Finding Treasures in Pockets of Time

January 12, 2024/0 Comments/in Devotionals, Faith, Family Life, Inspirational, Love, Spiritual Life/by Maria Riley

Finding Treasures in Pockets of Time

When I run into other moms at church, in the neighborhood, or at the grocery store, I find that I am having the same conversation over and over. I say, “Hi! How are you?” and she replies, “Busy!” and then delves into her litany of appointments and tasks that fill her schedule, and I reply in kind by agreeing and sharing my own over-scheduled obligations. We end our rushed conversation and run off to get something else done.

Sometimes there are things in our lives that we need to purge. It may not always be easy to remove it, but often, we are aware of the things that consume our time and give us nothing in return. I find, in my life, those things are typically self-centered, and when I choose to live the way Christ wants me to, I am given the strength to remove those things that take up too much of my life.

As mothers, though, so much of our life is spent in service to others. We are chefs, nurses, house cleaners, and chauffeurs, not to mention boo-boo kissers, story time tellers, snuggle buddies, and behavior correctors. Then our mother-in-law comes to visit, and we must be the perfect hostesses. The list goes on indefinitely, but the hours in the day do not.

How do we find time for Christ when we are pulled in so many different directions? It is especially difficult when these many different directions are for good things for our families. From time to time, I have found myself wishing for the seemingly simple life of a nun, especially when I am craving time and intimacy with our Lord but finding the demands of my vocation of motherhood to be standing in my way. But then I remember the beautiful gift of my calling, and I have worked to grow in my relationship with Christ within the demands of my schedule.

I rarely have large blocks of time, but I am regularly gifted with what I call “pockets of time” throughout the day. I have five minutes here or there, often while I am waiting for something, that I used to spend scrolling on my phone or otherwise distracting myself. Now, I try to be purposeful with these pockets of time and turn to God in prayer, even if I don’t have time to read the daily readings or journal in my Bible study workbook.

I used to get stuck in my growth toward Jesus because if I didn’t have 20–30 minutes to sit down, read, pray, and reflect, I wouldn’t do anything at all. Then, by the end of the day, I would feel like a failure because my spiritual time was just something else that I didn’t get done today (along with a shower or getting that laundry from a week ago folded). Somewhere along the way, I realized that God never gave me a set of expectations for how and when I have to pray. That came from my own unrealistic expectations, compounded by comparing myself to other women who seem to have it all together in their faith journeys.

Now, instead of dedicating 20–30 minutes to God in the morning, I turn to Him for a minute or two 20—30 times per day. Before I get out of bed in the morning, I say hello to the Lord, offer my day to Him, and ask Him to show me His will. When I begin a household chore, I offer it for someone in need. I pray for a moment before I start a workout, thanking God for the gift of my body, the temple which houses my soul and the Holy Spirit. I have learned that just a few moments is all it takes to recenter my day and draw closer to Christ.

The best part about approaching my prayer life in this way is how my spiritual life has deepened and grown. Previously, once I had completed my morning prayer time and reflection, I would check the “Time for God” box and then go on with my day. Now, by regularly recentering myself and refocusing on God many times throughout the day, I am able to let Him work in me and through me all day long. It is such a gift that God has helped transform my life so that my entire day has become a prayer.

Magnificat of a Prodigal

January 10, 2024/0 Comments/in Catholic Theme, Conversion Stories, Eucharist, Faith, Spiritual Life/by Mary McWilliams

Magnificat of a Prodigal

“I baptize you in the Name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” the priest said, making the sign of the Cross on the baby, a newborn not expected to live, and marking her forever as Christ’s own.

My urgent baptism the day I was born was probably the greatest gift my parents ever gave me. It lit a flame within me that oftentimes seemed to flicker dimly yet refused to be extinguished. As I wandered aimlessly and recklessly through the next decades, the grace I received at my baptistm acted as a homing device to bring me back to the true home and true faith that stirred inside of me.

I am a prodigal daughter, one who strayed long and far. One who thought she could grab her inheritance early and do better with it out in the world than within her Father’s house. Like the older son of the parable, I ended up metaphorically broken, dirty, and perishing from hunger.

We were a family that was Catholic, but not a Catholic family; an obligation passed down through my mother’s side. We knew about Catholic things―prayers, holy days, the pope―but as a family, we did not practice the Catholic faith. Culturally, the 1970s was an age of rebellion―not obedience―to tradition, ritual, and authority. Catholicism was an easy scapegoat. I was drawn to the mysticism, the precision of the rituals, and the stories told in the stained glass, but I didn’t understand any of it. I was curious about the people honored with statues but didn’t know them either, save Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. The old churches with their intricate architecture beckoned and the modern ones reflected messages around me that this faith was nothing to love. So many seemed to hate it, and I followed along.

While still going through the required CCD and Sunday motions, I became ABC: Anything But Catholic. How about Hinduism, Buddhism, Judaism? Then other eastern philosophies and exploration into yoga. I read enough to pick and choose what worked for me. Occult, New Age, and pursuit of worldly goals led to darker passageways and heavier sins, but there was always some flash, some small ray kindling in me that kept me from journeying as deep into the darkness that had captured many of my friends.

He has come to the help of his servant … he has remembered his promise of mercy.

By my 30s, wrong paths and hard lessons had beaten me down. I had pushed God away, doubtful I had a way back, but I started attending an Episcopal church. It was Catholic enough to be familiar but without … well, whatever it was I claimed offended me in my youth. I pondered the creed in the Book of Common Prayer and tried to recall the Creed I had memorized as a child. Was it exactly the same? The Creed was something I always believed. I didn’t know why. I could say it without feeling like a hypocrite. I knew that if I were serious about reuniting with God, I had to go back to my beginning. With a “try me” attitude, I began listening to Catholic radio and watching Catholic television constantly. What I thought were tough questions about the faith were satisfied quickly and easily.

Tentatively, I considered going to Mass, but refused to set my alarm, daring God. If he wanted me back to the Catholic Church, he’d wake me up. He did. I played that game the next week. Once again, he won. This continued for weeks until I wanted to go to church, and just to make sure I wouldn’t miss Mass, I set my alarm.

He has lifted up the lowly … He has mercy on those who fear him …

At Mass, I felt like I had crashed a gala event. Still, each week I went. I sat in the back feeling invisible, until Communion when I felt conspicuous. Alone in the pew, I knew it was not my time. It took three years of going to Confession, remembering a lifetime of sins, and speaking them out loud before I felt like I could honestly receive the Eucharist.

He has scattered the proud in their conceit …

On Easter, the day we celebrate his Resurrection, came a resurrection for me. After many years, torturous examens, and woeful pleas for forgiveness, I stepped up to receive the Body of Christ. “Amen,” I whispered, closing my eyes to dam up the tears. Immediately, I was surrounded by a beautiful aroma that was like home-baked bread with an undefinable sweetness. Not sweet like candy, fruit, or flowers, just a sweetness all its own. The experience simulated walking into a cozy home on a windy, frigid day, with a fire in the fireplace, and a scrumptious dinner in the oven. It had the joy of being welcomed by happy dogs and held by arms that had been waiting just for me. It had the intimacy of snuggling under a blanket with the person you love the most, who knows you better than anyone, your faces millimeters apart, trading secrets and dreams, giggling over private jokes. This sensation would remain with me through the end of Mass, and it continued through the summer.

He has filled the hungry with good things …

More than a decade later, I might experience a brief wafting of this aroma when I receive the Eucharist. I miss the intensity of the first months, but I think he knows I’m convinced he is with me. He promised, “Behold, I make all things new.” He took me, a soul that didn’t expect to survive, and bore me anew.

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord.
My spirit rejoices in God my Savior.

The “Call”: We All Receive Them, But When Will You Answer?

January 5, 2024/0 Comments/in Catholic Writing and Publishing, Inspirational, Spiritual Life, Volunteering/by Ben Bongers

The “Call”: We All Receive Them, But When Will You Answer?

Nine years ago, I got a text from a friend I hadn’t seen in a few years: “I don’t know where to turn or what to do. I’m sick and getting evicted from my apartment as of the 31st. Help me!”.

I was happily living my life. I was a successful singer and sommelier in the San Francisco Bay Area. But, with that one text, my life changed.

Are You Ready When the “Call” Comes?

My friend—we’ll call him Tom—flew with his life partner to say goodbye to his dying mother. While there, Tom’s partner fell gravely ill, passing away in the same hospital a few rooms away from Tom’s mother. In the breath of a few days, Tom lost his mother, partner, and reason to keep going.

Tom was a PhD and very well respected in his community and academia. Over the following couple of years, Tom filled his life with drugs, alcohol, and activities to numb his emotions and memories. When his life was turned upside-down, he reached out to people, but many either didn’t have time, want to change their plans, or put up with his antics caused by the pain.

Trying to Say “No” to the “Call”

I felt the same way when I received Tom’s text. I told myself, “I don’t have time for this! It’s the day after Christmas and my anniversary.” In full disclosure, Tom had been quite dismissive and mean in earlier conversations with me. So, I wrote back saying I couldn’t see him. He replied, “I have nowhere else to turn. This may be it for me. No one cares anymore.” Stunned by his hollow reply, I said I’d come by, but only for a few minutes.

When I arrived, I found Tom visibly shaken, sick, and weighing only half of what he had the last time I’d seen him. He had a few things packed in old, smelly grocery store boxes that he’d scrounged up, and he sat in one place—silent, rocking forward and back, eyes fixed on a spot a few feet in front of him. After making something warm to drink, he came out of the trance long enough to fill me in on what brought him to this point. He’d burned through all his money and lost his job and every “friend” he had. As of New Year’s Day, he would be on the street. He later told me he contacted me either for help or to say a final goodbye.

I stayed, helped him pack boxes, and promised to return the following day, but just for a few hours. That night, I spoke with my wife and told her all I’d seen and heard. The decision was made. We had to help. The next day, we moved his things into a storage locker and helped find a facility to take him in, allowing him to dry out and receive mental help. New Year’s Day became the first day of the rest of Tom’s life.

Answering the “Call”

This was the day after Christmas nine years ago. This week, I received a note via email from Tom. He’s starting a new job he never thought he would have. He is fully employed, off the street, getting benefits—and most importantly—whole again.

Since saying “Yes” to that simple text—that simple “call”—my life has changed in ways I can’t yet express. Soon after, I received a “call” (quite literally) from a nun at my parish to help her establish an overnight homeless shelter for when there was inclement weather in the Bay Area. The men would bed down on our parish hall floor, and I would be there to facilitate and make sure everyone felt safe. I became a Knight in the Order of Malta, sworn to aid the poor and the sick, and I’m on the trail to the Permanent Diaconate. All of this is due to answering a simple “call.”

Did answering that single “call” change my life? Yes! Was it an easy transition? No! My life became topsy-turvy! What was important—no longer held my interest. What I held in high regard—was now pedestrian. And things that I didn’t have time for—became my focus.

We read in 1 Samuel that Samuel was “called” in the night. He didn’t know who was calling him or why, but when Eli told him to answer, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening,” Samuel answered the “call.” And when two of John the Baptizer’s disciples heard him say, “Behold, the Lamb of God…” they listened to the “call” and followed Jesus to where he was staying, causing Andrew (one of the two) to tell his brother, Peter, “We have found the Messiah.” All of this because they heard and listened to a “call.”

I say all these very personal things not to pat myself on the back or state how good I am. No. Just the opposite! I’m opening up to show that anyone, every sinner, like me, is being “called” regularly—every year, month, week, day—we each and every one is being called.

So:

What “calls” are you hearing today?
What things are causing you to say, “I don’t have time for this…” like I did?
What “call” can you finally say “yes” to in your upcoming year?

How Good That You Exist!

December 22, 2023/0 Comments/in Catholic Writing and Publishing, Love, Spiritual Life/by Rick Clements

How Good That You Exist!

Everyone wants approval from other people. Some people are more desirous of approval than others, and some people are more aware than others of the existence of this desire within themselves. But the fact is, we all want to be approved of by others. Even gang members want to be approved of (at least by other members of their gang). In fact, that’s one of the main reasons that some adolescents seek out gang membership in the first place: to gain a sense of approval from their fellow gang members, to experience a sense of belonging and acceptance. Kids who experience approval at home, and who have a sense of belonging to a solid family, are far less likely to seek out a gang to join, and are far less likely to respond to a gang’s efforts to recruit them.

So what does it mean to “approve” of someone? Literally, it means to judge that person to be good, in the sense of having value or worth.[i] We all want to be judged to be valuable. We all want to be judged as being worth something. Josef Pieper, the insightful Roman Catholic philosopher from Germany, described the type of approval we seek, and the type of approval that others seek from us, as being captured by the exclamation, “How good that you exist!” We want other people to be glad that we exist, and other people want us to be glad that they exist. We all want to feel like we matter, that the world would be diminished by our absence.

You cannot truly love another person if you cannot honestly proclaim that it is good that they exist. You cannot truly love another person if you cannot first see some good in them. Finding some good in the other person is the first essential step toward being able to love them. And once you have found that good, you then have to continue to see the good in them, even at times when you may find that very difficult to do. Otherwise, love dies.

* This article is an excerpt from Rick’s latest book, The Book of Love: Brief Meditations

[i] Pieper, Faith, Hope, Love, 164.

Photo by Annette Sousa on Unsplash

Navigating through darkness to the Season of Light

December 13, 2023/0 Comments/in Catholic Theme, Devotionals, Faith, Holidays, Hope, Spiritual Life/by Mary McWilliams

Navigating through darkness to the Season of Light

My peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid.
—John 14:27

The Lord spoke these words to disciples before the crucifixion. By the end of the discourse, it would be understandable that their anxiety was rising. He concluded: “I have told you this so that you might have peace in me. In the world you will have trouble, but take courage, I have conquered the world” (John 17:33). He knew what the earthly powers planned for them as his followers, and they needed to be reminded that no matter what the world dished out, his was not simply a better way, but the best way. He also sent this message before his birth. In reflecting upon the readings throughout Advent, we can quell the turbulent stirrings rousted during the holidays.

Living in the world is a hard contact sport, and only a fool would play a rough game without proper conditioning and back-up. Yet so many go through life without the support that faith gives. Our society has record numbers of people living with anxiety and depression, and plummeting numbers in church attendance and religious affiliation. The culture is identified by the disturbingly accepted phrase, “post-Christian society.”

Even believers can be shadowed by the unrest that balloons during the Advent and Christmas seasons. The constant pressure to spend, eat, socialize, and “be of good cheer” causes angst for many, even those who enjoy the hustle and bustle. The Devil, that slobbering, panting mongrel of darkness, dispatches four of his best henchmen to squeeze the vulnerable. These days, that applies to most of us. Anxiety, Panic, Fear, and Depression are among his supreme lieutenants because they are excellent collaborators of opportunism. He recruits limitless holiday help to brew botheration through the urgent and endless “best sale of the year” deals, the “get it or forget it” Christmas lists, and social engagements (or lack thereof).

For others, the season stirs up grief over deep loss. The reasons for the unease outnumber the people experiencing them. The pace of keeping up with the season triggers everything from dread to disappointment to despondency. It’s enough to make Santa’s elves want the holiday season to be done. How sad to want such a beloved and beautiful time—Advent and Christmas—to be over with a big sigh of relief. For the beast of the underworld, it’s pure delight, like fresh, bloody meat.

Scripture is always the balm for sufferings of the world, but the readings this Advent—including those from morning and evening prayer and daily Mass—penetrate the fog that can become ever so dense. We began Advent with the command to “watch.” Listen also to the messages of the season. Perhaps commit to memory a passage to push out the anxiety whenever it begins to bubble. “I will listen for what God, the Lord has to say; surely he will speak of peace to his people and the faithful” (Psalm 85:9).

During Advent, we encounter the faceless and the nameless that Jesus healed, proving that God sees us all—no matter how invisible we may feel—and wants to make us whole. “Great crowds came to him, having with them the lame, the blind, and many others. They placed them at his feet, and he cured them” (Matthew 15:30). Matthew recounts in 9:36: “At the sight of the crowds, his heart was moved with pity for them because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd.” He even healed those not physically present as we hear the centurion’s pleas for his suffering, paralyzed servant (cf. Matthew 8:5-13).

We meet people this month who, with great trials, embraced the rays of the Son. December 13 is the feast of the fourth century martyr, St. Lucy, whose name means light. She chose a hideous torture that blinded her because she would not betray her Savior. Isaiah 40:29 fortifies us: “He gives power to the faint, abundant strength to the weak.” The following day, December 14, we remember St. John of the Cross who, more than five centuries later, continues to enlighten with his Dark Night of the Soul.

The Advent readings are a treasury of fortitude to battle distress: “… you shall no longer weep; He will be most gracious to you when you cry out; as soon as he hears, he will answer you” (Isaiah 30:19). And others: Psalm 121:5, 7-8; Isaiah 25:8; Wisdom 18:14-16; Song of Songs 2:10-11 to name a few. Throughout Advent, God sends us messages of hope and encouragement. We are assured in Philippians 4:6-7: “Have no anxiety at all, but in everything by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God. Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.”

Peace be with you.

Feature Image by Rúben Gál from Pixabay
Image by Ri Butov from Pixabay

Watch!

December 2, 2023/1 Comment/in Advent, Catholic Writing and Publishing, Holidays, Spiritual Life/by Margaret Zacharias

Watch!

Despite a bit of concern that I might start to be viewed as a presumptuous would-be-homilist, I’m reflecting about the upcoming gospel reading again, on this December First Saturday of 2023.

But as a writer, I’ve always been intrigued by diction, the word choices we make to convey what we want to say.

While we have no way of easily confirming the accuracy of transcription or translation in any of the traditional readings for the First Sunday of Advent, the customary gospel uses one word, “watch,” four different times, in three different ways, within a 98-word passage.

Any word used every 24.5 words in a single brief teaching monologue must surely be significant, especially when that teacher was Jesus. So, I feel it’s a worth a little bit of dissection, to consider why Our Lord placed so much emphasis on this one concept.

“Jesus said to his disciples:
“Be watchful! Be alert!
You do not know when the time will come.
It is like a man traveling abroad.
He leaves home and places his servants in charge,
each with his own work,
and orders the gatekeeper to be on the watch.
Watch, therefore;
you do not know when the lord of the house is coming,
whether in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or in the morning.
May he not come suddenly and find you sleeping.
What I say to you, I say to all: ‘Watch!’”

— Mark 13: 33-37 (https://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/120323.cfm)

Our first encounter with the word “watch” is as part of an adjective, “watchful,” and we’re immediately given a synonym, “alert.” Jesus seems to be describing a habitual condition that he would like his disciples to inhabit. That condition could also be described as “paying attention.” Attentiveness appears to be an internal quality that we are encouraged to develop.

Then, we are introduced to two nouns, a “gatekeeper” who is “on the watch.”

Lovingly-preserved Medieval house in a contemporary Medieval neighborhood, viewed from the city wall, Rothenburg, Germany. Photo Credit Fr. Lawrence Hoffmann, published with permission.

From paleolithic times, there have been lookouts on hills overlooking valleys, guardians on mountain peaks above passages between cliffs, gatekeepers in watchtowers embedded in city walls, who have served to help keep their communities safe.

The noun “a watch” has most often described a defined a unit of time with specific limits — “I’ll take the first watch, and you can take the second” — during which the person on duty was expected to provide vigilance for all.

So now, a dimension of community responsibility has been added to the internal personal quality of alertness.

And immediately, it is repeated, for the first time as an imperative verb, “Watch.”

“Watch me!” Children shout as they wave going by, up-and-down, round-and-round, on a carousel.

We “watch” the sky for incoming storms, traffic on the freeway for wayward drivers, the bathtub filling, so it won’t overflow.

We “watch” our cakes and Christmas cookies baking in the oven, often while others in the family are “watching” a parade or football game on television.

As writers, we are always “watching” our budgets, and our word counts.

The Cambridge English Dictionary offers this definition for the action verb “watch”: “to look at something for a period of time, especially something that is changing or moving.” (https://dictionary.cambridge.org/us/dictionary/english/watch)

There are two important elements here.

The first is “a period of time.” The verb “to watch” does not mean a brief glance; it means focused attention for long enough to take in the nature, conditions, and dimensions of what is being watched.

The second is “something that is changing or moving.” “Watching” involves engaging in, and recognizing, a process of change and a direction of movement.

Christmas Market Square, Rothenburg, Germany. Photo by Margaret Zacharias, published with permission.

The Christmas markets in Europe, of which Rothenburg is one of the most famous, do offer material goods for purchase as gifts. But their most memorable value is in the experience itself — a satisfying bite into a hot brat on a bitterly cold day; the comfort of a hot cup of chocolate or gluhwein; live musical notes, floating with ephemeral snowflakes in the air.

Do we want broken budgets from too much online shopping this Advent? Do we want morose, unhappy households from endless consumption of ugly world news? Do we want stressed out children from too much sugar, and too many toys?

Or do we want the peace of gratitude for our blessings, the warmth of a simple, unhurried family meal, and the grace of acknowledging that we have enough?

Our Lord’s words speak directly to our authentic needs as human beings, and to the world as it really is.

There have always been wise servants “watching” — and there have always been thieves.

In this new Advent Season that we are about to embark on together, may we be the disciples of Christ who can look into the eyes of our children and grandchildren, our neighbors and friends, with awareness of who they really are, and who they are striving to become.

May faith, hope, and love fill our hearts, and theirs.

Watch.

Featured Photo: Watchtower in the Medieval City Walls, Rothenburg ob der Tauber, Bavaria, Germany, on the plateau overlooking Tauber River ravine. Author’s personal photo, published with permission.

Mom Hated to Clean!

December 1, 2023/0 Comments/in Advent, Catholic Writing and Publishing, Spiritual Life/by Ben Bongers

Mom Hated to Clean!

My mom was a typical mom in all but one thing. She hated to clean!

Mom was a good Catholic girl who went to work in a restaurant at 16 and didn’t finish high school until she got her GED at the age of 32, followed by a college degree in art. Later, she was an optometric dispenser for Montgomery Wards and several other companies before she retired. She didn’t make millions of dollars doing it, but she loved what she did. She’d help pick out new glasses or calm those who were told they needed glasses for the first time, or—several times a year—she would be there for people who were told they would lose their sight or lives to a tumor that was found because of an eye examination. Many of these people became lifelong friends; for others, she would go to their funerals, comforting their families.

How did she get to know all these people? Simply by offering to clean their glasses.

Now, you would think that cleaning is cleaning. Not so to her. If she cleaned at home, she would immediately elicit my and Dad’s help in whatever project she conjured up. Then, after the couch was moved, or everything was out of the cabinet, or the beds were moved to a different room, the white tornado clouds of Lysol, Pine Sol, or vinegar would appear. As much as she hated cleaning, she loved the results and always commented, “Well, that wasn’t so bad. We should do this more often.”

The other thing mom loved to do was go to church. She was always the most comfortable—not at Sunday Mass—at the Tuesday night Novena Mass. She loved being in a church at night, with the votive candles flickering and the sight and smell of incense wafting upward—especially during Advent, when the sun went down around 5 p.m. She would usually drag me along and plop me down in the pew next to her, sometimes to pay attention to the priest, others to sit on the kneeler and use the seat for a desk so I could draw a boat or dog or house. I once asked her why she liked the Tuesday night Novena Mass so much. With a calm look and a slight smile, she said, “Because I feel so clean and straightened after.”

Now that I think about it, Mom was very similar to Saint John the Baptist. Since John was the son of a High Priest of the temple, I’m sure he grew up in a comfortable life with finer things—the best cuts of meat, great clothes, never going hungry. But as he got older, he felt restless. He wanted to work, not go to school. He wanted to do what God was telling him to do. He wanted to help people. And, just like Mom, he would go to heroic lengths to “clean.” He went to the desert; he wore only scratchy, stinky camel skin and ate locusts and honey. He would look out in the night sky, not at votive candles flickering, but at stars. He would see the smoke rise, but instead of incense, it was from his small fire for warmth. And just like Mom, John would comfort the people who came to him. He would tell them there was a better life, a life with God, and a life worth “cleaning” for.

So, he would get right down in the river, roll up his sleeves, and clean. He would baptize with Lysol for the spirit, wash away sins with the Pine Sol of the Holy Spirit, and lift them out of the Jordon with the cleaning vinegar of sanctity running down their cheeks and back. And, just like Mom, John would take whoever came to him—young or old, rich or poor, woman or man, heathen or heretic … they were all God’s children, and he was there to serve.

In Advent, we read in the Old Testament,

Comfort, give comfort to my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem and proclaim to her that her service is at an end, her guilt is expiated… A voice cries out: “In the desert, prepare the way of the Lord! Make straight in the wasteland a highway for our God! Every valley shall be filled in, every mountain and hill shall be made low; the rugged land shall be made a plain, the rough country, a broad valley …” (Isaiah 40:1–4)

In the New Testament, we have John appearing “in the desert proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins… and [they] were being baptized by him in the Jordan River as they acknowledged their sins” (Mark 1:4–5).

Like Mom and John the Baptist, we have heroic cleaning to do. Advent is the perfect season to clean the closet—of our souls. Vacuum up the carpets—of the times we know we missed the mark. And clean your glasses—so your heart can see the goodness of God in everyone you meet during this season of expectation.

Little Sundays

November 17, 2023/0 Comments/in Catholic Theme, Faith, Family Life, Holidays, Prayer, Spiritual Life/by Kimberly Novak

Little Sundays

Every Sunday is a Holy day of obligation, a day set aside to gather with community and worship Our Father in heaven. This day can also be observed by attending a Sunday Vigil celebrated on Saturday evening. Catholic teaching instructs us to refrain from engaging in work or activities that deter the worship owed to God. Recently I took a day away and referred to it as my “Sabbath,” and I pondered whether or not, in today’s society, these teachings are being honored.

I can admit that I have worked on Sundays in the past. Whether it be writing, cooking, or cleaning, these all take on the energy of work and direct my attention away from worshiping God. I could argue that my writing is spiritual and for the Glory of God, so perhaps that is allowed. I’ve yet to answer that thought. However, I know that engaging in writing on the Lord’s Day is different than attending church, coming home, and reflecting on the readings, sermon, and worship music.
It would be lovely to come home from Mass and simply enjoy celebrating God with my family and friends over a meal. My husband and I like to watch old black-and-white television programs, where families are often depicted attending church service on Sundays and then relax on their front porch, carelessly and effortlessly enjoying the day of rest. I guess observing the Lord’s Day in past generations proved a little easier to do. I wonder what it would feel like if, in today’s culture, we made a considerable effort to set this day aside for the one who created us.

“Work shall be done for six days, but the seventh is the Sabbath of rest, holy to the Lord.”
Exodus 31:15 NKJV

My sabbath day away showed me how much my heart and mind craved one-on-one attention with God. I promised myself more of these days away from my routine to enjoy a full day of prayer and spiritual activities. I’m a little nervous about the holidays approaching if I will be able to honor the time I have set aside. I am organized and a good planner, but we all know how life intervenes and takes us off course. Because of that, I began thinking about other ways to honor God ahead of Sundays and days of spiritual enlightenment. I hope that by creating Little Sunday moments, my heart will be ignited and thirsting for more of God. All the while effortlessly easing me into honoring the seventh day of rest.

I have a few ideas based on my individual preferences. However, you can all devise your own Little Sunday moments. Each day, our local Christian Radio station, 95.5 The Fish, invites listeners to pray The Lord’s Prayer. Engaging in those few minutes is enough to draw the Lord into my day and close to my heart. Another opportunity is praying the Divine Office or Liturgy of the Hours. Many Catholic prayer apps and online tools can help you get started.

If you want to keep your focus on Jesus, honor the day of rest, and grow closer to God, then consider praying about how God is calling you toward Him. From this, devise your plan for Little Sundays throughout your week. Engage in conversations with your family and friends, inviting them to participate. For the time being, when I feel called to write on the Lord’s Day, I will first engage in prayer and allow God to guide my thoughts. If they end up on the page, I know it was because God designed it for His Greater Glory. God calls us to be set apart or different from ordinary things and turn our focus toward Him. I pray that your Little Sundays become stepping stones toward your complete surrender to the Sabbath day of rest, holy to the Lord.

The Five Cs of a Good Confession

November 10, 2023/1 Comment/in Catholic Theme, Devotionals, Prayer, Spiritual Life/by Maria Riley

The Five Cs of a Good Confession

Nothing warms my heart more than a long line for Confession. I love when other sinners respond to God’s call to repent. I find it especially beautiful when our parish has penance services during Advent and Lent, and our church is filled with priests and lines and lines of sorrowful Catholics seeking God’s endless forgiveness and mercy. As we near the beginning of our Advent season of preparing for the coming of Jesus, it’s time to start preparing our hearts for repentance.

The Sacrament of Confession begins long before you enter the confessional. It starts when you complete your examination of conscience. There are many options available for you to use, and I personally use a woman’s one based on the seven deadly sins. I have also seen some based on the Ten Commandments or focused on motherhood.

Regardless of which examination of conscience you use, be sure to spend time in prayer, and slowly and thoroughly think about everything you have done and everything you have failed to do. Once you properly examine your soul and let the Holy Spirit bring to mind the sins you need to confess, it’s time to go before the priest.

I recently learned about the 5 Cs of Confession on a podcast by Father Mike Schmitz, and I find them helpful as I prepare for the sacrament. Hopefully, you’ve had the chance to receive the Sacrament of Reconciliation recently. If you haven’t, remember that as Catholics we are obligated to receive this sacrament at least once a year (but it is so much more fruitful when you go more often!). Whether you make it to Confession weekly or haven’t been in years, keep these 5 Cs in mind to have the best Confession possible.

Clear

When confessing, speak clearly and specifically. The priest needs to both be able to hear what you are saying and also understand the exact nature of your wrongs. Avoid mumbling or talking about your sin in vague terms. This is our time to openly bring our sins to God in anticipation of His endless mercy.

Concise

We’ve all been sitting there in line for Confession and found ourselves watching the clock tick on and on and on. The truth is that Confession is a time for confessing, not for story telling. If you find that your Confessions go on for a while or that you feel like you have more to say, I encourage you to make an appointment to visit with your priest instead of using the limited Confessional time. If he is not available, seek the ear of a friend or find professional help from a counselor or a spiritual director.

Concrete

Confession is not a time for abstract thoughts or partial admittances. You shouldn’t say things like, “I might have hurt my husband’s feelings,” or, “I sort of yelled at a coworker.” To make an honest Confession, truly acknowledge your sins and state them concretely.

You also need to be wary of our human tendency to justify our sins by bringing the sins of others into our time in the confessional. While pertinent context is appropriate, don’t attempt to minimize your sin by highlighting someone else’s. If you find yourself saying something like, “She did this horrible thing to me first, so of course I retaliated by . . . ,” you need to pray for the Holy Spirit to help you focus exclusively on your own transgressions.

Complete

A good confession includes an honest sharing of all of your sins, not just the ones you feel comfortable sharing out loud. If a sin is honestly forgotten during your Confession, you are still forgiven. If, however, you intentionally do not speak a specific sin out loud, that sin is not forgiven. I find it helpful to write my sins on a piece of paper to bring with me so I don’t accidentally forget any of them. I especially love ripping up the paper afterward and throwing it in the trash, knowing that those sins are gone forever!

Contrition

This is the real heart of Confession—and the most important part. We have to be truly sorry for our sins in order to fully receive the forgiveness and mercy that the Lord longs to pour out to us. If you find yourself struggling with contrition, either because you love your sin or because you feel justified by the circumstances, pray to God that He will change your heart.

When you put the 5 Cs into practice for regular trips to the confessional, your spiritual life and relationship with God will grow and blossom in unexpected ways!

Love Is Life that Pours Itself Forth

October 27, 2023/0 Comments/in Catholic Writing and Publishing, Love, Spiritual Life/by Rick Clements

Love Is Life that Pours Itself Forth¹

Why must the path of self-giving love also be the path of the cross? Can’t we be loving people without having to travel the way of the cross? No, we can’t. At least, we can’t be the deeply loving people that God has called us to be (Mt 16:24; Mk 8:34; Lk 9:23). Because we were created to share in the divine love, we’re called to learn to love as God loves. And that means being willing to break ourselves open and pour ourselves out in love for God and our fellow human beings, just as Jesus did on the cross. And that requires busting some holes in the walls that we have all built around our egos, the walls that get in the way of love: walls of pride, and self-protection, and self-pity, and fear, and prejudice, and hatred, and anger, and . . . the list goes on and on.

Sacrifices made for the sake of the beloved and suffering undergone for the sake of the beloved help to punch holes in those walls we’ve built around our egos, holes that allow the divine love to flow into us more freely and to then flow back out of us to God and neighbor. Self-sacrifice and suffering for the sake of others help us break out of the self-imposed dungeons of our egos and join more fully in the eternal circulation of love. That’s why sacrifice and suffering turn out to be required courses in the school of love. That’s why we all have to be willing to walk the way of the cross. Yes, it can be painful (sometimes, very painful) to open ourselves up to love, to open ourselves up to self-sacrifice and suffering for the sake of love. But doing so also turns out to be immensely fulfilling, even joyful. We are most fully alive when we are most fully breaking ourselves open and pouring ourselves out in loving self-gift to God and neighbor, for it is precisely then that we participate most fully in the superabundant, overflowing love and life of God.

[i] Hans Urs von Balthasar, Heart of the World. San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1979, p 25.

This article is an excerpt from Rick’s latest book, The Book of Love: Brief Meditations.

Photo by Henrique Jacob on Unsplash