On February 9th, 2026, seventy-eight-year-old Catholic democracy activist Jimmy Lai was sentenced to 20 years in a Hong Kong prison. His crime: advocating for freedom of speech in China. As his daughter Claire Lai stated, “he will die a martyr behind bars.”

Jimmy Lai: a name all lovers of democracy should be familiar with. If you aren’t aware of who this man is, permit me to introduce you to this fearless and peaceful Catholic freedom fighter who has inspired me by his unwavering trust in God’s will for his life.

Jimmy Lai was born in the Canton region of China in the late 1940s; his birth year and date are not exactly known, but he celebrates his birthday on December 8th, which just happens to be a Marian Catholic feast day honoring the Blessed Virgin Mary’s Immaculate Conception. Little Jimmy was not born into a Catholic family, hence this feast day was not on the parents’ radar, so to speak. The Chinese Civil War was still raging at his birth, but once the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) took over the country, Jimmy and his siblings had to fend for themselves.

At the age of twelve, Jimmy stowed away on a boat and made it to Hong Kong; this is when his destiny was shaped. He found employment in a garment factory and eventually worked his way up to a managerial position and subsequently built his Giordano empire in the fashion industry. This man proved himself to be a financial wizard, setting up a media business, Next Digital, which become Hong Kong’s largest media company. Jimmy used his media empire to criticize the Chinese government as well as blend investigative journalism, celebrity news, and political reporting, all in one.

Jimmy had seen a real need for the Chinese people to have a voice following the 1989 Tiananmen Square protest and massacre. He wasted no time in founding his groundbreaking Apple Daily pro-democracy tabloid newspaper, fearlessly criticizing China and the Hong Kong government and wanting to bring attention to the lack of democracy and freedom for his people. This did not sit well with the Chinese authorities; Jimmy Lai was a threat to their power.

I remember watching these 1989 protests and the massacre on the news. I was in my twenties back then and was riveted by the demonstrated conviction of the Chinese students that democratic freedom was worth fighting for. I was rather ignorant of all the details, but I knew enough to understand the importance of the event. To this day, Chinese freedom fighters are still being persecuted for their belief in freedom of expression and freedom of religion. Jimmy Lai is the face of democracy activism in the 21^st century.

One must understand that Jimmy was a billionaire and had become a British citizen in 1996 before the 1997 transfer of sovereignty of Hong Kong to China. He was not obliged to remain in Hong Kong; he could have fled to Europe or North America without impediment and live in relative peace and prosperity given that he knew the Chinese government was after him. He was continually being harassed and warned, yet he chose to stay and continue being a voice for democracy.

The CCP shut down his newspaper and arrested Jimmy in 2020. He was imprisoned in solitary confinement while awaiting the trial that would ultimately convict him at the end of 2025, based on a new national security law established by the Chinese government, meant to restrict free speech which could be viewed as subversive and a threat to the CCP. He has since been sentenced to twenty years in jail, which is literally a death sentence, given his age and poor health, according to his daughter Claire.

Every time I read about Jimmy Lai or hear his friends and family speak about him, I feel a sense of empathy and fellowship with him and his predicament. I live in Canada, which is enacting hate speech laws that curtail its citizens the freedom of expressing their belief-based convictions. Will I have the courage and trust in God’s Providence, like Mr. Lai, to stand firm in my beliefs, or will I let the fear of being arrested keep me silent?

Let me step back a bit, in order for readers to understand Jimmy Lai’s mindset. Long before his arrest, Jimmy had converted to Catholicism and was baptized in 1997 by none other than Cardinal Joseph Zen, Bishop Emeritus of Hong Kong, another fearless witness to the Faith and to democracy, and a close friend who has stood by Jimmy’s side throughout this entire ordeal.

Indeed, Jimmy’s faith has always played an important role in his daily decisions, including the decision to stand his ground during the events that have put him behind bars. He believes in truth at all costs. As author Mark Simon states:

It is the journey of the oppressed Christian who wakes each day, knowing that his or her faith places one in harm’s way, yet who, with awareness and forethought, kneels and prays. Mr. Lai is willing to leave Hong Kong, but not at the price of refuting his beliefs.

What a witness, not only for democracy, but for one’s faith in God!

I marvel at his absolute acceptance of God’s will. In the face of injustice and spending the rest of his life in prison, his reaction is to read the Bible, pray, and draw pictures of our crucified Lord. He has always told his supporters to remain peaceful and never resort to violence, demonstrating his complete trust in God and His commandments.

When I am presented with this type of wholehearted surrender to God’s will, I can only bow my head in silent prayer: O God, may my faith be as strong and loyal at this person’s. May Jimmy Lai continue to be sustained by his faith, his loved ones and his many supporters around the world who are praying for him as he weathers this storm. May his friends and family keep strong in their own faith as they witness the injustice being perpetrated against Jimmy.

Like the Christian martyrs before him, Jimmy is a witness. May God shower Jimmy with the graces he needs to face the future. May our crucified Lord Jesus Christ accept Jimmy’s sacrifice, in union with His own passion, and eventually call him to Himself. Thanks be to God for the heroic sacrifice of Jimmy Lai, who is fighting for all of us.

With all my love and prayers.

Marie Brousseau

Author’s Note: Jimmy Lai’s hand-drawn depictions of the Crucifixion can be viewed both here and in this World Over Live program on YouTube.

This is the abridged and updated version of the original January 2026 article “Jimmy Lai: a hero and martyr for democracy,” which can be found on the author’s blog.

Photo by Tim Hüfner on Unsplash

In our time, many Catholics are cautious about herbal medicine, fearing it may be something New Age or pagan. Or perhaps we think of it as “grandmother’s home remedies”—something people practiced when they couldn’t afford modern health care. And yet, by every measure, Americans are sicker with chronic diseases than our ancestors, generally in poorer health, and in recent years our life spans have begun to decline. We are moving in the wrong direction in terms of diet and lifestyle, and the myriad prescriptions and “well checks” seem to be doing us more harm than good. There has to be a better way…and there is!

While serious illnesses should certainly be attended to by a doctor, we can take care of ourselves and our families using the “old-fashioned” home remedies that have been tried and found true by hundreds of generations before us. Further, herbal medicine has a particularly Catholic history as well.

The early Church placed a priority on caring for the sick, and the medicine of the era was almost entirely comprised of medicinal plants. In fact, modern, chemical-based pharmaceuticals only replaced plant-based medicine in the last century. So, for the vast majority of human history, people used the plants God gave them for healing.

Jewish tradition states that the Archangel Raphael taught the descendants of Moses about medicinal herbs and their use. In the book of Tobit, we see him filling this role of healing and tradition in being the angel who “stirred” the healing waters in the pool of Siloam in the Gospels.

Regardless, Catholics in the first few centuries had access to vast resources of medicinal knowledge through Middle Eastern, Greek, and Roman traditions. The Benedictine Order especially embraced the role of care for the sick, and under the Holy Roman Emperor Charlemagne, priests, monks, and nuns were charged with establishing gardens for medicinal herbs and hospitals throughout Christendom. By the Middle Ages, every medical school and hospital was a Catholic institution.

Catholics preserved traditional knowledge of herbal medicine and innovated in the field. The first herbal book written in the Christian era was by Abbot Walafrid Strabbo, tutor to Charlemagne’s grandchildren and one of the most important Christian authors of his time. Some 300 years later, St. Hildegard von Bingen would combine herbal medicine with Catholic spirituality to create a truly unique and powerful system of healing both body and soul.

Throughout the centuries, Catholics were at the forefront of medicine, disrupted only by the so-called Protestant “Reformation” and political movements that destroyed and secularized Catholic institutions. And, even when nations were passing laws codifying that only licensed doctors could practice medicine and only licensed pharmacists could dispense medicine, Catholic priests and monks came to our rescue again. Fathers Kneipp and Kunzel, Brother Aloysius, and a devout lay-woman, Maria Treben, ensured that this knowledge would not be lost, even in the face of Nazi and communist government regulation!

So, yes, Catholics may use herbal and home remedies without fear. Not only did God declare everything He made as “good,” but He gave us the ability to learn about and use these herbs. The Book of Sirach states plainly that the knowledge of the physician (an herbalist in that era) was God-given and to be respected. And not only that, but we have a rich Catholic tradition of herbal medicine.

So, the next time you or a family member come down with a cold or sore throat, maybe you don’t have to wait hours in a crowded waiting room to spend 5 minutes with a doctor, or buy medication from a drug store that could damage your liver. You can open our book, drink a simple cup of herbal tea, say a prayer, and, in the words of St. Hildegard, “If God wills it, the patient will be healed.”

Author’s Note: In our book, Herbs that Heal: Catholic Home Remedies to Forage and Grow, we present the Catholic tradition of herbal medicine in a practical way. We call it “kitchen medicine.” We list common ailments that can be addressed at home (and often should be), give you a few easily sourced herbs that can help, and give instructions on how to use them. Many of these herbs you may have in your kitchen cabinet or growing in your backyard right now! Whether you are a complete beginner, or an experienced herbalist, we believe you will find this book very useful. It is also a good read—we mix in history, stories of saints, gardening advice and a good bit of humor!

Photo by Lisa Hobbs on Unsplash

Q&A with Mystic Alicja Lenczewska, Part 2

On May 18, as the Congregation of Marian Fathers of the Immaculate Conception marks the birthday and liturgical memorial of its founder, St. Stanislaus Papczynski, it is fitting to reflect on this. One of the Congregation’s three principal aims is to help the dead suffering in Purgatory, especially the victims of wars and epidemics.

Living in a war-torn period, St. Stanislaus witnessed thousands of casualties on battlefields, and from raging plagues and natural disasters. One day, among those graves, he had a vision of many souls who, with groans and urgent pleas, begged him never to cease helping them because they endured unspeakable pains in Purgatory.

We also witness recurring armed conflicts in which many civilians and soldiers lose their lives. For that reason, the subject of the Holy Souls seems especially timely.

Our sins incur temporal punishment in ways known fully by God and partly by our own limited, and often not properly formed, consciences. We commend a soul to God because we presume that those who die in a state of grace still require purification for all the reliquiae peccati—the remnants of sin, the effects of forgiven mortal sins, and current venial sins, from which no one is immune. That is the point of Purgatory, as its name implies, to cleanse us of our faults, even our hidden ones.

Nearly all our fellow Christians do not believe in Purgatory, because the doctrine calls for praying for the departed souls, and they hold that salvation through good works is unbiblical. What a pity, since the Holy Souls desperately need our help, sometimes leaving tangible signs of their presence.

Let us now journey through what God advised mystic Alicja Lenczewska in this regard.

WHERE IS PURGATORY?

(Saturday, November 4, 1989)

† Purgatory is not a place of residence, but a state of the soul.

THE COMMUNION OF SAINTS

(Saturday, April 11, 1987)

—O God, teach me zeal for the faith!

† Exclamation points are unnecessary; what matters is loving attachment to Me, with the trust of a child.

—How seldom, at yesterday’s gathering, did we pray for the dead. At one point, I sensed someone’s presence, so I had to begin such a prayer. While we were still together after the prayers, D. called with the news that K.—an acquaintance of ours—had died.

† My child do not ask for details. But know that the souls in Purgatory are greatly in need of help, especially at the beginning. And they turn to those from whom they can receive it. Blood ties then matter less than spiritual understanding when help is needed.

AN UNEXPECTED VISIT FROM PURGATORY

(Monday, March 16, 1987)

—I sighed with regret that I was not where the souls are whom I invite to pray with me.

*Do not envy us. You do not know how precious every moment of life is, when you can serve the Lord. Many of us would like to return even for a moment—to adore His hidden love and to show Him gratitude before knowing the whole Truth.

Now we suffer because of His wasted graces, and we feel compassion for you, who squander those graces so thoughtlessly.

—What should I do?

*Give yourself entirely to the Lord’s disposal, with boundless love and gratitude. Desire only His glory.

You will be clothed in His Love, and it will protect you like a garment from the blows of evil, like a shield.

Give Him everything; remain naked and defenceless, and He will clothe you and shelter you with His power.

He desires this and wants to take you in His arms […] so that you may share in His work of salvation. He wants to give you the grace of sharing in His sacrifice. Do not be afraid. You are in His arms—at His heart.

—What is the theme of today’s retreat, Lord?

† Following Me on the Way of the Cross.

PURGATORY ON EARTH

(Thursday, February 8, 1990)

† If you wish to follow Me and imitate Me, you do not need to invent mortifications for yourself. You must accept the evil that exists—the evil you encounter every day—and the toil that fills human life and burn it away in Love.

Each station of My Way of the Cross refers to your life, and their sequence to the path of Love’s growth and self-denial within you. Reflect on this and know that at the end there is the Resurrection—yours and that of those whom you embrace in brotherly love. Your resurrection will be measured by the extent of your sacrificial love for your brothers.

† The way of the cross in human life is purgatory on earth. Whoever accepts it will be taken to Heaven like Mary. She is the model for every person: her “fiat” to the Eternal Father’s Will, her maternal love for My children, and her spousal union with Me.

THE EFFECTS OF SIN

(Sunday, September 1, 1991)

† Mortal sin kills Me in the sanctuary of the soul of the person who has sinned. If he persists in sin, I am dead in his soul, and his soul is dead. This is a state like the one after My death on the Cross, because by crucifying Me within himself, he crucifies his own soul.

But as long as he remains in the world, he still has the possibility of the soul’s resurrection through reconciliation with Me. When he longs for Me, I will rise in his soul and save him for eternal life.

† Salvation may also come through someone else’s prayer or sacrifice because it may help him think of Me and desire Me before he is taken from this world.

The soul lives by Love. When it rejects Love, it enters a state of dying in fear and suffering. After leaving this world, the soul knows the Truth and is fully aware of its condition.

Purgatory is suffering caused by knowledge of one’s own state and of God, with the hope of returning to Him. Hell is such knowledge without that hope.

The degree of a person’s hardness determines how many prayers and sacrifices, and of what kind, are needed for that intention, so that he may receive the grace of contrition and conversion. Great hardness can be broken by great sacrifices!         

Purgatory is a concrete manifestation of Divine Mercy, and we are all called to help pour forth that Mercy on others through prayers, sacrifices, and indulgences that we can offer on their behalf. (Diary, 748)

We trust that the author of these journals, Alicja Lenczewska, was spared that state of bitter torment and misery, and we can indeed place our own hope so firmly and entirely in God’s Mercy that we will be able to grow in the likeness of the Crucified Christ in this earthly life and may not have to pass through the cleansing fire of Purgatory.

Author’s Note: Excerpts taken from Alicja Lenczewska, A Word of Instruction (Slowo Pouczenia), Testymony, (Świadectwo) published by Wydawnictwo Agape (Poznań, 2016).

Editor’s Note: This article is part of a CE original series on a twentieth-century Polish mystic, entitled Q&A with Mystic Alicja Lenczewska. Follow along here, and catch up on previous articles on Alicja’s writings here.

Image from Wikimedia Commons

One of my tasks while working at the Vatican’s Secretariat of State was to handle letters written to the pope from bishops throughout the world. I would briefly summarize their contents before forwarding them to the Holy Father so that he might decide how to respond. Although the range of concerns expressed by shepherds across the globe was vast, one was virtually universal: the transfer of Holy Days of Obligation to Sunday.

One bishop went so far as to link these transfers to a “crisis of culture,” and another to a “deep, abiding indifference toward the sacramental life.” One high-ranking cardinal asserted that “the transferal of Solemnities to Sundays, done under the pretense of tying the mysteries they commemorate more closely to Christ’s Resurrection and the Lord’s Day, is nothing less than a theological canard and a complete caving into the cultural desire for convenience, be it on the part of the laity, be it the clergy. This is a wrong that could easily be righted, and must be righted speedily and promptly.”

And yet, the only U.S. ecclesiastical provinces in which the Ascension is celebrated on a Thursday are Boston, Hartford, New York, Omaha, and Philadelphia. The rest transfer it to the succeeding Sunday. Several members of the hierarchy with whom I’ve spoken believe that celebrating the Ascension on Sunday actually enhances—not diminishes—its significance. I simply haven’t found that to be the case when talking with the faithful.

The reality is that many Catholics in the U.S. go to Mass not knowing whether it’s the 18^th Sunday in Ordinary Time or the 3^rd Sunday of Easter. They have a vague notion of what it means to be in the seasons of Advent and Lent. When they are handed a palm branch, they’re reminded that Easter comes in a week. But when it comes to the Ascension, only those who read the bulletin or listen attentively to the announcements know it’s one week away from the 6^th Sunday of Easter.

How different it would be if they had to mark it in the calendars! How much more meaningful if they had to plan their Thursday around it!

It’s true that the Ascension is intimately tied to the Resurrection. But there’s little reason to believe that the average Catholic will perceive the connection more clearly by celebrating it on Sunday rather than Thursday. Indeed, the need to go out of one’s way to attend Mass on Thursday would seem to connect both the Ascension—and the Resurrection—more closely to everyday life. I have vivid memories of attending Mass on Holy Days of Obligation as a child, certain that whatever mystery was being celebrated—be it the Ascension, the Epiphany, the Immaculate Conception, or the Assumption of Mary—was very important.

In the case of the Ascension, Leo the Great reminds us of its central lesson: “the nature which had been laid in the tomb was to sit on God the Father’s throne” (sermon 73). Leo goes on to explain that the Ascension gives us a deeper love for the sacraments: “that which till then was visible of our Redeemer was changed into a sacramental presence, so that faith might be more excellent and stronger” (ibid.). If nothing else, celebrating the Ascension on Thursday would remind us that the grace of the Most Holy Eucharist is hardly limited to one day of the week. It pervades our entire lives at home, at work, and at play.

Celebrating the Ascension on Thursday would also signify a stronger connection of the entire Easter Season with the Paschal Triduum. We would never think of transferring the Mass of the Lord’s Supper to Easter Sunday. Indeed, the beauty of Holy Week is that it lays out the mysteries of the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus over time, stretching Christ’s redemptive work across a duration both chronological and spiritual. That’s not to say that it’s absolutely imperative that the Ascension be celebrated precisely forty days after the Lord’s resurrection (though the span of those forty days is itself significant), but rather that the Lord’s ascent into heaven stands as an integral part of the Easter mystery bridging the Resurrection to Pentecost. Besides, the intervening period between the Ascension and Pentecost is at the very root of the devotional practice of novenas.  

In a culture eager to subject the human body to cybernetic manipulation and to take sexual differentiation as inconsequential (if not as an injustice) to human existence, nothing could be more important than highlighting the destiny of the body for the world to come. After Jesus’s resurrection, “his glory remains veiled under the appearance of ordinary humanity,” but his “final apparition ends with the irreversible entry of his humanity into divine glory” (CCC 659). That is precisely where we are headed, and that is precisely what a Thursday celebration of the Ascension would remind us of.

It would certainly help us carry the joy of Easter Sunday all the way through Pentecost.

On Good Friday, the church was bare, the tabernacle empty, and images covered. On the Ascension, the church is adorned in Easter white, and the faithful ring out their Alleluias. Both Good Friday and the Ascension take place on a hill: the former Calvary, the latter Bethany. Jesus extends His hands both times: on the cross at Calvary, and to bless His disciples in Bethany. Finally, Jesus was raised on high both times: on Calvary, by the hands of evil men, and in Bethany, by the hand of God the Father.

Perhaps most importantly, Good Friday and the Ascension both evoke ambivalent feelings.

As we kneel before a crucifix, it is sad to remember the suffering and pain our Savior endured on the cross, but it gives us peace and hope to know that He truly died for our sins. When we meditate on the Ascension, we join the disciples in their grief that Jesus is departing from them, but we also share their joy that His departure means they will receive power through the Advocate.

Celebrating the Ascension on Thursday would help us integrate the admixture of sorrow and joy it brings into our everyday lives.

As you drive away from campus after helping your college-bound daughter unpack, you are sad to leave her behind, but you are proud of her accomplishments and happy that a new world will open before her. As you embrace your husband before he flies off for a military tour, you are sad and anxious because you will miss him and fear for his safety, but you are proud of his bravery and sense of duty. As you mourn the loss of a parent, you are both sad of losing a dear one, but happy that mom or dad now rests in the bosom of Abraham.

In short, if Good Friday is worth a Friday, then the Ascension is worth a Thursday. For it is only by accepting Good Friday and the Ascension that we can accept such partings in faith.

Author’s Note: If you would like to express a desire to see the Ascension and other transferred solemnities restored to their rightful place, here’s where you can write:

(NB: It is very important NOT to write “Italy” on the envelope!)

Image from Wikimedia Commons

The Church has entered into that liturgical time between Ascension and Pentecost, the time of the original novena. As we journey through this time of focused prayer to the Holy Spirit, a new film will be hitting theaters nationwide May 19-20. That They May Be One is a docudrama combining commentaries and visually stunning reenactments. According to its website, it is inspired by Jesus’ prayer for unity in John 17 and “explores the theme of Christian unity across history and in the present day.”

Before getting into the film’s specifics, and in preparation for Pentecost Sunday, let us begin with some initial thoughts from the Church’s teaching on the Holy Spirit as found in the Catechism of the Catholic Church.

THE HOLY SPIRIT

The universal Catechism states that the “Church…is the place where we know the Holy Spirit” and lists eight ways we encounter the Holy Spirit within the Church: in the Scriptures He inspired, in Tradition, in the Magisterium He assists, “in the sacramental liturgy…in which the Holy Spirit puts us into communion with Christ,” in prayer, in the charisms and ministries of the Church, in the Church’s missionary work, and in the witness of the saints (CCC 688).

The Holy Spirit is a Person. “The Holy Spirit, whom Christ the head pours out on his members, builds, animates, and sanctifies the Church. She [the Church] is the sacrament of the Holy Trinity’s communion with men” (CCC 747). This connection between the Holy Spirit and the Church is not only evident in the catechism’s section on the Holy Spirit and the section on the Church, but it is also found in the catechism and the creed’s theo-logic in which the confession of the Holy Spirit comes before the Church.

Let us unpack the above concerning sacramental liturgies. “The most intimate cooperation of the Holy Spirit and the Church is achieved in the liturgy” (CCC 1108). The gift of the Holy Spirit in the Church’s sacraments brings “us into communion with Christ and so to form His Body” (CCC 1108). Every sacrament has an epiclesis, a calling down of the Holy Spirit. While there are sacramental graces conferred by the Holy Spirit in the sacraments and sanctifying grace received in Baptism, when one becomes a Temple of the Holy Spirit, there are also charisms—special gifts for the good of the Church (CCC 2003). 

As essential as the Holy Spirit is in our everyday life as Catholics, some struggle to understand the Holy Spirit or to cooperate in His mission to bring about the communion of the Church, a share in the communion with the Triune God. Perhaps That They May Be One might help individuals and communities to consider more deeply the Holy Spirit, the necessity of unity, and the scandal of division.

DOCUDRAMA—THAT THEY MAY BE ONE

This 76-minute film explores the importance of the Holy Spirit, the unity of the Church, prayer, the Church’s mission, and ecumenism. It features several Catholic figures, including Dr. Ralph Martin, Dr. Mary Healy, and Fr. Mathias Thelen. It also includes Protestant figures such as Francis Chan and James Ward. Its title is taken from John 17:21, Jesus’ prayer for Christian unity: “that they may be one just as we [Father and Son] are one.” Jesus then makes it clear that this unity is essential for the Church’s mission (Jn. 17:21-23). 

The film’s website mentions an exploration of Christian unity across history; it also mentions paths toward greater unity that remind me of some mentioned by St. John Paul II in his document Ut Unum Sint. What surprised me most about the film is that its topics are explored not in any way I had imagined but within the context of the charismatic renewal movement, although the word “charismatic” is not mentioned on the website.

This charismatic context also overlaps with an ecumenical focus in the film’s approach. While the diversity of perspectives can be fruitful, Catholics might notice differences in vocabulary, doctrinal distinctions, and an occasional need for Catholic specifics. This does not mean that the film is lacking in things familiar for Catholics and things Catholics may benefit from learning: the horror and scandal of division, the importance of the Holy Spirit, the connection between Blessed Elena Guerra and Pope Leo XIII, the impact of biblical events for the film’s topic, learning to listen and see other Christians in a more relational way, and recognizing the “sacramental bond” of all Christians through Baptism (Unitatis Redintegratio, 22).

Even without the specifically Catholic perspective, it can assist catechized Catholics as an opportunity for self-reflection. Those not fully aware of the Church’s teaching on the Holy Spirit, the Church’s Unity, and authentic ecumenism may not always know where the Catholic perspective differs—an irony in a review of a film calling for unity—but the film indicates the importance of such honesty in differences.

If you struggle with understanding some of the film’s themes, I invite you to discover them from the perspective of the mind and heart of the Catholic Church: her teachings on the Holy Spirit and His role in the life of the Church, in the liturgy, in charisms, and in prayer, specifically by praying more to the Holy Spirit! Consider praying the Veni Creator Spiritus. Notice the moment when the priest extends his hands to call down the Holy Spirit in a sacrament (epiclesis). At Mass, he does so prior to the consecration. At this moment, pray Come, Holy Spirit! Reflect on the unity of the Church at Pentecost and begin praying for unity within the Church today. In so doing, we are praying for nothing more than what Christ wills: That we may all be one.

Editor’s Note: For more information or to purchase tickets, visit here. That They May Be One is exclusively in theaters May 19th and 20th.

Image from ThatTheyMayBeOneFilm.com

Ascension Sunday presents a paradox:  Jesus leaves His apostles for Heaven, but He assures them He is always with them.  What kind of departure was this?

Gospel (Read Mt. 28:16-20)

Sunday’s Gospel records the end of Jesus’ forty days of post-Resurrection appearances and teaching.  The account of what actually happened during those days is quite spare.  We know that although Jesus appeared to His friends, His relationship with them was not as it had been before.  He appeared and disappeared.  He was often not immediately recognizable.  Things had changed.  As we work our way through these readings, we see that an even bigger change was about to take place.

As Jesus prepares to depart for good, He assembles the “eleven disciples” at a mountain in Galilee.  He is now only with His inner circle of companions.  Interestingly, we see a combination of faith (“they worshipped”) and doubt.  Does this surprise us?  It shouldn’t.  In fact, this detail should strengthen our confidence that this is a truly honest, human account of what happened that day.  Aren’t all of us, as we follow Jesus, curious admixtures of faith and doubt from time to time?

Jesus then makes a statement that is either true or, if false, marks Him as a lunatic:  “All power in heaven and on earth has been given to Me” (Mt. 28:18).  Of course, a man who has come back from the dead can reasonably make a claim like this. 

What does He want His disciples to do, in view of His great power?  He wants them to go out to “all nations” and make more disciples.  They are to offer the blessing of baptism, which washes away sin and initiates the believer into life in Christ.  They are to teach believers to obey all that He had taught them.  In other words, they are to preach a life of faith and the good works that issue from that faith to all the families of the earth.  The scope of this plan recalls the promise God made to Abraham to bless the whole world through him (see Gen. 12:3).  What an expansive mission!

Think about what this plan must have sounded like to the Eleven gathered there.  They were a motley crew of mostly uneducated and certainly non-influential men—fishermen, a tax collector, a political zealot, etc.  It is doubtful any of them had ever left the boundaries of their own nation.  Were these men ready to change the world?  Surely this scenario was far beyond their ability even to imagine.

Fortunately, Jesus said something else that made all the difference:  “And, behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age” (Mt. 28:20).  The apostles could have, justifiably, been confused at this point.  Was He leaving or staying?  How could He be departing and yet promise to be with them?  We will need to examine our other readings for more on this story.

Possible response:  Lord Jesus, when I doubt You can use me to spread Your kingdom, help me remember that You started with just eleven disciples.

First Reading (Read Acts 1:1-11)

The first verse of this reading tells us that its author, St. Luke, wants to continue a story he began in his “first book,” the Gospel of St. Luke.  That book was devoted to a careful account of “all that Jesus did and taught until the day He was taken up” (Acts 1:1).  This book (Acts) will show us how Jesus could both depart from and yet remain with His followers.  The lesson begins with this reading.

We remember that even before His Passion and Resurrection, Jesus promised the apostles that Someone Else was coming.  Now He tells them explicitly not to try to get started on their mission to “all nations” right away.  They must wait for that Someone Else:  “John baptized with water, but in a few days you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit” (Acts 1:5). 

The apostles’ first question about this event revealed them to be focused on the wrong thing (again): “Lord, are You at this time going to restore the kingdom to Israel?” (Acts 1:6).  It was not unreasonable for the apostles to be curious about the restoration of the kingdom to Israel, as this was a long-standing Messianic hope for the Jews. 

Notice that Jesus doesn’t rebuke them for their interest in David’s kingdom, but rather for their desire to know when it will happen.  Jesus wants them instead to focus on their own work of being His witnesses:  “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be My witnesses in Jerusalem, through Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8). 

Ironically, this work He gives them will actually bring about the restoration and fulfillment of the kingdom they earnestly seek.  In due time, they will learn that this kingdom, as Jesus had told them earlier, is not of this world.  The kingdom Jesus rules is not political; it is not confined to the borders of Israel.  Through the preaching of the Gospel, Jews of all the tribes of Israel would find their way to it, as would Gentiles.  His kingdom is the universal Church, spread out everywhere, “to the ends of the earth.”

Then, as the apostles were “looking on, He was lifted up, and a cloud took Him from their sight” (Acts 1:9).  What does this mean?  It will help us if we understand the symbolic significance of the “cloud” Jesus entered.  It reminds us of the Transfiguration, when we get a glimpse of the glorified Jesus.  It reminds us, too, of the “overshadowing” cloud of God’s presence in the worship of the Old Testament Tabernacle, filling the Holy of Holies as God and man met.  That same cloud of God’s presence led the people of Israel to the Promised Land.  As Pope Benedict XVI tells us:

This reference to the cloud is unambiguously theological language.  It represents Jesus’ departure not as a journey to the stars, but as His entry into the mystery of God.  It evokes an entirely different order of magnitude, a different dimension of being…He enters into communion of power and life with the living God, into God’s dominion over space.  Hence, He has not gone away, but now and forever by God’s own power He is present with us and for us.  (Jesus of Nazareth: Holy Week, Ignatius Press, pgs 282-283, [emphasis added])

Now we get it!  Jesus’ departure has only been a departure from our mode of existence.  It is not cosmic but metaphysical.  That is how He can be gone and yet still remain with us.  In promising the apostles to send the Holy Spirit, He promises not only this new kind of presence with us but also a share in the great power of which He spoke in the Gospel reading. 

Did the apostles grasp this? Not exactly.  We see them staring off into space, probably trying to take it all in.  Two angels caution them against “standing there looking at the sky” (Acts 1:11).  Jesus has ascended into His rightful power and authority, having finished His earthly work for our Redemption.  The apostles will not have to stare at the sky to see Him return in power (the meaning of the “cloud”).  They will see Him return in power very soon—on the Day of Pentecost.

Jesus reigns on His throne now!

Possible response:  Lord Jesus, it is a mystery to me how You can be gone and yet entirely present to me always.  Help me believe it.

Psalm (Read Ps. 47:1-2, 5-8)

It is impossible to read through this psalm without wanting to “clap your hands, shout to God with cries of gladness” (Ps. 47:1).  It expresses the jubilant praise of God’s people for the victory won by Jesus and His ascent to His rightful place of power and authority at God’s right hand. 

Ascension Sunday is the day for us to celebrate our God’s reign over all creation.  The challenge for us now, of course, is to believe this is true.  When we look around us, sometimes it is hard to see that Jesus, the King, is now establishing, expanding, and strengthening His kingdom on earth.  Believe it!  Let this psalm be our antidote to doubt.  Sing out the response with all your heart on this day:  “God mounts His throne to shouts of joy:  a blare of trumpets for the Lord!”

Possible response:  King Jesus, reign over me today.

Second Reading (Read Eph. 1:17-23)

Read these verses carefully, and feel St. Paul straining to find language adequate to explain the dramatic, superabundant implications of Our Lord’s Ascension into heaven.  This is actually St. Paul’s prayer for his convert friends in Ephesus (and for us, too). 

What does he most desire for them?  He wants them to ponder deeply, with the help of God, “the hope that belongs to [God’s] call, what are the riches of His glory in His inheritance among the holy ones, and what is the surpassing greatness of his power for us who believe” (Eph. 1:18). 

This is exactly what we need on Ascension Day.  We need to feel St. Paul’s urgency over the difference it makes for our daily lives that Jesus is now seated on His throne, ruling over the world through His Church, “which is His Body, the fullness of the One Who fills all things in every way” (Eph. 1:23). 

St. Paul will not allow us to think of the Ascension as simply a line in the Creed we recite at Mass.  In every way he knows how, he wants to point us toward the hope, the riches, and the power that belong to us now because of the Ascension.  May his prayer for us become our own, for ourselves and all the Church, today and always.

Possible response:  Father, please grant me the understanding for which St. Paul prayed.  My problems seem much smaller when I remember that Jesus is on His throne.

Photo by Jason Mavrommatis on Unsplash

Have you ever noticed how the Ascension is celebrated during a time when many cross graduation stages and enter new stages of life? There is much to learn from these seemingly unrelated yet coinciding events. Against the context of graduations and new beginnings, the Ascension of the Lord imparts a deeper, richer perspective on the art of saying goodbye.

The Gospels reveal different accounts of the one Ascension event. Matthew gives no Ascension narrative. In Luke’s account, it seems that the Ascension took place on Easter Day (Lk. 24:50-53). And while Mark’s longer ending mentions it (Mk. 16:19-20), there is no suggestion of time passing after the Resurrection either. In the Lord’s conversation with Mary Magdalene recorded in John, He mentions the Ascension (Jn. 20:17), but the Gospel writer gives no detailed account of the actual event.

Abbot Jeremy Driscoll’s liturgical approach to the Resurrection narratives provides a compelling framework for interpreting the Ascension and understanding how we encounter Christ in both mysteries. He says:

​The texts refuse to let themselves be tamed into a simple narrative of just another something that happened and can be told. We are in a new realm now where language and narration struggle, and the different narrative styles and details of the evangelists are Spirit-inspired means that put us into contact with this new reality, this new realm of inexhaustible richness, a reality. (98)

Driscoll thus suggests that the lack of description is the most appropriate way to convey an event that is greater than words. Still, how are we to learn of and understand the Ascension?

This brings us to the Acts of the Apostles, which do contain the untamed accounts of this event. This second volume of Luke is the only account that tells us that the Ascension of the Lord took place forty days after the Resurrection (Acts 1:3). Forty days mark a time of preparation. Jesus was forming His Church in the in-between, from His Resurrection to His Ascension. We saw it throughout the Easter Season, with Mary Magdalene and the Apostles as prime examples.

In Acts, Jesus gives His final instructions. He speaks of the Holy Spirit, gives many proofs of His Resurrection, reveals the Kingdom of God, and tells the apostles to stay in Jerusalem until the coming of the Paraclete. Jesus reveals the Kingdom of God to His apostles. For forty days, He unpacks this great mystery and assures them of the gift of the Holy Spirit, that they would receive His power and be His witnesses. This is seen in Peter. Peter preaches zealously on the day of Pentecost. He has been formed by this telling of the Kingdom of God and infused with the gifts of the Holy Spirit.

Afterward, Jesus is “lifted up” (Acts 1:9). It is interesting that the word “Ascension” or “ascended” is not even used in the account. Pope Benedict XVI comments that this verbiage demonstrates the sovereignty of Our Lord:

…the verb “to lift up” was originally used in the Old Testament and refers to royal enthronement. Thus Christ’s Ascension means in the first place the enthronement of the Crucified and Risen Son of Man, the manifestation of God’s kingship over the world.

Furthermore, the “cloud took him from their sight” (Acts 1:9). This is Old Testament language that reveals intimacy with God. Jesus ascends to the right hand of the Father and is with His Church forever in a new way.

How can we translate this massive faith event into our lives today? If He did not ascend to His Father, our faith would be limited. We would be people who felt the need to be physically near Jesus to be close to Him. His Ascension has allowed us to be with Him in a new way forever. His Ascension is not the absence of God in His Church, but an intimacy with Him found in its sacraments. We have been given the power to reveal and witness to the Kingdom of God. People come to faith by the witness of believers!

We are not a Church awaiting the return of our absent Master. Like the apostles, we are filled with great joy, for we are a Church that has been given authority, charity, and witness to reveal the Kingdom now and to know Him in the breaking of the bread.

Returning to our meditation on this season of graduations and new beginnings, saying goodbye to those close to us embarking on new life journeys is never easy. Yet, as they leave, we know that just because we are losing their physical presence does not mean we are losing them. They are etched on our heart, and we on theirs. Blessed are we to know such friends!

Below is a quote that means a great deal to me. It helps me understand the Ascension and relates it to my relationship with others in this life, where we say hello and goodbye over and over again. The quote is from Fr. Ron Rolheiser, OMI, and emphasizes that the Ascension is a way of loving deeper:

The mystery of saying goodbye is really the mystery of the Ascension, the most under-understood mystery both inside and outside of religion. The Ascension is about going away so that our loved ones can fully receive our spirit. It’s about the mystery of saying goodbye, when goodbye isn’t really goodbye at all, but only love’s way of taking on a different modality so that it can be present in a way that’s deeper, purer, more permanent, less-clinging, and less-limited by the tensions, disappointments, inadequacies, wounds, and betrayals that, this side of eternity, forever make our intimacy a work in progress.

Happy Ascension, everyone! Alleluia.

Photo by 辰曦 on Unsplash

Almost five years ago, on a beautiful, warm summer evening, while watching our daughter play soccer, my husband turned to share some life-changing news with me. I remember it clear as day. He told me: “I’ve been quietly discerning the diaconate for the past 9 months.” It was not something I ever expected.

I listened while he described his discernment process. Regardless of how it may sound, he was not hiding anything from me. He was trying to discern with the Lord first to make sure it was a genuine movement of the Holy Spirit, not his own ego or imagination. He spent hours in front of the Blessed Sacrament running through every reason why he should not be a deacon. He didn’t think he should be one.

For months, he brought the impediments he saw to the Lord in His Real Presence. One by one they fell away, as the Lord removed each one. He sought spiritual direction and went on a retreat where he was able to discuss his discernment with the deacon who ran the retreat center.

Random people would walk up to him and tell him he should apply for the diaconate. By the time he came to me, he had run through what sounded like a spiritually healthy discernment process. He did what I would have done with any major call from the Lord. He knew I would support him if it was God’s will, so he took the time to prayerfully discern it before telling me on that summer evening. I trust his discernment just as he trusts mine because I know he is a man of prayer. In fact, this trust is necessary as spouses have to catch up with each other in discernment at times.

This is not a calling either one of us would have chosen on our own. We saw deacons serving at the altar in our parish. We had conversations with them at parish events. But it never dawned on either one of us that the Lord would possibly call my husband.

That was five years ago. A lot has happened since then, including learning to trust in God’s timing. We made it to the interview stage in 2022, but my husband was told to wait until 2025. We had to surrender to the Lord’s timing and process. Discernment is not always quick, and it can be confusing at times. It may take years for the Lord to remove boulders on the path. Once 2025 arrived, my husband was still sure of his calling to pursue the diaconate. We both take the stance that the Lord’s will matters most, and this appeared to be the Lord’s will.

The discernment of my husband’s vocation has not always been crystal clear for me, but the Lord has been teaching me greater trust in my husband. My own discernment process involves prayer with Sacred Scripture in front of the Blessed Sacrament. This has led me to Acts of the Apostles 6 and 7 on multiple occasions, as well as seeing the undeniable spiritual fruit and growth in my husband.

I asked the Lord in prayer to send someone my way who would mention that my husband should be a deacon. My prayer was answered a few months ago. A group was praying over me while I was battling vertigo last fall. An older gentleman I’ve known for years from daily Mass walked over while we were praying and said, out of nowhere, “Is he going to be a deacon?” That was my sign from the Lord.

Since then, I’ve been discerning more deeply, as we continued through the application process. The Lord started allowing difficulties in my ministry, and I felt the stress of separation more acutely while my husband remained at our parish of 10 years and I served on campus. For a year and a half, we rarely went to Mass together. He helped me on campus and attended events; nevertheless, the separation was felt.

It came to a head in January when I started to see the strain that the division was putting on our family. This was heightened by repeated family emergencies, weeks of vertigo, and homeschooling, on top of the demands of campus ministry. The Lord was starting to reveal to me that I had a choice to make.

I went through graduate theological studies when our daughter was little. It takes a ton of work, and the other parent must step in to cover study time, tests, etc. With the diaconate, there is the added requirements of monthly three-day trips to the chancery for classes and a yearly retreat. I started to realize that there is no way I could continue in campus ministry in this season of our lives. Our daughter has three years of high school left, and she needs me at home while my husband is in diaconate studies.

I love my college students. They are my spiritual children, but I knew that the Lord was asking me to die to self for the sake of my family and the calling He has placed in my husband’s heart. My husband did the same thing for me when he uprooted our family to move across the state so I could serve in ministry under a priest friend. My husband hates the beach, yet he moved us to a beach town because He knew it was the Lord’s will. We’ve happily returned to the mountains.

He supported me when I started campus ministry, and he continued to go to Mass by himself at our parish, despite the confusion it caused some people at the parish who did not understand the demands of my campus ministry position. He endured that on his own so that I could serve the students. It’s my turn to die to self for him.

It was not an easy decision, and the last few months were a mix of joys and sorrows. My last week of ministry was deeply challenging as I put everything in place for a future replacement. I learned to give what I could and entrust the rest to God. I attended graduation and said good-bye to one of my seniors. I told the others that they can call me anytime, and two of them have already come to hang out at my house multiple times. Still, my role in the program is over. I’m now “Momstance,” as they lovingly call me.

When a husband gets a call to the diaconate from the Lord, there is a stripping away for every member of the family. We have just begun that stripping-away process. My stepping back from ministry for the time being is only the beginning of a deeper call to die to self. We now have made it past interviews. All that’s left is the psychological and marriage battery, and my husband has never had psychiatric issues. After that, Lord willing, it appears he will begin aspirancy in August.

We live in a culture dominated by self-will. We are repeatedly told that it is our own wants, desires, and dreams that ultimately matter. This is not the Christian perspective, and it is poison in a marriage. We are called to seek the Lord’s face and His will for our families. Sometimes He asks one spouse to give up something good for the sake of the other. My husband and I have both had to die to self in big ways for the other. It’s not been easy for either one of us because the asks from the Lord have been huge at times.

We must wrestle like Jacob to submit, and we may walk away with an injury to remember it, but the struggle shapes us in new ways. I walked away with a pierced heart and a few tears as I said good-bye to a ministry I love, but the Lord also filled me with a deeper desire to fully serve my family during the coming years of diaconate formation.

The diaconate is a beautiful call to Holy Orders that impacts an entire family. It is not a calling of self-gratification or egotism. In fact, most men—as with the priesthood—never imagined being called forward. Most wives never thought about it until their husbands came to them seeking their consent.

While the wives do not prostrate on the cold, marble floor or promise obedience to the bishop, they do pick up the cross with their husbands during formation and on ordination day. The wives become like St. Simon of Cyrene since on their wedding day they could not foresee this path.

It is to be compelled into service at a level never previously known or understood for the sake of following Christ’s will. It requires both husband and wife to give everything to God together. I didn’t understand that fully back in 2022, but the Lord has made it abundantly clear now. My own service in ministry is not over. It is simply taking a new shape beside my husband.

Image from Wikimedia Commons

Every year on May 14th, the Church celebrates the feast of the Apostle who came late to the party: St. Matthias. Biblically, we know very little about this man, but legend and tradition tell us he was full of zeal. Upon being chosen to be counted among the Twelve, he devoted his life to preaching and was eventually martyred for the Faith. It is difficult to comment on these legends and traditions, as the accounts vary, but historically, Scripture gives us a great resource from which we can learn about Matthias.

It is written in the Book of Psalms…“May another take his office.” (Acts 1:20)

The first thing we learn about Matthias is that he became an Apostle not because the Eleven were simply looking for “extra” help, and not because Matthias had submitted a job application in the hopes of securing a position; rather, he was chosen to replace Judas. The Apostles needed specifically twelve men—the number symbolic of the twelve tribes of Israel. And so, Matthias would have been chosen primarily as a symbolic gesture, and only secondarily for any assistance he could provide.

In choosing Judas’ replacement, the Eleven would have been looking to ensure that this time, their twelfth man would not fail them, as Judas had. But how could they guarantee this? Nobody had seen what was coming in Judas’ action—except Jesus Himself. Each and every one of the Apostles was blindsided by Judas’ betrayal. If the Apostles worked closely in friendship with Judas for three years and had no idea what was in his heart, how could they possibly determine such a thing when it came to anyone else?

Therefore, it is necessary that one of the men who accompanied us the whole time the Lord Jesus came and went among us, beginning from the baptism of John until the day on which he was taken up from us, become with us a witness to his resurrection. (Acts 1:21-22)

Peter narrows down their list of choices by proposing the following criterion: the one selected must be one who had remained loyal to discipleship from the very beginning. After all, of the one hundred twenty disciples now gathered around the Eleven, there was no small number who were among the “many” that had left when Jesus preached on His Eucharistic flesh and blood (Jn. 6:66).

We can assume that some of these would have come back in repentance and sorrow upon witnessing the resurrection of Christ. Still, Peter had no time to wait and see if their loyalty would last when the going would get tough once again. He needed someone who had already proven himself, someone he knew could withstand the storms that were sure to come, someone whose loyalty and conviction were that great.

Incredibly, that criterion narrowed the choice down to just two men: 

Joseph called Barsabbas, who was also known as Justus, and Matthias. (Acts 1:23)

Whether one of these two men was more qualified than the other in terms of eloquence, wisdom, charity, or any other virtue, Scripture does not tell us. We do know that Joseph was given the nickname “Justus,” which likely tells us something about his moral integrity.

From a human point of view, Justus’ qualities may have had an edge over those of Matthias, but Peter and the others were not seeking to measure the hearts of their candidates based on their personal qualities. They were not looking at resumes or conducting interviews. The only data these Apostles needed to collect was whether these prospective replacements had remained. It was this that would tell them all they needed to know about what was in their hearts.

Then they prayed, “You, Lord, who know the hearts of all, show which one of these two you have chosen to take the place in this apostolic ministry
from which Judas turned away to go to his own place.” (Acts 1:24-25)

Of course, narrowing the selection down to two choices would have helped immensely; but still, it was two choices—not one. This was a hugely important decision; this was no time for misjudgment! The Apostles had done everything in their human power to make the best possible decision; there was nothing more that could be done. It would be in God’s hands now.


Then they gave lots to them, and the lot fell upon Matthias, and he was counted with the Eleven Apostles. (Acts 1:26)

After all their prudent discernment and ardent prayer, it seems that the Apostles arrive at their decision in such a strange way. We might even say, a rather pagan way! Isn’t “casting lots” another word for divination—a forbidden practice for Christians? Of course, when the Apostles cast lots, their intention was neither to seek knowledge of the future nor to “take a gamble.” They were seeking to understand what the Lord wanted of them now. In other words, they did everything in their power to discern to the best of their ability, and now, they entrusted the outcome of their efforts 100% to the Lord—even if the Lord’s choice was to pick another Judas.

This is why the casting lots was neither irresponsible nor an “easy” way out of performing the due diligence necessary in making a prudent decision. For the ancient Israelites, casting lots was a time-tested act of trust. Once the lot pointed to the man for the position, the Apostles would not question their decision again—no matter what. 

Into the bag the lot is cast, but from the LORD comes every decision. (Prv. 16:33)

From that day forth, Matthias would be counted among the other Apostles, just as surely as if Jesus Himself had called him from the beginning.

And in fact, Jesus had. From the moment of Matthias’ baptism, Jesus must have had His eye on him from among the sea of seventy-two disciples who followed Him wherever he went. He may well have looked at Matthias, perhaps from a distance, and simply smiled, knowing the plan that was to come.

Matthias was just one of two loyal disciples “from the beginning” who stayed by Jesus’ side, even when he was apparently unnoticed, hidden, unimportant. But Jesus noticed. And Matthias’ remaining would have surely filled our dear Lord’s heart with joy.

We can imagine that as Jesus hung on the Cross with great sorrow in His heart at the betrayal of the man He once called “friend,” it could well have been the thought of Matthias that consoled Him in that terrible heartache.

Matthias, therefore, might have been chosen by the Apostles for his symbolism…but the loyalty he offered in reparation for Judas’ betrayal was not symbolic at all.

It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit that will remain. (Jn. 15:16)

Author’s Note: Adapted from: 26 Steps with the Apostles: A Journey into Christian Mission (coming summer 2026).

Image from Wikimedia Commons

Mother’s Day in the United States usually finds people celebrating in a big way. Mothers are showered with gifts, and restaurants experience one of their busiest days of the year as families treat Mom to dinner. People in the United States were celebrating Mother’s Day on that May 13, 1917, when our Blessed Mother first appeared at Fatima.

But that May 13 was Mother’s Day in a universal way, as our heavenly Mother came to bring peace to families, to countries, to the world—to give us her motherly message that we must cease offending our Father and live by His laws.

On May 13, 1967, the fiftieth anniversary of Fatima—a Sat­urday, and the eve of Mother’s Day—Pope St. Paul VI released his apostolic exhortation Signum Magnum, reminding us that Mary is Mother of Christ, Mother of the Church, and that she “continues to fulfill from heaven her maternal function as the cooperator in the birth and development of divine life in the individual souls of redeemed men.” Simply put, she’s our Mother, our spiritual heavenly Mother.

Was it a coincidence that Fatima’s anniversary and Mother’s Day fell on the same day? What a providential connection there appears to be between Mary’s motherly concern for us and hon­oring our Mother!

Don’t we honor our mothers on Mother’s Day because they want the best for us? Hopefully that means that they strive for our salvation, first and foremost. Our Mother Mary certainly strives for the salvation of all her children. Fatima is perfect proof. At Fatima, our Blessed Mother shows herself a mother who guides and teaches her children the path to God.

In Signum Magnum, Pope Paul VI wrote specifically about our Mother’s influence through example and how we should follow it. He said that just as parents’ teachings become stronger by their example, “the immaculate Mother of God attracts souls in an irresistible way to imitation of the divine model, Jesus Christ, of whom she was the most faithful image.”

He affirmed, “It is therefore the duty of all Christians to imi­tate in a reverent spirit the examples of goodness left to them by their heavenly Mother. […] It is, in fact, a natural thing that the children should have the same sentiments of their mothers and should reflect their merits and virtues.”

The wisdom in Paul VI’s words is quite evident. If earthly mothers want their children to be good, how much more does our heavenly Mother want us to be good? We do that by listening to her and imitating her. She made it simple at Fatima.

Don’t we also honor our mothers for the counsel they gave us, advising us on which pursuits may be beneficial to us and which would likely lead us into danger or even ruin? Didn’t our Blessed Mother in her apparitions at Fatima make it very clear to the chil­dren, and to us her children, the spiritual disasters, not to mention the temporal ones, resulting from following the ways of the world?

Did we listen to our mothers when they cautioned us to put those matches down so we wouldn’t get burned? Sure, we did. But not enough of us listened to our heavenly Mother on Mother’s Day, May 13, 1917, and later that summer when she said, “If you do what I tell you, many souls will be saved, and there will be peace. This war will end, but if men do not refrain from offending God, another and more terrible war will begin.”

One look at the history of the twentieth century and today’s secular society tells us that most of our Mother’s children have not listened but remain disobedient and have become further corrupted.

When we honor our mothers on Mother’s Day, do we think of the times they helped us with our bruises and hurts? And doesn’t a mother comfort her child who calls in the middle of the night after waking from a nightmare? Our heavenly Mother will do the same if we call to her and listen to her advice to quell the nightmarish attacks upon all that is good in this world. The tiniest whisper to her will have her by our side to help.

We know that two dreadful “nightmares” surround the degra­dation of motherhood and marriage. In 1981, Sister Lucia wrote to Cardinal Carlo Caffarra, who, in a 2008 interview, revealed, “In that letter we find written, ‘The final battle between the Lord and the kingdom of Satan will be about marriage and the family.’ Don’t be afraid, she added, because whoever works for the sanctity of marriage and the family will always be fought against and opposed in every way, because this is the decisive issue. Then she concluded, ‘Nevertheless, Our Lady has already crushed his head.’ ”

Our Mother Mary prayerfully intercedes for us, her children, and gave us the remedy back in 1917 to extinguish these “night­mares.” John Paul II pointed to that remedy again in his homily in Fatima 1982, when he said, “The call to repentance is linked, as always, with a call to prayer. […] The Lady of the message indicates the Rosary, which can rightly be defined as ‘Mary’s prayer’: the prayer in which she feels particularly united with us. She herself prays with us.”

Good mothers keep after their children to get them on the right path. Our Blessed Mother certainly does. In each appear­ance, she reminded us, “Continue to say the Rosary every day in honor of Our Lady of the Rosary to obtain the peace of the world and the end of the war, because only she can obtain it.” Again, she would repeat herself, saying, “I want you to continue saying the Rosary every day.”

At Fatima, on May 13, 1982, John Paul II reminded us of Our Lady’s motherly love: “In the words of Fatima, we seem to find this dimension of motherly love, whose range covers the whole of man’s path towards God. The solicitude of the Mother of the Savior is solicitude for the work of salvation: the work of her Son. It is solicitude for the salvation, the eternal salvation, of all.”

A mother never gives up on her children. “In the light of a mother’s love we understand the whole message of the Lady of Fatima,” John Paul II noted. “She not only calls us to be con­verted: she calls us to accept her motherly help to return to the source of Redemption.”

The motherly directions of Our Lady of Fatima are as crucial as ever. As her children we’re called to follow them. We have to ask ourselves: Do we honor our mothers only on Mother’s Day? The answer should be, “Of course not.” What better way to honor our Blessed Mother and make every single day of the year Mother’s Day for her than by following the counsel and requests of Our Lady of Fatima?

Editor’s Note: This article is adapted from a chapter in the book, The Fruits of Fatima: A Century of Signs and Wonders, available from Sophia Institute Press.

Image from Wikimedia Commons

For several decades now, the landscape of women’s religious life in the United States and across the Western world has been marked by noticeable decline. While the number of Catholics continues to climb to historic highs in the Americas, the place of religious vocations continues to progressively shrink. Liturgically, this decline poses its own challenges, particularly as the shortage of priests has forced some local parishes and rural dioceses into administrative scrambling. However, the decline in women religious has drastically altered the state of the American Church over the past half-century and had an altogether more pervasive effect on the public face of Catholicism.

Historic orders like the Sisters of Mercy and the Sisters of St. Joseph, once common names in education, healthcare, and social outreach, have faced dwindling numbers and aging memberships. The institutions that they have owned or operated, universities and hospitals, have questioned what their fate will be once the order is entirely defunct.

Just the same, the Sisters of Charity in New York report no new postulates, and that the average age of their sisters is 80.

Female religious, long the backbone of Catholic service and parish life, have seen convents close and vocations dry up in the course of a generation. It would, therefore, be easy to assume that the decline of professed sisters is terminal, and that their disappearance from the Church is another casualty of the aggressive secularism targeting young women.

Yet, the story of women religious in America is not entirely one of decline.

Amid this shifting demographic landscape, a remarkable story of renewal is quietly unfolding in our midst: the rise of Dominican sisters—young, mission-driven, and visibly identifiable in their traditional habit—who bring joy, energy, and a clear sense of purpose to their vocation.

What sets the Dominican resurgence apart is more than their growing numbers. It is their identity. In a Church where secularization has blurred the visibility of religious life, these sisters embrace their vocation with clarity. Their habits, their study of theology, and their active mission work serve as outward signs of deeply held inward conviction. Contrast this with older orders that experienced decline. Many adapted to post-modernity by abandoning visible community life or reducing the outward signs of religious life. This choice, born out of the spirit of mendicantism, was intended to engage the world, but which paradoxically sometimes weakened their identity as women religious. In the Dominican resurgence, there is a clear lesson: visibility is crucial to the viability of the mission. Being recognizable, joyfully committed, and outwardly and publicly faithful in a vocation attracts new vocations, particularly among women seeking clarity of purpose and a supportive spiritual family.

Among these Dominican groups, the Dominican Sisters of Mary, Mother of the Eucharist have experienced tremendous growth in the last quarter century. Founded by just four sisters in 1997, the community has expanded to 140 sisters as of 2026, with an average age of 38. Their vibrant apostolate emphasizes Catholic education, evangelization, and youth ministry, demonstrating that a clear charism can inspire a new generation.

Similarly, the Dominican Sisters of Peace, just over a decade old in their current form, have grown to a community of forty women, aided by collaborative formation programs and active discernment outreach. The Dominican Sisters of St. Cecilia, also known as the Nashville Dominicans, emphasize classical Catholic education, catechesis, and family formation, and have grown by 60% since 2000, while maintaining a youthful and energetic membership.

These success stories illustrate that religious life can flourish when rooted in clarity of purpose, mission, and social identity. Unlike some older communities that faded quietly, these Dominican sisters have embraced a visible, recognizable witness to the Faith, drawing others into their life of prayer, study, and service. Their growth underscores a broader lesson for the Church in this young century: in a secularized world, young Catholics are drawn not to religious life that blends invisibly into social norms, but to communities that live joyfully and distinctly for Christ.

Photo by Mateus Campos Felipe on Unsplash