculous healing in a canonization investigation or with Eucharistic miracles. The Church has never actually officially approved the miracle of the liquification of blood as being authentic, but this does not mean that it isn’t a truly supernatural phenomenon; the Church simply has not made an official judgment. 

This past Monday, Archbishop Battaglia of Naples celebrated Mass in the presence of the blood of St. Januarius, and it liquified during the Mass. But he offered a reflection on the role of this miracle in our faith. He said, “Today the sign of Bishop Januarius’ blood, shed for the sake of Christ and his brethren, tells us that goodness, beauty, and righteousness are and always will be victorious. Here is the meaning of this blood, which, united with the blood shed by Christ and that of all martyrs of every place and time, is a living testimony that love always wins. It matters little, my brothers and sisters, whether the blood liquefies or not. Let us never reduce this celebration to an oracle to be consulted. Believe me, what really matters to the Lord, what our bishop and martyr Januarius strongly asks of us, is the daily commitment to stake on love.” 

God gives us miracles as reminders that he is still present in our midst. In the gospels, Jesus used miracles as signs of credibility of his message. He raised the dead, forgave sins, and calmed the sea as proofs of his divine nature, and to invite his disciples to believe in him. Of course, Jesus also said, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.” Many of us have never seen a miracle in person, although we may have read about them online or heard about them. For me personally, accounts of Eucharistic miracles have helped me to believe more strongly in the reality of the Eucharist. But we should not allow accounts of miracles to be the only support for our faith. God has revealed all that we need to know for salvation through Scripture and Tradition, and any supposed revelation from God today needs to be in line with what we already know to be true. This is also true for miracles. God may choose to give us miracles to strengthen our faith, and he will do this as he sees fit. But, if this is the last time that Januarius’ blood ever liquifies, that would be ok too. The important part is that it impels us to greater love of God and each other!  

Feast Day: September 30^th | Patron of Archaeologists, Bible Scholars, Librarians, Students

His full name was Eusebius Hieronymus. This precocious child, born to Christian parents at Stridon (modern day Ljubljana, Slovenia) in 347 AD made his way as an adolescent to Rome to complete his schooling, and there found himself moved by the catacombs and stories of the heroism of the martyrs and received baptism. He spent several years traveling throughout the empire: to Germany in the North, to Antioch in the East, and elsewhere. But it was in 375 AD that he began the fight that would make him a saint. It was during Lent, in Antioch, and he came down with a deathly fever. During the health crisis he had a dream:

Many years ago, when for the kingdom of heaven’s sake I had cut myself off from home, parents, sister, relations, and-harder still-from the dainty food to which I had been accustomed; and when I was on my way to Jerusalem to wage my warfare, I still could not bring myself to forego the library which I had formed for myself at Rome with great care and toil. And so, miserable man that I was, I would fast only that I might afterwards read Cicero. After many nights spent in vigil, after floods of tears called from my inmost heart, after the recollection of my past sins, I would once more take up Plautus. And when at times I returned to my right mind, and began to read the prophets, their style seemed rude and repellent. I failed to see the light with my blinded eyes; but I attributed the fault not to them, but to the sun. While the old serpent was thus making me his plaything, about the middle of Lent a deep-seated fever fell upon my weakened body, and while it destroyed my rest completely-the story seems hardly credible-it so wasted my unhappy frame that scarcely anything was left of me but skin and bone. Meantime preparations for my funeral went on; my body grew gradually colder, and the warmth of life lingered only in my throbbing breast.

Suddenly I was caught up in the spirit and dragged before the judgment seat of the Judge; and here the light was so bright, and those who stood around were so radiant, that I cast myself upon the ground and did not dare to look up. Asked who and what I was I replied: “I am a Christian.” But He who presided said: “Thou liest, thou art a follower of Cicero and not of Christ. For `where thy treasure is, there will thy heart be also.'” Instantly I became dumb, and amid the strokes of the lash-for He had ordered me to be scourged-I was tortured more severely still by the fire of conscience, considering with myself that verse, “In the grave who shall give thee thanks?” Yet for all that I began to cry and to bewail myself, saying: “Have mercy upon me, O Lord: have mercy upon me.” Amid the sound of the scourges this cry still made itself heard. At last the bystanders, failing down before the knees of Him who presided, prayed that He would have pity on my youth, and that He would give me space to repent of my error. He might still, they urged, inflict torture on me, should I ever again read the works of the Gentiles. Under the stress of that awful moment I should have been ready to make even still larger promises than these.

Accordingly I made oath and called upon His name, saying: “Lord, if ever again I possess worldly books, or if ever again I read such, I have denied Thee.” Dismissed, then, on taking this oath, I returned to the upper world, and, to the surprise of all, I opened upon them eyes so drenched with tears that my distress served to convince even the incredulous. And that this was no sleep nor idle dream, such as those by which we are often mocked, I call to witness the tribunal before which I lay, and the terrible judgment which I feared. May it never, hereafter, be my lot to fall under such an inquisition! I profess that my shoulders were black and blue, that I felt the bruises long after I awoke from my sleep, and that thenceforth I read the books of God with a zeal greater than I had previously given to the books of men. [Letter 22, To Eustochium: The Ciceronian Dream]

It was this dramatic encounter with the Lord that would catapult him into the desert as a hermit (a miserable experience for him as he didn’t know Greek yet, couldn’t tolerate the food, and was continuously tempted towards impurity) but it was from there that he embarked on the studies and translation-work that would make him famous. He was shortly thereafter ordained a priest and became the secretary for Pope Damasus. Many of his letters are for the formation of consecrated widows and virgins in the Eternal City. Eventually some of them would go with him to found religious communities for men and women in the Holy Land, where Jerome would spend the rest of his days and complete his Latin translation of the Bible. 

Often forgotten, Jerome was assailed by temptations to anger, impurity, and worldliness throughout his life. He flung vitriol at heretics, and saints (Ambrose and Augustine both receiving his attack at times), and literally carried a rock with which to knock himself out of his fits of fury or impurity. The Vulgate did not make him a saint; his life-long repentance and turning to Christ’s mercy did!

– Fr. Dominic Rankin