Franciscan at Home

C. S. Lewis’s devil Screwtape advises junior tempter Wormwood, “The parochial organization should always be attacked, because, being a unity of place and not of likings, it brings people . . . together in the kind of unity the Enemy desires.”[1] Christian community makes tangibly present communion with Christ. It is often the first place people begin to encounter him and believe in the possibility of his love, which is manifested through the love of the Church’s members. Even in its veiled, earthly form, the Communion of Saints has the power to radiate Christ to the world. This article will briefly examine the nature of this communion and its power to bear witness to Christ, as well as offer some ideas for fostering a deeper and more intentional living of this communion within our communities.

The Communion of Saints

The Communion of Saints on earth is quite simple: Its source is Christ; its soul is charity. Christ himself, on the evening before his Passion, prayed, “that they may all be one, as you, Father, are in me and I in you, that they also may be in us, . . . that they may be brought to perfection as one, that the world may know that you sent me, and that you loved them even as you loved me” (Jn 17:21, 23). The members of the Church are “a holy people united with the unity of the Trinity.”[2] The Holy Spirit unites the Church in a single bond of love. Moreover, in the Eucharist, Christ binds each person together so that they are members of this same whole.

Being enriched by Christ’s gift and made one in him opens our horizons. In the midst of its treatment of the Our Father, the Catechism has this stunning line: “Finally, if we pray the Our Father sincerely, we leave individualism behind, because the love that we receive frees us from it” (2792). God’s love frees us. We no longer need to protect ourselves. Transformed by the renewal of our minds (Rom 12:2), grace allows us to see the love God has bestowed on us. It opens our eyes to the fact that my brother or sister in the Lord is in some way part of me.[3] And it moves us to “leave individualism behind,” embracing this communion. We are able to live heroic charity, loving as we have been loved.

“Beloved, let us love one another, because love is of God; everyone who loves is begotten by God and knows God” (1 Jn 4:7). God takes our ordinary nature and, through grace, elevates it to share in his life. This means that simple, everyday gestures of love and care take on extraordinary depth. They are the “stuff” sanctity is made of. I can remember gathering with a group to pray for a friend who was dying. I knew her as my mentor and a gifted catechetical leader, but as others shared how they knew her, I began to realize there was so much more to her life of sanctity than just what she did for the Church in her role as catechist. One friend shared how my mentor had helped her with laundry during her prolonged recovery from surgery. Another spoke of how she had come to understand authentic family life when my mentor had opened her home to her and helped her. These simple, human gestures of love and self-sacrifice provided the deepest and most authentic witness to Christ that my mentor offered in her very full life. This is the kind of love Tertullian said caused the pagans to exclaim, “See how these Christians love one another!”[4] Sometimes it is the humblest gestures that speak the most loudly of Christ’s presence and love.

This final article in this series presents three methods for making catechesis authentically organic. “The organic unity of the faith bears witness to its ultimate essence and allows it to be proclaimed and taught in its immediacy, without reductions or diminutions. The fact that the teaching may be gradual and adapted to persons and circumstances does not invalidate its organic unity.”[1]

Teaching the Unity of the Faith by Means of the Catholic Family Story

When a person receives the Sacraments of Initiation, God’s plan is being accomplished: he created each person in order to live together in his own Trinitarian life. The role of the catechist is to share with others an evangelizing narration of salvation history—the story of who God is and what his plan is for them. “We heard with our own ears, O God, our fathers have told us the story of the things you did in their days, you yourself, in days long ago” (Ps 44:1). Every teaching given to participants should flow from and be directed toward their participation in the Catholic “family story” as a venerable means to achieve a genuinely organic catechesis:

In his De catechizandis rudibus [The First Catechetical Instruction] Augustine makes explicit the theory of what must be the object and the manner of the catechesis of catechumens. . . . He begins with creation and briefly narrates the whole sacred history up to Christ and the Church, and then passes to the resurrection of the flesh and to the future life. Everything is centered on Christ. . . . Now it is possible to catch a glimpse of the marvelous unity which, in this conception, unites Bible, magisterial teaching, liturgy, tradition, theology, ordinary preaching to the faithful and catechesis of the catechumens. . . . The bond which unifies all these members is the primacy of emphasis given to the reality of salvation history that each is called upon to explain.[2]

This family story includes, with the telling of it, an invitation to join the family and make the story one’s own. It informs the structure of what a catechist hands on; it is a unifying force that gives participants a framework in which to place each new teaching. For this reason, the story should be told, in its entirety, near the very beginning of the catechumenal process, during the precatechumenate. This can be accomplished in 30 minutes. The catechist simply lays out the story element by element, beginning with God, continuing to the present day, and following through all the way to the last things: death, judgment, heaven and hell. The major points of the story could include the following:

1. God our uncreated Creator, who is utterly transcendent: God is a Trinity, a family of persons whose life is love; God has a plan of intimacy for his human creatures.
2. Creation: especially being created in the image of God, as well as the creation of angels.
3. The Fall: sin, death, and separation of the human family from God.
4. God’s plan to answer sin: a gradual reconciling of his prodigals through a fatherly gathering of a people to himself; the covenants with Noah, Abraham, Moses, and David.
5. The history of the prophets: God’s steadfast fidelity to his covenants, the stubbornness of the Chosen People; the prophets are entrusted with a message of rebuke, correction, loving reconciliation, and future promise.
6. The Incarnation (the pivotal point in the whole story): Jesus Christ, true God and true Man; Mary’s unique participation in God’s gift of himself, her “yes” to God; all promises are fulfilled in him who was sent by the Father.
7. The Paschal mystery: Jesus’ Passion, Death, Resurrection and Ascension—the redemption of all humanity.
8. The establishment of the Universal Church: the Father regathers his people as his adopted ones.
9. The descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost: the guarantor of the deposit of faith and the life of the deposit of grace.
10. The story since Pentecost: a new family identity, evangelization, the saints, and everyone here and now.
11. The Second Coming of Jesus and the reality of the promises of heaven.

By narrating our family story at the outset of the catechumenal process, the catechist can place each new teaching in the context of the Catholic family story. Each truth is like an episode in the continuing saga of God’s love for us. At some point in the catechumenate period, the catechist can and should go back and tell the story again, in greater detail and length, incorporating more personal reflection. This could take over an hour of time, but it is well worth it. A reminder of the history of God’s unique love for his human creation gives each catechetical session coherence by uniting it with everything else that has been unpacked previously.

I have had the joy, honor, and privilege of working with adolescents for over 20 years, first as a Catholic high school teacher, and now as a licensed marriage and family therapist in the throes of raising my own tweens and teens. There are several key moments in my formation, work, and ministry that stick out in my mind.

The first was a teaching demonstration I completed in my undergraduate studies. I was preparing to graduate without a clue of what my next step would be in my ministry and career, and as I stood before my peers and professor, I felt deep in my soul the Lord calling me to work with teenagers in the high school setting. A second moment occurred a few years later, during my time as a high school theology teacher. I had a student in one of my classes whom I tried to engage each day, only to have her ignore me or roll her eyes. One day, I walked into my classroom and found her crying beneath my desk. I listened to her cries and gave her tissues to wipe her tears as she opened up about the pain and suffering of her home life. As I sat, listened, and prayed, I heard the Lord call me to work with teenagers once again, but in a new way: as a therapist. Since then, there have been countless hours through the years of sitting with teens, listening as they share their pain and struggles and doing my best to bring light into their darkness and truth into their hearts. I am grateful for the call I have received, and I recognize the challenge that it has been.

I often feel that adolescents are unfairly criticized and misunderstood. They are described as emotional, irrational, uncontrollable, and, at times, an overall nuisance. Yes, adolescents can have big emotions. Yes, they experience uncertainty and upheaval in their lives—even several times in a given day. Yes, they want to go against the grain regularly and question everything and everyone. I believe, however, that the changes adolescents experience in this time of life, specifically in their brain development, are some of their strengths and superpowers rather than their downfall. When youth ministers have a deeper understanding of these changes, along with the obstacles and opportunities they pose, we are empowered to meet, serve, and accompany them better.

The term “disciple” is a translation of the Greek word mathetes, which means a student or follower of a teacher. Of course, we know that Jesus was called a teacher or Rabbi by many, and he had a good number of disciples. However, his manner of teaching was a bit different from other teachers of his time. He did not sit and wait for others to come to him. Rather, he called or summoned disciples, and then he had them follow him, not only by following his teachings but literally and physically following him around. Thus, this teacher was a unique kind of teacher, which would mean that his disciple will be a unique kind of disciple.

Personally, I have always loved school and reading and studying—sitting still and learning is one thing that I believe I have been pretty good at. However, the idea of getting up and moving around wherever someone else might lead me seems a bit demanding and discomforting. Yet, that is the kind of disciple the Lord wants me to be.

How can we describe Jesus’ program of formation for his disciples? These elements come from some Gospel texts where he specifically addresses his followers and often challenges them.

This past semester, I had the joy of bringing my family to Franciscan University of Steubenville’s Austrian campus, where I taught for the spring.

This past semester, I had the joy of bringing my family to Franciscan University of Steubenville’s Austrian campus, where I taught for the spring. One of the most compelling facets of this experience was our immersion in the lives of many saints as they may be met in various places around the European continent. That, of course, is the extraordinary thing about the saints—they may be encountered in the most tangible of ways by visiting their cities, their graves, and even (in the case of Pope St. John Paul II) their favorite ice cream shops. Their homes are sometimes preserved, as are occasionally their actual bodies in a miraculous way. Over the course of this semester in Austria, I was deeply stirred in my own encounters with the Church Triumphant in these holy places. Allow me to offer three examples.

First, I had quite an astonishing run-in with divine providence in Rome. I had recently read about a remarkable recently beatified woman: Bl. Elisabetta Canori Mora. Born in the 18th century, Elisabetta had fallen in love with a young lawyer and joyfully married him. Then, almost immediately, her husband chose to be serially unfaithful to her. He soon gambled away the young family’s living in a life of self-absorbed debauchery. Hoping for a beautiful marriage and family life, Elisabetta instead found herself unloved and disrespected and very much alone. Her reaction to this terrible situation was profound. The book I had been reading described her response in this way:

Drawing strength from intense prayer and from the conviction that the sacrament of matrimony had truly bound them together in a precious and indissoluble way, Elisabetta resolved on total fidelity to her husband and their two daughters, whom she supported laboriously by her own work. She honored the sacrament she had received, although she was forced to do so alone, venturing onto a “mystical” terrain made of inexhaustible charity, aid for other families in difficulty, the attentive upbringing of her own daughters, and getting to know Jesus her Bridegroom, who assisted her with miracles of love.[1]

When I was walking the streets of Rome, I suddenly remembered her, wondering where in Italy she had lived. A moment’s research relayed to me the astonishing fact that she had actually lived in Rome and her body was buried not a mile away from where I stood. She was here! In amazement, I walked to her church and knelt at her grave, asking her intercession for my own marriage and those of my loved ones. Being in that church was a way to draw close to her. It was an experience both consoling and inspiring.

The year 2025 will mark the occasion of an ordinary Jubilee. Pope Francis announced the Jubilee Year on May 9, 2024 with the Apostolic Letter Spes non Confundit (SC), "Hope Does Not Disappoint", and it officially began on December 24, 2024, with the opening of the Holy Door of St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican. But, what is the Jubilee? Where does it come from, and why does the Church continue to celebrate it? How will it be celebrated in 2025?

Encountering Hope

“May the Jubilee be a moment of genuine, personal encounter with the Lord Jesus” (SC, 1). This is the hope that moves the pope in declaring the Holy Year of 2025. This is the center of the Holy Year: a genuine encounter. The encounter is with the Crucified and Risen One, the Son of the Father, Jesus of Nazareth. He is the Living One. It is a personal encounter because it is shaped by the reality in which we live—the specific time that the People of the Lord and the human community are living through, their culture, their characteristics, their gifts, their specific dramas, etc.

This encounter is marked by a very particular tone: we are to meet the Lord in the environment of hope. In fact, this encounter is a source of hope. The encounter with the Crucified and Risen Lord guarantees that hope will “not disappoint” (Rom 5:5). In Spanish, this phrase is la esperanza no defrauda—hope does not deceive you, does not fool you, does not mislead you. The Greek verb used by Paul (καταισχύνει) also carries the connotation of shame: hope will not leave you ashamed. It is not something to be embarrassed about. In summary, you can trust it. It is solid ground. But, what kind of certainty is this?

It is not the certainty of someone who already knows everything in advance, consumed by the anxiety of control. It is the agile confidence of one who knows they are supported by what is necessary and sufficient—the announcement of the Gospel—to cross any kind of terrain, even one made of tribulations and sufferings.

The Cries of the Oppressed

“What is our sin that God punishes us with such a trial? Where is the just God? Does he not see the injustices inflicted upon us? What fault have these children committed to be left without a roof to shelter them as they sleep? What is the fate of our children, who have been deprived of everything, even their schools?”

These were the desperate cries of families who sought refuge at St. Joseph Cathedral on the night of August 7, 2014. They were fleeing the brutal attacks of ISIS, faced with an impossible choice: renounce their faith in Jesus Christ, pay a tax of servitude, or face certain death. Leaving everything behind, they clung only to their faith in Jesus Christ as their Savior.

Our response was clear and unwavering: “Our God has not abandoned you. He has accompanied you, ensuring your safe arrival here with us. Our faith and hope remain steadfast that He will return with you to your homes in victory. Many have wielded the sword against faith in Jesus Christ, but they have been defeated by the steadfastness of believers in him.” We reassured them with the words of Jesus: “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (Jn 16:33).

I believe I shall see the LORD’S goodness
in the land of the living.
Wait for the LORD, take courage;
be stouthearted, wait for the LORD!

—Psalm 27:13–14

Nothing has gone out of vogue like waiting.

“Buy Now.” Instacart. DoorDash. Prime. No wait: press button and skip line. Our hypertechnical society seems to have finally pushed through what has been a problem for human beings from the beginning. After all, Eve’s doubt in God’s providence, a deep suspicion sown by the cunning serpent, led her to reach out and take matters into her own hands as Adam stood by silently affirming the sinful act. Why wait for the Lord when she could make it happen instantly? We are no different today. Human beings have always hated waiting and have tried to do something about it.

If the Church’s doctrine of purgatory was ever fashionable, it is passé now. Our culture has dismissed hell as an antiquarian, fear-mongering tactic used by religious officials to control people. Meanwhile, humanitarian efforts and good -people-ism have neutralized its threat. And why wait for heaven? We can build our own tech-utopia here! With hell removed from the scene and heavenly decadence on earth, purgatory has no place. We don’t have time for it.

But maybe we should.

Revisiting Purgatory

Death initiates one into an eternal either/or: either heaven or hell. Upon dying, everyone will face a particular judgment and will receive, as the Compendium of the Catechism of the Catholic Church explains, “entrance into the happiness of heaven, immediately or after an appropriate purification, or entry into the eternal damnation of hell.”[1] Hell or heaven. And, indeed, nothing unclean or impure will enter heaven (see Rv 21:27). So, those words from the Compendium—“after an appropriate purification”—cannot be overlooked. Purgatory is that appropriate time, place, and state of purification. “Purgatory is the state of those who die in God’s friendship, assured of their eternal salvation, but who still have need of purification to enter into the happiness of heaven.”[2]

Purgatory is an expression of God’s merciful love. If nothing unclean can enter heaven, then someone who dies with a venial sin is “toast.” If nothing unclean can enter heaven, then the slightest attachment to sin spells tragedy. Unless there is a purgatory. Purgatory is God’s mercy, as time is a mercy. The doctrine of purgatory says the ultimate outcome has already been determined (i.e., heaven), yes, but purgatory is a kind of “overtime” to allow God’s love to continue to transform, purify, and prepare one for heaven. The primary direction and fundamental destiny of one’s life has been determined by the grace of faith, but the ultimate attainment of this destiny requires further purification. As Joseph Ratzinger, who would later become Pope Benedict XVI, explains, “Even if one’s fundamental life-decision is finally decided and fixed in death, one’s definitive destiny need not necessarily be reached straight away. It may be that the basic decision of a human being is covered over by layers of secondary decisions and needs to be dug free.”[3]

The word “purgatory” comes from the Latin word purgare, meaning to make clean, to purify. To purify from what? In short, any attachment to sin. Purgatory purifies one of any venial sin and satisfies temporal punishment. Venial sins are those less serious sins that weaken but do not destroy relationship with God as mortal sin does. Temporal punishment has to do with the temporal consequences due to our sins, the damage that is left behind. Take, for example, my son, who cares for our chickens. If he refuses to wear his boots out to the coop and walks into our house with mud and chicken litter on his shoes, I can forgive him and no longer see him as a disobedient son—but he will still need to clean up the mess on the floor. Another example: I may forgive my four-year-old for slapping his sister with lunch meat (she may forgive him, too), but he still needs to sit in timeout to think about his actions, feel remorse, and amend his ways. Purgatory is a bit like a spiritual timeout.

Last week, I changed the lives of 36 engaged couples (most of whom are already sexually active) in seven hours. More accurately, God and I changed their lives through Pope St. John Paul II’s theology of the body (TOB).[1]

What is it about TOB that reaches others, whether young or old, parent or student, married or single? I’d like to unpack that for those of you whose mission is “boots-on-the-ground”: parents, catechists, classroom teachers, diocesan officials, and anyone else who may need it. As a former Confirmation leader, RCIA director, and educator for over 25 years—and as a single woman with no children—I approach the theology of the body very differently from others. With this background and over 27 years of studying TOB, allow me to outline three very concrete, practical phrases that can help us teach the truth of the body in a pastorally loving way.

The Body Matters

Start teaching everybody by using this phrase: “the body matters.” For instance, let’s say you are teaching children in a catechetical setting, and they ask, “Why do we have to go to Mass?” or “Why do I have to eat well?” or “Why did God become human?” The answer: because the body matters!

• Mass is important because the body matters—your body, everybody’s body, and most importantly, Jesus’ Body matters! If we want to be close to God spiritually, we can start by being close to God physically. Jesus’ Eucharistic Body is received into your body; that’s why it is called Holy Communion: you are now intimately connected with God in Christ.
• Eating well is important since the body matters. Without healthy food, it is harder to function in life, and so it is harder to love others.
• The Son of God became human because the body matters. He knew humans are embodied persons, and since he wanted to save us, he too became embodied.

As St. John Paul II says, “Through the fact that the Word of God became flesh, the body entered theology . . . through the main door” (TOB 23:4). In other words, the body matters.

My children love stories.

Our days are dotted with stories from the Bible, lives of the saints, fairy tales, biographies, Shakespeare, literature, and history. They retell them to their dad around the dinner table, act them out in the backyard, and make connections between the story and their own lives, even weeks later. They ask to read beloved picture books over and over again. They want to know the impetus of action and the background of the main characters.

Their pure hearts are enthralled by the idea that they, too, are living a story. Perhaps, when in the fullness of time the Father sent his Son into the world to save it, he saw in his creatures a similar trait: despite their wayward hearts and lost innocence, his children love stories.

God Is the Storyteller

Since the beginning of time, God has been writing a story in the world. It’s why the events of Sacred Scripture are called “the story of salvation history.”

Beyond the pages of the canon, we see God’s story written in the lives of the saints. Whether they were on the world stage or tucked away in a home or cloister, an encounter with the life of a saint is an encounter with an authored story.

As humans, we are enamored with story. Familial quips are passed through generations; we learn about right and wrong through fairy tales; heroic stories call us to bravery and perseverance; we long to know one another’s “life story.” Sharing in a story extends unity, aspiration, and education.

“If there is a story, there must also surely be a storyteller.”[1] We can be confident that the Author of Life has something to say to us through story. In the person of Jesus Christ, he teaches us through stories known as parables.