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Myrrhbearers – The Women at the Tomb 20 Apr 8:25 PM (17 hours ago)

As the Catholic Church (East and West) celebrates the Sabbath of the Resurrection, readers will not be surprised to encounter a work celebrating one of the foundational mysteries of the Christian Faith. The Lenten season imbues the faithful with a sense of devotion, reverence, and awe for what was done on that day and three days before.

But let us also remember how the world first came to know of this foundational belief of Catholicism. It could be argued that such knowledge was born through the eyes, speech, and acts of the women who followed Jesus and bore witness to the Resurrection as recorded in the Gospels: the “women at the tomb.”

And this is unique; we should bear in mind that ancient texts typically accorded little time to females—who they were, what they said, or what they did. When mention was made, it was often expressed in less than flattering terms.

Aristotle places women in a subordinate position in terms of virtue and rationality compared to men (Nicomachean Ethics). The Greek poet Hesiod warned against women, claiming if a man wants to get married, he needs to constantly be fighting against the mischievous deeds of women (Theogony 603-609). Hipponax, an archaic Greek poet from Ephesus, went so far in his poem “If Only We Could Reproduce Without Woman…!” to depict women as deceitful, manipulative, and immoral.

Ancient views of women notwithstanding, the Gospels and Paul’s writings appear to devote a great deal of time and credibility to women. Who were these women who followed Jesus and ultimately witnessed the fundamental mystery of the Catholic Faith?

There are two traditions in Catholic Christianity which speak to the role of women and the Resurrection: The Roman Latin and the Eastern Orthodox.

The Latin Church offers us two Gospels which speak of the Resurrection. Mark’s account (16:1-7) of the encounter of Mary Magdalene and the other women with the angel at Christ’s tomb is read at the Easter Vigil. The reading for the Mass on Easter Day is John’s account (20:1-9; 20:2) of Peter’s and John’s race to the empty tomb after learning from Mary Magdalene of Jesus’ absence.

In Western Christianity, these women are often referred to as the Three Marys or simply the “women at the tomb.” Mark recounts how three women—Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Mary Salome—go at dawn to Christ’s tomb with spices to anoint His body. His burial on Friday had been rushed ahead of the Sabbath; the women now had come to complete their task. To their surprise, they find the tomb open and are struck by the presence of a white-robed angel. The angel tells them to be not surprised, then proclaims the central truth of the Christian message: Jesus, the crucified one, is risen! The women are given a message: tell “the disciples and Peter” that the Risen One will meet them in Galilee.

John’s Gospel records that Mary did tell Peter and John, although the Johannine account mentions Mary seeing only the empty tomb, not the angel. Peter and John race to the tomb to find only the grave clothes lying there. They saw and “believed,” although they “did not yet understand the Scripture that he must rise from the dead” (Jn. 20:9). (As John recounts, Mary remains at the tomb, where she encounters two angels and then Jesus.)

We must remember that the Gospels were initially part of the oral tradition about Jesus’s life, Passion, Death, and Resurrection; only subsequently was it reduced to writing. The Gospels record how the Catholic Church, protected by the Holy Spirit, remembered the event.

The Eastern Orthodox have a somewhat more elaborate tradition of the women and the Resurrection, referring to them as the “Myrrhbearing Women” with their Feast Day (this year) on May 4^th.

About the beginning of His thirty-second year, when Jesus was traveling throughout Galilee, preaching and working miracles, many women who had witnessed His work left their homelands and followed after Him. Several ministered unto Jesus out of their own possessions, even after His crucifixion and entombment; they came to His sepulcher, bearing the oils of myrrh they had prepared to anoint His body. It is through these oils that the “women at the tomb” are called “Myrrhbearers” by the Eastern Church.

The third Sunday of Holy Pascha (Easter) is observed by the Orthodox Church as the Sunday of the Holy Myrrhbearers. The day commemorates how these women of faith and discipleship followed Christ beyond His death and entombment to His Resurrection.

In the Orthodox tradition, there are eight women who are generally identified as the Myrrhbearers. Each of the four Gospels gives a different aspect of the roles of these eight women at the cross and at the tomb on Easter morning.

Of those whose names are known to us, Eastern Orthodoxy recounts the following: the most holy Virgin Mary; Mary Magdalene an early companion of Jesus (feast day July 22); Mary, the wife of Clopas; Joanna, wife of Chouza, a steward of Herod Antipas; Mary Salome, the mother of the sons of Zebedee; Mary and Martha, the sisters of Lazarus; and Susanna. As for the identity of the rest of the women, the Gospel writers are silent (Mt. 217:55-56; 28:1-10. Mk. 15:40-41. Lk. 8:1-3; 23:55-24. Jn. 19:25; 20:11-18. Acts 1:14).

For many in the Church, the Myrrhbearers’s central role in the Passion and Resurrection narratives essentially highlights the broader themes of discipleship and faith.

Yet, Mark’s overarching theme of misunderstanding Jesus’s identity can be contrasted with the Myrrhbearers’s recognition of the truth. The women are portrayed as outsiders who, nonetheless, grasp Jesus’s significance, setting them apart from family, disciples, and others. It seems that the women at the tomb did not just believe—they trusted in their belief—that Jesus was “. . . the way, the truth and the life” (Jn. 14:6).

Image from Wikimedia Commons

An Easter Examen of Consciousness: How to Retain the Fruits of Lent 20 Apr 8:20 PM (17 hours ago)

St. Ignatius of Loyola’s most well used prayer, the Examen of Consciousness, was once defined by Fr. Mark Thibodeaux, SJ, who wrote:

An Ignatian way of praying wherein one devotes ten to fifteen minutes of prayer to reviewing one’s day or half day, giving thanks for the good moments and seeking healing and/or forgiveness for the not-so-good ones. The prayer then concludes with looking ahead to the next half day or day, asking God for help to do God’s will in particular ways.

There are many purposes and gifts to this prayer practice, including increased awareness of how God is working in our days and in our lives. In this increased awareness, we become better at discerning which choices best align to God’s will, and thus best align with our living fully and deeply this Christian life.

Although Fr. Thibodeaux focuses on the daily or half-daily Examen in his definition, we can use this prayer practice to review any time period with God. One such period that is just ending in our lives is that grace-filled season of Lent. As Lent has given way to Passiontide, and Passiontide to the all-encompassing joy of Easter, Lent can easily slip into the dim recesses of memory if we don’t make a concerted effort to retain its graces.

In the Church’s wisdom and generosity, she has given us a full and glorious fifty days to enter the celebration of Jesus’ Resurrection. Perhaps during this season-long celebration, some prayer time could be devoted to looking back at the graces God gave during Lent, that is, to making an Easter Examen of Consciousness.

A general rule of the daily Examen is to allow about ten or fifteen minutes, but looking back over an entire liturgical season will likely take longer. Consider setting aside a half-hour or so. Go to your favorite prayer spot. If you don’t have one, any quiet place where you can be comfortable and won’t be disturbed will do. Try your best to set aside the cares of the day, perhaps lighting a candle to signify to yourself that this time is set apart to communicate with God. Relax. This isn’t about getting it “right,” but about opening yourself up to the grace that the Lord longs to give. Ask God for the grace to see your Lent from His perspective.

The particulars of how people practice the Examen vary but follow the same general pattern. Let’s follow that pattern then, shifting our focus to looking at the season of Lent:

We begin with Thanksgiving. Remembering the days, weeks, devotions, retreats, or missions you experienced during Lent, what comes to your mind that you would like to thank God for? Was a particular speaker a gift to you in an area that you have long struggled with? Did consoling Jesus along the Stations of the Cross draw you into His Passion in a new and deeper way? Did someone hand you a prayer card that ended up informing your prayer for the whole season?

This time of offering thanks is not about making sure to list every last grace, but bringing to your awareness the memory of God’s gifts that you wish to thank Him for, and to more deeply ingrain them in your heart. When you feel you have thanked God for all the individual gifts you desire to, allow yourself to feel an overall sense of gratitude for how well God knows and loves you, to bring you His grace in so many different ways. In your own way, express this gratitude and love to the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Well-grounded in a grateful spirit, we now Ask for Light. As with all prayer, God is the one in charge of this Examen. We ask Him to show us what He would like us to see. In your own words, ask the Holy Spirit to enlighten you regarding your practice and your experience of Lent. This short movement within the Examen is couched in the preceding Thanksgiving and will move you through the remaining parts according to God’s hopes.

Finding God in All Things: In God’s Light, with a grateful spirit, we now look through the days and events of our Lent. If you keep a journal, it may be helpful to skim through it. Looking at a calendar might remind you of things that were going on in your life, in addition to any special practices or events you took part in. As with the Thanksgiving portion, you aren’t looking to list everything, but to think about what was going on inside you during these events, such as joy, pain, confusion, anger, peace, anxiety, boredom, freedom, loneliness, closeness to God, distance from God, or any other notable emotion or movement of spirit.

With this welter of strange and beautiful gifts in your metaphorical lap, ask the Lord, “What are You trying to say to me in all of this?” Let Him speak to you about the attitude underlying your boredom, the love hidden within your pain, the masked intention that caused confusion. One by one, gently move through these gifts in your lap. There may be one that stands out to you as most important, as the “heart” of your Lent, or there may be several. This is your Examen, your time with God. He will show you the gifts He wants you to hold onto through Easter and beyond.

When you feel that you and God have looked over those gifts in your lap, and that you have “found God in all things,” it is time to move on to the Gifts of Sorrow, Forgiveness and Gratitude. At this point of your prayer with God, you will likely feel very safe expressing any regrets over how your Lenten journey may not have lived up to your Ash Wednesday hopes. Perhaps your over-eager fasting led you to being grumpy with your family. Maybe you over-extended your schedule of spiritual “extras” and neglected your first responsibilities. Maybe that one vice, fault, or failing you hoped to leave behind is worse than ever.

None of it is a surprise to the God who loves you. Now is the time to seek His forgiveness in prayer, and if you need to avail yourself of the sacrament of Reconciliation, make the decision to do so. In His incredible generosity, there is even grace in recognizing the moments when we did not respond to the graces God already gave. The Examen helps with that recognition and thus helps us respond to such graces in the future.

For those times where we did respond to graces to resist temptation or grown in virtue, this part of the Examen allows us to show our gratitude to God for the beautiful change inside of us. We receive forgiveness when we fail, and we give thanks when we succeed. In both situations we continually have a God who loves us and will shower us with every grace we need.

Finally, we move into the last part of the Examen: Help and Guidance for Tomorrow. Each part of this prayer builds upon the prior. Here we take everything we have recalled and responded to, everything we have learned and let go of, everything we have given thanks and asked for forgiveness for, and we look to the future.

What Lenten grace don’t you want to lose? What fruit would you like to endure in the rest of your life? Now is the time to ask God’s help with this. It could be as simple as the grace to continue to stay off social media and spend that time in healthier pursuits. It could be as challenging as taking the next step to get help with an addiction you faced through the disciplines of Lent. It could be as wonderful as continuing to fall in love with Jesus by a daily time of prayer and scripture reading. Whatever fruit from Lent that your heart would love to keep consuming “out of season,” ask for it. God is the one who gives us these good yearnings and is ready to fulfill them.

Yes, God gives many graces during Lent. Yes, when we cooperate with those graces He bears much fruit in us. By spending some time looking back at those graces, we give thanks to this wonderful God who loves us. By offering an Easter Examen, we can retain the fruits of the season. By walking in these fruits, we give God the greatest thanksgiving as we share our newness of life with our neighbor.

Lord, thank you for the season of Lent and the fruit it yields. Help us to spend a little time with you letting those graces sink into our hearts, minds, and souls. As we walk in the restored life you died to give us, help us to live it for love of you and neighbor.

Photo by Ioana Ye on Unsplash

The Son Also Rises 20 Apr 8:15 PM (17 hours ago)

The house is all spruced up for spring and Easter. Colorful eggs—the size an ostrich would lay—are nestled in a wooden bowl here and a planter there. We even have an Easter wreath, and I never knew such a thing existed. But when that sunlight rolls over the frosty hill and lights up the living room each morning, it brings with it the feeling of a new beginning.

I’ve sat still over the past few early mornings with a cup o’ joe at my kitchen table, waiting for the sun to rise as I struggle to offer up my burdens and give to God my sensible folly that always returns in times of trouble. I focus too hard on the trouble, and grumble about how to fix it, rather than, like a child, asking for and joyfully receiving the Grace to surrender them and persevere.

I stared out of my kitchen window, wondering at the spring frost scattered like ash across the hills. As I stoked the coals in the wood stove, I recalled the beauty patiently waiting to return. I have seen it break free time and again, in days of mourning and days of joy, through the times of brokenness and times of holy integration.

My wonder gave way to memories of running through my childhood neighborhood during springs and summers until the streetlights came on and my mom would stand in the doorway of our little, square house, whistling for me to come home for dinner. The streets, homes, and olive and orange trees never changed. They remained a comfortable constant to explore day in and day out.

Skinned up knees, bruised elbows, and sometimes a bruised ego when I would lose some game to the bigger kids next door were the usual fare for the day, and a loving mother to listen to me, love me, and bandage me up when needed. Around every corner there was a silly new adventure to be had, a new view of my little world found at the tops of every tree I climbed. I’d never try to puzzle out why I fell off my bike or out of a tree; they were just stumbling blocks, my steppingstones into adolescence and adulthood.

What troubles are there in the embrace of the risen Christ? Bruised egos, broken hearts, and battered souls heal and find rest in the arms of the Great Physician. We are running the race marked out for us by our loving God, and we never do so alone.

What a beautifully comforting gift it is knowing that the race has been marked by the very One who is helping me run it. What can I say to my God who sets the sun and triggers the seasons—all for me to enjoy? Who am I to grumble when I stumble over blocks in my way? What a silly little man I am to forget that He has already won this race for me, that He waits for me to accept His continuous offer of nature-perfecting Grace along the track.

There is a frivolity when indulging in Christ that I forget about when I focus on myself. There is a childlike joy in discovering that there is always something new to learn, a new adventure to be had, and all in the comforting arms of our God who loves me.

So, as the Son rises this Easter, the sun along with Him, and the light fills my living room and bounces off the taffy candy dish, I’m reminded that He gives beauty for ashes and that His Grace cannot be depleted. This life is one incredible adventure where the victory of the Son reigns, turning each stumbling block that we bring to Him into a steppingstone toward a brighter future.

Photo by Jordan Wozniak on Unsplash

St. Anselm (Bishop and Doctor) 20 Apr 8:00 PM (17 hours ago)

St. Anselm was born in 1033 in Aosta, in what is now northern Italy. From a young age, he was drawn to a life of prayer and learning. He eventually joined the Benedictine monastery of Bec in Normandy, where he became a renowned teacher and abbot. In 1093, he was appointed Archbishop of Canterbury, a role in which he defended the rights of the Church during a time of political tension between Church and crown. A brilliant theologian and philosopher, Anselm is best known for his writings on the existence of God and the nature of faith, particularly the famous Proslogion. Despite facing exile more than once for refusing to compromise the Church’s independence, Anselm remained faithful, humble, and dedicated to truth. He died in 1109 and was later declared a Doctor of the Church.

Practical Lessons:

1. Stand Firm in Your Values at Work: As Archbishop, Anselm stood up to kings who tried to control the Church. In modern life, this means speaking up when something violates your conscience at work or in leadership roles, even if it’s uncomfortable.
2. Make Time for Deep Thinking: Anselm wrote profound works by setting aside quiet time for reflection and prayer. You can follow his example by turning off distractions daily—even for just 10 minutes—to pray, journal, or think deeply about your life and choices.
3. Use Your Skills to Serve Others: Anselm didn’t pursue knowledge for pride but used his intellect to serve the Church. Whether you’re good with numbers, words, or tools, offer those gifts to your family, parish, or community in practical, helpful ways.

Prayer:

St. Anselm, faithful bishop and brilliant teacher, pray for us. Help us to think clearly, act courageously, and speak truth with humility. Teach us to seek God with both our minds and hearts, and to serve others with the gifts we’ve been given. Intercede for us, that we may love truth, defend justice, and grow in faith each day. Amen.

Quote:

“I do not seek to understand in order that I may believe, but I believe in order to understand.” — St. Anselm

Other Saints We Remember Today

St. Conrad (1894), Religious

image: George Glover, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

St. Agnes of Montepulciano 19 Apr 8:00 PM (yesterday, 8:00 pm)

St. Agnes of Montepulciano was born in 1268 in Montepulciano, Italy, to a noble family. From a very young age, she showed a deep desire for a religious life and entered a convent at just nine years old. By the age of fifteen, she was appointed prioress of a new convent in Proceno due to her evident holiness and leadership. Later, she returned to her hometown of Montepulciano, where she founded a Dominican convent and served as its abbess. Known for her deep mystical experiences, Agnes was frequently found in prayer and was graced with visions of Christ, the Blessed Virgin Mary, and angels. She was also revered for her charity and wisdom. Despite suffering from chronic illness, she remained joyful and dedicated to her mission until her death in 1317. Many miracles were reported at her tomb, and she was canonized in 1726 by Pope Benedict XIII.

Practical Lessons:

1. Start Young, Stay Faithful: Agnes followed God’s call early in life. Encourage children and teens to pursue holiness now—not later—and don’t dismiss your own call just because of your age or stage in life.
2. Lead with Gentleness: Agnes led communities while still a teenager, not through force, but with prayer, kindness, and example. At work or home, lead others by being patient, honest, and spiritually grounded.
3. Turn Suffering into Prayer: Chronic illness didn’t stop Agnes from serving God. When facing illness, stress, or hardship, offer it to God and use the quiet moments to pray for others or reflect on your blessings.

Prayer:

St. Agnes of Montepulciano, faithful bride of Christ and servant of His people, intercede for us. Teach us to trust God at every age, to lead with humility, and to remain joyful even in suffering. Help us to live a life rooted in prayer, service, and love, so that we too may draw others closer to Jesus. Amen.

Quote:

“Jesus alone is enough. Let Him be your joy, your strength, and your reward.” — St. Agnes of Montepulciano

Other Saints We Remember Today

St. Marcellinus (374) Bishop

image: Dominican-Order-church in Friesach, Main altar depicting Agnes of Montepulciano by Neithan90, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons

St. Elphege, Martyr 18 Apr 8:00 PM (2 days ago)

St. Elphege was born around 953 in England and entered monastic life as a young man, eventually becoming abbot of Bath and later Bishop of Winchester. Known for his piety, charity, and leadership, he was appointed Archbishop of Canterbury in 1006. At a time when England was under threat from Viking invasions, Elphege remained with his people, offering them spiritual and material support. In 1011, Viking raiders captured him during their attack on Canterbury. Though held for ransom, Elphege refused to allow his people to pay a large sum for his freedom, unwilling to burden them further. As a result, he was brutally martyred in 1012—stoned to death by his captors. His courage, selflessness, and fidelity to his flock made him one of England’s most revered early saints.

Practical Lessons:

1. Stand by Others in Crisis: St. Elphege refused to abandon his people during violent raids. In today’s world, this can mean showing up for loved ones during hard times—staying present during illness, family struggles, or moments of loss.
2. Make Sacrifices for the Greater Good: Elphege rejected a costly ransom that would have burdened the poor. We’re called to make responsible, compassionate choices—even when it’s uncomfortable—to protect others’ well-being, like forgiving a debt, offering time instead of money, or taking on an extra task to lighten someone else’s load.
3. Lead with Integrity: As archbishop, Elphege led by example in generosity and humility. Whether you’re a parent, manager, or community volunteer, lead with patience, kindness, and personal accountability—earning trust through action, not words.

Prayer:

St. Elphege, courageous shepherd and faithful martyr, pray for us. Help us to remain steadfast in our faith, even in the face of hardship. Inspire us to serve those entrusted to our care with humility and love. Intercede for us, that we may be generous in sacrifice and fearless in doing what is right. May we, like you, put others before ourselves and walk in the footsteps of Christ. Amen.

Quote:

“I would rather die than see the poor suffer for my sake.” — St. Elphege

Other Saints We Remember Today

St. Leo IX (1012), Bishop, Martyr

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image: Internet Archive Book Images, No restrictions, via Wikimedia Commons

Prayer of Consecration to the Most Holy Cross of Jesus 17 Apr 8:30 PM (3 days ago)

Doce me passionem Tuam—teach me Your suffering.

Lord Jesus Christ, I consecrate my whole self, all that I am and all that I am not, all that I have and all that I lack, to Your Most Holy Cross. Your entire Passion—all Your terrible suffering—was for me, alone and individually. And You likewise prepare a place in Heaven for me, alone and individually. You did not embrace the Cross with any caveats or reservations. Help me to likewise take up and embrace the Cross daily, without reserve. May Your Cross be my Cross . . .

The heavy Cross that cut into Your shoulder and lower back as You carried it.

The rugged and jagged Cross from which You received countless splinters.

The Most Holy Cross soaked in Your precious Blood.

May I never ignore or avoid the Cross, but embrace it daily in order to become one with You. I want to participate in Your Cross in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass—the bloodless Calvary. I too desire to offer myself as a sacrifice on Your altar, to give You everything without reservation: what I love and what I hate, those whom I love and those who love me, those whom I scorn and those who scorn me, what I desire and what I fear, what I have and what I lack, all my virtues, and all my vices and sins. I give You my everything and my nothingness.

Grant me the grace to abandon myself completely to Your Divine Providence. If it be Your will, I accept being scorned and mocked and exiled. Give me the fortitude and perseverance I need for You, the courage to give You my whole life, the willingness even to be martyred for love of You. Give me the strength to take up the Cross daily and follow You—the blood-soaked Cross, the heavy and burdensome Cross, the rough Cross of jagged splinters and pain—the Most Holy Cross to which You were affixed not only by nails, but even more by Your love for me. From the wood of the manger to the wood of the Cross, You gave Yourself entirely to me. You were outstretched on that wood—the very material of Your trade—in a gesture of love; and with hammer and nails—the very tools of Your trade—You were fastened to the Cross.

You make us live by dying. You bore our sins in Your body and soul upon the Cross; by Your wounds we were healed. By the Cross alone You bless us: through suffering You confer Your wisdom, Your love, Your freedom, Your divine life. You desire that each of us bears the seal of Your Cross, which makes us beautiful in Your sight. When we join You on the Cross, we become alter Cristus, ipse Cristus—another Christ, Christ Himself.

Jesus, may Your Cross give me the strength to choose also to be nailed to it with You. May it detach me from created things so that I may be attached to Your will alone. May I stand upright and firm, keeping company always with Our Lady at the foot of the Cross. May the blood and water which flowed from Your side—pierced by the lance of my sins—wash me clean and unite me with You, the One I seek and the One I love.

I see the power of the living One who died and rose for me.

Doce me passionem Tuam—teach me Your suffering.

Amen.

Image from Wikimedia Commons

From Our Sufferings to His 17 Apr 8:25 PM (3 days ago)

In this series I have introduced the brief prayer, doce me passionem Tuam—teach me Your suffering—a simple aspiration we can pray many times a day. I also offered some suggestions on preparing for a Consecration to the Most Holy Cross of Jesus that you can pray today on Good Friday, which I am publishing here, along with this final article in the series. The great paradox of our faith is that the scandalously brutal Cross of Christ became the most beautiful, powerful, and liberating symbol of love the world has ever known.

In his underappreciated classic work, The Holy Ways of the Cross, the 17^th Century spiritual writer Henri-Marie Boudon wrote, “The cross ought to be all our philosophy and all our theology, all our knowledge and all our love.” Simple souls who experientially know the Cross of Christ have more wisdom than the wisest pagans who are ignorant of the Cross. While it may sound ludicrous to say this, the friends of the Cross are wiser even than Socrates, Aristotle, and Plato combined. After all, what is the value of knowledge and wisdom if it does not lead us to that which is most true and most good?

In knowing the Cross of Christ, a believer knows the most profound truths of existence. Jesus is the great “I Am,” truth and goodness incarnate, and everything we seek to learn and know should lead us eventually to Him. As St. Thomas Aquinas taught, even the tiniest sliver of knowledge of divine things surpasses complete knowledge of human things. The New Testament reveals that deepest wisdom is found only in the Cross of Christ: “For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified,” St. Paul writes, “a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God” (1 Cor. 1:23-24).

As I mentioned in the opening article in this series, my work as a psychiatrist frequently reminds me that everyone suffers. Certainly, some people suffer far more than others, but in a fallen world some degree of suffering is unavoidable for everyone. We rarely know how and to what extent other people suffer, because the worst forms of suffering are often hidden. But as I have tried to show in these reflections, even a life of tremendous suffering—if it is lived in Christ, with Him, and through Him—is a life of freedom.

If we want to follow Jesus, we cannot shun the crosses He sends us daily. Our Lord wants all of His disciples to embrace the Cross, as He instructed us in the clearest possible terms: “If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself, take up his Cross, and follow Me” (Mt. 16:24). What does this mean for us? It means we cannot just endure with passive resignation the suffering in our own lives; we must actually learn to be thankful for it, for love of Him. Whatever He allows us to suffer is always sanctifying, always for our good, even when we do not immediately see the fruits in this life.

It is pointless to spend time wondering about or longing for the life I would have had, or the person I might have been, had I not endured the sufferings that have shaped me. St. Josemaria Escriva referred to this trap as “mystical wishful thinking”—if only I had different parents, if only I had married someone else, if only I had a different profession, if only I were healthier, or younger, or older, and so forth. Such fantasies are at best a waste of time and at worst a temptation to abandon our vocation. Instead, I need to focus on the life I do have, which is only possible because of what I have suffered.

This is the life God has given to me, and insofar as it is from God, it requires my gratitude. To repeat, the life I actually have is the best life for me because it is from God. I am fully aware that this is difficult and challenging for us to understand and accept. To be clear, God does not ask us to like our suffering; but He does ask us to love the lives He has given to us—in good times and even in times that seem horrendous. God works all things for the good of those who love Him (cf. Rom. 8:28). To be sure, it may be hard to see this until we enjoy the perspective of eternity; but when we do, we will realize that even that which seemed bad, which felt unbearable, was working for our good.

While in college I took an entire course from a brilliant Christian philosopher on the problem of evil—the age-old question of why an all-good, all-powerful, all-knowing God would permit so much suffering in the world. Every person of faith wrestles with this mystery at some point—and not just as an intellectual riddle, but an existential, deeply personal question. Why did God allow my child to suffer a disabling brain injury? Why does God not cure my spouse’s cancer? Why am I afflicted with crippling depression or anxiety when I am trying to live a life of faith and devotion? Why does God permit false accusations and slander to ruin my family’s reputation? The ultimate answers to these questions are not found in any philosophical treatise. They are found only in the suffering of Christ. The answer is in the Cross.

I have treated many patients who believe that God is good, that He is loving and forgiving and merciful—except with respect to them. They believe that, despite how much they try to love and have faith in God, they might just be the only person Jesus didn’t redeem, the only person He will not forgive. They often know intellectually that God loves everyone, and this (theoretically) includes them; yet they doubt and reject His personal love for them in their hearts. They assume instead that their suffering is proof that God must despise them, or that He is ambivalent toward them, or that He needs to punish them for their faults.

Contrary to what they feel or venture to believe, everything they suffer is actually evidence of God’s tremendous love for them—for He allows His friends to share in His redeeming Cross. To be sure, sometimes we do suffer as a direct consequence of our sin, which tends to produce misery. (Sin is its own punishment, as the Christian theologian Augustine, and even the Pagan poet Ovid, observed). But personal suffering is not necessarily an indication that we have done something wrong, something deserving of God’s punishment. Even in that instance, just as a parent may chastise a young child who crosses the street without looking, such punishment is not because the parent does not care or love their child, but precisely because they do. And God is an infinitely wiser and more loving Father than any human parent.

The lessons in this series apply equally to the small and large sufferings of our lives—from the mundane everyday pinpricks and minor contradictions to the most horrendous anguish imaginable. Just as we should not assume we know what another person is suffering, we cannot compare one person’s suffering with another’s. The human heart is mysterious: our experience of suffering is always deeply personal and unique. I suffered for almost five years from constant crippling nerve pain from a spine injury; but how could I say that my pain was worse than that of my wife or son who suffer periodic migraines? It is pointless and unnecessary to ask such a question: only God knows. And in the end, it does not matter. What matters is that we turn our attention to the suffering Christ. This simple prayer helps shift our focus from our own suffering to His: doce me passionem Tuam—teach me Your suffering. For it is only in Our Lord’s sufferings that we are liberated from the burdens of our own.

In the Torah, the notion of consecration (Hebrew teleioũn) means “total dedication of something or someone to God.” If you have prepared during this Lenten season to make it well, this accompanying prayer of Consecration to the Most Holy Cross of Jesus can help you enter more deeply into the mystery of Christ’s redemptive suffering, so as to personally experience the healing and liberating power of His Cross in your life. For the Cross of Christ always leads to the Resurrection.

Author’s Note: This is Part 7, the final installment, in a weekly Lenten series on the Christian meaning of suffering and the Cross of Christ.

Image from Wikimedia Commons

Bearing Witness to the Empty Tomb: Easter Sunday 17 Apr 8:15 PM (3 days ago)

This Sunday’s Gospel describes an absence that confounds the disciples, preparing them for the Presence their hearts desire.

On Palm Sunday, the narrative of our Lord’s Passion ended with these words:  

The women who had come from Galilee with Him followed behind, and when they had seen the tomb and the way in which his body was laid in it, they returned and prepared spices and perfumed oils.  Then they rested on the Sabbath according to the commandment. (Lk. 23:55-56)  

We can only imagine how much “rest” they got on what must have been the longest Sabbath day of their lives.

This Sunday, St. John tells us, “On the first day of the week, Mary of Magdala came to the tomb early in the morning, while it was still dark” (Jn. 20:1).  Now that the Sabbath was over, she was coming to finish the burial anointing.  Why did she arrive so early, before dawn?  Anyone who has grieved over the death of a loved one knows the answer to this question.  The finality of death, even for those prepared for its arrival, is literally un-believable.  We cannot bear the thought of not seeing this dear one again.  Mary had the opportunity to be near Jesus once more, to see and touch Him.  Even in death, He drew her to Him with an irresistible force.

Mary saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb.  Shock!  We can feel her eagerness to be with Jesus again, yet He was not in the tomb.  St. John wants us to see that the followers of Jesus were slow to understand what He had told them many times:  He would rise from the dead.  Mary believed that someone had taken the Lord and put Him elsewhere.  Imagine this for a moment:  profound grief was compounded by profound horror.  For Mary, the empty tomb was not a source of joy.  It was an agonizing twist in what was becoming a nightmare.

Peter and John (“the other disciple whom Jesus loved”) ran to the tomb with Mary’s news.  They, too, were drawn to the Lord in this energetic race.  John arrived first, but notice his deference to Peter, the Lord’s own appointed leader of the apostles.  Once inside, they quickly realized that grave robbers were not responsible for the absence of Jesus.  The burial cloths (fine, expensive linen) would never have been left behind by robbers this way.  No, something big was underway.  

St. John tells us that when he entered the tomb and saw the burial cloths, “. . . he believed” (Jn. 20:8).  What did he believe?  Only that Jesus was really gone from the tomb—itself a great mystery.  He goes on to make that clear:  “For they did not yet understand the Scripture that He had to rise from the dead” (Jn. 20:9).

So, on Easter Sunday, the Gospel reading leaves us with only clues.  How interesting!  There is not, as we might expect, the boundless joy of the disciples seeing Jesus alive again.  Instead, we spend time with His followers in their longing, anxiety, sadness, and utter confusion.  We, of course, know what’s going on, but they don’t as yet.  St. John wants us to linger for a spell in the very human reactions to an astounding miracle.  He helps us feel deeply the question that boggled the disciples:  What has happened to Jesus?  

It is only by entering fully into this human dilemma that we are truly prepared for the answer:  Jesus has conquered Death.  The worst thing that has ever happened in human history (men killed the “Author of life,” Acts 3:15) has become the best thing that has ever happened in human history, and man’s history has been changed forever.

Possible response:  Lord Jesus, sometimes I am shocked that You don’t seem to be where I expect You.  Help me believe that what I feel is Your absence will always lead to Your Presence.

If we think about what we have seen of Peter in the readings for Holy Week, this passage from Acts might leave us asking a question: What has happened to Peter?  We remember him on Palm Sunday, denying the Lord three times and fleeing when Jesus was crucified.  Today’s Gospel tells us that Mary Magdalene had to go fetch Peter with her news because he and the other apostles were hiding “for fear of the Jews” (Jn. 20:19).  Yet here we see him boldly preaching the Good News (to the same Jews who had terrified him) that death could not hold Jesus.  

We see the effects in him of the Resurrection—more clues to its reality. Peter testifies not only to “Jesus of Nazareth,” Who “went about doing good” (Acts 10:38), but also to the fact that he “ate and drank with Him after He rose from the dead” (Acts 10:41).   The commission he and the other apostles received from the Risen Jesus, confirmed by the anointing of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, turned Peter inside out.  What a transformation from the befuddlement of the empty tomb!  Freed from his cowardice and fear, he wanted the world to know that Jesus is alive and that “everyone who believes in Him will receive forgiveness of sins through His Name” (Acts 10:43).

Possible response:  Lord, this Easter season, please loosen my tongue to bear witness to Your empty tomb and to the meal we still eat and drink with You in the Mass.

The psalmist announces:  “This is the day the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad.”  Great joy like this might make us wonder about its cause:  What has happened to the psalmist? 

If we read the entire psalm, we see how he describes a time of unthinkable reversal in his life, when he was in terrible distress, and his enemies surrounded him “like bees” that “blazed like a fire of thorns” (Ps. 118:12).  He recounts that he was “pushed hard, so that I was falling, but the LORD helped me” (Ps. 118:13).  In fact, the LORD’s deliverance sprung him from death:  “I shall not die but live, and declare the works of the LORD” (Ps. 118:17).  Yet what really seems to fuel the psalmist’s elation is that “the stone which the builders rejected has become the cornerstone” (Ps. 118:22).  The psalmist’s enemies had rejected him, but God upset their plans to be rid of him, and instead, set him like a cornerstone, a rock of solid strength.  

Now we understand the joy of the psalmist, and why we are using his words to rejoice on Resurrection Sunday.  The reversal he experienced from God’s mighty hand ignited his heart to sing God’s praises on the day of his deliverance and victory.  His words help us re-live this Day the exquisite joy of Jesus’ victory over sin and death, our most feared enemies.  When the meaning of the empty tomb washes over us, we will echo the psalmist’s awe:  “By the LORD has this been done; it is wonderful in our eyes!” (Ps. 118:23)  

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

In his epistle, St. Paul writes a most remarkable exhortation to his Christian friends (and to us):  “Think of what is above, not of what is on earth” (Col. 3:2).  Why should we, earthbound creatures that we are, be seeking what is above?  What has happened to us?  

St. Paul tells us that the death and Resurrection of Jesus, our focal point all during Holy Week, has happened to us, too.  In baptism, we died with Christ and rose again with Him into a brand new life.  The power that raised Jesus from the dead has seated us with Christ:  “Your life is hidden with Christ in God” (Col. 3:3).  What a transformation for us!  The empty tomb of the first Easter has reverberated all the way out to us now, in the 21st century.  Its meaning is not only historical but personal.  In Christ, we are forgiven our sins, released from death, and destined for glory:  “When Christ your life appears, then you will appear with Him in glory” (Col. 3:4).  Allelulia!

Possible response:  Father, forgive me when I try to make life on this earth my only goal.  Help me to set my mind on heaven.

Photo by Jonny Gios on Unsplash

St. Apollonius the Apologist 17 Apr 8:00 PM (3 days ago)

St. Apollonius the Apologist was a Roman senator and Christian philosopher who lived in the 2nd century during the reign of Emperor Commodus. Known for his intelligence and deep faith, he boldly defended Christianity at a time when doing so could cost one’s life. When a servant betrayed his faith to Roman authorities, Apollonius was summoned to explain his beliefs before the Roman Senate. Instead of denying Christ, he used the opportunity to offer a well-reasoned and articulate defense of Christianity. His eloquence and wisdom impressed many, but he was ultimately sentenced to death for refusing to renounce his faith. St. Apollonius was martyred around the year 185, becoming a powerful witness to truth and reason grounded in faith.

Practical Lessons:

1. Know Your Faith Well: St. Apollonius studied and articulated his beliefs clearly. In modern life, this means taking time to understand Catholic teaching—read the Catechism, listen to Catholic podcasts, or join a study group—so you can explain your faith confidently and respectfully when asked.
2. Speak the Truth with Calm and Respect: Apollonius didn’t lash out or panic when questioned. Instead, he calmly made a rational case for his beliefs. At work, school, or online, we can follow his example by standing up for truth without aggression, showing others that faith and reason go hand in hand.
3. Stay Faithful Under Pressure: Even though it cost him his life, Apollonius didn’t back down. Today, while we may not face death for our beliefs, we do face social pressure. Whether it’s refusing to join gossip, defending life issues, or standing up for Church teaching, his courage calls us to be faithful no matter the cost.

Prayer:

St. Apollonius, fearless defender of the faith and wise witness to Christ, pray for us. Help us to know our faith deeply and share it with humility and clarity. In moments of pressure or misunderstanding, give us the strength to speak the truth with love. May our lives, like yours, be a testimony to the power of faith grounded in reason. Amen.

Quote:

“There is nothing greater than to live and die for the truth.” — St. Apollonius the Apologist

photo: Wikimedia Commons