Laura Stierman - Director of Evangelization

I want to take a look at the process that led to the ‘hope’ and ‘glory’ of the Ascension this week, and ponder suffering for a minute. The early disciples, who spent their lives building up the kingdom of God whatever their state/profession in life was, still suffered despite the Easter promise. The question posed to Jesus about the time of his return had a hint of desperation about it. “When, Lord, will you return?” they wanted to know, because a Christian life was difficult and treacherous, and persecution-unto-death was expected.

We too sometimes have a hint of desperation abut us. As authentic disciples, our truth is maligned and twisted in the media, we are hurt by choice words from our fallen-away children, chastised by the banal words of those in power, and ostracized from certain social circles. It hurts. Especially when the pain comes from those we love the most.

There are also physical pains of desperation. Ones of growing older, like arthritis, Parkinson’s, or dementia. Or the sudden suffering of migraines or cancer, no matter what our age. Suffering cares not a whit for age or infirmity.

Loving on Jesus - knowing that we will be with him again, doing the work of making more disciples as he asks us to do - does not mean we won’t suffer. It means we can use suffering to our advantage. It’s not senseless, you know. Suffering has merit. We can offer it up for souls in purgatory. We can use it for our own sanctification. It’s a reminder to be grateful when we’re not in pain. We can wield it as a witness to Jesus.

But most of all, we can let Jesus into our suffering. We can allow him to transform it to be a shining witness to the faith for all to see. Like the early Christians. They knew in their hearts that heaven was real and held no suffering, just Love. Peace. Friendship. Jesus. They held on to the hope that life is fleeting and suffering is transient, so they were joyful disciples amidst their drama and trauma. Something we can learn from them. #transcendsuffering

I wonder which gifts/charisms that Stephen, Philip and their five companions brought to the early church, and why The Twelve chose them to “wait on tables” for the widows. The early church had a two-fold reason for caring for these women: (a) Jesus asked them to, and (2) Timothy tells us that widows often served the church faithfully (1 Timothy 5:10) and most of them needed their own TLC in order to serve. Waiting on tables doesn’t concern the actual serving of food and cleaning of tables, it speaks of handling the practical administration of the financial and practical details. Remember when Jesus overturned the tables in the Temple courtyard? A ‘table’ at that time meant a place where a money changer did his collecting or exchanging of money. For these seven men, their new role would be to manage/administer the care of widows. It was such an important ministry that Luke felt it important to include in his account of a growing church.

Remember, Christianity is born out of Judaism… the care of widows and orphans was an important part of Jewish life, and it was up to the Temple authorities to organize the distribution of food to these women. Now, because of the division between the followers of Jesus and those who rejected Him, a new process of care for Jesus-loving widows in the “Christ-following” sector need arise.

The Hellenists are Greek-speaking Jews. The Hebrews are Hebrew-speaking Jews. Both groups follow Jesus. This is an internal issue in a growing and vibrant church. Someone needs to step up and solve it. Which leads me back to my original question: I wonder what gifts these men brought to the table (pun intended) in that they were called to take on this new and necessary role? A charism of Administration? Counsel? Helps?

These are some of the same charisms that the Lord bestowed on us in baptism, strengthened at Confirmation. Charisms are fruitful for both the giver and the receiver only when building up the Kingdom. What charisms are on your table and how might you use them? #tablegifts

The Road to Emmaus. This real-life Jesus story is my all-time favorite, as it has all of my feel-good triggers: mystery, Jesus, conversation, dinner, and a sadness-turned-to-joy can-you-believe-it ending. It simply doesn’t get any better than this. And the small sometimes-unnoticed details, which make it worth the telling. You see, Cleopas and his companion, disciples of Jesus, had been with him for some time. Long enough that they were among the hunted by the authorities; they’re creating some distance between them and the chaos of the cross, and heading underground… or at least out of the reach of the religious law. These two are conversing and debating along the way, and although we don’t know what exactly they are saying, it probably has something to do with the events of the past and how it now dictates their future. Just like all of us who deal with bad news and catastrophic events that we don’t understand.

You see, they saw, heard, and felt it all. These two witnessed the crucifixion from a distance and knew where Jesus was buried. They were with “the group” when Mary Magdalene and company returned in joy from the empty tomb and their encounter with the Risen Lord. They went to look for themselves and found things just as the women had described, but no Jesus. And then? Nervous, scared, and incredulous, they walked. Unable to absorb the testimony of the women and trust in the process, they walked away from Jesus. And all his promises. Just like all of us who cannot fathom why bad things happen to good people and the shock of a new reality.

Thankfully, Jesus didn’t give up them, just like he doesn’t give up on us. We might not see him clearly in our daily dramas, but He sees our tears and frustrations. He’s listening in the midst of our conversation with friends. He is absolutely present - body, blood, soul, and divinity – in the Eucharist. He dispenses mercy in confession, and soul-soothing grace for the journey. Don’t walk away from that. Lean in. Take part in our mission tonight. #adventureswithBart

When I was a wee whisp of a girl, I owned a pair of Cher-inspired bell bottom jeans. Sitting low on the hips and wide at the bottom, with a couple of peace-sign appliqués, they were my favorite. I wore them everywhere and begged my Mom to wash them while I was sleeping so that they were available each morning. It was the late 60’s and early 70’s, you see, and bell bottoms were “it” and Cher was my “It Girl.” I wore my hair long and straight, flashed peace signs at friends, and memorized the lyrics to “I Got You Babe.” I looked absolutely nothing like Cher physically, but wanted to get as close as possible to her look-and-feel. I was “Cher-struck,” as it were.

As an adult, I still do the same thing. We all do, but we call this person something different: a mentor. Corporations spend a good chunk of change pairing new hires with wisened long-timers in order to form young recruits to their corporate culture. Simon Sinek, the current leadership-in-the-workplace influencer for young adults, believes everyone has a mentor, knowingly or not… for good or for not. Someone you follow because you believe what he/she believes. Someone whose habits you adopt because he/she shares your vision for the world. Someone you have a heart for because he/she shares the same “why” you do-what-you-do.

For all of us sitting in the pews this Easter morning, that person is Jesus Christ. Yes? It’s a #pondering and #invitation question for you, an Easter gift. How do you resemble Jesus? How often do you seek him for advice? Do you read his words for inspiration and direction? Do you let his joy and peace animate your day?

Are you tired and weary of the darkness in this world? Saddened by the violence? Shocked by depth of hatred? The casting aside of human dignity? Yes? Want to be immersed in true happiness, authentic love, abundant friendship, and strength-for-your-storms? Attend our Bart Schuchts event or look at our Adult Formation webpage for anything that piques your interest. Come and see. #chooseJesusasyourmentor

While on pilgrimage in Jerusalem, I stood inside the tomb of Lazarus. Dark, damp, and calm, it represented a time of “waiting in mystery.” That was our theme for the trip; our gathering sessions each evening reflected things historically discovered and mysteriously uncovered in the heart. Each soul had an individual story, a different reaction, and distinct insight to standing inside Lazarus’ tomb, for that is how the Lord works in our lives, tailoring revelation to each unique and beloved creation of His. The Lord meets us where we are… only to draw us deeper into the mystery of a new path with Him. That is why our Lents look so different and our small group conversations so varied. And yet we learn from each other’s experiences, which makes our Lenten journey so beautiful and transformative. We’re approaching the end of our self-inflicted sacrifices, as next week we’ll open with Palm Sunday and Jesus’ crucifixion, then enter into the mysteries of the Triduum (Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday). Like Lazarus awaiting his call to depart the grave, we too now await the Spirit of the Lord to call our names. Listening to the promise of Ezekiel, we wait for the Lord to put his spirit within us so that we may live authentic lives of discipleship. Hearing the words of the Apostle Paul, we too desire to be alive in the spirit. And like Lazarus, we too want to be free of our darkness and joyfully enter into a new life with Jesus the Christ, the Lord of all. There is still time to prepare, still time to die-to-self, still time to consider how you want to wait for your resurrection day. What gifts do you want to share, which virtues do you want to practice, and what legacy do you want to leave behind? For the Lord will call us each by name from the darkness of our hand-hewn tombs one day. Like Lazarus, who didn’t know when the Lord would call his name, wait patiently this week in the calm of darkness and the quiet of mystery.

Our readings thus far in Lent have been ones of relational intimacy and transformation. Ash Wednesday had the Lord peering into the inner workings of our heart. The First Sunday of Lent found the soul-giving animation of man by the spirit of God, and the breaking of God’s heart through sin. We brought those two ideas with us into the Second Week with the power of friendship and its ability to transform a life, for good or for ill. And now we get an inside look at the gentleness of Jesus as he approaches the woman at the well; their encounter is a part of every retreat I lead, for we are all like this woman whose past choices weigh on the current situation, some of which may not have been our fault.

The ancient Greek philosopher, Heraclitus, once wrote, “Change is the only constant in life.” Indeed, if one is a serious student of philosophy, we say that each moment, each minute, each second - each nano-second - of life is new, as we bear each previous experience into the present one. Pretty heady thought, yes? And yet each moment of our lives is an opportunity to let the past define us… or to step into something radically different. Free will and grace make that possible.

But it’s not easy. Simple, yes. Easy, no. Moses is leading a people who yearn for the old because the new way is too difficult and unpredictable. Paul’s new Christians in Rome have only hope and the Holy Spirit to rely on, as they lose their livelihood to the authorities and their lives to wild animals. The Gospel recounts the initial difficulty of our woman at the well, whose life is defined by the religious constructs and social connivances of her past. It’s a very intimate encounter; Jesus and she alone at the well, identities revealed and souls laid bare. What does Jesus see deep within in your soul? What wounds does Jesus seeks to heal in your life? What relationship does Jesus want to have with you? How deep are you willing to go? #constantchange

Driving northward after Mass last weekend, I noticed that sections of the fence between the north- and south-bound lanes of Hwy 61 are in grave need of repair. There have been a few fatal missteps along that route this winter and it shows. Sometimes it’s folks driving too fast for conditions or distracted by the sound of their phones or not paying attention in general. Other times it’s not their fault, things *happen* and before they know it, they’re in the ditch and unable to move. Still, the fence is damaged.

That’s the gist of the readings today as we enter Lent, yes? Action and consequence, sometimes unintended. The laws are in place for our protection, but we – okay, at least yours truly – think that it won’t matter if I speed a bit or respond to a text or take a phone call. It’s the same in our faith journey. It won’t matter that much when I ditch my morning prayers for work, am subtly cruel in a response when I could have been kind or engage in my favorite bad habit. A few fatal missteps, as it were. No big deal, right? I hit the proverbial fence, again and again and again… and now that I got a good look at it? It’s in grave need of repair. It wasn’t always my fault, mind you, sometimes I got caught in the aftermath of someone else’s poor decision, but I didn’t handle it well and hit the fence nonetheless.

Lent is the time we look at our habits and correct our behaviors; it’s our time to repair the fence that keeps us out of oncoming traffic and certain death. Lent is a safety feature of the liturgical year, one that we shouldn’t ignore. The broken sections (choices and habits) of my life need repairing in order for me to fulfill my mission: to be a joyful disciple who makes Jesus Christ known and loved. I hope you join me over the course of the next 40 days for some “fence repair.” Our eternal lives depend on it. #hammerandnails

Fr. Mark Toups recorded a lovely homily series on walking through our “seasons of life” this past January. He said all seasons have three things in common: a definite beginning and end, a particular personality, and something the Lord wants to say to us. He also repeated a phrase that I have been pondering: “There is a difference in waiting for God and waiting WITH God.” Today’s readings are settling in alongside this phrase for me, because, frankly, the readings are pretty tough. “If you choose, you can keep the commandments and they will save you… before man are life and death, good and evil, whichever he chooses shall be given him,” writes Sirach. He’s looking at things like keeping the Lord the center of your life, worshipping God each Sunday, not using vulgarity in speech, valuing and protecting life and your marriage vows, being honest in speech and deed, and nurturing gratitude for what God has already bestowed and blessed you with. There are only 10 commandments, but they wholistically define the Christian life. We get to choose to follow them or not (free will), but our choices will define what-happens-now and what-comes-next. Sirach adds that God sees the heart in every deed and he does not give us license to sin. In other words, there’s no rationalizing our sin. When you stand before the Lord on judgement day, “everyone else was believing/doing it” won’t cut it. Yes, God dispenses mercy, but God also wields justice for the unborn, the elderly, the vulnerable, and the sacrament of marriage (Happy Valentine’s Day!). Jesus then cuts to the heart: make peace with your family and colleagues, be chaste in your thoughts, and no manipulating or changing the laws of God. WHEW! I don’t know about you, but I need friends to help me live out these words of Jesus. We’re quickly approaching the season of Lent. It has a beginning and an end (Feb. 22 – April 6), a repentant personality, and the Lord definitely has something to say to us. We’re asking you to join an online or in-person group or grab some friends and DIY using resources we provide. #embraceCHANGE

January 28 is the feast day of St. Thomas Aquinas, one of the most brilliant minds in all of history. It was also the birthday of my mentor, Dr. Don Briel, co-founder of the Center for Catholic Studies at the University of St. Thomas. Briel’s life-work was the integration of faith and reason, much like Aquinas. Both men now occupy the heavenly realm and I imagine, if rational conversation can occur where union with God is possible, the two of them debating various premises and conclusions in theological arguments. It’s also likely that St. John Henry Newman makes it an intellectual trifecta. Newman’s life work was as an apologist for Catholicism, but his true heart lay in explaining the purpose of higher education. For Newman, channeling Aquinas, the sole purpose of education is to teach men and women how to think, how to spot a flaw in a premise or a philosophical error in a conclusion. For if you teach a man to think, then you keep him from chasing after every whim and fancy of thought presented by the masses and falling into heresy, or worse, habitual sin. Faith and education are a union, a union with a profound ability to elevate culture. “A person with a well-trained intellect is a useful person, socially and in every other way,“ he writes. “Such persons raise the intellectual tone of society, cultivate taste, public spiritedness, give enlargement and sobriety to the ideas of an age, and refine private life.” A young person who receives an education focusing on growth in virtue, service, and intellectual training is able to change not only the course of his life, but the very fabric of society. Our patron saint, Elizabeth Ann Seton, also knew the gravity and power of the Catholic faith and education, devoting most of her life to the intellectual and spiritual formation of children. She taught Zephaniah’s urging to observe the law of God, seek justice, and practice humility. She sang today’s psalm of the poor in spirit. She believed Paul’s words that God chose the weak to shame the strong. And above all, she lived out Jesus’ Beatitudes, modeling them for her students. #Catholicschoolsforthewin

I’ve always loved to write letters. Perhaps that’s why I love St. Paul. He writes to the early Christian communities in the cities of Rome, Colossae, Thessalonica, Corinth, and one to the general province of Galatia. In every instance, his letters are in response to the general messiness and particular issues of a Church struggling against an openly hostile culture, a culture where speaking the Truth brings immediate retribution and retaliation. Hmmm. Sound familiar? Monsignor James Shea, president of the University of Mary (Bismarck) wrote a little book titled, “From Christendom to Apostolic Mission” that took the evangelical Catholic subculture by storm. Msgr, Shea details the signs and reasons why we are no longer living in a world called Christendom, and why evangelization and the passing on of the faith must look and feel like it did in the early Church led by the apostles. Which leads me back to Paul, an apostle himself. I often say, “If you want to see what the early church looked like, read the letters of Paul, since they were written before the four Gospels and are honest portrayals of Christian life.” They argued over worship practices, neglected the poor, and were imperfect in moral rectitude. Following Jesus and doing the will of God can be messy. Also familiar? To cap off our three-year Synod, Archbishop Hebda just wrote us a letter – you and me – on where the Church is going in the next few years. The first year’s focus is quite similar to the work we’ve already been doing here: launching small group ministries! You see, we’ve long recognized that we now live in an apostolic age, a time and space where the name and message of Jesus needs to be joyfully spread, a-few-people-at-a-time in small cozy spaces where people gather in friendship and conversation. That’s where new (or returning) followers of Jesus will be found, not here in Mass. Paul exhorts the people of Corinth to spread the Good News - that a life with Jesus is a beautiful adventure - in their own friendship circles. Archbishop Hebda, Fr. Dave, and Deacon Rod ask you to do the same. #whowillyoutell?

As a convert, I never really appreciated Our Lady. I understood the whole “perpetual virginity” thing. As a young woman bearing and birthing children of my own, I could see how conception by the power of the Holy Spirit, an uncomplicated pregnancy, a dramatic birth, and the amazing events that soon followed, would leave a girl who spent a lot of time reflecting in her heart to shy away from something as benign as physical intimacy with a man. When I returned to school to study Hebrew and Greek as an older adult, I learned that this Greek word, adelphoi, translated as brothers was used to indicated kinsman or covenantal brothers and sisters in Christ (see Acts 1:14). Totally made sense to me. But her depiction in art was always so… unrealistic.

But here we are today, celebrating the strong and courageous woman that National Geographic calls, “The Most Powerful Woman in the World,” (Dec. 2015). The official title of the day is “Solemnity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Mother of God,” which is quite a title, though I admit partiality to NatGeo’s, because she is the most powerful woman in the world. Who else would appear throughout time and within physical space, leaving love notes to us all, reminding us that Someone loves us? Who else could put Band-Aids on the world’s scrapes, applying the balm of peace with a kiss of compassion, preparing the wound for the grace of healing by her Son? Who else might see the approaching consequences of our thinking-only-of-ourselves actions and intercede on our behalf to One who has the ability to change the course of history? Yep, that would be Our Lady, whom, I imagine, has been underappreciated by more than a few folks since the day of her conception, and who really doesn’t mind the slight. She just keeps doing-what-she-does, continually converting hearts and saving souls for Jesus, maybe even invoking the prayer of her childhood: May the Lord bless you and keep you, May the Lord let his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you. #theworkofamotherisneverdone

My Dad has been in a Memory Care facility in Iowa since the end of October. He was admitted out of necessity, during a period of mental fatigue and physical distress on the part of my Mom. It was a surprise to me, since I was otherwise preoccupied with the business of death and new life during those weeks and wasn’t attentive to the quickly deteriorating situation of my parents. I thought we were following “the plan” we’d made in September, which was to bring my Dad to a facility near my home; that deposit was sent, the room reserved, and we were simply awaiting a move-in date. Alas. A sudden sickness here, an emotional whirlwind there, and before I knew it, my brother called to say he was on his way to the Iowa facility with my Dad. This wasn’t the plan at all. I was afraid. I imagine Ahaz and Joseph from the readings today felt the same way. Ahaz knows his forces should go up against their well-armed enemies in the Syro-Ephraimite war but is afraid of the outcome, so he won’t ask God for a sign. Joseph knows he should still take Mary as his wife, but is afraid of the future and neglects to ask God for a sign. Instead, both Ahaz and Joseph make naturally human decisions in the midst of chaos and desperation. I get them. I really do.Yet the Lord has a way of bring supernatural peace, hope, and calm into chaos, despite our fear of the future. Twice this month I’ve said to friends whose blown-up life plans came to surprisingly happy ends, “God writes straight with crooked lines,” and it’s true. In the midst of our self-inflicted and naturally-human decisions, God intervenes to make the right things happen. Ahaz and his forces win the war, and Joseph and Mary birth our Salvation. There is so. much. JOY. in each unpredicted outcome. And relief, hope, and peace. For me too. The Lord has intervened in my drama and I have renewed hope for bringing my Dad here to MN. #crookedlines 

Our Archbishop is thinking like John the Baptist in the reading today, preparing a way and making straight our path for the future of our Church. I imagine if he were trained as an actor instead of a Churchman, the news might have been delivered from the steps of the Cathedral in full regalia with fire and brimstone and no small amount of enthusiasm, rewriting the words of John: "Listen up people! Hasn’t anyone warned you to flee from the wrath that will surely come in a culture without faith? Let us now produce good fruit as evidence of our repentance and spread Catholicism throughout our Archdiocese!”

Instead, we have a very well-written and beautiful letter that sets our feet upon a three-year path, setting us up for success far into the future. This first year, our Good Shepherd would like everyone to surround themselves with a group of friends who will either (a) serve the poor, (b) grow in faith while evangelizing others, or (c) pray for our ongoing conversion. The second year we’ll focus on the stunning beauty of the Mass, experiencing the completeness of grace that the Jesus has to offer, fully present, body, blood, soul, and divinity in the Eucharist. Lastly, we’ll hone in on parent formation, encouraging parents to pass the faith joyfully along to their kids. To prepare for this last initiative, the Archbishop has moved the ”Office of Youth and Young Adults” out from under the auspices of “Marriage and Family Life,” so that there will be a dedicated staff focusing on the future of our church. Like John the Baptist, we are pointing to Jesus, our Lord and Savior. Like Paul, we’ll welcome newcomers with enthusiasm, showing them the joy of the faith that has been passed along to us. Like the prophecy of Isaiah, the Holy Spirit will rest upon us, giving us wisdom, understanding, counsel, strength, knowledge, and a healthy trepidation of the exciting years to come. On that day, we will be a signal for the nations, all will seek us out, and “his dwelling shall be glorious.”

There’s a foreign film that I rarely watch because of its violent and dark nature. Titled “Pan’s Labyrinth,” the majority of the film is color-bathed in dreariness, immersed in cruelty, and resplendent with violence. I’m compelled to look away from the screen and cover my ears many, many times. And yet. I’m thinking about that film this week, as we’ve left the beauty of autumn and stepped into a temporary starkness of the natural world. It’s awash in the grey-scale colors of politics and war too. Sigh. But the warmth, joy, and brightness of Advent and Christmas are just around the corner, we only need to wait out the season! You see, although the vast majority of “Pan’s Labyrinth” depicts the bleakness of war and human depravity, it suddenly ends with a stunning barrage of kaleidoscope color in stained glass and glory as the young heroine suffers a sacrificial death… then enters the regal courtyard of the-world-beyond. She stands before the radiant thrones of the King and Queen, reclaiming her long-forgotten identity as daughter of the King. I cry at this scene every single time. Partly because there is such astounding light and Love reflected in the cinematography after 90 minutes of sheer darkness. But more importantly, it’s because I’ve also forgotten this fact: I am the daughter of the King of the Universe, the One who knew me before I was born. The One who gave me life and purpose. The One who loves beyond all telling. I. Am. His. Beloved. Daughter. What awaits us after our long dark-and-dreary season on earth is brighter and more beautiful than words can describe. As we close out the liturgical year it is good to pause for a moment to reflect on our true identity. We are not merely sojourners in this battle-colored world, we are beloved sons and daughters of the King of the Universe. So despite the ugliness of this present time, our role is to advance the mission of the King by bringing Goodness, Truth, and Beauty to a dark world in desperate need. #rememberyourmission

When Jesus says, “Zacchaeus, come down quickly, for today I must stay at your house,” Zacchaeus jumps down out of the tree and receives Jesus with great joy. And off the two of them go, heads and hearts together in conversation for conversion, naysayers and grumblers notwithstanding. Notice that Jesus doesn’t take Zacchaeus to the synagogue. Jesus wants to be in Zacchaeus’ home, an intimate space where talk flows naturally over bread and wine. Jesus wants our hearts, souls, and minds, and not just on Sunday mornings. He wants to be in our homes and a part of our daily lives too, not just someOne we turn to when we need a little advice or a solution to a problem. As Jesus entered Zacchaeus’ home, do you think Jesus knew that Zacchaeus was a Jewish man? Did he have a mezuzah on his doorpost as a symbol to all those who enter that a Jewish faith resides within, and that his home was a holy place where all should act accordingly in all the comings-and-goings-on? Was his menorah strategically placed, so he and his visitors would remember that God can do miracles in their lives? And his candlesticks for shabbat, were they worn down from weekly Friday prayer? So… what does the inside of your home look like? We say that the home is the “domestic church.” If Jesus met you along Vermillion Street and said, “Today I must stay at your house,” would He see evidence of your Catholic faith as he crossed the doorstep? What about our spiritual home here at St. Elizabeth’s? The Benedictine tradition is to serve Jesus and honor God in your neighbor during the week and to worship the Lord on Sunday; we sometimes lose sight of the latter while adhering to the former. Where are our faith visuals? Can you point to our ancestors, the Apostles, who have gone before us? Does the Mother of God have prominence? Does our space reflect the holiness and heavenly-ness of the spiritual realm? Does it remind us that the Mass is where heaven-meets-earth? Does Divine Beauty have a home here? #ponderingsacredspaces

In all these things that swirl together into my-life-at-the-moment, there’s a small still voice that whispers, “Are you doing God’s will?” I wonder if Moses, Joshua, Aaron, and Hur question if they are doing God’s will. Amalek has come prepared for battle against the Israelites and, frankly, the war is touch-and-go. As long as Moses’ hands are raised in a your-will-be-done position of thanksgiving and glory, all goes well. But when he wearies of the task and lowers his arms… not so much. Did they ever think, amid the chaotic tug-of-war, “Is winning this battle God’s will for us?”

Then we have St. Paul writing to his new pastor Timothy. Did you catch the [realities] underneath all of his lovely advice? “Remain faithful” [you’ll be persecuted], “Scripture is useful for teaching, for refutation, for correction, and for training” [your people will need correcting], “be persistent whether convenient or inconvenient” [your people won’t pay attention], and “convince, reprimand, encourage through all patience and teaching” [it’s a long haul]. Will Timothy wonder in those moments of pastoral frustration, “Is this profession God’s will for me?” Even our persistent widow, who is turned down again-and-again-and-again by the judge, do you think she ever asked herself, “Is this judgement God’s will for me?”

In all of the above, the answer is a resounding YES. Just because it’s difficult, inconvenient, weary-ing, or downright life-altering, doesn’t mean it’s not God’s will or that you are on the wrong path. Sometimes there are setbacks, tensions, and wrong turns on God’s meandering pathway toward the creation of heaven-on-earth.

We’ve been traveling on a spiritual journey of forming joyful disciples who make Jesus Christ known and loved and envisioning a vibrant community where we radiate Christ’s hope and love to all we encounter, inside and outside of our sacred space here at St. Elizabeth’s. Like Moses, we might grow weary. Like Timothy, we might need a few refutations and corrections to make in our spiritual practice and theological thought. Like the widow, we might require a supernatural dose of perseverance. Let’s embrace the difficulties. Honor the chaos. Champion the change. #letgoandletGod

I’m not a huge fan of driving. Don’t get me wrong, I love fast cars, especially the European models, and in particular the Aston Martin DB9 Bond version. As a personal practice however, I prefer to walk over drive, even to the grocers. A few weeks back my Aldi store closed for renovation, and I am now forced to walk a wee bit further along a fairly busy and visible major road for my quick grocery run. With the drop in temps, there is now layering to consider. This past weekend, as I’m looking at my hoodie sweatshirt options, my thoughts went something like this: “‘UMary’? Too light. ‘Yellowstone’? Too heavy. ‘The Chosen’? Wrong colors. ‘St. Benedict image’? Too Catholic. Someone might flip me off or pull over. ‘Choose Joy? Maybe.” WAIT. BACK UP. Say what? Too Catholic? I couldn’t believe that thought walked into my head and took up residence. An evangelist afraid to wear a substantially Catholic hoodie out in public? Whew. Fire me now, Fr, Dave. I’m fairly certain St. Paul rolled his eyes too, then smiled, knowing his letter to Timothy would come up in the reading this week: “Stir into flame the gift of God… for God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather of power and love and self-control. So do not be ashamed of your testimony to Our Lord... but bear the hardship for the Gospel with the strength that comes from God.” I imagine I am not the only person here who is a reluctant to share the faith in a public setting, whether it be a saint quote in your professional office, a Mary statue in your front yard, or – gasp – praying with a friend at Froth&Cork. But if we are a mission church full of disciples, sharing the faith outside the confines of this sacred space is as important at worshipping our Lord at Mass. This week, take the risk. Witness to the faith off-campus. Talk about Jesus in public spaces. Pray to the Holy Spirit and start small like the mustard seed. #wearthehoodie

What is justice? To not promote the death penalty when a person is convicted of murder? To protect the pre-born when that innocent soul will enter a world fraught with neglect? To keep marriage between a man and a woman as the sacred bond when two people of the same gender adore each other? To house and feed a migrant from another country when others are equally as needy? To forgive others when they caused long lasting pain and incredible heartache in our lives? Is that justice? Or is it dishonest to the quid-pro-quo world of action-and-consequence? These are the questions asked of those who do not understand that Jesus’ way is not the way of the world.

To be a disciple of Jesus is to love him above all else and therefore to follow his teachings and his way of life. To be a disciple is to love poverty, practice chastity, promote justice, and be bound by obedience to the Gospel in our daily lives. It is to be kind, gentle, and grace-filled when responding to queries and criticism. It means to treat all souls with respect and dignity, regardless of their actions or attitude. To be a disciple means to treat others as Jesus has treated us. I don’t know about you, but Jesus has definitely been a dishonest steward with me, as he forgave my indolence, my self-righteousness, my many sins, and my past regrets… when he demanded the full account of my stewardship, as it were. Then he refused to serve me worldly justice and obeyed the will of his heavenly Father, showing me with mercy instead. And in return, I am filled with such joy and gratitude for my redemption that I am who I am today, a joyful disciple who wants to make Jesus Christ known and loved. And yet, I am also still a sinner in need of continual redemption. As Paul’s words to Timothy’s new church reflect, and as much as I try, I often fail to lead a tranquil life in all devotion and dignity. And Jesus begins with me anew. #Jesusjustice

On one of my trips to Iowa I listened to a cultural podcast titled, “We Can Do Hard Things.” While I disagree with most of the content, I find the philosophy captivating: “We talk honestly about the hard. We laugh and cry and help each other carry the hard so we can all live a little bit lighter and braver, free-er, less alone.” That’s the Gospel message, right? The Wisdom writer tells us that life is indeed hard since “the corruptible body burdens the soul and the earthen shelter weighs down the mind that has many concerns.” Paul’s life was just like that. In this letter to the slave-owner Philemon, he writes that in his old age, he is a prisoner for Christ Jesus, awaiting certain death for his beliefs. He’s asking Philemon to treat the new-convert Onesimus not as the slave he once was, but as a brother in Christ. All three of these are hard things: Paul contemplates his death, Onesimus his potential re-entry into slavery, and Philemon his reputation as a Christian verses a slave-owner. And then Jesus’ words about hating others, carrying our crosses, and renouncing all our possessions. Add to that mix the entirety of the Church’s moral teachings, the works of mercy we should be doing, and loving our neighbor as ourselves. And here, as we move from ‘maintaining the status quo’ to a new ‘way of living’ of falling in love with Jesus, being on fire for the faith, then inviting everyone to share our joy and our enthusiasm (our mission). Whew. Talk about hard things. But we can do hard things. With an open heart for the Holy Spirit, the grace of our Lord Jesus, and the strength of Our Heavenly Father, we can be joy-filled people who act like followers of Jesus (disciples), spreading his message of love and hope, creating a vibrant community (our vision). One that radiates Goodness, Truth, and Beauty in all we do and how we worship. One that others will take note of and want to be a part of. But it requires a tough choice that might reflect today’s Gospel, yes? #willyouorwontyou

I remember waiting for my acceptance letter into St. Paul Seminary and School of Divinity. As an older undergraduate student who excelled at writing, cared about education, and carried a litany of life experience, it was fairly easy to be at the top of the bell curve. But in my application into seminary studies, I’d be competing with other adults whose life experiences and intellectual abilities far exceeded my own. I wondered if they would let me in, this mom of six who had aspirations of being a “theologian.” I did my due-diligence: studied for the GRE, worked relentlessly on my entrance essay, submitted my transcripts, completed the necessary application, and sent in the fees. I checked all the boxes and fulfilled all the requirements with great care and consideration. There was nothing to do but wait and pray. I imagine many of our college freshmen heading off to college now spent six months doing the exact same thing. Like me, they were trying to enter the “narrow gate” of education that would substantially change our future. Here’s the deal at hand though: entrance into heaven, like education, isn’t a matter of six months of preparation. It begins at birth and continues throughout a lifetime. This is the point of the readings today. God tells Isaiah that everyone will be called to the house of the Lord but only some will be chosen. Paul writes that our life choices will be laid at the feet of Jesus on Judgement Day… the good, the bad, and the ugly, the latter two needing a bit of heavy-handed, but necessary and life-altering, discipline. He’s speaking to the Jewish Christians – but also us today - who are wearied of living the demands of the Catholic life. Jesus tells us plainly that not everyone will be saved, including those who thought they were doing His Will and His work, but we were not. Scripture is quite clear about wrong-and-right, and much as we’d like to nuance and ignore some of God’s directives because they are hard, alas, we cannot. And this is worth pondering today. #duediligence

The barren Sarah laughed when she overheard the angels say that she’d be with child before the year was out. “Impossible!” (Gen 18:12). Joseph’s brothers disregarded his dreams and traded his life for twenty pieces of silver. “Take that, you foolish dreamer!” (Gen 37:28). The reluctant Moses tried to talk his way out of leading the Chosen People into the Promised Land. “Send someone else!” (Ex 4:13). And in the fullness of time, after ages of naysaying, the Pharisees, Sadducees, and Scribes found Jesus a threat and a blasphemer, and put him to death. “He deserves to die!” (Mt 26:66) But God had other plans. In each and every instance God has His way and His will was accomplished.

Did you catch Fr. Dave’s homily a few weeks ago? You know, the one where he said that in the next four years he wants a transformation of our heart and souls, 600 more disciples in a worship space that exudes goodness, truth, and beauty, at least two people adoring the Lord every hour, 75 more small group leaders, 30 baptisms… and a full school with a waiting list? That one?

I want the same thing he does, and my evangelist heart is ready to help make it happen, God willing. The question is always, “How,” and the devil is in the details, as they say. I’ve been here just over a year now, getting to know you all, walking with some of you over the high mountains and through the dark forests on your faith journeys, and changing up a few things here and there, and I think you’re all ready for the changes that will come.

Here’s the secret to help making those goals a reality: a reliance on FAITH and HOPE, an openness to the Holy Spirit, and an “absolutely yes” attitude of joy and excitement of the whatis-to-come. It’s what the Wisdom writer had, the theme of Paul’s letter to the Hebrews, and what Jesus desires and rewards in abundance. We his servants, preparing for this blessed Adventure, will have our loins girded and lamps lit. #readysetGO

Remember the scene from the Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy, the Tin Man, and the Cowardly Lion were walking through the Haunted Forest chanting, “Lions and Tigers and Bears! Oh my!”? I think about my own version of this refrain from two years back. My words, however, were more like, “Lawyers and Prosecutors and Bail Bondsmen! Oh my!” as I walked alongside my brother through the dark and foreboding forest called our justice system. Like our innocent trio, my brother was being watched by a Wicked Witch of the West, whose name I will not slander, for like all those with whom we disagree, they truly believe what they are doing is right and just. Eventually my brother could not handle the sudden twists in the dark, the ghosts of past actions, and the financial burden of traveling on the yellow-brick-road, so he laid himself down in a field of poppies, never to waken again. I was left to pick up his broken life pieces, strewn by the wayside as he ran. I met often with Fr. Joe, my spiritual director. He was an amazing guide, both spiritually and practically speaking. He gave me strength for the paths I needed to walk, formulate the prayers I needed to pray, and delivered me from a host of not-so-nice spirits who whispered words of distress in my own valley of darkness. During those long months, we wondered how this was going to play out, how the Lord could work here. I knocked on a ton of prayer doors, asking for a lot of miracles. I could not have imagined a better resolution. Fr. Joe said to me later, “All those scenarios we played out, none of them included this one. The best one. One that we had no idea could even be. Praise God.” I smiled. Praise God indeed. Like the argument of Abraham, there were only a handful of the truly innocent in this story, and we were protected and left undestroyed. “For everyone who asks, receives; and the one who seeks, finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.” #neverforgetthatTruth

A few months back I was chatting with a friend who told a “story worth pondering.” His family was on a post-dinner stroll in downtown Hastings when they made eye contact with a woman who needed a little more help than the rest of us. She was looking for some funds to make her way to a friend’s house in the Cities, where she would pick up some needed cash to help her make it through the next couple of days. Instead of giving her a bit of leftover change, they decided to change her evening with that round-trip ride across the bridge and back. My friend heard her story, and what a story it was… the many ways family and ‘the system’ had failed her and how she ended up without a home and car, sitting by the side of the road, wounded by life. They stepped into her life and came out on the other side thinking about this woman and how to effect change both in the life of another and in the culture at large. Which, naturally, always begins with us.

You see, Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan is really about our unity with Him in thought, word, and deed. We can only change the world by modeling Him - loving those who are different from us and forgiving those who betray us. The only way we can even begin that journey is to allow his presence, through the sacraments, to invade us, to change us. To allow an infusion of grace and humility to permeate our very being. My friend later wrote to me, “Within every human heart there is a tabernacle where Christ dwells. When we love and hold a deep reverence for Christ within ourselves, we open ourselves to witnessing and loving Christ in others. When we love God with all our strength, with all our mind, with all our heart and with all our soul a door is opened that we may love our neighbor as ourselves.” #Icouldnothavesaiditbettermyself

You might have missed a most interesting line in Luke’s gospel today. Jesus is “resolutely” heading to Jerusalem with his entourage, after ministering around the Sea of Galilee. He knows his hour has come. They pass through the previously hostile cities of Samaria, which is the quickest way to their destination, and the Samarians will have none of it. Interesting. Remember, Jesus has revealed that he is the Messiah to them before the Jews, and he upholds them as the model of charity in knowing who is thy neighbor. Yet Luke writes: “On the way they entered a Samaritan village to prepare for his reception there, but they would not welcome him, because the destination of his journey was Jerusalem.” Very interesting. Now why might that be?

I’m going to wander down a path further than maybe I should, but I think it’s the right way as I see a light at the end. Slip on their shoes for a minute. They’ve been maligned, neglected, and ostracized by the Jews, but made to feel respected, beloved, and welcomed by Jesus. Rumor has it that he’s the Messiah and they, the Samarians, are the source of that truth. He’s eaten with them, instructed them, and healed their wounds - on the inside and out. They are a changed people. Elevated by his presence and preaching. They know him. They love him. And want him to stay by their sides and in their hearts forever. They want to protect him from his destiny with death, not yet understanding the resurrection. They’re hurt and beyond upset that he won’t stay. I get it. When you love someone, you want to be with him. Forever. That’s what it’s like to be in a relationship with Jesus.

In the end they just have to say, “Go. We can’t do this anymore. We can’t hurt this much, this hard. You are not welcome here this time.” If Jesus was passing through Hastings on his way to the Cathedral to meet his demise, what would you say? #pleasedontleaveme

“It is especially sobering to learn that when Pew surveyors asked the question, ‘Which comes closest to your view of God: God is a person with whom people can have a relationship, or God is an impersonal force?’ only 48 percent of Catholics were absolutely certain that the God they believed in was a God with whom they could have a personal relationship.”

Ah, to be young and in love. I gained a delightful daughter a few weeks ago, as my son married the love of his life. They wanted to tell the world that LOVE is BEAUTIFUL and worth celebrating. Their love is the best kind of love: patient and kind, other-focused, rejoices in each other’s success, not jealous nor rude nor grudge-bearing. It is the kind of love we long for, fight for, and protect once it’s found. Their love is based on admiration and equality, in all the right ways. Together they moved into a recently-purchased house this week, and my son told me that they purchased this house within ‘his’ means, so that his lovely bride could choose to work – or not – and follow whatever professional dream she may have. He wants nothing but her happiness and allow her to flourish in her personal and professional life. He wants to look out for her. It seems there is a bit of chivalry in my son – he wants to protect his wife not because she is weak, but because she is so incredibly valuable to him.

And so it is with the Trinity, yes? The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit has so much love between them, that it naturally spilled out into creation. And that creation – you and I and everyone and everything else – is so incredibly valuable and beloved to them. They desire our happiness and want us to flourish. They are patient, kind, supportive, gentle in their correction, and believe that every single one of us is worth dying for. #thankyouJesus

Their love for us is forever young and eternally beautiful. It rejoices in this Truth. Their love for us bears all things, believes in all things, endures all things. Their love never fails us. #a1Corinthians13love