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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Since my mother’s womb, you have been my strength. (Ps. 71:6)

Today, the Church celebrates the birth of John the Baptist, one of just three liturgical birthday celebrations, along with that of Jesus and Mary. According to pious Christian speculation, John was born (though not conceived) without original sin by the action of the Holy Spirit at the moment in which Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting.

Of course, John’s prenatal “leap” is not the only evidence that tradition has relied on to come to this incredible conclusion; it is simply a “sign.” Far more foundational is the prophetic message that the Angel Gabriel imparted upon John’s father, Zechariah:

He will be FILLED WITH THE HOLY SPIRIT even from his mother’s WOMB. (Lk. 1:15)

And if the angel’s word isn’t enough for us (as it unfortunately wasn’t for Zechariah—at least not at first), then surely the words of Jesus Christ Himself should be convincing:

Amen, I say to you, among those BORN of women there has been none greater than John the Baptist. (Mt. 11:11)

Still, ancient tradition is not the same as official dogma, so we are free to reserve judgment on the matter. Suffice it to say, the Church deems John the Baptist worthy of an honor that is otherwise reserved for Jesus and Mary alone, so regardless of the nature of his soul at birth, let’s try to understand why Jesus has such high praise for his kinsman John, right from the time of his birth. To do that, let’s begin by looking at the Lord’s praise for his disciple, Peter.

Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah. For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father. And so I say to you, you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church. (Mt. 16:17-18)

Peter is a man clearly moved by the Holy Spirit (just as was John the Baptist) to speak words that have come from deep within himself, almost as if they are not his own. And indeed, they are a gift from the Father, poured out through Peter’s heart, and shared with humanity. And Jesus calls him “blessed” for this. So blessed is Peter, in fact, that Jesus decides he will be the one upon whom the Lord will build His Church! That is one impressive blessing.

And yet, Jesus doesn’t call Peter the “greatest” man that ever was; that honor goes to John the Baptist, a man who did not even live to see the Church’s birth at Pentecost. John was the “forerunner,” the one who came before the inception of the Church, the one who came to announce its coming, by way of prophecy.

So what could possibly have made him any “greater” than Peter? Of course, we know the faults and failings of our dear first vicar; but on the other hand, Peter was not born without original sin. Doing the right thing wouldn’t have come naturally to Peter in the way it would have to John. How is it fair to laud John’s “greatness” when it was a greatness that he didn’t exactly have to work for, but rather, was freely given him?

When Jesus calls His cousin “great,” in one sense, He is not referring to His cousin at all. The greatness that Jesus glorifies is the greatness of God in which John lives and moves and has his being (Acts 17:28). It is the same reason that Jesus pronounces blessing upon Peter at the words of his own incredible revelation. But in another sense, Jesus indeed is praising John for his personal greatness, even measuring it above that of Peter—or anyone else for that matter.

Why? Certainly, John gave of himself sacrificially, even to the point of martyrdom—but did not the Apostles do so as well, at least after Pentecost, as well as so many others who came after them? What made John’s act any “greater” than anyone else’s?

He will go before him in the spirit and power of Elijah to turn the hearts…to prepare a people fit for the Lord. (Lk. 1:17)

The thing about John the Baptist is that in terms of his role as “prophet,” his mission was a little unorthodox. After all, the prophets who came before him spoke of a messiah who would come hundreds of years later. After a while, the ancients must have wondered whether the words they read in the Torah were more mythological in nature rather than based on any real prediction. But when it came to John the Baptist, his “prediction” was taking place right then and there. He pointed to his cousin, just three months younger than he, and said, “He’s the One.”

Other than the dove incident at Jesus’ baptism, there would not have been a lot of mystical fanfare surrounding these two men. Jesus didn’t glow in the dark (at least not until later), and John the Baptist didn’t levitate or turn his locusts into tasty olives. It would have taken a lot for the people to get on board with whatever this tattered-looking man who lived in the desert was preaching.

And that is the whole point.

John the Baptist appeared, preaching in the desert of Judea [and] saying, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!”…Jerusalem, ALL Judea, and the WHOLE REGION around the Jordan…were being baptized by him…as they acknowledged their sins. (Mt. 3:1-6)

John the Baptist managed to single-handedly convince “all” of Judea and the entire “region around the Jordan” to repent. He persuaded them to turn their hearts back to God and to prepare themselves for the arrival of His kingdom. It was nothing short of a miracle.

Camel hair and locusts should have been enough to turn the people “off;” instead, they could not get enough of John’s mysterious message. They hungered for it. They thirsted for it. They recognized it as truth in the silence of their hearts. John’s unappealing appearance and lifestyle only lent proof to the fact that it was the action of the Holy Spirit working seamlessly and continuously in and through him.

Without John’s great ministry, it is possible that not a single soul would have recognized the Messiah who stood before them. These souls were not filled with the Holy Spirit as was John, and they most certainly were born with the stain of original sin.

Let’s understand: “all” the people who came from Judea and the “whole region” around the Jordan to become John’s disciples included ones such as Andrew—the one responsible for bringing Peter to Jesus. John the Baptist was not just the “forerunner” of Christ; he was the forerunner of our Church, the same Church of which we ourselves are members to this very day!

So while it’s true that John did not help found the Church from its inception at Pentecost, without him, there may have been no one around to build that foundation. It’s not that God could not have found another way to accomplish this task; it’s just that “another way” was not the Father’s gracious will.

Author’s Note: This article was adapted from a chapter in 26 Steps with the Characters of the Bible, coming summer 2026.

Image from Wikimedia Commons

May marked the 130th anniversary of the birth of Stanisława Leszczyńska, a Servant of God and midwife at Auschwitz-Birkenau. The unveiling of a monument in her honour was preceded by a solemn Mass at the Visitationist Church in Warsaw.

Cardinal Grzegorz Ryś, the Archbishop of Kraków, presided over the liturgy, joined by the Archbishop of Warsaw, Adrian Galbas. Among the large congregation was Ewa Machaj-Antosiewicz, one of the children delivered by Stanisława in the concentration camp.

Cardinal Ryś noted that “after the war, she did not want to speak about the camp because she did not want to incite hatred toward the Germans. And when she did speak of those she encountered there, she saw them more as victims of a system than as executioners.” The cardinal emphasized that Leszczyńska was fully aware that she was saving lives that could be taken—murdered or gassed—the very next day.

ARREST

When the Germans invaded Poland, the Leszczyński family began covert work to help Jewish families in their neighbourhood. Moreover, the men were members of the National Armed Forces (NSZ). Following a denunciation, the entire family was arrested in February 1943. Stanisława and her daughter were deported to Auschwitz-Birkenau after enduring brutal interrogations and torture. She was remarkably fortunate to have secured—and, more importantly, smuggled into the camp—credentials as a midwife.

“Her apartment served as a transit point for smuggling goods from the Łódź Ghetto to the ‘Aryan side.’ One of her accounts also mentions a girl from the ghetto who found temporary refuge in the Leszczyński home,” noted historian Fr. Prof. Gliński.

According to historian Dr. Robert Derewenda “the Germans were fully aware that Poles were helping Jews. That is why they announced the harshest penalties against any Pole who had contact with Jews, refused to hand them over, or otherwise tried to help them. Under German occupation, Poles faced the death penalty for such actions, and yet some still helped Jews.”

A GLIMMER OF HOPE

Until 1943, every child born in the German concentration camp was killed immediately, often by drowning in a barrel. From 1943 onward, only Jewish infants were murdered; the others were subjected to medical experiments or, if they had so-called Nordic features such as blond hair and blue eyes, were taken from their mothers and sent to German families.

Upon arrival, Stanisława and her daughter were assigned to the most gruelling labour. Each day, they were marched beyond the camp gates to dig ditches and haul clay. Under the strain of this backbreaking slave labour, their strength waned with each passing day. All around them lay the bodies of women who had already succumbed to sheer exhaustion.

Yet, after only a few days, the miracle they had prayed for happened. In the maternity block, the camp authorities began a desperate search for anyone with even a rudimentary knowledge of medicine. For Stanisława, this was a singular opportunity—not only for the survival of herself and her daughter, but also to return to the profession she loved.

In the beginning I was alone in my work. In difficult situations, when a specialist doctor was necessary, I had to handle it myself. German camp doctors, Rhode, Koenig, and Mengele could not “lower” themselves to treat non-Germans, so I had no right to ask for their assistance. Later, I was helped several times by a doctor working at another barrack and totally devoted to her patients, Janina Wegierska. (The Report of a Midwife from Auschwitz)

A MATERNITY WARD IN HELL

The camp block was a place of relentless infection, stench, and vermin. It swarmed with rats as large as cats, which gnawed at the ears, noses, fingers, and heels of the gravely ill women, too emaciated to move. Whenever possible, Stanisława drove them off, taking turns with the woman on night watch. Even the convalescent women helped, dividing their few hours of sleep to keep the rodents at bay. The vermin were drawn by the scent of the women, who had no way to wash or change their clothes.

The midwife had to secure the water needed to wash both mother and newborn herself. Fetching a single bucket took twenty minutes. She delivered babies on the brick chimney flue that ran the length of the barracks; since it was heated only a few times a year, icicles hung from the ceiling in winter. Instead of sterile sheets, she had only a filthy blanket teeming with lice.

DEFIANT MIDWIFE

The orders were clear: every newborn infant was to be drowned in a barrel immediately after birth. Fluent in German, Stanisława made it clear to Dr. Mengele that she “would not kill any child.” At first, the German could not believe that anyone would dare oppose him; after all, everyone around him trembled at the mere sight of him. “What?” he asked, raising his voice. “You are to kill all newborn children immediately. Do you understand?” She raised her head and looked him in the eye. “No, never,” she replied. “Children must not be killed!”

A MIRACLE OF LIFE

Before every birth, Stanisława prayed for the health of the children and their mothers, and after they were born, she baptized them, commending them to God’s care. When—using modern language—complications arose, she did not turn to the Virgin Mary with a plea, but with an alarm that sounded like a command: “Come, even in one slipper!” And indeed, help always arrived!

On one occasion, the camp physician, Dr. Josef Mengele, demanded to see the data on perinatal mortality. When Stanisława presented him with the figures, he refused to believe them. “He remarked that even the most impeccably run German university clinics could not boast such success,” she later recalled. “In his eyes, I read only anger and hatred.”

Of the three thousand deliveries she attended, not a single mother and not a single child died in childbirth. About five-hundred of the babies were sent away to be Germanized. Only about thirty infants survived in the care of their mothers after liberation. She delivered the final infant on the very day the Germans fled before the Soviet advance.

Such a record was unmatched by the physicians of the Third Reich, and it remains unsurpassed by modern maternity wards today. Even more surprising, many of the women she looked after said they felt little or no pain during childbirth, even though almost all of them gave birth without any medication.

A WITNESS TO FAITH

After the war, she continued to work as a midwife in Łódź, a city associated with the great Polish saints St. Faustina Kowalska and St. Maximilian Kolbe.

She died of cancer in 1974. In the final stage of her illness, she consistently refused to take painkillers. Thousands attended her funeral.

When Pope St. John Paul II visited Łódź in 1987, he said that Stanisława Leszczyńska is an example of Christian heroism. She is also an example of an extraordinary way of life, one marked by trust in God, hope, and serenity. She saw goodness where many would not have had the courage to look for it.

In the early 1990s, the Catholic Church formally opened Stanisława’s sainthood cause, giving her the title “Servant of God.”

Let these reflections end with the following prayer:

O God, Creator of all life, who in Your omnipotent goodness blesses human families with the gift of new life, grant that Your Servant Stanisława, whose profound love for mothers and children led her to protect many from death, may find many women to join her cause and, in God’s grace, be swiftly raised to the Altars. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.

Photo by Frederick Wallace on Unsplash

As a child I was fascinated by the television show Bewitched. I dreamed of having Samantha’s ability to twitch her nose and make a messy room neat as a pin, a broken lamp unbroken, or dress and be ready for a fancy party straight from her housework clothes. The word fascinate itself means to bewitch, enchant, or put under a spell, which seems very appropriate for the other-worldly attraction the instant fix has on humans.

Today, makeover shows and reels of every kind give us the satisfaction of extreme change and restoration in a half-hour or less. The dopamine hits that were once reserved for such long worked-for events as bringing in the year’s harvest or completing a piece of fine craftwork are now readily available to all scrollers with a few minutes to spare.

These forms of entertainment train our brains to constantly look for and expect the next delight, rather than to be present to the simple pleasures of the moment. Small progress is rarely noticed and sometimes even derided.

Poco y Poco

In direct opposition to our culture’s adoration of the instant fix and rapid makeover is Our Lord’s way of a little at a time. Training us in many virtues, including patience and humility, and taking baby steps and being satisfied with them is another way Jesus and His Church run countercultural. Eschewing the world’s ways and choosing instead to start small allows God room to move in our hearts and in our lives.

As opposed to the quick makeover or the weekend warrior project, scripture offers us the often-used saying, do not despise the day of small beginnings, which has its roots in the biblical passage Zechariah 4:6-10:

Then he said to me: “This is the word of the LORD to Zerubbabel: Not by might, and not by power, but by my spirit, says the LORD of hosts. Who are you, O great mountain? Before Zerubbabel you become a plain. He will bring forth the first stone amid shouts of ‘Favor, favor be upon it!’”…For whoever has scorned such a day of small things will rejoice to see the capstone in the hand of Zerubbabel.

This story demonstrates that we testify to our trust in the Lord when we pray, trust, and take the next, often humble, step God shows us.

Famed Spanish artist and architect Antoni Gaudi began construction of La Sacrada Familia in 1882. When asked about the painfully slow building process, Gaudi famously replied, “my client is not in a hurry.” One hundred years after his death, the glory of a work offered to God is complete. As cathedrals go, 144 years was fairly quick, given that some have taken 500 or more years to complete. Whole generations of artisans came and went knowing their work for the glory of God would continue long after they were gone. They themselves did not live to see the coveted “finished product” but that did not deter them from making their contribution.  

When we do not despise the day of small beginnings but instead choose to begin something God has placed on our hearts, we show that we trust Him with all things, including our time.

Trust Sometimes Seems Impractical

Not being comfortable with either of the two major political parties’ ballot offerings in the most recent presidential election, I looked into a third option.  The worldly-wise voice in my head gave me the same old practical warning that voting for a third party would be wasting my vote or worse, be equal to voting for the party I disagreed with more. But God gently whispered, do not despise the day of small beginnings. He was essentially whispering, trust me and vote your conscience. My conscience found that every single item of Catholic Social Teaching is included in that third party’s platform, and nothing is included that runs contrary to it.

I made the prudential judgement to trust God and not despise the day of small beginnings. As expected, the candidates I voted for only received about 42,000 votes nationwide. A small beginning indeed, but our votes were offered as a voice affirming another option besides an angry stand-off between two very different and deeply flawed ways of governing. Even more, our votes affirmed the hope of small beginnings.

God’s Pace is Not Our Pace

Bewitched, makeover shows, and even political promises can instill unrealistic dreams of how change happens and work gets done. More than that, these and other cultural influences teach us to despise slow change and alter our pace of life. When an advertisement at the gas pump on June 6^th tells you that the holiday season is right around the corner, something important is off.

The world attempts to program us to rush, hurry, and leave the present moment rather than be present and trust that God will arrange all as we take care of the duty of the moment and attend to the people that He has placed before us to love. We are trained to work like machines and program our lives to such an extent that there is no apparent need to slow down, be present, and listen for God’s guidance. It’s full steam ahead at all times.

However, when we choose to be present and live at a human pace, we are increasingly able to hear God’s whispers and respond to them. When we do this, we discover that God rightly orders our time, along with everything else with think we need to take care of on our own. When we share Jesus’ yoke and follow His pace, things go much better, even if they go more slowly.

Nowhere in the gospels is there a description of Jesus rushing about. The only quick makeovers He performed were His miracles which came directly out of His life of deep prayer union with the Father. Jesus’ life is a model for us in how we were created to live and thrive. Let us trust God enough to live life one moment, one step at a time, inviting, not despising, the days of small beginnings.

Patient Trust

A Prayer by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, SJ

Above all, trust in the slow work of God.
We are quite naturally impatient in everything to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way to something unknown, something new.

And yet it is the law of all progress
that it is made by passing through some stages of instability—
and that it may take a very long time.

And so I think it is with you;
your ideas mature gradually—let them grow,
let them shape themselves, without undue haste.
Don’t try to force them on,
as though you could be today what time
(that is to say, grace and circumstances acting on your own good will)
will make of you tomorrow.

Only God could say what this new spirit
gradually forming within you will be.
Give Our Lord the benefit of believing
that his hand is leading you,
and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself
in suspense and incomplete.

Photo by CHUTTERSNAP on Unsplash

The Holy Spirit is rightly called the Sweet Guest of our souls because He is the loving God of power and consolation dwelling within us. Yet He is also called the Great Unknown because we do not know Him as much as we should. He is the powerful guest with us and within us always, yet we often fail to remember Him.

Because we do not know the Holy Spirit, our lives cannot be pleasing to God. St. Paul writes to Timothy, “God did not give us a spirit of timidity but a spirit of power and love and self-control” (2 Tim. 1:7). When we are ignorant of the Spirit within us, we lack the courage and strength to be faithful in the face of difficulties and challenges in our world. We cannot make good decisions and maintain our focus on God and His will for us in times of great emotional turmoil. We are easily overcome by our fears because our love is weak.  

Therefore, the first thing we must do is not simply multiply our spiritual practices: receive more sacraments, accumulate more prayers, or read the bible more. Our first task is to deepen our relationship, to know the Spirit well so that we can respond to His movements in our spiritual practices and daily choices. He is the one who makes us good, inspires us to do good out of love for God, and makes our efforts supernaturally effective. He will direct and guide us in our religious and spiritual practices so that we experience His powerful life and love through them.

Our lives are pleasing to God and beneficial to others only when we know the Spirit as we should and do all things under His gentle impulse. Here are six truths to know about the Holy Spirit at all times if we are to glorify God with our lives.

1. Spirit of Sanctity

By the abiding presence and power of the Spirit, we belong to God as His beloved children, and we participate in His holiness. Our identity as God’s beloved children does not depend on our performance, experiences, or conditions in this life.

The Holy Spirit sanctifies us and moves us to live truly holy lives. We have this hope of holiness through the Spirit.

Beloved, we are God’s children now; it does not yet appear what we shall be, but we know that when He appears we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is. And everyone who has this hope based on Him makes himself pure as He is pure. (1 Jn. 3:2-3)

By the power of the Spirit, we too can be truly holy in this impure world. We can please God in our thoughts, words, and deeds by the power of the Holy Spirit. We can no longer excuse ourselves from striving for personal sanctity because of the sinfulness of our world or the temptations to conform to the world.

2. Spirit of Love

In the words of St. Paul, God has generously poured His love into our hearts: “The love of God has been poured into our hearts by the Spirit who has been given to us” (Rom. 5:5). We can enter into and participate in that very love between the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ.

By the presence of the Spirit, we are always and unconditionally loved by God. Are we living as God’s beloved sons and daughters? Are we still living in fear while possessing that “perfect love that casts away fears” (1 Jn. 4:18)? Are we confident in the love that God has for us, no matter our experiences in life?

Do we also realize that, by possessing the Spirit of love, we can also be truly loving people who love God and others as Jesus did? We, too, can and should love, pray, serve, obey, forgive, and endure like Jesus because we have His Spirit of love within us.

3. Spirit of Truth

Jesus assures us that the Spirit will “guide us to all truth” (Jn. 16:13). He will teach us truth about God, ourselves, and others, and how we are to live out our relationship with Him. The very first words that the disciples spoke after receiving the Holy Spirit on Pentecost were the truth about God and His deeds in Jesus; “We hear them speaking in our own tongues of the mighty acts of God” (Acts 2:11).

What is our attitude towards truth today? Have we fallen for the rampant relativism of our times, in which truth is a social construct or based on our feelings and moods? Are we people who listen to the voice of the Spirit of truth, believe this truth, speak this truth with boldness, and act on it faithfully? Do we buy into the lie that truth is the opinion of the majority?

The many examples of spiritual slavery in our time show that we do not have the truth of the Spirit in our lives. Jesus assures us that the truth from the Spirit alone makes us free, teaching that “If you continue in word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free” (Jn. 8:32).

4. Spirit of Jesus

St. Paul said to the Corinthians, “No one can say, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ except by the Holy Spirit” (1 Cor. 12:3). The Holy Spirit enlightens and convicts us of the Lordship of Jesus Christ and moves us to submit to Jesus as the sovereign Lord of our lives.

If Jesus Christ is truly our Lord, we will do and endure all things for Him, to please Him and to give Him glory. We will deny ourselves even legitimate pleasures and privileges to show our complete submission to Him. We will depend on Him and live for Him. We will not allow ourselves to be mastered by sins, created things, or human love and respect. We will use all that we have to do His will and do so for His glory.

5. Spirit of Peace and Unity

The first gift that the risen Christ offered to His disciples was peace; “Peace be with you.” Then He offered them the Holy Spirit who makes this peace possible by reconciling us with God and with one another: “Receive the Holy Spirit. Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained” (Jn. 20:19-23).

Through the Holy Spirit, we receive divine forgiveness for our sins and the grace to labor for unity with others. Through the Holy Spirit, we can begin to participate in that unity between the Father and the Son.

How are we enjoying and sharing with others that inner peace that Christ has won for us? How are we allowing the troubles of life to diminish our inner peace? How are we futilely searching for peace in this world, though Jesus has told us that “in this world we will have tribulation” (Jn. 16:33)? How are we agents of deeper peace and unity in our families, Church, and world? 

6. Spirit of Generosity

St. Paul reminds us that “there are different kinds of spiritual gifts but the same Spirit; there are different forms of service but the same Lord; there are different workings but the same God who produces all of them in everyone.” We have specific gifts from the Holy Spirit for the good of the body of Christ: “To each individual the manifestation of the Spirit is given for some benefit” (2 Cor. 12:4-7).

So, are we in touch with the specific gifts that the Spirit has given to us for the building up of the body of Christ? What are the excuses we make for not making good use of these gifts? How are we trying to deny our gifts because we are afraid of the responsibilities and duties involved?

My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, we have the Holy Spirit in us from the moment of our baptism. His presence within us was intensified with the sacrament of Confirmation. He is again poured into our hearts through the Eucharist and sacramental confession. He is present in us so that we live truly godly lives in godless times.

If we still do not know Him, there is no way that we can resist the pull of the world towards the godlessness of our times. We will give in to the sinful indulgences of our times in their many forms. We will give in to pornography, greed, homosexual unions, corruption, divorce and remarriage, abortion, contraceptive mentality, etc.

We cannot possess the Spirit and still live worldly lives under the dominion of our fleshly desires. St. Paul tells us why this is so, because “The flesh in its tendencies is at enmity with God; it is not subject to God’s law. Indeed, it cannot be; those who are in the flesh cannot please God.” We are called and gifted to live in the Spirit because “we are not in the flesh; but we are in the spirit, since the Spirit of God dwells in you” (Rom. 8:5).

Indeed, the Spirit of God, the Great Unknown, dwells in us all the time, pouring His love, power, and self-control into our hearts.

As we encounter this Spirit again in each Eucharist, let us strive to know Him better so that our lives are truly pleasing to God, even in ungodly times.  

Glory to Jesus!!! Honor to Mary!!!

Image from The Met

Jacques Maritain and his dear friend Raïssa Oumansoff were students at the Sorbonne. Their searching intellects, however, were frustrated by the fact that they could find no truth that would satisfy their restless minds. At that time Jacques was without any religious belief, and Raïssa was a self-declared atheist.

In her 1942 memoir We Have Been Friends Together, Raïssa spoke for herself and Jacques when she stated: “I wanted to know whether existence is an accident, a blessing, or a misfortune; I scorn that resignation and renunciation of the intelligence of which we have so many examples around us.” They could not continue to live in a world that had no meaning.

In near despair, they planned to commit suicide if they could not find any meaning to life over the course of the following year. “It was then,” writes Raïssa, “that God’s pity caused us to find Henri Bergson.”

Bergson’s brilliant lectures answered the couple’s intellectual needs. Other friends entered their lives which led them to become Catholic. Jacques became the leading Thomistic philosopher of the 20^th century and a prodigious writer, while his supporting wife, Raïssa, authored several works of her own, including Adventures in Grace and Saint Thomas Aquinas: For Children and the Childlike.

Their story serves as an inspiration for anyone who is diligently searching for life’s meaning. God’s grace is ever available.

Extraordinary as the Maritain’s story is, it is not exceptional. We turn to another story that parallels that of the Maritains—an encore, so to speak, of divine grace. It is the remarkable story of Michael Pakaluk and Ruth Van Kooy.

Ruth arrived at Harvard as a brilliant student and a pro-choice atheist. Michael had been an atheist, himself. The two met as sophomores in the late 1970s. They shared a deep determination, like the Maritains before them, to find meaning in life. Harvard, like the Sorbonne, offered them little help.

Their intellectual gifts were combined with a certain honesty that allowed their mutual discussions to lead them in the right direction. They seemed to have been made for each other. They were married at the end of their sophomore year. Eventually they found their way into the Catholic Church. But they were anything but Sunday Catholics.

Michael became a university professor and a prolific writer in defense of life and common sense. Ruth became President of Massachusetts Citizens for Life. She was such an effective defender of life that abortion rights activists often refused to go up against her. The well published philosopher, Peter Kreeft has bestowed high praise on Ruth: “I have read and debated much about abortion, but I have never seen a clearer and stronger pro-life argument than Ruth’s.”

Michael’s book, The Shock of Holiness (Ignatius Press, 2025) is subtitled, “Finding the Romance of Everyday Life.” Here we find how well we can fit into the life that God has created for us. It is a never-ceasing experience of the unexpected gifts that He brings to us on a daily basis. Unlike many philosophers in the modern world, Pakaluk acknowledges both the existence and presence of a loving God. His message is clear: Christian sanctity is far nearer and far more beautiful than we think.

Over time Michael and Ruth found spiritual guidance with Opus Dei. Their marriage was blessed with seven children. Her demanding family life, however, did not prevent her from being active in her community. As her husband recalled, “She was like ‘Mother of the Neighborhood’.”

Sadly, she lost one of her children. His name was Thomas Matthew. He died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome in 1989 at six weeks of age. His passing produced a mother’s grief that could be assuaged only by Ruth accepting the evangelical conviction, “blessed are those who mourn.”

Death struck again. This time it was Ruth who contracted breast cancer. She passed away seven years later at age 41. Her life was deeply spiritual and an inspiration for everyone who knew her.

Her cause for canonization is currently moving forward. Her life as a devoted and selfless Christian is documented in her book, The Appalling Strangeness of the Mercy of God.

The extraordinary life of Michael Pakaluk continued. In 1999, he married Catherine Hardy, also a graduate from Harvard. Their marriage has produced eight children. Michael Pakaluk has become the father of fourteen (six from Ruth and eight from Catherine). He and his second bride are both teaching philosophy at Catholic University.

Catherine has gained considerable attention with her book, Hannah’s Children: The Women Quietly Defying the Birth Dearth. It is a study of the motivation expressed by American women who are open to having large families. The phrase, “Hannah’s Children” refers to the Book of Samuel. Hannah had been barren, but God answered her prayer with Samuel, and then with three more sons and two daughters. Dr. Catherine’s narrative reveals women in America who see children as their greatest purpose and blessing.

This divine encore, no doubt, is repeating itself, though in most instances, unrecorded, in many places throughout the world. God’s grace and how He answers prayers is the common and reassuring denominator. “Ask and you will receive.” Life is a gift. Children are a blessing. Marriage is a sacrament. These are the simple truths that American society must re-learn. The Maritains and the Pakaluks, each in their own distinctive fashions, are showing the way.

Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash

What don’t you like about yourself? Even after going to Confession, do you still sometimes feel ashamed of your sins? And is this making you wonder if Father God is keeping you in misery because you don’t deserve better treatment?

Father God is full of compassion for you. Compassion is not something that we have to wait for. Compassion is not something we need to be good enough for. Jesus gave us a parable that describes what the Father’s compassion looks like. The story of the Prodigal Son (Lk. 15:11-32) illustrates that compassion fills the Father’s heart even while we are still far off track in the Christian life.

So he got up and went back to his father. While he was still a long way off, his father caught sight of him, and was filled with compassion. He ran to his son, embraced him and kissed him. (Lk. 15:20 NAB)

The parable of the Prodigal Son assures us that the Father cherishes us no matter what we’ve done. He waits, full of fatherly yearning, for us to turn away from our sins and turn toward Him. That’s all we need to do; just turn around. And the moment we do that, He runs to us! He wastes no time but immediately embraces us, welcomes us, and kisses us with His superabundant love.

The prodigal son had not yet asked his dad for forgiveness when he felt forgiveness wrap around him like a warm blanket. His confession came afterward. This is how the Father treats us. When we sin, He waits for our repentance with eager anticipation. He feels the pain of our absence. His fatherly heart yearns for the moment when we’ll realize that we’re better off with Him than in the pigsty of our sins.

Why does He treat us this way when He knows we will so easily fall back into sin? He sees our future. And yet He does not hold our future sins against us. He embraces us in the here and now. That’s compassion!

This is what it means to be an adopted child of God through the Sacrament of Baptism. When the Father looks at us who are His adopted sons and daughters, He doesn’t focus on what we’ve done wrong. While we are still in the state of sin, His focus is on the horizon line while He awaits our turnaround. He focuses on the steps we make in the right direction. He is driven by compassion to run and meet us, wherever we are, and to embrace us in a divine welcome-back hug that braces us up in our weaknesses.

Because of this, we can stop feeling ashamed of ourselves. We can give God’s compassion to ourselves. At the same time that we’re feeling convicted to repent, rather than beat ourselves up over what we did wrong (which is Satan the Accuser attacking us), the Father wants us to be compassionate to ourselves just like He’s being compassionate. This does not mean that we make excuses for our sins. No, it means that, just like Father God is focused on our turn-around and celebrates our repentance, so should we. Instead of unceasingly wallowing in regret, we can learn from our mistakes, and we can grow stronger in our commitment to live as the saints that God gifted us to be when we were baptized.

When my imagination illustrates the story of the Prodigal Son, I see the son limping toward home. He’s walked a long distance on an empty stomach. He’s weak and barely able to trudge through the last few miles of the journey home. His father runs to him and cries tears of joy and relief while hugging his son. Then he provides his own strength to support his son for the rest of the way.

Abba-Father is bracing you up, too, in your weaknesses—even before you conquer that persistent sin that makes you feel so unworthy. In His tremendous compassion He is giving you powerful support.

Such compassion is unimaginable for those of us who were abused or neglected or rejected by parents. And even in homes where the parents were full of compassion, to the child, discipline felt more like animosity than compassion. A good parent gives children a welcome-back hug after they’ve learned their lesson or showed a desire to improve. But if we grew up in a home where we did not feel our parents’ compassion during punishments, we’re probably projecting their character flaw onto God’s Fatherhood.

Therefore, when our prayers go unanswered or we suffer a problem that makes life difficult, we automatically assume that God is lacking compassion. Maybe we think we’re being punished.

It’s true that God disciplines us, but this always comes from a heart that yearns for us to become our best selves, which is also our happiest selves. The Father’s heart breaks when we sin. He knows that sin is destroying us in ways we cannot yet see. And He longs for us to spend eternity at Home with Him. He is all-goodness, and so He has to chastise us.

He does not chastise us by refusing to answer our prayers. That would require Him to stop being good, which is impossible. The word “chastise” comes from the Latin word castigare, which means “to set or keep right” or “to make pure.” The chastisements of Father God are designed to get our attention and make us turn to the Son who took our sins and nailed them to His Cross. By the blood He shed for us on Good Friday, we are purified from every sin that we genuinely want to overcome.

The word “compassion” means “to suffer with.” The Latin word com means “with, together.” The Latin root of “passion” is pati, which means “to suffer.” Therefore, it’s good to realize that in every chastisement, the Father suffers with us.

He is not the parent who sends an erring child to the corner; He takes us to the corner and sits with us there. He is not the parent who teaches a lesson by making the child suffer; He is the Father who takes us to the Son who chose to suffer for us.

When we accept this tremendous act of love, Jesus and the Father give us the Holy Spirit who teaches us lessons in a most victorious way. Thus, all things—including our sins—are made to work together for our good because our Father delights in turning something evil into something holy.

We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose. (Rom. 8:28)

Image from Wikimedia Commons