Recently I (Vic) was in the confessional, following a particularly difficult time for one of our loved ones. I confessed that Judy and I had fasted and prayed for them, but that I didn’t think God was listening.

The confessor assigned me the penance of finding and praying the Litany of Trust, and within a few minutes of arriving home, I found it on The Sisters of Life website.

When I prayed the Litany for the first time that evening, two verses spoke to me: “That You always hear me and in Your goodness always respond to me.” Jesus, I trust in You. The next verse was “That Your plan is better than anything else.”

These verses pointed out my sin. I realized I was putting handcuffs on God, seeking to impose my plan and timeline on Him. These prayers led me away from my sin into a new and deeper trust that God hears our prayers and will take care of our loved one.

A great weight fell off my shoulders.

A Brief History of The Litany of Trust

The Litany of Trust was composed by Sr. Faustina Maria Pia Bianche, S.V. and has its origins in St. Faustina’s diary. Sr. Faustina Maria, named for St. Faustina at birth, wrote that while “looking at the crucifix in my room one Friday afternoon…I had an experience that is hard to capture in words. It was as though Jesus were gently lifting my chin to look at Him. It was as if He were saying, ‘I don’t want you to give your ‘yes’ to a set of circumstances, but to Me’” (Jesus I Trust in You, pp. 1-2). It was then that she began penning the Litany of Trust.

Applying The Litany of Trust to Your Own Life

While it is easy to say the words “Jesus, I trust in You,” it’s not always easy to truly embrace that trust in Jesus. In these times of worry, we can find guidance and peace in a particular verse of the Litany: “That you will teach me to trust You.” Jesus, I trust in You. Just saying the words is a great place to start. But alongside this prayer, we’ve discovered active ways to cultivate this trust in our lives.

First, we must catch ourselves when doubt starts creeping into our minds, as it too often does. Doubt causes you to feel as though God isn’t present and that things are hopeless. In these moments, call on the Holy Spirit and invite our Blessed Mother to pray the Litany of Trust with you to help you through this time of doubt.

Next, recall a moment when Jesus was acting in your life. Perhaps you didn’t realize it at the time, or it seemed like He wasn’t listening, but now you can see His hand at work. Jesus often doesn’t give you what you ask for when you ask for it; instead, He gives you something much better than you could ever imagine. Being open to His way allows Him to impact your life, which then increases your trust in Him. “That Your plan is better than anything else.” Jesus, I trust in You.

The Litany of Trust At Work in Our Lives

I (Judy) have learned that lesson many times. The first time was early in our marriage when Vic was about to be discharged from the Army and was looking for a job. I prayed and prayed to move closer to our families, but Jesus seemed not to be paying attention to my pleas.

Vic received two job offers. One was at an army ammunition plant close to our families, and the other was in a different state more than eight hours away from our families. Selfishly, I wanted him to accept the job that was close by. Then I finally let go, stopped trying to put handcuffs on Jesus, and accepted His Will.

God guided Vic to take the job eight hours away. A few months later, the laboratory where Vic would have been working was destroyed in an explosion, and the man who had taken the job was seriously injured. Jesus, I trust in you. Fortunately, the job Vic ended up taking led him on a path to a very rewarding career.

We’ve also found that just praying the words “Jesus, I trust in You” whenever we have concerns throughout our day helps to keep His promises in our minds and allows us to let go and trust Him. And with this trust comes peace, which floods our hearts and minds like nothing else ever could!

Growing in Trust

I (Vic) pray the entire Litany of Trust every day, and I always find that one or more verses speak to my current situation directly. Here are some recent examples:

• On a day when I perceived I had been treated unjustly, the verse “That you give me the grace to accept forgiveness and to forgive others” stopped me in my tracks. At that moment I knew that I must forgive and pray for the one whose perceived unjust offense had been bothering me. Jesus, I trust in You.
  
  
• While I was patting myself on the back for some achievement I had accomplished, the verse “From the false security that I have what it takes” brought me to the realization that it was God who gave me the wisdom and strength I needed and that it was God who was responsible for “my” achievement. Jesus, I trust in You.
  
  
• When I feel remorse for a sin I have committed, the verse “That your love goes deeper than my sins and failings and transforms me” provides comfort. Jesus, I trust in You.
  
  
• When I struggle with the nearly constant pain of a medical issue, “That You are with me in my suffering” and “That my suffering, united to Your own, will bear fruit in this life and the next” prompted me to offer my suffering for the benefit of the souls in purgatory. I can forget the pain and focus on my relationship with God and what He has asked me to do today. Jesus, I trust in you.
  
  
• When faced with a call from God to do something I feel inadequate to do, the verse “That You give me all the strength I need for what is asked” removes the barriers that prevent me from answering God’s call. I remind myself as often as needed that whatever challenge I face, He’s got this, and that He loves me with His perfect love and will always have what’s best for me in His mind, even when His way differs from my preference. “That Your plan is better than anything else.” Jesus, I trust in You.

Build your trust in Jesus by focusing on each verse as you pray the Litany and seeking the meaning in that verse for your present situation. Catch yourself when you first start feeling that Jesus isn’t there. Remind yourself of all your past experiences in which Jesus has acted in your life. Don’t put handcuffs on Him. Remember that He loves you with His perfect love, which is so much more complete and powerful than your own. With trust comes peace. Jesus has got this if you just allow Him to take the reins.

Photo by Zac Durant on Unsplash

Care for the environment represents a challenge for all of humanity. It is a matter of a common and universal duty, that of respecting a common good, destined for all, by preventing anyone from using “with impunity the different categories of beings, whether living or inanimate—animals, plants, the natural elements—simply as one wishes, according to one’s own economic needs.” (Compendium of the Social Doctrine of The Church, 466)

This is what the Church’s Social Doctrine states regarding the protection of the environment.

We can imagine the spheres of human social relations, as discussed in the Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church, as if they were concentric circles: at the center is the human person, and then, gradually expanding outward, there is the family, then work, society, the international community, and finally the environment that surrounds every human being. This concerns humanity’s responsibility in its relationships—we might say—with regard to space, but there is also a dimension that extends into the future, concerning future generations.

Responsibility for the environment, the common heritage of mankind, extends not only to present needs but also to those of the future. “We have inherited from past generations, and we have benefited from the work of our contemporaries: for this reason we have obligations towards all, and we cannot refuse to interest ourselves in those who will come after us, to enlarge the human family.” This is a responsibility that present generations have towards those of the future, a responsibility that also concerns individual States and the international community. (Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church, 467)

Our responsibility toward future generations in safeguarding creation also extends to the way we produce, use, and dispose of electronic equipment. Every decision we make regarding digital devices—from purchase to repair to recycling—contributes to the environmental impact we leave for those who come after us.

Energy Footprint of Devices: Smartphones, Televisions, Laptops

It is estimated that about 80% of households have at least one PC at home, 90% have a smartphone, and the number of digital devices is constantly growing.

The main stages of a device’s production cycle and lifecycle can be summarized as follows: the extraction of rare materials, production, transportation, use, and disposal. Each of these stages has an environmental impact in terms of sustainability, the availability of rare minerals, CO2 emissions, energy consumption, and the production and disposal of hazardous waste.

The use of digital devices has a significantly lower environmental impact compared to the stages related to production, transportation, and disposal. Therefore, it is strategically more effective to focus on this aspect—namely, avoiding frequent replacement of cell phones unless necessary.

The European Union has begun to take measures to combat planned obsolescence through various directives, such as requiring durability and recyclability (the Ecodesign Directive) or ensuring greater and more accessible repair options (the Right to Repair Directive).

What Is Planned Obsolescence?

Planned obsolescence is a production strategy employed by companies that decide to give a product a limited lifespan, with the aim of profiting from higher sales volumes. To achieve this in the world of digital devices, various tactics are used: updates that slow down devices, new applications that are incompatible with older hardware, and poor repairability. These policies implemented by manufacturers accelerate the cycle of replacement and new purchases.

Discarded devices contribute to the growing volume of electronic waste (e-waste or WEEE, Waste Electrical and Electronic Equipment)—including computers, phones, and household appliances—one of the fastest-growing waste streams, which requires special disposal. Inside them are toxic materials such as lead and mercury, which are harmful to the environment and human health, but also valuable raw materials (copper, gold) that can be recovered through recycling.

In fact, recovering valuable materials from discarded devices could be a way to promote sustainability. In the Dutch city of Breda, they have entrusted this task to a robot named Daisy. It was built to extract valuable materials from discarded smartphones. It is interesting to note that it is capable of recovering, from one metric ton of printed circuit boards, flexible electronics, and camera modules, the same amount of gold and copper that would otherwise have to be extracted from 2,000 metric tons of rock.

In 2022, 62 million metric tons of electronic waste were generated. The amount of electronic waste generated is increasing by 2.3 million metric tons per year. Data for 2022 show that less than 25% of the total is collected and recycled.

Temperance in the Digital Age

When it comes to smartphones, 83% of their environmental impact stems not from their use but from the production and disposal processes.

It is estimated that a cell phone is replaced, on average, every 2–3 years. This replacement rate creates a significant environmental impact that could be mitigated if the replacement of smartphones were delayed, even by just a few years.

From a Christian perspective, choosing to extend the lifespan of our digital devices is not merely an environmental decision but also an expression of stewardship of creation and the virtue of temperance. As emphasized in Laudato si’, “On Care for our Common Home,” responsible consumption and the prudent use of technology are part of our commitment to the common good and to solidarity with future generations, who have the right to inherit a world in which natural resources are not squandered through unnecessary waste.

Before replacing your smartphone, it’s worth asking yourself whether the replacement is truly necessary. Whenever possible, extending the device’s lifespan through repair, upgrades, or simply more mindful use would represent a concrete contribution to environmental responsibility.

Photo by Shawn Rain on Unsplash

The liturgical celebration of Saints Peter and Paul on June 29 is of great significance to Catholics throughout the world as well as to those of us here in the Archdiocese of Philadelphia, where our cathedral bears their names. These two followers of Jesus are often spoken of together, just as their liturgical celebration takes place jointly. Concerning this joint celebration, St. Augustine said:

One day is assigned for the celebration of the martyrdom of the two Apostles. But those two were one. Although their martyrdom occurred on different days, they were one. Peter went first, Paul followed. We celebrate this feast day which is made sacred for us by the blood of these Apostles. (Sermon 295, 7, 8)

“Sent Forth”

The very word “mission,” which we have used in the title in connection with these men, helps to explain their function in the divine plan. “Mission” comes from a Latin word which means “to send” or “sent.” Since Jesus wanted His work on earth to continue until the end of time, He founded a Church, which He would continue to guide through the presence of the Holy Spirit. He also chose individuals, who along with their successors would cooperate in His saving mission and share in His authority. These individuals were sent forth to preach and teach in the name of Jesus. Although they, as human beings, would die, their mission would not die.

This is why it is very important that we do not merely see the Church as an institution or a bureaucracy but as a living instrument in the world, called to transmit the message of Jesus. As an organized society, there will always be a need for leaders, according to God’s plan, and there will always be a certain structure in order to organize the works of the Church. However, her primary mission is to teach in the name of Jesus, transmit the grace of the sacraments, and carry on works of charity in His name.

Beginning with the Apostles, we see the Church living out her mission in the present. Many religious congregations, especially those that do missionary work, have ceremonies of commissioning, in which they send forth their members to bring the message of Jesus, following the command of Jesus, who commissioned and sent the first missionaries. When I have the privilege of ordaining new priests, I know that I am continuing the work of the Apostles as I send forth the latest in a long line of those who will preach and teach the Faith and transmit the graces of the sacraments.

Special Role of Peter and Paul

We know that Jesus sent forth all twelve of His Apostles. In fact, the true Church of Christ is present only where there is an unbroken succession and identification with the spirit of the Apostles. However, among all the apostles, Peter and Paul have always occupied a special place in the life and liturgy of the Church.

Peter professed his faith in Christ first; Paul obtained as a gift the ability to deepen its riches. Peter founded the first community of Christians, who came from the Chosen People; Paul became the Apostle to the Gentiles. With different charisms they worked for one and the same cause: the building of Christ’s Church. (Pope Benedict XVI, Homily, Celebration of First Vespers of Solemnity of the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul, 28 June 2007)

St. Leo the Great (440‑461) speaks of the fact that they are always considered and honored as a unit. He wrote: “About their merits and virtues, which surpass all power of speech, we must not make distinctions, because they were equal in their election, alike in their toils, undivided in their death” (In natali apostolorum, 69).

Of all the places throughout the world where Peter and Paul are honored, they receive the greatest veneration in the City of Rome. An ancient Christian tradition claims that their last meeting before their martyrdom took place near the site of the present St. Peter’s Basilica. It is said that they greeted and blessed each other before going to their respective deaths for the Faith and for preaching the Gospel according to the command of Jesus. When this Solemnity of Peter and Paul is celebrated in Rome, it does not have the characteristic of a historical recollection or mere celebration of the past but the celebration of a living reality. You may have seen photographs of the famous bronze statue of St. Peter in the Basilica, which has a foot worn down by being kissed in veneration by the faithful. This statue is vested on June 29, complete with Papal cope and tiara, to indicate our belief that although Peter was put to death on this very spot two thousand years ago, the office of Peter lives in his successor.

There is another ceremony which takes place on this day which reminds us of the living mission of the Church, which will be fulfilled until the end of time. Several years ago, I wrote about the pallium in this column. The pallium is a wide band made from the wool of lambs blessed on the feast of St. Agnes. These pallia are placed under the main Altar of St. Peter’s, at the place believed to be the actual burial site of St. Peter. On or near June 29, the pope bestows them upon all those who have been named archbishops in the previous year because the pallium is the sign of the jurisdiction of an archbishop. I have had the privilege of receiving the pallium twice: once after becoming the Archbishop of St. Louis and then again when I became the Archbishop of Philadelphia. This ceremony is a wonderful sign of the continuity of the mission of the apostles, as the archbishops go throughout the world to preach, teach and sanctify in the name of Jesus.

Our Cathedral Basilica

Saints Peter and Paul also have a special significance for us here in the Archdiocese of Philadelphia because our cathedral bears their names. It is wonderful to note that here in what was referred to as the “New World,” the Gospel was planted in union with Peter and Paul. Eighteen‑hundred years after their martyrdom, the principal church of what would become the Archdiocese of Philadelphia was given the names of those who first went forth to preach the Gospel in obedience to Jesus’ command.

You may know that the word cathedral comes from the Latin word cathedra, meaning chair. This is because the principal church of a diocese contains the Chair of the Bishop of that diocese. It reminds us that from the bishop, a successor of the Apostles appointed by the successor of St. Peter, others are sent to aid him in the preaching of the Gospel.

A reminder of this fact may be found in the Holy Oils that are used in the administration of certain sacraments. There are three different kinds, and they are blessed by the bishop of a diocese, usually on Holy Thursday morning. Then they are distributed to all the parishes of the diocese to be used throughout the year. In this way, I can be spiritually present to all of you as the priests and deacons who assist me in my mission bring the sacraments to you.

Among the many beautiful works of art in our cathedral are two fine mosaics placed on the wall behind the main altar. One depicts an image of St. Peter and the other of St. Paul. Behind the image of St. Peter, we see St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, and behind the image of St. Paul, the image of the Roman Basilica of St. Paul Outside the Walls is found. What a marvelous reminder that we share in the Faith preached by Peter and Paul! Not only has Rome been sanctified by their preaching and martyrdom, but the Faith they preached has also been preached to us.

I hope that we can all use our celebration of the Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul as a way to give thanks for the gift of the Faith entrusted to Peter and Paul and handed on to us.

Image from Wikimedia Commons

“Have I ever witnessed a miracle?” is a worthwhile question in our Western culture dominated by rationalism, materialism, and scientism, as many skeptics and agnostics—and even some Christians—believe miracles impossible.

A miracle, according to Merriam-Webster, is “an extraordinary event manifesting divine intervention in human affairs.” The Catechism of the Catholic Church provides a bit more texture in its definition: “A sign or wonder, such as a healing or the control of nature, which can only be attributed to a divine power.” These definitions show us it is possible to cultivate our minds and hearts in a way that the obvious answer becomes a resounding “Yes!” Miracles do occur, and we can know them.

The first step in training our minds and hearts is to examine the biblical record, which is replete with miracles, in both the Old and New Testaments.

Old Testament Miracles

A non-exhaustive list from the Old Testament includes Sarah’s conception of Isaac by Abraham when she was past child-bearing age (Gen. 18:9-15; 21:1-7); the flaming bush on Mount Sinai that was not consumed (Ex. 3:1-2); the Israelites crossing the Red Sea dry-shod (Ex. 14:21-22); the provision of manna from the sky (Ex. 16) and—even more astounding—water springing forth from a rock (Ex. 17); the flow of the Jordan River ceased so Israel could cross into the Promised Land (Josh. 3:15-17); the collapse of Jericho’s walls (Josh. 6); the sun standing still for a whole day (Josh. 10:13-14); the defeat of a well-trained soldier by a young boy with only a stone (1 Sam. 17); Elijah bringing back to life the son of the widow of Zarephath (I Kg. 17:8ff); Elijah’s defeat of the prophets of Baal (1 Kg. 18:20-40). The manifestation of divine power and control over nature is on full display.

Gospel Miracles

The catalogue of miracles is lengthened by the Gospel narratives, which identify Jesus as the fulfillment of the miracles in the Old Testament. The crucial miracle is the Incarnation. “The Grand Miracle,” as C.S. Lewis refers to it in his book, Miracles, is the pivotal moment in salvation history when Jesus, who was “in the form of God,” “emptied himself” and was “born in the likeness of men” (Phil. 2:5-11). This event is certainly a divine intervention in human affairs, a wonderful sign that only God could do to bring healing to humanity. “Every other miracle,” Lewis writes, “prepares for this, or exhibits this, or results from this.”

Even before the Incarnation, St. Luke tells of the miracle of John the Baptist’s conception in the womb of Elizabeth, who was thought to be barren and past child-bearing age (Lk. 1:5-25). That miracle pointed directly toward the conception of the God-Man in the womb of a virgin in Nazareth (Lk. 1:26-38).

Jesus exercises control of nature by turning water to wine, and by walking on water and calming storms. Miraculous healings of blind persons, lepers, and invalids occur throughout all four Gospel accounts. There are multiple feeding miracles, in which Jesus supplies food for large crowds, exhibiting God’s desire to feed the bodies and souls of all people through His Divine Son.

Jesus raised multiple persons from the dead (Lk. 7:11-17; Jn. 11:38-44), which ultimately pointed to the miracle for which He came, His Resurrection. All these miracles exhibit God’s control over nature and, more importantly, His condescension to humans—that is, His climbing down to be with them, to relieve their suffering, and to bring them to eternal life.

The Miracles of Jesus’ Followers

The miracles do not cease with Jesus, though. During the Last Supper, Jesus promises the Apostles, “…whoever believes in me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do… Whatever you ask in my name, this I will do… If you ask me anything in my name, I will do it” (Jn. 14:12-14). At the end of his Gospel account, St. Mark records Our Lord predicting specific miracles that will be performed by His followers, such as casting out demons, speaking in new tongues, healing sick persons, and being spared the effects of poison (cf. Mk. 16:17-18).

The promise is clear: followers of Jesus will have the ability to manifest divine power in extraordinary ways because of their relationship with Him. Lewis names these the “Miracles of the New Creation” because they are performed by those who have access to the Christian grace and the resurrected life.

The catalogue continues in the Acts of the Apostles, beginning at the Jewish feast of Pentecost. There we witness the Apostles communicating in languages they have never known before (Acts 2:5-6). Soon after, we read of the healing of a lame beggar, which recapitulates several details of Jesus’ healings (Acts. 3:1-10). Many “sick and those afflicted with unclean spirits” are healed by Peter’s shadow as he walked by (Acts 5:12-16). Immediately following those miracles, “an angel of the Lord opened the prison doors [where they were being held] and brought them out…” (Acts 5:17-19). These miracles were not possible because the Apostles exercised their own control over nature, but because Jesus had bestowed the power of the Holy Spirit in which the Apostles were participating. Thus, apostles extend the Lord’s ministry through time and space.

Because of the biblical pattern, we can know that the miraculous work of Jesus extends down through the centuries, even to us. In the early-third century, Origen preached a series of homilies on the Book of Joshua, commenting on the Israelites’ crossing the Jordan River into the Promised Land. “And do not imagine,” he said, “that these deeds are only in former times and nothing so great as this is brought forth in you who are now the hearer of them.” Origen means that we will continue to witness miracles throughout the unfolding of history, specifically because Jesus is at work through His Church, empowering disciples by the movement of the Holy Spirit and the grace of the sacraments.

Training Ourselves to See Miracles

Therefore, if our spirits are trained to see them, we ought to expect to witness miracles. Such training happens by two specific means. First, we ought to pray for miracles, because we believe in an omnipotent God—a God who has power over nature for whom nothing is impossible (see Lk. 1:37). This should be all the clearer to us as Jesus teaches, “Ask, and it will be given to you…” (Lk. 11:9). Yet, at the same time, we must trust that God, in His omniscience, knows better than we what will bring us to perfection.

Beyond asking for miracles, we must train our spirits in gratitude. Without this foundational virtue, we cannot recognize any of the miracles God wants to work in our lives or the lives of others. Here are some easy steps to build a habit of gratitude:

• Spend a few minutes each day cataloguing graces and blessings, even the most basic things.
• Learn to pray the examen prayer, which begins with a disposition of gratitude.
• Use these two prayers regularly, not just before or after meals:
  
  “Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive from thy bounty, through Christ, Our Lord. Amen.”
  
  “We give you thanks, Almighty God, for these and all thy benefits that we have received from thy bounty, through Christ, Our Lord. Amen.”

Ultimately, reviewing God’s miraculous works in history and cultivating gratitude daily are the first steps towards witnessing the miracles God can and will do for us and through us.

Image from Wikimedia Commons

This two-part article discusses how Christianity became a dominant force upon its emergence through the combined effects of imperial patronage, missionary endeavors, and ritual appropriation. Archaeological evidence and contemporaneous texts reveal that the aforementioned strategies were instrumental in preserving familiar sites and social functions of worship while minimizing their significance to Christian theology and ecclesiastical authority.

Expanding on this assertion, this article highlights the exact mechanisms through which Christianity achieved lasting dominance in Late Antiquity and the Early Medieval Period. In particular, I argue that two interconnected cultural mechanisms played pivotal roles in Christianity’s rise and enduring dominance:

1. The physical transformation of sacred pagan architecture through reappropriation, the incorporation of liturgical elements, and the reuse of cult sites for Christian worship.
2. The symbolic translation of pagan iconography and ritual practices into the sanctioned veneration of Jesus Christ, Virgin Mary, and the saints.

Notably, these processes preserved the social importance and emotional impact of sacred places while reinterpreting their meanings under official ecclesiastical recognition (Augustine, 2003; Ehrman, 2018).

Here, I look at three examples: the Ephesus, the Parthenon in Athens, and the Rotunda of Galerius in Thessaloniki, all of which illustrate the range of adaptive practices used from negotiated reuse to authoritative appropriation. In Christian Conversion: The Spiritual Transformation of Eastern Pagan Structures in Late Antiquity, Fallone (2013) argues that these three structures exemplify the significance of the abovementioned conversions.  

Using archaeological and architectural data with contemporaneous literary sources (passages from the New Testament, episcopal sermons, and canonical legislation), this article looks into the dynamics of conversion at the intersection of material practice and official discourse. Exploring these sites relies on material records and textual documentation, as well as comparative peripheral examples (Scandinavia and Iberia) to illustrate variations in strategies, including coercive destruction to negotiated appropriation. Archaeological syntheses and specific excavation reports provide the main material evidence, while sermons, hagiography, and legal texts offer the contemporary interpretive framework.

The Architectural Conversion and Reappropriation of Sacred Spaces

The existing environment of that time frequently served as a platform for proclaiming Christian supremacy. Conversion strategies came in many forms: temples were rededicated as churches, cult images were either removed or reinterpreted as relics, chapels or altars were inserted into pre-existing structures, and formerly ritualized areas were restructured to accommodate only Christian liturgy. Archaeological stratigraphy and architectural analysis document these interventions, and textual sources confirm current episcopal policies that prohibited pagan cults and promoted rededication (Fallone, 2013; Kaldellis, 2009; Krautheimer, 1986). These material and literary sources directed communal religious practices into Christian institutions without eradicating previous forms of devotion.

Ephesus: Reuse and Reappropriation

During Late Antiquity, Ephesus underwent structural modifications, the integration of altars and chapels, and changes in the contexts of cult statues, consistent with the Christian presence and ongoing popular devotional practices (Fallone, 2013). These correspond with textual evidence. For instance, the Acts of the Apostles describes public renunciations and the burning of magical books after conversions (Acts 19:18–20), while later ecclesiastical sources recount episcopal efforts to suppress pagan rites and sanctify popular healing practices associated with martyrs (Beard et al., 1998; Fallone, 2013). Ephesus is a good example of negotiated reuse in which physical transformation aimed to accommodate Christian liturgy while preserving sites of popular devotion.

Parthenon of Athens: A Civic Monument Transformed into a Marian Church

The conversion of the Parthenon into a church dedicated to Theotokos required internal revisions for liturgical purposes, including the introduction of an apse, the repression of cultic entrances, and the removal or relocation of religious imagery. These changes reflect Church and civic policies that limited public sacrifices and promoted the rededication of prominent urban sites (Beard et al., 1998; Kaldellis, 2009).

These architectural modifications reveal how an urban landmark’s communal identity was preserved while being redirected toward Christian liturgical calendars and episcopal authority. Therefore, this case demonstrates the political and devotional implications of such changes.

Rotunda of Galerius (Thessaloniki): Adaptive Reuse of an Imperial Monument

Taking off from this article’s earlier assertion that the physical transformation of sacred pagan sites further embedded Christianity into religious and civic life, the Rotunda’s conversion is another example of adaptive reuse authorized by imperial and ecclesiastical influences. The architectural and mosaic phases reveal the incorporation of Christian liturgical fittings and imagery, as well as the preservation of significant elements of the original monumental structure; these features indicate reuse rather than complete removal (Krautheimer, 1986; Fallone, 2013). The Rotunda exemplifies a top-down model in which imperial policy enabled Christian appropriation, and local agents converted an elite monument into an active Christian space while preserving architectural memory.

Comparative Notes: Scandinavia and Iberia

Two specific peripheral cases show a spectrum of strategies used. First, Norse conversions led by Olaf Tryggvason and Olaf Haraldsson involved the destruction of temples and idols, signaling a complete break in some contexts (“Saga of Olaf Tryggvason”). In post-Reconquista Iberia, major mosques and their furnishings were transformed into Christian spaces—a practice that merged practical reuse with symbolic appropriation (Glick, 1979). These examples indicate that, depending on the local political and demographic situations, conversion occurred at two ends of the spectrum: it is either forcefully coerced or passively negotiated.

Transformation of Imagery into Representations of Saints and Devotion to the Virgin Mary

In fact, pre-Christian practices, such as seeking healing at springs, visiting trees or stones, and leaving votive offerings, continued after formal conversion, as evidenced by material culture and clerical grievances (Caesarius of Arles, 1956; Fallone, 2013). Episcopal responses typically combined prohibition with appropriation; for example, chapels were built at former pagan worship locations and feast days and processions were instituted. With these strategies, devotional energies were redirected toward Church-sanctioned intermediaries, while simultaneously preserving the social functions and affective dynamics of traditional paganistic practices.

More importantly, religious transformation became possible through the visual and narrative translation of pagan idols. Specifically, qualities, attributes, and distinct compositional styles from pagan iconography were adapted to represent Christ, the Virgin, and/or particular saints. Furthermore, mythological themes were incorporated into hagiography and regional saint traditions, and the integration of the roles of saints previously attributed to pagan idols, such as healing, protection, and fertility, into ecclesiastical structures led to the persistence of popular devotion under Church-sanctioned conditions (Ehrman, 2018; Holland, 2019). This symbolic continuity allowed cultural memory to survive doctrinal shifts.

Nevertheless, this overall pattern of transformation does not mean the total disappearance of paganistic practices. Although the dominant existence of state backing polytheistic cults, with their statues and sacrificial rituals, declined sharply under Christian rule, patterns of seeking divine power through material objects, special places, and rituals often persisted, albeit in modified forms. Such persistent patterns led to the transformation of pagan imagery into symbols and saints.

In conclusion, Christianity achieved lasting cultural dominance through the two complementary strategies involving the architectural conversion of pagan sacred sites into Christian places of worship and the selective adaptation of pagan imagery and religious practices into the veneration of Christ, the Virgin Mary, and the saints. The reuse and conversion of sacred spaces demonstrated how temples are converted into churches or stripped of cult statues—ongoing acts interpreted as a symbolic victory in how Christian worship replaced idol worship in these locations. Upon the conversion of these sites, people continued to seek healing or protection at the same locations, but now under Christian patrons, such as saints and the Virgin Mary.

Ultimately, conversion was facilitated through selective continuity and suppression, simultaneously preserving sites and distinct roles that addressed civic needs while redefining their meanings within the framework of Christian doctrine.

Photo by Jeffrey Zhang on Unsplash

In this Sunday’s Gospel, Jesus gives the Twelve lessons in discipleship, both its costs and its blessings.

Gospel (Read Mt. 10:37-42)

In verses preceding this reading, Jesus perhaps startled His disciples with this warning:  “Do not think that I have come to bring peace on earth; I have not come to bring peace but a sword” (vs. 34).  The battle He describes, however, isn’t a military one.  Rather, “I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother…”  The hostility that will often follow Jesus’ disciples will appear right in the bosom of their families. 

How painful this is to experience!  How could something so inherently good—conversion to Jesus—cause such disruption in families, where our earliest and most intimate human relationships are formed?  This reading sheds some light on Jesus’ troubling prediction.

“Whoever loves father or mother more than Me is not worthy of Me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than Me is not worthy of Me.”  Now, we can see that the cause of friction in previously peaceful families is a profound change of allegiance.  In the converted person, the call of Jesus is a call out of this world—not physically, of course, but a radical redirection of love and obedience. 

The values of this world need to be forsaken for the values of a kingdom not of this world.  For the converted disciple, this can mean changes in language, in behavior, in routines of work, play, and worship.  The disciple’s relatives may find this unsettling, even insulting.  It is not hard to see why criticism and even arguments might arise. 

This should not surprise us.  Recall the word of Simeon to Mary when she and Joseph presented Jesus at the Temple:  “Behold, this Child is set for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is spoken against” (Lk. 2:34).  It is not that Jesus asks His disciples to create friction in their families.  Their allegiance to Him and to His remarkably different kingdom may simply cause discomfort and even resistance for those who aren’t His followers.  For some family members who have gotten deeply entangled in the ways of the world, the flesh, and the devil, the intrusion of light is unwelcome, for, as St. John tells us, “men loved darkness rather than light” (Jn. 3:19).

Ultimately, Jesus tells His disciples that following Him means the willing loss of everything, just as a criminal carrying his cross to his execution by the Romans loses all, including his pride.  It is good for us to remember this if we find ourselves being criticized, mocked, ridiculed, or resisted by family members because of our allegiance to Jesus.  Our response is not to fight back but to willingly embrace our cross out of love for Him and for those who, like the ones who crucified Jesus, “do not know what they are doing.”

As difficult as this teaching is for Jesus’ disciples, the next verses in our reading show the glorious nature of the work they will do in His name.  He bestows on them the highest gift—they will be as He was in this world: “Whoever receives you receives Me.”  When the Twelve carry on His mission after His departure, every act of goodness toward them would be rewarded as an act of goodness to Jesus Himself. 

Yes, opposition to them, even in their families, might be ugly, but they are never to forget that they are really and truly His very own Mystical Body here and now.  The disciples are to pray for forgiveness for those who oppose them, as Jesus did from the Cross.  On the other hand, they are to rejoice with those who show even small, seemingly insignificant kindness to them, because—“amen, I say to you, he will surely not lose his reward.”

Possible response:  Lord, let me not forget that kindness to those doing Your work is kindness to You.  Silence my sometimes-critical spirit.

First Reading (Read 2 Kgs. 4:8-11, 14-16a)

Elisha was the disciple of the great prophet of the northern kingdom of Israel, Elijah.  We learn of “a woman of influence” who invited him to dinner.  Because he often passed by her home, she suggested to her husband that they furnish a spot for him to stay the night.  Elisha was touched by her generosity and kindness, so he asked her servant if he could be of help to her in any way.  The servant told him about the woman’s barrenness, so Elisha called for her and promised, “This time next year you will be fondling a baby son.”

Here is an example of what Jesus taught His disciples in our Gospel reading.  God rewarded the woman with what she most wanted in life and yet, apparently, had never mentioned to Elisha.  The servant had to inform him about her infertility.  This suggests the absolute lack of self-interest or expectation of any return on her hospitality.  She wasn’t thinking of anything but offering kindness to the prophet.  Her reward was very great!

Possible response:  Lord, help me to be as self-forgetful as this woman in caring for Your servants.

Psalm (Read Ps. 89:2-3, 16-19)

The psalmist is eager to declare what ought to be on our lips when reading the lectionary:  “Forever I will sing the goodness of the Lord.”  He remembers all the kindnesses God had shown His people.  They have known that “through [His] justice, they are exalted.”  The psalmist declares “the promises of the Lord I will sing forever.”  We should recall the promises Jesus makes in our Gospel that no kindness ever shown to those He has commissioned will ever be forgotten or left unrewarded.  That should make us sing, too.

Possible response:  The psalm is, itself, a response to our other readings.  Read it again prayerfully to make it your own.

Second Reading (Read Rom. 6:3-4, 8-11)

St. Paul gives us some insight into why, upon our conversion, our allegiance is radically altered:  “We who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into His death.”  So, St. Paul tells us, “you, too, must think of yourselves as dead to sin and living for God in Christ Jesus.”  This will most certainly make us seem like misfits in this world.  Discipleship will do that to us.  Are we ready for this?

Possible response:  Lord Jesus, forgive me for the times when I have tried to find life in old sinful habits.  No wonder that always leads to pain.

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I was ministering to a young woman recently who confirmed something for me that I’d been hearing about in different circles. She said young women are having a hard time in young adult groups because they are filled predominately with young men who want to argue religion and politics incessantly. Fueled by social media and the desire to one-up others, this constant debating is starting to turn women away from these groups. This is important to acknowledge and confront because we are starting to lose more and more young women from the pews.

Young women are becoming more difficult to minister to. This is fueled by a variety of factors such as feminist ideology, secularism, and the rise in occult practices among young women. This young woman I was talking to told me that she constantly sees witchcraft, how-to videos on spell casting, tarot readings, etc. all over her social media feeds. This has been an issue that multiple people in the Catholic world have been trying to draw attention to, but in the area of deliverance ministry, the Church is woefully under-ministering in age when the need is becoming greater and greater.

While young men engage in constant online battles about theology and politics, women are turning away from the Faith towards other practices that promise them power and their own religion. These young women don’t want to engage in constant theological battles and often will leave young adult groups because of this overemphasis.

Theological debates and discussions are a good thing, but they cannot be the sole option for forming community. The danger is for faith to remain a primarily intellectual affair that fails to root deeply within the heart and soul. These debates in a digital age are often fueled by pride and anger—not by a desire to lead souls to Christ.  I know because back in my early days of social media, I often did the exact same thing. This burns more bridges than it builds, which is one of the many reasons why we now find ourselves in a polarized and atomized society filled with lonely young people.

In speaking with this young person, she hit on an issue that I have observed for many years. It is much easier to engage in endless debates (monologues) on theological issues than it is to enter the sufferings and wrestling in people’s lives. It isn’t particularly courageous to one-up someone on social media. It takes tremendous courage to go into the dark places where so many people are living right now.

Going into those places also requires something we struggle to give in our much-too-fast-paced age: time. True accompaniment, as opposed to the cheap counterfeit, requires time. To truly reach souls we must be willing to give of ourselves and our time. There are no quick fixes to the evils and troubles of our age. Sin is messy. It is difficult to lead people out of deeply entrenched patterns of habitual sin. It is hard to free people from the lies they have been told.

Young people have grown up without having a lot of people they can trust in their lives. The family is breaking apart in our culture. Many young people come from divorced families or families where the parents never married. This has created a tremendous amount of instability, insecurity, and distrust. Multiple young people I’ve ministered to over the years didn’t know that people like my husband and me existed. They had never known gentle love and patience in their failings before. Many of them have suffered horrible abuse and grown up in environments where nothing is given freely—there is always a catch.

Our theological debates can’t begin to enter the agonies of these young people. It may be helpful to some theologically inclined young people, which I’ve also witnessed, but even with them it is the time and dedicated love that has propelled them forward on the path to deeper union with Christ. One of them is sitting in my living room tutoring my daughter in Spanish as I write. He knows that he can come to me with anything, and I will do my best to help. He knows that I genuinely love him as a spiritual son.

What these young people in our pews and around our towns need is for us to put our social media away, to shut off our phones, and to start talking to them. They need us to see them. The young person who stumbles into our church, sitting alone in the pew, needs us to reach out. To enter a relationship with him or her that leads to a place of encounter and healing in Christ.

Young men who are running young adult groups should look around and see if all their endless debates have alienated the women in the group, or if others have left because of the direction its taken. Community is not only about sharing ideas; it is about sharing our lives, which includes the crosses and sufferings we carry. I have written endlessly about how we do not minister to the suffering enough as a Church. We keep the suffering at arm’s length, or sadly, ignore it.

Ultimately, we are all desiring to be known and loved. We want to be loved through our sufferings and difficulties. To save souls we have to go into that brokenness for long periods of time. While there are countless good initial evangelization initiatives in the Church today, I’m always left wondering what we are going to do in the long run to help people continue on the path when first fervor ends. First fervor fades quickly, especially when the inevitable sufferings of this life happen, or when we discover we are much weaker than we thought regarding certain sins.

This is when many people falter or fall away. The theological debates between the guys at the young adult group won’t do much for the young woman who is recovering from a sexual assault or an abusive childhood. This is very common. It doesn’t help young people who are trying to overcome an addiction to pornography, anxiety, depression, death of a loved one, chronic illness, the rising costs of everything, anxiety about AI, sexual questions, etc.

As I wrote last week, it is Christ’s love that heals us. Young people need to know that they are loved by those of us who follow Christ, which allows them to know they are loved by Christ in a deeper way. Theological debating is often a way to avoid vulnerability and the raw realities of sin and evil in this life. It has a place, but not the primary place in the spiritual life. Young men need to be taught that it is prayer, not endless theological debate, that will lead them closer to Christ.

Those of us who are older can help young people build healthier relationships and communities through our love and support. We need to start inviting young people into our lives and homes. Both young men and women need the guidance of Christians who are at different stage of the spiritual journey.

We are the Mystical Body of Christ. We are called by Christ to live in deep communion. That communion cannot be fulfilled through constant digital battles. It can only be lived fully by in-person relationships grounded in the love of Christ. We can help them navigate the deeper waters of union with Christ. We can reveal to them the healing love of Christ so they can go out to build deeper relationships with other young people.

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Rejoice in the Lord always. I shall say it again: rejoice! (Phil. 4:4)

You can sense it almost everywhere now. The exhaustion and misery of a civilization that has forgotten how to hope. Watching the news, scrolling through social media, or checking in on X to see what’s going on in the world is an excellent way to bring on a panic attack these days.

While the problems facing modernity seem to be reaching an apex of disorder and evil, the fact is that we are no worse today than our ancestors were generations ago. Each generation tends to see its struggles as unique and far more consequential than those faced by people throughout history.

This is natural to the human psyche. While we can reach back to the stories we learned from our parents and grandparents, and remember the lessons we learned in history class, ultimately, stories and lectures are all that they are. Lived experiences place a much more visceral mark on the heart and on the soul.

So, we go about our lives imagining ourselves at the pinnacle of human suffering, regardless of evidence that points to the contrary. Within this lens of existence, joy and peace are castigated as the luxuries of those who create an environment of misery and injustice. What are the faithful to do on this battlefield of darkness?

Let me introduce you to chara.

Chara is a Greek word that is best translated as a deep joy and contentment that emanates from spiritual peace. Chara is the kind of joy that does not merely pull us out of a momentary bad mood or alleviate the ache of a lousy day. While it does do those things, it does so because it is an integral part of the character of the individual who sees all trials and tribulations, whether personal or part of the larger collective, as opportunities to lean on Christ and grow their relationship with Him.

Chara exists within the heart of the person who is certain that Christ’s death and resurrection did exactly what the Church teaches they did. Why should we worry when humanity’s ultimate worry, death, no longer has its sting?

The truth is, Christianity was never meant to create fearful, joyless people. On the contrary, those who claim Christ as their Lord are called to live outside of the world in a manner that stands in stark contrast to the darkness of a fallen humankind, by publicly displaying their joy and confidence in Jesus.

Catholics are commissioned with a difficult task, to be sure. On Sundays, gathered together at Mass, it can seem as though we are deep in the belly of the ark. While the flood rages outside, we are confident in the knowledge that the vessel we face down the storm in is blessed and structurally sound. Our individual lights shine together and radiate the ultimate light that emanates from the Eucharist.

However, when Mass ends, our light heads out into a dark world, and what was illuminated and warm for an hour or so becomes colder and dimmer as we head deeper into the secular avenues of our lives. And while that may seem grim and depressing, it should be the exact opposite. In those dark corners of the world in which we are called to operate daily, our light can be the vivid contrast needed so very desperately.

The fact is, we tend to underestimate our light and its impact in the day-to-day drudgery of modern life. We don’t necessarily see the routine as the possibility of changing the trajectory of the day for someone in some small way through our interactions. We don’t see how that change can be the change needed in their lives, which facilitates a new way of looking at the world. We don’t think about how those seemingly meaningless, random encounters are often the catalysts that bear spiritual fruit in their lives and the lives of those they interact with. We do not see how we are called to be miracle workers for Christ.

Joy is something that flows naturally into the hearts of the faithful from the light and graces of Heaven. We only need to allow it entrance to our souls and ensure a place for it by intentionally curating it in our lives. The temptation can be to act joyfully because we think we should. Not because we are actually feeling and experiencing joy. When we force it, it appears to be forced, and those who observe the act clock it for exactly what it is. Namely: a poorly executed performance. When we live it, it becomes contagious, and those whom we encounter not only observe it, but experience it as well.

The surest way to integrate true chara into our lives is to first and foremost learn how to trust Jesus in a way that we may not have thought possible. True joy and peace in the Lord come from not only believing, but knowing that He loves you with an intensity that we cannot comprehend with our human intellect. There is nothing He will not do for us, no sin He will not forgive us, and no peace He would deny us. Joy stems from trust.

As Catholics, we are very fortunate to have a wealth of holy people and saints to learn from in our desire to become more trusting. St. Faustina, Blessed Mother, St. Peter, and St. Therese of Lisieux are particularly powerful intercessors when it comes to beseeching the Lord for the gift of childlike trust in Him.

Reading the Bible is also enormously important if anyone is earnestly attempting to cultivate a deep trust in Christ. Story after story of God the Father coming to the aid of His people, even when they were distraught and in supreme anguish, permeate the Old Testament. Our God is a warrior, a savior, our greatest love, and our best friend. Trusting in Him completely is the greatest devotion we can offer Him of ourselves. Lord, while the whole world might seem as if it is crumbling all around us, your Cross doesn’t tremble. Jesus, I trust in you!

The beauty of chara is that it is not only attainable through deep scriptural study or endlessly pouring over the lives of the saints. It is attained through seeing our lives as a gift and a challenge to shine Christ’s light through our words and actions. When we trust God with our whole being, we begin to see every aspect of a day as not only another moment in the course of going about our business, but as a gift with endless potential. Adopting joy as our cornerstone not only promotes an authentic witness to Christ, but it also elevates the Church beyond a global structure that determines how we worship, and points to it as the blazing furnace within our hearts that fuels us to go on, fearlessly.

The world today seems to want to tamp down joy. If the world had its way, Jesus’ story would have ended on Golgotha. However, it most assuredly did not. Christianity does not end with the Cross, but thrives in His resurrection. In a world that is convinced that joy is fragile, temporary, and even improper and pretentious, Catholics proclaim something astonishing: joy has a name. It is Jesus. And He is still alive.

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This two-part article examines how Christianity gradually displaced paganism and idol worship throughout Europe from late antiquity into the early Medieval period. Part 1 of this article describes the religious landscape of the pre‑Christian world and discusses the formation of a distinct Christian identity in direct opposition to paganism. The article also examines how imperial patronage helped suppress ancient cult practices and how missionary activity and local pastoral work promoted conversion, reshaped popular religion, and reconfigured social and religious values, gradually shifting everyday practices toward Christian traditions and beliefs. Some of the critical reasons for this achievement will be discussed in Part 2. 

The Pre‑Christian Religious World

Before Christianity emerged, many communities in Europe, the Mediterranean, and beyond practiced various polytheistic practices, including the worship of multiple deities through rituals and offerings, which were often conducted in temples and sacred sites. Despite their differences, these polytheistic practices had one thing in common: they centered on linking gods and goddesses with specific aspects of nature and human existence, such as agriculture, fertility, war, seasonal transitions, elemental forces, and the afterlife. 

The ancient Greeks worshipped deities such as Hera and Zeus, while the Romans adopted their worship and renamed them Juno and Jupiter, respectively. Germanic and Norse communities revered deities such as Odin and Thor, and the Egyptians worshipped Isis and Osiris.

Polytheistic religions shared further distinct characteristics, such as the worship of cult idols and temples, celebrations of festivals honoring these deities, and the practice of animal and food sacrifices. These rituals were deeply ingrained in political and social life: magistrates or monarchs served as officiants; civic authorities organized public sacrifices; and calendar festivals served as highlights of communal activities (MacMullen, 1984).

Many believed that honoring gods and goddesses was essential for achieving agricultural abundance, prosperity, military triumph, and even protection from natural disasters. Understandably, the emergence of Christianity as a monotheistic religion in this context posed an existential challenge to widely held beliefs about divine plurality and public worship.

Early Christian Identity, Anti‑Paganism, and Imperial Support

Christianity began with a singular bold claim: only one true God exists; thus, the worship of other deities is both redundant and spiritually dangerous. This claim, which defines a distinct Christian identity, was an uncompromising monotheism that set the Christian community apart from the prevailing polytheistic beliefs of the time. 

The use of the term “pagan” by early Christians as a catch‑all label for non‑Christians was a rhetorical gesture that grouped multiple traditions into a single negative category (Gill, 2024). This language also revealed a growing Christian identity that was strongly opposed to the idol-worshipping practices of its adversaries.

Notably, Christians’ rejection of paganism was motivated by biblical prohibitions on idolatry. For instance, the Ten Commandments prohibited having “other gods” and creating images for worship (Ex. 20:3–4). Early Christians interpreted these texts as a rejection of the widespread worship of idols at the time and refused to participate in sacrificial rituals for the traditional gods of the Roman Empire. Although this contributed to their persecution over the first three centuries, it also strengthened Christian identity as a community distinct from pagan religions (MacMullen, 1984).

In 313 AD, when Emperors Constantine and Licinius jointly issued the Edict of Milan, this granted legal toleration to Christianity and officially ended the ongoing persecution of Christians. This Act enabled Christians to worship openly, laying the stage for further integration between imperial authority and Christian institutions (Wright, 1990). Christianity dominated the landscape in the decades that followed, particularly as bishops began to play important advising roles at court, and churches were granted certain privileges and financial support.

Emperors also went beyond tolerance and actively promoted Christian religious policies. For example, the Edict of Thessalonica (February 27, AD 380) issued by Emperor Theodosius I (“Edict of Thessalonica,” n.d.) restricted offerings to traditional gods, prohibited ritual performances, and discouraged all forms of public pagan worship. By the end of the fourth century, Christianity had been recognized as the official religion of the Roman Empire, spurred also by the passage of laws increasing the penalties for paganistic practices (Athanassiadi, 1993).

Many temples were destroyed or converted during this time period: the Serapeum of Alexandria, a major temple dedicated to the god Serapis, was demolished in 391 AD due to the conflict between Christian and pagan groups (Haas, 1997; “Serapeum of Alexandria,” n.d.), while the Temple of Juno Caelestis in Carthage was later converted into a Christian church (“Temple of Juno Caelestis,” n.d.).

These closures shifted the religious landscape, with basic elements of pagan worship, such as temples, images, and sacrifices being destroyed or repurposed under Christian institutions, marking the decline of traditional paganism and the growing authority of Christianity (MacMullen, 1984). As imperial support reinforced Christianity’s legal and institutional supremacy, the next stage of transformation relied on missionary work and local pastoral efforts that went beyond urban centers and imperial decrees.

Missionary Activity and Sociocultural Transformation

Indeed, imperial legislation alone does not explain the decline of pagan religious systems. Missionary activities and local pastoral work were critical to the continued spread of Christianity and its influence on religious life, especially in rural regions beyond the Roman Empire’s borders (Olsen, 2007).

Christian missionaries reached Ireland, Scandinavia, and parts of Germany, preaching the gospel and founding churches within and beyond the ancient Roman territories. As they spread the Word of God, they used biblical doctrines to question the legitimacy of idol worship and advocate the virtues of singular devotion to the Christian God. For instance, St. Patrick introduced and consolidated Christian beliefs among populations with pre-existing indigenous traditions in fifth-century Ireland (Biography.com Editors & Piccotti, 2023), while St. Boniface worked among Germanic communities in the eighth century (Birx, 2025). Their teachings reinforced the idea that pagan cult artifacts and sacred spaces were inferior to the authority of the Christian God.

Notably, conversion did not occur instantaneously. In many areas, missionaries dedicated years to building relationships by learning local customs and teaching. As they gained locals’ trust, the missionaries erected churches and monasteries, serving as centers of instruction, liturgy, and social assistance. The conversion of rulers also had a cascading effect: when kings or local elites adopted the new religion, their subjects often complied for several noteworthy reasons, including loyalty, political interests, or desire to maintain social cohesion. Therefore, royal or aristocratic conversions served as catalysts for change, demonstrating the relationship between evolving power dynamics and loyalty, alongside ongoing Christianization.

Over time, as Christianity’s status and institutional authority grew, its theological framework began to shape societal expectations. Church authorities suppressed superstitious practices by pastoral guidance, sermons, and even legal action in some cases (Athanassiadi, 1993; Rampton, n.d.).

More importantly, Christian churches gradually replaced temples as the focal points of community life, serving not only as places of worship but also as centers for civic activities, education, and moral guidance. Traditional festival calendars eventually redirected focus toward Christian feasts and the observance of saints’ days. As new generations were raised in a Christian environment, Christian doctrines and practices, including Christian-inspired art, became the norm. Consequently, many ancient cults lost institutional support and religious credibility (MacMullen, 1984).

Through these events, Christianity overpowered the polytheistic religions that once dominated ancient religious life (Athanassiadi, 1993; MacMullen, 1984). As will be explored in Part 2 of this article, Christianity achieved lasting dominance in Late Antiquity and the early Medieval period through two complementary strategies: the architectural conversion of pagan sacred sites into Christian venues and the selective adaptation of pagan imagery and religious practices into the veneration of Jesus Christ, the Virgin Mary, and the saints.

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Fear no one.

That was Christ’s command to the Twelve after He told them they were going to be flogged in synagogues and dragged before governors and kings. That would be the fate of the Twelve, Christ’s hand-picked confidants, His band of brothers.

Band of Brothers was a highly acclaimed miniseries released 25 years ago (2001). Based on a book of the same name, it told the true story of a U.S. Infantry regiment during World War II. It featured farm boys and city boys, green recruits at basic training in Georgia, who became seasoned veterans at the end of the war in 1945.

In one scene in a dark, bombed-out forest in France, a young private gives an unsolicited confession to a feared young captain from Boston, named Ronald Speirs. Captain Speirs has a reputation for being murderously ruthless. He is none too fond of taking German prisoners and has a very low tolerance for misbehaving American soldiers.

The private tells Captain Speirs that on D-Day, when they parachuted behind enemy lines into Normandy, he did not try to join up with his company and fight. Instead, he took a nap in a ditch. Captain Speirs stares at the private and says, “What’s your name soldier?” And the private softly answers, “Blithe, Albert Blithe.” Speirs then asks, “You know why you hid in that ditch, Blithe?” Blithe sheepishly says, “I was scared.” And Captain Speirs replies:

We’re all scared. You hid in that ditch because you think there’s still hope. But Blithe, the only hope you have is to accept the fact that you’re already dead, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you’ll be able to function as a soldier is supposed to function. Without mercy, without compassion, without remorse. All war depends on it.

Many today would argue Captain Ronald Speirs’ speech was quite morbid. But was Speir’s speech much different than what St. Paul wrote to the Romans?

Are you unaware that we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were indeed buried with Him through baptism into death…Consequently, you too must think of yourselves as dead to sin and living for God in Christ Jesus. (Rom. 6:3-4, 11)

Do you think of yourselves as already dead? Listen to Christ:

…and whoever does not take up his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. (Mt. 10:38-39)

At the Offertory Rite, I remove the chalice veil, symbolizing the stripping of Christ’s garments and preparation of the Lamb for sacrifice. I pour wine into the chalice, which will become His Blood. Then I pour a drop of water into the chalice. That represents you. It means you’ve come here to die.

For centuries, directly before the pouring of wine and water, the priest held up the host (bread), looked up at the crucifix, and silently prayed:

Accept, O Holy Father, Almighty and Everlasting God, this unspotted Host, which I, Thy unworthy servant, offer unto Thee, my living and true God to atone for my countless sins, offenses, and negligences: on behalf of all here present and likewise for all faithful Christians, living and dead, that it may avail both me and them as a means of salvation, unto life everlasting. Amen.

The priest prayed this prayer, essentially unchanged since the 800s. In 1970, it was changed to this:

Blessed are you, Lord God of all creation, for through your goodness we have received the bread we offer you: fruit of the earth and work of human hands, it will become for us the bread of life.  

Does that sound like the preparation of a sacrificial victim for death? No, it sounds like a blessing before a meal. Bless us O Lord, and these thy gifts… And that is what it is. It’s cobbled together from a 5^th century A.D. Jewish “enjoyment” blessing found in the Talmud. Did the bishops at Vatican II vote to change the centuries-old offertory prayer to a meal prayer? No. A committee of modernist-types, in non-synodal fashion, pushed that through a few years after Vatican II ended, after all the bishops had already gone home.

And in doing so, the committee helped bring on a paradigm shift at Holy Mass, in effect turning the priest into a presider, and the sacrifice into a supper. The thing about being invited to suppers is that you do not have to go. But God commanded we publicly offer Him sacrifice. Do you understand then why your friends and family aren’t going to Mass today? We’ve had three generations now conditioned to believe that Mass is nothing more than a “fraternal banquet” and a “nice service.” Why get out of bed for that?

I have been crucified with Christ, and the life I live now is not my own. (Gal. 2:19)

Note that St. Paul did not write, “I have eaten with Christ.” And note that Christ did not say, “Take up your fork and spoon and follow me.” Note this, and understand what you are actually supposed to be doing at Holy Mass. You are here, not as a dinner guest, but as a priest to offer yourself. You are here to die. For your life is not your own. You’ve been bought, not with silver or gold, but with Blood—the Blood on Calvary, which is the same Blood in the chalice.

My friends, this is why Christ commanded us to fear Him and not the world.

The psalm states:

He grants the desires of those who fear Him, He hears their cry and He saves them.

No less than the Virgin Mary herself prayed:

He has mercy on those who fear Him in every generation.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer feared God. A German Lutheran pastor and theologian, he was hanged by the Nazis at the age of thirty-nine in 1945, two weeks before American infantry liberated the area and twenty-eight days before Nazi Germany surrendered. Bonhoeffer wrote:

When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.  

He also wrote:

Death is hell and night and cold—if it is not transformed by our faith. But that is just what is so marvelous, that we can transform death.

The Band of Brothers title given to the American infantry group in the miniseries comes from William Shakespeare. It’s a speech from England’s King Henry V, in which he rouses his outnumbered and demoralized soldiers before the big battle with France:

If we are mark’d to die, we are enough
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
But we in it shall be remember’d;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother.

My friends, we are all scared. Deep down, we’re all scared because we’ve lost the culture to the enemies of the Cross. We’re now outnumbered and demoralized. And too many of our captains have gone AWOL. They want to listen and dialogue with evil. They want to “accompany” it instead of fighting it. How then do we function as soldiers of Christ? We do so by realizing there is no hope. That’s right. There is no hope for a passing-away world. It is doomed, not made to last.

Look then to your mighty champion, your fearless warrior (Jer. 20:11), your crucified captain on the cross. Look to the one who is murderously ruthless when it comes to sin and death. Witness Him take His vengeance on it—without mercy, without compassion, without remorse. All war for souls depends on it.

Fear no one, my friends. Die to the world and live for Christ. Shed your blood with Him, and you shall be His brother. Do that, and you can transform death.

And that is what is just so marvelous.

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The phrase attributed to Mother Teresa of Calcutta, “The worst feeling: resentment,” offers a profound reflection on the human condition and the way emotions shape the course of our lives. While there are painful feelings such as sadness, fear, frustration, and loneliness, resentment has a distinctive quality: it endures over time and feeds on the memory of a wound. It arises not only from suffering itself but also from the decision—conscious or unconscious—to hold on to it. For this reason, many philosophical, psychological, and spiritual traditions regard it as one of the most destructive human emotions.

This idea gains particular strength when viewed in light of Irene Villa’s testimony. Her life is one of the most remarkable examples of resilience and freedom from resentment. In 1991, at the age of twelve, she was the victim of a terrorist attack that resulted in the amputation of both her legs and several fingers. Yet rather than building her life around hatred or revenge, she chose the path of forgiveness and resilience. Her experience demonstrates that even after immense suffering, it is possible to avoid becoming trapped by bitterness.

Resentment usually originates from experiences perceived as unjust. It may arise from betrayal, deception, humiliation, or any situation in which we feel deeply hurt by another person. Pain and indignation are natural initial reactions; however, when these emotions become permanent, resentment takes root. The wound ceases to belong to the past and becomes a constant presence that shapes a person’s life.

The most dangerous aspect of resentment is that it becomes an emotional prison. Those who harbor it often believe that keeping the offense alive protects them or ensures that they never forget what happened. In reality, the opposite occurs. Each time the injury is revisited, part of the original pain is relived. The harm no longer depends on the person who caused it; it is sustained by the one who continues to carry it.

Mother Teresa, who devoted her life to serving the poorest and most vulnerable, observed that many people suffered not only from material deprivation but also from deep emotional wounds. She understood that resentment and hatred can impoverish the human spirit just as poverty impoverishes the body. From this perspective, resentment becomes a form of suffering that limits one’s ability to love, understand, and live in peace.

Irene Villa’s story illustrates this truth powerfully. After the attack that transformed her life, it would have been understandable for her to develop hatred toward those responsible. Yet she has explained on many occasions that she chose not to allow resentment to govern her existence. She realized that hatred would mean remaining a victim of the attack every single day. By renouncing bitterness, she regained an inner freedom that no act of violence could take away.

From a psychological perspective, resentment consumes an enormous amount of mental energy. Those who harbor it often devote significant time to revisiting grievances, imagining arguments, or dwelling on what others should have done differently. These repetitive thoughts generate stress, anxiety, and emotional exhaustion. They can also affect physical health by disrupting sleep, increasing tension, and diminishing overall well-being.

Furthermore, resentment alters the way we perceive reality. When a person clings to an offense, they may begin to see the world through a lens of distrust. New relationships become conditioned by past experiences, and the fear of being hurt again makes it difficult to open oneself to others. In this way, an old wound ends up limiting present opportunities.

Another important aspect is that resentment often harms the person who harbors it more than the one who caused it. In many cases, the offender has moved on with life, while the resentful individual remains emotionally tied to the painful event. This paradox helps explain why so many spiritual teachings emphasize the importance of freeing oneself from hatred. The goal is not to justify injustice but to prevent it from continuing to exercise power over one’s life.

Here, the concept of forgiveness becomes essential. Both Mother Teresa and Irene Villa, though shaped by very different experiences, have emphasized its liberating power. Forgiveness does not mean forgetting or minimizing the harm that has been done, nor does it imply abandoning the pursuit of justice. Rather, it involves deciding that suffering will no longer dictate one’s thoughts and emotions. It is an act of personal freedom that allows individuals to regain control over their lives.

Forgiveness, however, is not always easy. Some wounds are deep and require time to heal. Certain experiences leave lasting scars, and their emotional impact may accompany a person for years. For this reason, forgiveness is not just a one-time choice. Instead, it might be helpful to view it as a gradual process of inner reconstruction. Each individual must travel that path at their own pace.

The idea that resentment may be the most harmful emotion can also be applied to social coexistence. Communities and nations can become trapped in cycles of collective resentment that perpetuate conflict across generations. When grievances become part of a group’s identity, building bridges of understanding becomes increasingly difficult. By contrast, processes of reconciliation show that it is possible to acknowledge suffering without remaining chained to it.

In everyday life, all of us encounter situations that test our ability to overcome resentment. Family disputes, broken relationships, workplace conflicts, and personal disappointments can all become sources of bitterness. In these circumstances, it is worth remembering that holding on to resentment rarely resolves problems. Empathy, reflection, and dialogue, on the other hand, often open more constructive paths forward.

Irene Villa’s experience offers a particularly valuable lesson. If someone who endured such a devastating tragedy was able to build a life grounded in hope, perseverance, and forgiveness, then others can find inspiration for confronting their own wounds. Her example shows that true strength does not lie in returning the harm we have received, but in refusing to let that harm define our capacity to live fully.

Ultimately, the reflection attributed to Mother Teresa remains deeply relevant. Resentment has the power to prolong suffering, occupy the mind, and restrict inner freedom. While many negative emotions gradually fade, resentment can remain alive for years if it is continually nourished. The message that emerges from both Mother Teresa and Irene Villa is therefore profoundly hopeful: forgiveness cannot change the past, but it can transform the present and open the way to a life that is freer, more humane, and more fulfilling.

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