Are we as aware as the first Christians were of the Spirit dwelling within us? Do we need to learn to perceive what was so obvious to them? What evidence is there that God abides in us and we in Him?
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“At several points in the Gospel, Jesus sensitively anticipates the longing that His ascension will leave in us: ‘The days are coming when you will desire to see one of the days of the Son of man, and you will not see it” (Luke 17:22).
In view of St. Charles’ recent canonization, we share with you an excerpt from “Home Again” by Fr. John Henry Hanson, O. Praem.
The Lord warns us against angrily calling another “You fool!” (Mt 5:12). But the fact that He calls certain individuals foolish shows that some merit the epithet (cf. Mt 7:26, 23:17, et al.).
In 1990, Israeli construction workers uncovered a chamber tomb containing a very ornate ossuary (or bone box) with the name “Joseph, son of Caiaphas” inscribed on it.
In the spiritual life we have to reckon with a unique “balance of power” between what God can do and what we can do.
The Lord wants us always to bear in mind two things: the mercy we have received, and where that mercy comes from: the Cross of Jesus.
The Church has one question for the world. It is a question asked of rich and poor, of the powerful and the weak, of those behind bars and those relaxing on the beach: Are you happy?
The Prodigal Son went out looking for heaven on earth. He was restless at home. He entertained a fantasy that things could be better elsewhere—in a faraway place, with different people, where he could be carefree, an anonymous rogue.
The devil’s “territory,” apart from those “kingdoms of the world” he claimed as his own when tempting Christ, might be difficult to map out—it was, after all, into the swept and tidied house that the unclean spirit returned with a company of devils worse than himself (cf. Lk 4:5; Mt 12:43-45).
God wants us to remember. Satan wants us to forget. By distractions, promises, and vanities Satan dupes us into forgetting how merciful God has been to us.
“See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are…. Beloved, we are God’s children now” (1 Jn 3:1-2).
Sometimes when we hear the Gospel proclaimed at Mass we are so encouraged and consoled that we think: I cannot be lost. Other times we hear it and we might think: How will I ever be saved?
Christian identity begins and ends with childhood—the unique childhood of the children of God.
A reflection on love for the sacred liturgy must begin beneath an old tree.
In this paradise everyone feels free, at home, accepted, and loved in ways which far surpass whatever freedom, acceptance, or love we have ever experienced on earth. Here, we meet the saints as friends.
Saints have the uncanny ability to startle us with their insights into the basic truths of our faith.
Learning to contemplate and to suffer in union with Christ is where we begin to experience our own resurrection. Suffering in union with Christ, we become free to love and to be loved in God’s way.
The liturgical prayers for the Solemnity of the Lord’s Ascension ask that we might follow Christ to the place where He has gone.
By now we in the Church are very comfortable applying the term vocation to any state in life that aims at serving God. We use the word broadly to indicate that everyone’s life has something to contribute to the up-building of the kingdom of God on earth and the salvation of souls.