“Our Father”

The following is the first of twelve monthly reflections about the phrases of the Lord’s Prayer and what they tell us about family life.

            What are the moments in life that bring us true joy?  I am referencing the type of joy that is unhindered by the suffering in our lives, something that we feel deep down inside of ourselves.  It gives us the truest sense of God’s grace in the here and now.  These moments of genuine joy might be seminal events such as graduations, weddings, or other sacramental occasions.  On the other hand, they might be seemingly insignificant moments, not likely to make the news, and yet, they are so personally meaningful that we swell with emotion and marvel in gratitude at God’s generosity.  For me, one such small moment is when I arrive home from work every day.  I open the door and am met with the faces of little boys who appear to be looking at their own personal superhero.  It never gets old to have them smiling from ear to ear, running to meet me, and joyfully exclaiming, “Daddy!”

            I feel badly that my wife does not get to experience this same jubilation as often since she is currently with the children most of the day.  When she is gone, however, the kids realize how chaotic things can get when Mommy is away and are really happy to see her when she returns!  As I reflected upon these little moments of joy, I thought about my prayer life, especially the Lord’s Prayer.  In it Jesus instructs us to call God our Father, and this kind of familiarity is a remarkable concept in how we communicate with God.  It dispels the notion of God being a far-off deity who is powerful yet somewhat impersonal.  Instead, we have a God who desires to be intimately close to us, as close as a parent would be to a child.  It is quite radical to think of an omnipotent God who is ready to embrace us as I embrace my young children running to me at the door after work.

            What does this mean for us as we journey through these days of Advent?  We find ourselves waiting for the Lord at Christmas and the end of time.  This delay can be challenging because it can cause us to doubt God’s desire to be close to us.  Still, we wait in hope as a young child looking out the picture window in expectation of a parent’s return.  Advent builds in anticipation from the liturgical readings to the lighting of additional candles that Lord is indeed coming.

God, too, waits for us at times during this season.  We can get caught up in the busyness of everything we attempt to accomplish, and the danger for us is that Advent is not a very prayerful time at all.  More generally, when we sometimes find ourselves mired in our own sinfulness, God waits longingly for our return and even seeks us out.  It is ultimately up to us, though, to accept reconciliation.  I imagine how hurt today I would be if, when I arrived home from work, no one was there to greet me or was excited to see me.  I suppose I should brace myself for when my children are teenagers!

When our relationship with the Father deteriorates to such a point, intervention is essential.  God certainly does not abandon us and waits with open arms to welcome us back.  We have a chance in these days to take part in the Sacrament of Penance, and this is a wonderful way to mend what is wounded in our relationship with God and others.  Though it can be difficult to make that step to come and admit our guilt, it is to our great benefit to take refuge in the Father’s merciful arms.  Once we do so, God holds us tightly in love once again.

May we have the courage this season to return to the Lord, to call God “Father” once more.  Jesus leads us in addressing God in such a manner.  If we find ourselves hesitating, it may help us to know the longing desire that God has for our return.  It will truly be a moment of joy for our Father when we come running and exclaim once again, “Daddy!

King of the Mountain

            In light of our early snow and frigid temperatures, my mind was a bit preoccupied when I sat to write this month’s reflection.  I decided to run with it and took myself back to a time when snow outside was pure joy to a young boy’s mind.  It did not mean icy roads or shoveling driveways or scraping windshields; rather, it was about potential school cancelation and an adventure land right there in my normally boring front yard.  On those days when the weather pattern and superintendent aligned, I would be outside with the neighborhood kids playing snow-themed games.  If the snow was particularly generous, we would have enough to make a pile of snow that would be quickly dubbed “The Mountain.”  My front yard then became the sight of a game of curious origin and implication, “King of the Mountain,” where we would establish being king by shoving everyone else off the mound into the snow below.  A king’s reign lasted only as long the defense of new attacks was successful.  As I think back and laugh about the folly of such a game, it does give me pause.  Am I still playing this game, albeit in other ways, in the motives of my life?

            As you may be aware, the Solemnity of Christ the King is coming up, and with it comes a time fit for reflection.  This feast day is not simply a pre-Advent warning for us, reminding us, like every store we visit, of how many days are left before Christmas.  No, this feast stands alone for good reason, and it gives us the chance to take stock of where Christ is in the hierarchy of our loves and priorities.  On this day, we proclaim Jesus as king of the entire universe, but it remains an open question as to if he is the king of our hearts, lives, and families.  Because of our free will and Christ’s unwillingness to control his subjects, it is still up to us to accept him as king and give proper homage to him.

            There is certainly a competing list of distractions from this laudable goal.  Who or what are the “kings” in our lives to which we give our time, attention, and resources?  Is it our achievement at work or the power and control we have over others?  What about our signs of social or economic status displayed for all, or at least our neighbors and friends, to see?  Could it be the frequency, quality, or weight of importance we give to our online and technological activities?  Perhaps the pursuits of pleasure, whether actual or distracted daydreaming, control us.  Maybe we even thrive in a state of perpetual dissatisfaction with our lives, never wanting to admit to the grace and blessings all around us.  There are many possibilities, but they all lead us to a need for radical reorientation.  It is precisely for our own good that we must make Christ the king of our hearts and homes, forsaking all other weaker and false idols.

            It is instructive, too, to notice the seemingly foreign characteristics of our proper king.  He is gentle and humble, not seeking to dominate others or gather up as much authority as he possibly can.  He leads by his example as a servant to all, especially to the least and most vulnerable among us.  He does not, like my boyish tactics during “King of the Mountain,” raise himself up by striking others down.  Instead, he is raised up in two very unique and significant ways.  First, he is lifted high on a cross, a symbol of torture and shame, complete with a sign mocking his kingly authority.  He does not allow people’s assumptions of this symbol and his method of death define his reign, though.  Transforming the visuals and meaning of this act, he makes it into something that has now become the scene of our salvation and that we revere every time we pray or come into our churches.  The second way he is raised is by his Father, three days following his death, from the darkness and silence of the tomb.  His status as “first-born of the dead” and the perpetual object of glory, honor, and worship is firmly complete.

            In conclusion, I hope that we take advantage of this upcoming solemnity.  It might mean we need to spend some time in personal reflection, having a family discussion, or a making a trip to confession.  Regardless of how we particularly need to prepare, the opportunity to do so is God’s gift to us.  May it indeed mark for us a reordering of our relationships and priorities so that Christ is the king and first-born of our hearts.         

     

Leaves of Every Shade and Color

            When people list their top reasons for living in the northern part of the country, the weather usually does not make the list.  The “permacloud” that seems to last from now until May might have something to do with it.  Still, we try to spin things in a positive light by saying things like, “I really enjoy that we see four seasons here.”  We casually leave out the fact that winter lasts disproportionately longer that the other three!  No one could deny, however, the days of sheer autumn beauty we witness each year.  We are right in the middle of this time now, and every time I experience it, I find myself simultaneously amazed at the breathtaking views and wistful that they last only a short while. 

            As I was taking a walk on just such a fall day recently, I found myself thinking about the life cycle of a leaf, how it mirrors something in our families.  During the budding phase, there is an excitement of new beginnings and life, but for most of its life, a leaf looks healthy yet unremarkably green.  It is only at the end of its life, as the chlorophyll dissipates, that a leaf exhibits its true and wonderful color.  Regrettably, we only get to enjoy the sight for relatively little time before the leaf falls to the ground. 
            Our lives, too, are filled with excitement and potential during our early days, but once we settle into a rhythm of life, most of our days are unexceptional or even monotonous.  Yet it is towards the end of our lives that time becomes precious as we reshuffle our priorities and have a final chance to show our true selves.  Like the leaves, those people keenly aware of their mortality are the ones who often manifest the most wisdom and perspective. 
            I wonder, though, if those of us stuck in our own normal hectic schedules miss the beauty and wisdom that surrounds us in our family members advanced in years.  How often do we hurry through life without taking stock of God’s grace visible in these persons, who, like the colorful leaves, will not remain with us on earth much longer?  We can certainly all think of instances and stories of the elderly who spend their final days lonely or feeling discarded by the world for a perceived lack of usefulness.  Even as a leaf can no longer provide nutrients to the tree, its color and evidence of a life well lived are gifts all their own.  How might we better honor those who, despite whatever physical or even mental ailments affect them now, have lived good, holy, and fruitful lives? 
            Certainly, the Church makes a concerted effort in this regard.  From the frequent sacramental care provided for the aged or infirm to the celebration of lengthy anniversaries of marriages, ordinations, final religious vows, or birthdays, we acknowledge the dignity of every person and the beauty of each life.  Even the care with which we pray at funerals exhibits that we are, as a Church, consistently committed to honoring those who have, as St. Paul says, “fought the good fight, finished the race, and kept the faith.” 
​            Consequently, it is important that we take our cues from the ministry of the Church and seek to love and respect those who face the end of their earthly days.  We must appreciate the wonder of these lives as they color our world like a crisp and memorable autumn scene.  After all, it would be our loss to neglect noticing such instances of grandeur.  Their beauty foreshadows our ultimate vision of bliss and is a demonstration of the hope that we have in eternal life. 

No Room for Selfishness

       Growing up the second of four children with an older brother merely two years my senior, I saw my fair share of sibling disagreements, heated discussions, and, shall we say, altercations.  It seemed to me that my older brother was responsible for 99 percent of the problems, but I suppose my perspective skewed slightly in my favor.  Naturally, some of our spats happened out of the direct supervision of my parents, but they soon would become loud enough that one or both parents would notice and become involved.  That is when the blame game started.  The goal was a simple one: lay as much blame as possible on the other brother while avoiding a reprimand for oneself.  Readers may not be surprised to hear that a pervasive selfishness dominated these explanations to my parents, and both brothers treated the truth like Dad’s bucket of random nuts and bolts in the garage: you used something when it could help you; otherwise, it never saw the light of day.  Thinking back on these situations now, I realize how our selfishness never got us anywhere worthwhile.  In fact, it often was in the way of the very thing God designed families to share. 

       Selfishness and love are inversely proportional.  As one increases, the other necessarily decreases.  As my brother and I heaped lie upon lie, the love between us barely flickered.  The story is an illustration to me that, in families, there is no room for selfishness.  The more we succeed in banishing it from our homes and relationships, the more love is able to take root and nourish us for whatever challenges life will bring. 

       As I have grown into adulthood and matured, I have tried to limit my selfish tendencies with each passing day.  Every important milestone in family life from marriage to the birth of each of my children has forced me to reexamine the ways in which I still exhibit selfishness.  The temptation is to think I have it all figured out, but then something happens which makes me realize how much I must still progress.  The pursuit of holiness is like that.  The more we give our efforts to it, the more we humbly realize how distant a goal perfect love of God and neighbor is.  Nevertheless, we also trust ever more deeply that God’s grace will be able to one day close the gap. 

       Thinking about this interplay of love and selfishness in the scriptures, two gardens, Eden and Gethsemane, come to mind.  Adam and Eve are faced with the temptation to disobedience by eating the forbidden fruit.  They selfishly become so focused on the one thing they cannot have that they neglect to notice the abundance already given to them.  We see them struggle with the temptation for a moment, but then they submit to the serpent’s poisonous suggestions.  Then, as my brother and I would do, they blame everyone but themselves when God discovers their transgression. 

       When Jesus faces his own garden moment of temptation, it is during a quite serious time.  We see him there, slumped to the ground, sweat pouring out of him, as he contemplates the culminating moments of his earthly mission.  Death, the consequence of that first human sin, is directly before him.  In what is one of the truest moments of Jesus’ human nature, he cries out in prayer, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup away from me.”  It is a somewhat shocking statement if we think about it.  Jesus is asking to avoid going through what he has come to do.  He is praying for an escape from his charge to die on the cross for our sins.  Yet, while Christ truly faced this temptation to selfishness, his next words are quite instructive for us as he continues, “Still, not my will but yours be done.”  He chooses love, banishes selfishness, and continues with this most daunting of tasks. 

       How then, can this apply to us in our lives as families?  I think one thing that is important to realize is that every human being, including Jesus himself, feels drawn to selfishness from time to time.  However, what we do with that temptation makes all the difference.  Had my brother and I been living more closely to the ideal of selfless love, there would not have been anything to lie about in the first place!  Love takes effort, time, and dedication.  May we trust that, after seeing the fruits of Christ’s all encompassing self-gift, being less selfish and more loving is worth all that we give to it.

A Welcoming Face

       First impressions are important.  They give us the chance to convey something to another at the outset of a relationship, and if we squander this opportunity, it can be impossible or at least take long time to get a second chance.  This month’s reflection comes from a recent and quite personal story where someone made a first impression on me.  I should say from the outset that I did clear telling this story with my wife Stephanie!  Anyway, we are expecting our third child very soon.  The temptation with the third, of course, is to assume that each child and accompanying pregnancy will be the same as the last.  This is never true, but it was certainly a surprise and even upsetting when our regular OBGYN told us that something came up and we would need to go see a specialist OB.  Time went slowly then, and it felt like a long time before we actually were setting foot in the specialist’s office.  Many things were going through my mind that morning, but one strange thought kept surfacing for me: this receptionist has a really hard job!
       The first realization I had about this was walking up to the receptionist’s window with my wife.  My grimaced face must have looked like I had just drunk some sour milk because the lovely receptionist seemed to pause, give me time, and then smile gently towards me.  It was only then that I realized I was not exactly projecting excitement in being there!  The tricky thing for the receptionist, though, was that she welcomed patients who were coming to see either a regular OBGYN or the prenatal specialist.  The former group likely came in happy to be there, ready for some ultrasonic pictures of their little one or perhaps the big reveal as to whether a girl or boy was on the way.  The latter group, those coming to see the specialist, would not be projecting the same feelings as the first.  Their appearances were likely much more apprehensive, fearful, and uncertain.  I found myself drawn towards watching the patients arrive to the waiting room and trying to ascertain the group to which each person belonged.  The receptionist had to be ready to welcome all sorts of people, including some who would rather be anywhere else than this office.
       Mercifully, this was a one-time trip for our family, but I could not stop thinking about the experience in the days that followed.  This office reminded me, in many ways, of the Catholic Church.  Some people arrive at our parish doors excited to be there, hungry to deepen their faith and find solace for the week’s troubles.  Others arrive, perhaps feeling forced to come due to some familial obligation.  We see this situation most often surrounding events such as weddings, funeral Masses, or other sacramental moments.  Sometimes, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for us, as representatives of the Catholic Church, to make a good first impression.  Hospitality is a mark of godliness throughout Sacred Scripture, but it does beg the question: how do we, as a worshiping community, show hospitality to the sinner, the broken, the bereaved, the un-churched, the skeptic, and to the ones we have wounded?  It seems important to me that we think about these questions before making our first impressions so that we might share the Good News by how we welcome others.
       At some point in our lives, each of us has probably been part of the group who does not want to be in a church for a variety of reasons, and we certainly all have family members or friends who have stepped away from an active practice of their faith.  What might the receptionist’s demeanor teach us about welcoming those who come through our parish doors or even simply know us from work or our neighborhoods?  One thing this particular receptionist was very skilled at was reading people’s faces and demeanor but also realizing that there was a greater, sometimes unknowable mystery within the person.  Knowing this, I would say it is important to pray to the Holy Spirit for guidance when making a first impression on behalf of the Church.  What we say or refrain from saying, do or avoid doing could be critical in helping someone find the deeper relationship with God for which we all long.  Overall, I think the Church does a wonderful job of welcoming others, but we can always reexamine our personal part to play in this.  Being the voice, the hands, and the face of Christ to others is a real part of each of our vocations, and we must be conscious of our first impressions so that the Body of Christ might one day count all of humanity as its members and have all of its members reunited. 

The Phone Call

       Have you ever received a phone call at 3 a.m.?  You feel your heart racing and your breath quicken, knowing that news at this hour is almost never the good kind.  Groggily, you try to clear your head and take an extra ring to look at the Caller ID and brace yourself for whatever you are going to hear.  It is not a question of “if” but “when” each of us will receive such a phone call.  The pressing questions that do remain are: how do we live in anticipation of such inevitable events, and how do we respond when they interrupt our lives?

       Having lived a significant distance from my family for a decade, I have learned that some of my most tragic news will come to me over the phone.  For a time, I found myself dreading what I termed “the phone call.”  I remember my sophomore year at Notre Dame when my father left me a voicemail that consisted simply of “Daniel, call me.”  The problem and source of my anxiety was, however, that I could tell from his voice that he had been crying.  Thinking of the worst possible scenarios and with hands wavering, I returned his call.  You can imagine my slight relief when he told me that our family dog had died.  Now, please do not misunderstand me. “Lucky” was a great dog.  But considering I thought my mother or one of my siblings had passed away, I was really thankful.  I also gave my dad some instructions to at least let me know a bit more information the next time he left me a message like that!

       Whether our loved ones are next door or halfway around the world, there is no escaping the suffering that is part of our lot in this life.  Our choice is to respond with either fear or hope.  Fear leaves us debilitated in the face of unavoidable suffering and already depleted when the hardship arrives.  It robs us of our confidence in God, who promises companionship during hard times and who has, through the death of Jesus, experienced suffering in a very real way.  We must instead strive to remain people of hope.

       Of course, this hope does not come from self-confidence, temporal power, monetary wealth, government programs, or even from our loving families.  The source of our hope, as Catholic Christians, comes from a single, everlasting source: the death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ.  After all, why else are we practicing our faith in the first place?  There are lots of other places where we could find community, education, and social activities.  Going to church regularly and taking part in the sacraments is not even the societal or cultural expectation it once was.  We come, at the very foundation of things, because of our hope in the Resurrection.  By following the Lord in this life, we follow him to the glory of eternal happiness.  So no matter when “the phone call” arrives or what news it brings, remember one thing: nothing can take away our hope. 

Summertime Tips

       Ah, summertime!  That span of a few months when our families take a break from our normal routines and fill our days with vacations, swimming pools, and trips to the ball fields.  Of course, these new activities require some good tips to keep everyone safe and happy.  I remember some of my mother’s best advice as I woke up the first morning of summer and was happy to be anywhere but school: “Be sure to leave the sunscreen in the cabinet when you go to the pool.”  “You only need to wear a baseball hat when you go ride your bike.”  “Shooting Roman candles at your brother will be a great way to celebrate the Fourth of July.”  Wait, did I hear that right?  Maybe I should call her and double-check…

       Here’s another piece of bad advice for your family this summer: “Go ahead and take a break from Sunday Mass for a few months.”  We know from our faith that Mass is important, but is it not curious how we sometimes give into the temptation of relegating Sunday Mass to a school-year or even less frequent activity?  Perhaps this summer and coming year might be different if we understood what we will be missing.

       Our weekly prayer time with God, celebrating the Day of Resurrection at the Saturday Vigil or any time on Sunday is at the core of who we are as Catholic-Christians.  It stems from our Judeo-Christian roots in that the Jews were commanded to keep their Sabbath holy.  God does not need us to come to Mass every week; rather, we deteriorate spiritually without doing so.  Think what might happen if we neglected a core need of our bodies, even for just a week.  Has anyone tried not eating or drinking for an entire week?  How about not getting any sleep for seven days or walking outside in a blizzard wearing a bathing suit?  We would hardly do these things to ourselves, and yet, we tragically starve our souls when we come to Mass only when it is convenient.  Of course, the Church is not unreasonable.  There are legitimate reasons why someone cannot get to Mass on a particular weekend, but they must be truly serious and not something minor.

       Thus, I offer you three tips to help keep Sunday Mass part of your family routine this summer and beyond:

1. Plan it first.  It is amazing how busy our lives can be, regardless of the time of year.  If we plan when we are going to Mass first, it helps us organize the rest of our weekend activities.  The temptation of having so many Mass options in some of our parishes and communities is that we assume there will always be a possible time to go.  We must avoid this trap and be intentional about Mass before the weekend even arrives.

2. List our family’s priorities.  What are the most important things that we should do and concern ourselves with during the week?  I will give you a hint on the first one—it is our faith and relationship with God.  Everything else we have and care about comes from God in the first place, so it benefits us to keep other relationships, activities, and priorities in proper perspective.

3. Change our viewpoint.  If we only see going to Mass as an obligation, it will become an inconvenience, a burden, even a chore.  It is not about bringing home the bulletin to prove we went!  To appreciate and even anticipate Sunday Mass, we must move from obligation to opportunity of faith, from the task of having to go to the privilege of getting to go, from one more thing to do to the most important thing we do all week.

       I do wish your families a safe, happy, and restful summer.  I also hope to see you at Mass in our shared Eucharist wherever you are in the world.  Remember, coming to Mass is essential for our well being.  It is about reconnecting with God, reconciling our sinful ways with his mercy, listening to the divinely inspired Word, worshiping with our family, the Body of Christ, and oftentimes, being nourished at the table of the Eucharist.  I leave you with one last piece of advice from our Mother Church that gives hope to all of us who have fallen short of the ideal, “If at first you don’t succeed, seek God’s mercy in confession, and try, try again!”

Important Days

       “Today is the most important day of your life.”  If you have ever heard these words, you were likely already aware that something significant was happening.  For many, this might be a wedding or ordination day.  For others, there may be some other momentous event that changed the course of their lives for years to come.  We properly mark and remember days like this from year to year, and the same is true for us in the Church.  We have been celebrating many special days at lately in the Easter season, and it gives us a chance to reflect.  What is or will be the most important day of my life?  The interesting thing is that it may be a day you do not even remember!

       How could that be?  I am talking about the day of your baptism, and I would posit that it was the most important day of your life, not necessarily because of your experience of it, but because of its effects.  For us as Catholic-Christians, no other day so significantly influences our lives and eternal destinies.  Even if we do not remember it, we recall it every time we enter a church and sign ourselves with holy water.  During the Easter season, we also renew the vows of our baptism and then are sprinkled with water once again.  Finally, the Church long-remembers our baptism, keeping permanent records of it in the parish where it happened.  If a particular parish closes, the baptismal records are even transferred to another parish.

       Some of us possess the grace of being able to remember our baptism, especially those who come into the Church as catechumens through the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults.  This past Easter Vigil, the most important liturgy of the liturgical year, we welcomed many adults, teens, and children into the baptismal waters, and it was inspiring for all to witness this event.  I teach the children going through the process, and in an effort to instill anticipation and excitement in them for the day of their baptism, I indeed tell each of them, “Today is the most important day of your life.”

       There are, of course, other principal days of our lives, and this reflection is not an effort to diminish them.  But all those days are colored a bit differently because of our baptismal call.  We have, as the People of God, joined in the joyous celebration of other sacraments this Easter season from First Communions to Confirmations, and these also are days worth remembering.  We thank God for the grace of these important days and ask for the clarity to recognize the truly significant moments in our lives.  May this Easter season help us recommit ourselves to the promises of our holy baptism, that we may one day be united with God in the perpetual bliss of heaven.

Praying the Way of the Cross as a Family

            Do the laundry, wash the dishes, feed the dog, get to work on time, support your family, do homework, make dinner, get to practice…oh, yes, and be sure to pray together, too.  With as hectic as our lives have become in our culture, not to mention the responsibilities of regular married and family life, it is unsurprising that our prayer time as a family is something we often neglect.  Even when the liturgical calendar provides us extra incentive and opportunities, it can be difficult to make time for prayer.  Perhaps if that prayer time was not simply another task on our “to-do” list, if it instead provided the grace to handle the rest of our tasks, maybe even busy families could find time to pray.

The Second Station: Jesus Takes Up His Cross

It really comes down to a question of goals.  What are our goals for our families and lives?  Do we want to become famous, be admired and revered, wield great power and influence, accumulate untold wealth?  What about helping each other grow in holiness?  Challenging each other to more loving relationships?  Bearing wrongs patiently and modeling forgiveness?  What about helping each other get to heaven?  How different would our lives be if these were our goals?  As we follow Jesus, taking up our cross as he accepts his, we know that this is not the end; rather, this is the way that leads to eternal life.

            As I served in my own parish and encountered the families therein, this thought of creating enriching family prayer spurred me to write a booklet, Stations of the Cross for Marriages and Families.  I wanted to reflect on the Way of the Cross in light of those who are preparing for marriage or those who are already a family and trying their best to live up to their vows and calling.  How might Jesus’ condemnation, suffering, death, and unconditional love guide us to holy family living?  As a husband and father, writing these reflections helped refocus my own gaze in terms of my primary vocation, and I wanted to share these insights with others in case they would also find them helpful.

The Third Station: Jesus Falls the First Time

Inherently, living as families means that there will be conflict.  We are a group of imperfect, sinful people with various personalities who live together and try to make it work.  There is, at the same time, inherent nobility in this effort because it speaks of our love and commitment to one another.  How do we press on after knocking each other down or stumbling ourselves?  This is the grace of Christ’s sacrifice—he has taken all our sins upon his shoulders.  In his humanity, he even buckled under the weight of our sins.  We can take solace, then, that Jesus knew our weakness, experienced its consequences, and still provided us a model of perseverance and a way to true freedom.  Drawing our strength from God’s grace, we stand up together and continue along the way.

            Praying the Stations of the Cross has a rich tradition in the Catholic Church.  While there has been devotion to the holy sites in and around Jerusalem since the foundational events of Christianity took place there, our modern practice of the Via Crucis, has its origins in medieval times.  The Franciscans, long-time caretakers of the Holy Land, receive credit for popularizing this practice of following Jesus on the Way.  Given its now ubiquitous presence in Catholic churches around the world, the devotion has proved both lasting and beneficial for generations of the faithful.  Christ implores us, “Take up your cross, and follow me.”  This is our daily call as Christians, but we reflect on it in intentional prayer when we pray the Stations.  And while a common custom is to pray them on Fridays during Lent, the grace and benefits of this practice are useful to us throughout the year.

The Eleventh Station: Jesus is Nailed to the Cross

Finally, the reality of our sins takes tangible form.  The little hurts, the lies, the cheating, the laying blame, the insults, and the insecurities—all are there in those nails.  They bring pain and suffering as we nail Jesus to the cross.  Yet, if he cries out, he cries out not in protest but in willing acceptance.  His sacrifice is a profound one, as he freely gives of his life and receives the nails we intend for each other or even ourselves.  May this image of our sin spur us to conversion, and may we always be filled with gratitude when we consider Jesus’ gift.

            In sharing these excerpts of my reflections with you, I hope to lead you in your relationships, marriages, and families to an introduction or recommitment to shared prayer.  Even as I write this, I am considering how my wife, children, and I might better take advantage of this bedrock of our family life.  You are certainly welcome to purchase the complete reflections from the link above, but no matter what resources you utilize for your prayer as a family, know that your time is well spent.  I leave you with a final meditation on the death of Jesus, and my prayer as you contemplate it is that the redemptive power of Christ’s sacrifice will heal whatever wounds mark your holy lives and vocations.

The Twelfth Station: Jesus Dies on the Cross

Look at the cross as it holds the bruised and bleeding body of our Lord and Savior.  How is it that this instrument of torture and shame could bring about our salvation, our lasting hope?  It is because of the power of God’s transformative grace.  It transforms our lives of sin into lives of holiness, our feuding families into models of sacred family life, our selfish tendencies into acts of selflessness, and our confused sadness into everlasting joy.  We cling to Jesus’ death on the cross, this ultimate example of unconditional love, as our refuge in a world full of broken relationships, broken homes, and broken-down people.  Christ’s sacrifice is so powerful that it overcomes all of these and ushers in opportunities for peace, for reconciliation, for lasting joy.  Truly, by his holy cross, Jesus has redeemed the world.

Epiphany: To Humanity, From God

       Pop quiz!  Can you name all the gifts you received for Christmas this year?  How about five or ten years ago?  It is amazing how quickly we forget what was sitting under our trees even though our culture often touts the holiday as a mere gift exchange.  As Catholic-Christians, we know that Christmas is about something much more profound; thus, we celebrate it as a season instead of a single day.  One of the most important days during this season that transmits the meaning of this time of year is the Solemnity of Epiphany.  The coming of the magi and the gifts they bring are far from meaningless.
       The visit of the wise men to worship the Christ-child is especially important for those of us who are not descendants of the chosen people of ancient Israel.  After all, it was the Jewish people who were waiting for a Messiah, and yet, Christ comes with a mission for all people.  The wise men, from the far-off lands of the East and led by the light of a star, represent the rest of the world that Jesus came to love and save.  Epiphany, meaning a manifestation, is one of the clear moments in history when God reveals himself to all the nations.
       Our children easily put to memory the gifts of the magi: gold, frankincense, and myrrh.  If we end our reflection on the gifts there, however, we lose some of their deeper meaning.  The wise men are telling us implicitly what they believe about this child by what they give him.  Gold represents Jesus’ royal nature, that he is the King of Kings.  The three kings, as they are sometimes called, have arrived to worship someone whose power and wisdom greatly exceeds their own.  Frankincense, as its name suggests, is a type of incense that, when burned, rises as smoke to the heavens.  Still used in the Church today during important times of prayer, the smoke of burned incense represents our prayers rising up to God.  Jesus, coming as the Messiah at the Incarnation, was an answer to thousands of years of prayers that we find contained within the Old Testament.  Myrrh is the final gift of the wise men, and it reminds us that Christmas is much more than a gift-giving holiday or time for parties.  Myrrh has several uses, but one of the most prominent is as a burial perfume.  Jesus comes with a mission for salvation, and his Incarnation is inextricably linked with his coming Passion.
       Thankfully, the gifts of the magi are more memorable and meaningful than anything we give each other this time of year.  They prompt us to consider the deeper meaning of Christmas, including the foreshadowing of his demanding sacrifice.  May our celebration of Christmas continue in our hearts and homes this season, especially as we reflect upon the manifestation of Christ to the entire world.  And when Jesus manifests himself in our own lives and families, may we come to worship him the whole year, following the example of the wise men as we give him homage.