Saints were people just like us who, in some way, perfected the virtues we strive for, and through their intercession we know that they are advocating for us in Heaven. Luckily you can have as many saint friends as you like for any occasion or cause that you are praying for.

November is a special month commemorating all of the souls who have gone before us. We kick it off with All Saints Day on November 1st, when we remember those who went before us crowned with glory. They were people just like us who in some way perfected the virtues we strive for, and through their intercession we know that they are advocating for us in Heaven. Luckily you can have as many saint friends as you like for any occasion or cause that you are praying for. Here are a few examples of Saints I’ve asked to pray for me throughout my life.

St. Anthony of Padua: This was one of the first saints I knew of to ask to pray for me. My dogs at the time had run away and my aunt told me to ask him to pray for their return since he is the patron saint of lost things. He then turned up later in life when someone I know got a tattoo of him on their chest because I gave them a Saint Anthony holy card. I also found spiritual rest at the Shrine of St. Anthony, which was only ten minutes from where I lived.

St. Gianna Molla: St. Gianna was a doctor and mother who risked her life in a high risk pregnancy. When discerning my vocation in life I stumbled upon St. Gianna. I ended up meeting her daughter a few years ago (the one that was the high risk pregnancy St. Gianna risked her life for). St. Gianna is a great intercessor for pro-life causes, pregnancy, motherhood, and marriage.

St. Thérèse of Lisieux (also known as “The Little Flower”): I feel like everyone has some sort of devotion to her, and I also feel like she definitely “stalks” people. My mom’s side of the family had a devotion to her, and my great grandfather would tell my mom that she looked like her. Every time I went to visit my grandma, I would see a block of the Little Flower, and after my grandma passed, I ended up inheriting everything Little Flower-related. My devotion to her grew in college when my spiritual director gave me the book “33 Days to Merciful Love.” A tradition is to get a rose when your prayers have been heard. In 2019 while praying her Novena, I was in London and I was blasted with roses. I found her statue at the Church where I went to Mass, a lady walked onto the tube with roses all over her purse and outfit, and I met a woman named Roz (short for Rose) that evening. There is no doubt in my mind that she is always ready to pray for me and probably has been for longer than I can recall.

St. Francis de Sales: The first book I got from my first spiritual director was “Intro to the Devout Life” by St. Francis de Sales. I highly recommend it. He has a lot of spiritual wisdom and is a great resource for when you need to know what the next best step is in your spiritual life. 

So while celebrating the saints is a great kick off to November, I can’t emphasize enough the importance of praying for all souls. On November 2nd we commemorate all of the souls who have gone before us. It is a day when you can obtain a plenary indulgence by visiting a cemetery and praying for the souls there. (Just make sure you’re in a state of grace in order to receive the full indulgence – in other words, go to confession and receive communion!)

But think about how many souls you can pray for. Pray that they, too, may have the hope and final resting place of Heaven, especially those souls who have been forgotten by younger generations. The most amazing thing you can do for those souls is pray for them or have Masses said for them. This November, I challenge you to think of those souls you can pray for, reflect on your own death, and consider how you can prepare for it spiritually.

Many of us, whether or not we admit it, are more like the Grinch than we are Saint Nicholas. We hold on to baggage from our past, have a difficult time forgiving, and isolate ourselves from the company of others in order to hide our weaknesses. Advent invites us to look at these things about ourselves and allow Jesus to transform whatever might be dark or lacking in joy. 

Advent is one of my favorite seasons on the Church calendar. It’s all about waiting and preparing. And I’m really good at one of those things. You want cookies baked for an entire classroom of kids? I’ll get the job done. Can I host 25 people in my home complete with gift bags, food, and a holiday-themed adult beverage? Yes, with my eyes closed. Oh, you need me to wrap all the gifts for everyone in the family? Check. I can clean, organize, and decorate with a gusto rarely seen in order to prepare for nearly anything. (It is not lost on me that none of the above have anything to do with preparing the way of the Lord… but let’s not get into semantics here.) It’s the waiting I have trouble with.

Lau Tzu once wrote, “Nature takes its time but everything is accomplished.” The earth does a lot of waiting. Seasons change slowly and more goes on beneath the soil and inside the flowers and leaves than the eye can see. There is much occurring as we anticipate the first snowfall or the last leaf dropping. It happens. But not quickly. In a similar way, Jesus comes to us in the New Testament… 1600 years after Moses. That’s a LOT of waiting. Yet he comes brilliantly and humbly in the arms of a young girl and her betrothed. In a small place. A city of caves.  

So we wait. And we prepare. But part of that preparation is deciding that Jesus has a place in our own heart. In our home. That can take some resetting. Some uncomfortable rearranging. Many of us, whether or not we admit it, are more like the Grinch than we are Saint Nicholas. We hold on to baggage from our past, have a difficult time forgiving, and isolate ourselves from the company of others in order to hide our weaknesses. Advent invites us to look at these things about ourselves and allow Jesus to transform whatever might be dark or lacking in joy.  

A woman I work with found out she had breast cancer last year. She decided to have a double mastectomy in order to give herself the best possible future and hopefully a longer, healthier life. On the day of surgery the nurse drew a heart in marker on of her breasts. When she asked what it was for, the nurse told her that it was to mark the side that had the cancer. It was interesting to me that she chose a heart to symbolize this thing inside my friend that was causing such pain and fear and sickness. And yet, months after the surgery, my friend has chosen to tattoo this heart back on her chest. I won’t guess as to what it means to her, but to me, it shows strength, health, and surrender. Surrender to God’s will and to His promise that He’s got this. It’s changed the way, this Advent, that I see the things in me that need healing and hope. That while I am far from being the person I was made to be, I can embrace the light even when surrounded by darkness. We wait…and we prepare. 

To be honest, and Reader, you may already have gathered this… I’m not great at the waiting or the preparing. I like my December to be filled with parties, cookies, presents, and eggnog. I don’t like my Advent to be all about making a space for the baby Jesus to be born anew in my heart. I am very much the type of Catholic that says, “I believe that Jesus was born, lived, and then died on the cross for my sins. And I thank Him. And I’ve got it from here.” You know, because controlling my own life has always proved to be successful (insert eye roll). So this Advent I’m going to T-R-Y. To slow down, to let nature do its thing slowly. To let my heart function as an instrument of peace and love and joy for all that is coming on Christmas Day. Preparing and waiting in the busyness of the season. Not getting caught up in my own image of what needs to happen during this time but allowing Jesus to find a home here with me… in my glorious mess.  

The greatest consolation comes in the recognition that God can bring about something so beautiful as our soul united with Him through whatever broken mess we offer to Him, and with that consolation, we can experience a real and abiding peace.

Jesus, the Prince of Peace, Even Among the Diapers

On my dining room table sits a wreath that holds four candles. It is decorated with melted pink and purple wax from candles years past, but it holds no candles this year. None at all. Why? Because we bought a house and moved in the middle of the first week of Advent. I grabbed candles from a store early, knowing things would be hectic these last couple of weeks. Then, I smartly packed the candles “someplace so obvious I would never forget where they were.” Except, I did forget. I can’t find those darn candles anywhere. The move was not going to derail my Advent! I was going to get it all done - all the shopping, the decorating, AND the prayerful, Christ-centered traditions. Except none of it is getting done. Two weeks ago, we went to get almost all of our belongings out of the storage unit where they have resided for the last five months while we were in a two-bedroom rental house, when we discovered that the rental space had flooded, and everything we owned was covered in mold. “It’s okay,” I told myself, “it’s just God calling us to a spirit of detachment this Advent.” “Detachment,” I reiterated as I threw out my dining room table and chairs, my favorite kids toys, my desk, and some of my clothes. It turns out that unpacking takes significantly longer when you have to wash every single thing you own. And when children are unexpectedly sent home to do virtual learning due to high Covid numbers among the school community, nothing gets accomplished. While I can let go of the “stuff,” which we had too much of anyway, what I’m struggling to detach from is the worldly expectations of Christmas.

By the time the last weekend of Advent rolled around, I desperately needed to check things off of my somehow growing to-do list. I was fighting a losing battle of the stress of the impending Christmas morning and my fear of disappointing my children. Don’t get me wrong, I do a lot of things wrong, and I’ll never be a Pinterest-perfect Mom. I am craftless (a term I may have coined), and if ever I help my children with a school project, no one would ever suspect it because there would be no evidence that an adult had a hand in it. But Christmas morning is so special. They look forward to it all year long. Evidence of their anticipation clutters our house in the form of countdowns they made and pictures they’ve drawn to express their excitement. It begins to feel like a mountainous responsibility to meet their expectations.

The stress was just beginning to bubble over when, last Sunday, as we were running late for Mass - not just regular late, but “I’m not sure this even counts” late - so much so that we decided to ditch our normal plans and head to a Marian shrine an hour away to show our kids an extremely peaceful place that my husband and I love. We made it just in time for Mass, and, right in the middle of an absolutely incredible homily, my three-month-old had what I call a “poopsplosion.” I won’t go into detail - any parent reading this knows exactly what I mean, but suffice it to say that it was very necessary that I leave my husband with the older four children and make haste to find a restroom for what I can only describe as an epic diaper change. I returned many, many minutes later to a shoeless two-year-old and a five-year-old lying underneath the pew. It was far from the peaceful experience I had hoped for, but somehow, on the ride home, I let go of the feeling of total overwhelm that had consumed me earlier that day.  

I finally realized that the notion of “Christmas morning” is really a manifestation of their excitement for the birth of Jesus (and maybe also a love for presents). The truth is that Jesus came into the world as a baby, and He comes to us in whatever way we need Him to. Sometimes, He reveals Himself through a brilliant homily or some sort of lofty theological idea. And sometimes it’s through seemingly ill-timed diaper-related incidents. The homily, which I only heard a brief portion of, was focused on Mary’s role in the incarnation. The gist of it was that Mary, as our mother, knows exactly what we need when we need it. Whether it’s help through a geriatric pregnancy (St. Elizabeth), or water to be turned into wine at a wedding (the wedding at Cana), Mary knows what we need before even we do, and she asks her Son to provide it for us. She may know that an unexpected illness is about to kick our legs out from under us, or a baby we weren’t expecting is about to bless our lives in a way we can’t begin to imagine, but either way, Mary knows what we need in order to handle it.

One thing about life is certain, and that’s uncertainty. We have no idea what surprises lie ahead. But our Mother knows, and fortunately, she’s a step ahead of us. Somehow God can even take something as frustrating as children who refuse to get ready for Mass on time and turn it into an incredibly unexpected experience of peace and prayer. While we never know what’s ahead, good or bad, we can always have faith that God will bring about His glory in and through it, and with His glory, our holiness. That idea has brought me more peace than I can begin to express - that no matter what happens, no matter the circumstances of our life or challenges we face, God will invite us to grow in holiness through it. The greatest consolation comes in the recognition that God can bring about something so beautiful as our soul united with Him through whatever broken mess we offer to Him, and with that consolation, we can experience a real and abiding peace, the peace that only Jesus, the Prince of Peace, can offer. It is, in fact, this very same Prince of Peace who we prepared to welcome throughout Advent, and we need to cultivate that rest He desires to give us by answering and responding to His call to abide in His love.  

“In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God and the word was God… the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it” (John 1: 1,5).

So, let’s say you are a Christian. Christmas is a pretty big deal, right? The birth of the savior of the world warrants some major celebration. One problem, lots of your friends, family, and even society at large love Christmas but don’t seem to care much about Jesus. Most of the focus is on parties, presents, and Santa Claus.

So, let’s say you are a Christian.  Christmas is a pretty big deal, right?  The birth of the savior of the world warrants some major celebration.  One problem, lots of your friends, family, and even society at large love Christmas but don’t seem to care much about Jesus.  Most of the focus is on parties, presents, and Santa Claus. 

Ooh! I know!  Let’s make angry posts on social media about the “War on Christmas.”  This is an appropriation of Christian culture after all so let’s not let the secularists water down THE reason for the season (hint: it’s Jesus).  So if anyone dares to offer you “Season’s Greetings” or wish you a “Happy Holidays,” simply reply with a snarky “Merry Christmas” to put them in their place.  Let them know that Christmas was our Holy Day before it was their holiday.  That’ll show ‘em the love of Christ.

I humbly submit the following as some suggestions for a Christmassing like a Christian should. 

 1. Avoid the culture wars
Though well-intentioned, the efforts of some Christians to militantly uphold Christmas as a holiday which is the sole property of faithful, practicing, believing Christians (however you define that) often alienates people from the Church.  Why not use secular culture’s fascination with Christmas, however superficial, as a doorway to a larger conversation? Christians have always used elements from the surrounding culture to point people to God.  It’s why we have adopted formerly pagan symbols like evergreen trees and wreaths, roman vestments, and genuflecting into our worship and traditions.

 2. Cultivate Wonder & Awe
We don’t need to fabricate a magical atmosphere around the holiday with stories of Santa Claus, reindeer, and elves when we already believe in something far more fantastic in Jesus (and it has the benefit of actually being true – Sorry Santa!).  I’m not saying you need to avoid Santa altogether, but we should be careful to direct our wonder and awe to the appropriate place: God. We often spend way more effort trying to convince children to believe and have faith in Santa (a fun cultural tradition) than we do in our Creator and Savior.  CS Lewis famously said that Christianity is the myth come true.  Behind all the magic and wonder we associate with the most wonderful time of the year is a deeper wonder which is the inspiration for all myth and fantasy in our world.  And there are many ways to tap into that.

3. Be liturgical
Americans tend to celebrate the days from Black Friday to New Years’ as the Christmas season but the liturgical calendar tells a different story. The four weeks before Christmas are Advent, a time of anticipation and spiritual preparation for the coming of Christ. The first two weeks focus on Christ’s second coming in Glory. The last two weeks, starting with Gaudate Sunday (the pink candle), focus on preparing for his first coming at Christmas.  The Christmas season itself begins on Christmas Eve and goes for 12 days until the feast of the epiphany when we celebrate the wise men arriving in Bethlehem. Advent calendars and wreaths and Jesse trees are great ways to mark out these times.  Special prayers, parties, decorations, and meals can make for great personal and/or family traditions.  Also, the readings from daily mass during advent are AWESOME so if you can make some weekday masses or at least read the daily readings, I highly recommend it.  I also like to wear purple and pink as much as possible during advent.  As a man, I always get a LOT of comments and it’s an opportunity to witness to Christ and the Christian faith in an unobtrusive way.  

4. Evangelize
The word evangelism often brings up images of a missionaries knocking at your door uninvited and asking you if you can spare a moment to talk about your personal Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.  While that sort of door to door ministry may have it’s time and place, that’s not what I have in mind.  Once you have established for yourself ways to really celebrate Christ through the traditions and celebrations of Advent and Christmas, why not invite other people into them?  Invite friends over for a party or dinner on Gaudate Sunday or Epiphany.  Post on social media what Christmas service you will be attending and that anyone who needs a church home for Christmas can come with you.  Invite friends and family to join you for any charitable activities you do.  People often summarize the message of St. Francis with the phrase “Preach the Gospel at all times, when necessary, use words.”  This reminds us that while we will at times need to speak about Christ, actions speak far louder than words.  People are more easily convinced by your example than by your words, and even your most loving, anointed words will have the opposite of the intended effect if they are not backed up by a loving, anointed example.  

5. Follow the charitable legacy of St. Nick

The root of the Santa Claus myth is a real Saint Nicholas who was abundantly generous to the poor, specifically poor children and would put alms in their shoes while the child was sleeping (hence our tradition of stockings).  Should not our gift giving at Christmas include some element giving to those less fortunate?  In one family I know, after opening all their presents, each family member chooses one gift to give away to the poor.  The parents make sure to emphasize that this is not getting rid of the gift they like the least, but choosing a gift that a poor person would really appreciate.  Many families have a tradition of doing some act of service together: working at a soup kitchen, dropping off a clothing or food donation, or visiting those nursing homes who have no family.

6. Emphasize giving, not receiving.
The scriptures and the Christian tradition abound with examples and exhortations to cheerful giving.  It can be hard in our often materialistic society, but we should try to cultivate within ourselves and our families a spirit of cheerful, enthusiastic generosity.  When opening presents, rather than taking turns opening presents, take turns giving presents to one another.  People will still receive gifts and be happy about it, but this is a simple way to reframe a gift exchange in the language of giving. Instead of “Who wants to open presents?” say “Who’s ready to give presents?”  Instead of “what did you get for Christmas?” ask, “what gifts did you give for Christmas?”  Make sure you put more effort into drafting the list of gifts you will give rather than the list of gifts that you want.  Try your best to really take joy and pride in the gifts you give to people.  Try to see the whole process of gift buying and giving as a privilege and opportunity to love rather than a chore or obligation.  

When the 40 desert days drew to a close,
And Your empty, worn down body cried,
“Seek comfort!” “You deserve it!”
My Lord, what did You do? Lean in.

That agonizing night, knowing what dawn would bring,
When Your being, dripping with sweaty blood cried out,
“Avoid pain!” “You don’t deserve to suffer!”
My Lord, what did You do? Lean in.

On that terrible Friday we call good,
When Your humanity screamed,
“Give up!” “They don’t deserve it!”
Resolutely embracing the rough, splintered instrument of your death,
Allowing Yourself to be stretched,
My Lord, what did You do? Lean in.

Then, there’s little me, during these meager 40 days,
A time of purification, of small sacrifices, my humanity cries,
“Seek comfort!” “Avoid pain!”
My Lord, won’t you help me lean in?

When my gut cries, “Sweets!” “Wine!” “You deserve it!”
Let me crave the food of your Word and the bread of Eternal Life.

When daily tasks overwhelm,
And I crave the distraction of scrolling or validation of notifications,
Let me lean in to the moment,
To the child. To the laundry. To the cooking, cleaning, straightening.
To the paperwork and the deadlines.
To the time of silent prayer.
Whatever it is, my Lord, let me lean in.

Let my temper not be controlled by my caffeine intake.
Let my ability to love well not be controlled by the warm or stormy weather.
Let my love for you not wane when I don’t get what I want.

When my little crosses stretch me,
When tiny daily deaths tempt me to scream,
“I give up!”
Instead may I relentlessly pursue salvation,
My Lord, this Lent, won’t You give me the grace to lean in?

Can any liturgy compare to the Triduum liturgies?  Participating in Mass  and services on Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Vigil transports  us to a supernatural plane.  Experiencing the washing of the feet,  kissing the wood of the cross, and seeing the slow spread of  candlelight; it all leads us to reflect deeply on the mysteries of  Christ’s passion, death, and resurrection as if we were there.   Throughout the years, these moments have led me to imagine myself  somewhere in the scenes.  To ponder, where would I have been if I were  alive those 2,000+ years ago?  Would I have been in the crowd crying  “crucify him”?  Would I have been weeping along the way of his cross?   What would it have been like to be a bystander on those Jerusalem  streets?  What would it have been like to look into His eyes?

Can any liturgy compare to the Triduum liturgies?  Participating in Mass and services on Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Vigil transports us to a supernatural plane.  Experiencing the washing of the feet, kissing the wood of the cross, and seeing the slow spread of candlelight; it all leads us to reflect deeply on the mysteries of Christ’s passion, death, and resurrection as if we were there.  Throughout the years, these moments have led me to imagine myself somewhere in the scenes.  To ponder, where would I have been if I were alive those 2,000+ years ago?  Would I have been in the crowd crying “crucify him”?  Would I have been weeping along the way of his cross?  What would it have been like to be a bystander on those Jerusalem streets?  What would it have been like to look into His eyes?  

When my oldest children were babies, for the first time I was unable to attend Triduum liturgies.  A 7:30 start time doesn’t jive well with 7:30 bedtimes.  That Good Friday, after I put the kids to bed and began to wash the dishes, I found myself again reflecting, “where would I have been 2,000+ years ago?”  And that year, I knew for certain.  I would have been at home, listening to my children fall asleep as I completed my daily chores.  I may have wanted to be along the way of the cross.  My heart may have longed to look into Jesus’ eyes and tell Him with mine that I loved Him and I ached for Him.  I may have desired to wipe His sweaty, bloody face with my soft, clean veil.  But my call to care for my family would have kept me home.  So I would have completed my duties while offering my heart in prayer.  While longing to console Jesus physically, I would have only been able to offer distant prayers.

On the day of His resurrection, I again may have longed to travel to the tomb and anoint the body of Jesus with the other women.  But maybe my baby would have been teething and needed to nurse more than usual, making him too fussy for a burial ritual.  So perhaps I would have sent some spices with Mary Magdalene and asked her to bring prayers on behalf of family to the body of Jesus.  Even 2000+ years ago, I would have heard about the resurrection secondhand.  Would I have believed?  Would I have trusted even though I did not see?

Where are you this year during Jesus’ passion, death, and resurrection?  Where is your soul in relation to Jesus Christ?  Where do you fit into that story which is ever ancient and ever new?

This year, we all find ourselves “stuck” at home during Holy Week.  It’s normal and right to lament the loss of in-person Triduum and Easter liturgies; to long for gatherings at the parish with our communities and priests drawing us into the supernatural Paschal mysteries and to miss reception of Holy Communion.  This year, we truly suffer a loss.  But let us not despair!  There is a unique opportunity here for every Domestic Church around the world if only we have the eyes to see.  

Perhaps our aching souls will long to be with Jesus on the way of the cross more deeply than ever before.  Perhaps our Holy Saturday hearts will wait in more poignant anticipation for what miraculous things Jesus will do next.  While we can’t go out to meet Christ where we normally would, perhaps we will invite Him into our homes in way we’ve never done before.

This is our challenge and our call this Triduum.  What new life will burst forth if we take it seriously!  Here are some practical ways to invite Jesus into your home this year.  First, create a sacred space somewhere where your family can gather in prayer.  This can be as simple as a side table adorned with a crucifix and image of Mary.  Livestream the Triduum liturgies and pray along with them while gathered at this sacred space.  

On Holy Thursday, you can make a special meal and even bake unleavened bread to break and share.  Gather for prayer that evening and take turns washing one another’s feet.  I’m willing to bet there have been times during this quarantine that you have gotten on one another’s nerves.  Humbling yourselves and stooping to wash one another’s feet can be an important reminder of the choice to love – even when it’s difficult.

On Good Friday, put your phone away.  Enter into the silence of the day on which humanity killed God.  It should feel different and uncomfortable compared to an average day.  Consider praying the Stations of the Cross as a family.  Afterward, take turns kissing the wood of a cross and thanking Jesus for his sacrifice of love.  

Continue a great silence into Holy Saturday and prepare for an at-home Easter vigil.  When darkness begins to fall, give each family member a candle (maybe even dig out the baptismal candles!) and spread the light of Christ to everyone while listening to the words of the Exultet.  (There is a great version on Youtube here.)  You can even paint a Paschal Candle using a regular pillar candle and acrylic paint.  This candle can be lit when you gather for prayer at your sacred space throughout the Easter season.

Easter Sunday will be the most difficult to re-create at home.  We plan to dress in our Easter best, even though we won’t be leaving the house and eating a special meal together.  But I wonder what can compare to an altar bursting with lilies or a trumpet accompanying a church ringing with full-throated Alleluia’s!?  I’m not sure what can.  So, let’s let Jesus surprise us.  As He did on that first Easter Sunday, perhaps He will exceed all our expectations.

The Resurrection is what it’s all about.  The Resurrection is  the linchpin, the cornerstone, the climax.  As Pope Saint John Paul II  said on November 30, 1986 (just four days after I was born!) “We are an  Easter people, and Alleluia is our song!”  We are an Easter people.   This means we are a people whose very identity is shaped by the fact  that our God was killed and then rose from the dead.  This reality is  meant to fashion who we are, right to our very core.

A strange phenomenon happened to me recently.  When praying the rosary, I became disappointed if the day called for meditation on the Glorious Mysteries.  The stories of Jesus’ early life (Joyful Mysteries,) those of his ministry (Luminous Mysteries,) and those of his passion and death (Sorrowful Mysteries,) felt relatable while the Glorious Mysteries seemed to apply less to my day-to-day existence.

But I was getting it all wrong.  The Resurrection is what it’s all about.  The Resurrection is the linchpin, the cornerstone, the climax.  As Pope Saint John Paul II said on November 30, 1986 (just four days after I was born!)

“We are an Easter people, and Alleluia is our song!”

We are an Easter people.  This means we are a people whose very identity is shaped by the fact that our God was killed and then rose from the dead.  This reality is meant to fashion who we are, right to our very core.  

We aren’t a people who live with the heavy aura of Good Friday.  In Christ, we have thrown off the yoke of death and approach life with the eternal perspective that we will someday follow Him from death to bodily resurrection.  Because of this, “Alleluia” should fly from our lips even more readily than “Offer it up.”

It’s important to learn from Good Friday that love requires sacrifice and death to self.  This is what Jesus demonstrated when He offered His life on the cross for us.  But it didn’t stop there for Him and it mustn’t stop there for us.  We aren’t meant to just sit in the “little deaths” of Christian living.  Fixating on these little deaths will lead to complaining, bitterness, and despondency.  

We are meant to rise into newness of life.  A life that transforms sacrificial love from a burden to a joy.  St. Mother Teresa articulated this well when she said, “I have found the ultimate paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.”  There is a difference between doing my Christian duty while continually “offering up” complaints about it and doing my Christian duty with lighthearted joy.  The grace of the Resurrection is what gives us that joy.  It’s what allows us to move through death and into life.

In light of all this, we shouldn’t view Good Friday and Easter Sunday as two separate events.  Instead, they are woven together into one reality.  We don’t have Easter Sunday without Good Friday, and that Friday wouldn’t have been very good if it didn’t lead to Easter Sunday.  His death, burial, and resurrection are all part of the same action.  By this action, Jesus didn’t just die for us, He conquered death for us.

Sin, suffering, pain, betrayal, pride…He puts it all to death on the cross so that new life can rise.  It’s not enough to overcome our sins or accept our sufferings.  After we’ve done these things, united to God’s grace, we rise above them. 

Here are a few concrete examples of what putting sin to death and rising to new life can look like.  A man who struggles with lust can kill his lust by never again looking at a woman.  But he can rise from his lust when he begins to look upon women with authentic love.  A gossiping woman can kill her tongue by keeping silent.  But she will rise from this sin when she speaks kindly about others.  A husband and wife may kill anger against one another by keeping the peace at all costs; simply becoming co-workers in their household.  But this couple will rise to new life when they choose to love one another intimately and pursue one another passionately in good times and bad.  

This grace of new life applies also to our suffering.  With the current pandemic of Covid-19, it’s not enough to live in fear and wait it out.  We are called to look for new life.  The world will look different when this is over and an Easter People can look for new life when it does.

We might emerge with an ability to live simply as never before – finishing leftovers and using up food on our shelves before running to grocery store every other day.  Perhaps there will be a rebirth of parents who trust themselves enough to spend more time with their children and be their primary educators even after they return to school.  Perhaps great books will be read and great books will be written.  This year’s “death” of Triduum at the parish might lead to new life of family traditions.  These traditions could cultivate prayer at home as integral part of family life.  “Death” of Mass in person might lead to a renewed appreciation for the Eucharist.  May we never again take for granted the reality that God physically dwells within us at every Holy Communion.

This Easter season, may the reality of Christ’s Resurrection not only shape the way that we view our final destiny in the Resurrection of the Dead, but also shape the way we allow new life to grow from all of our little deaths to sin and suffering.  May Alleluia truly be the song on our lips and in our hearts not just on Easter Sunday, but every day of our lives!

Advent is a liturgical season that invites us to delve deeper into our faith as we prepare our hearts for Christmas Day. It also coincides with a time of year that is perfect for cuddling under a blanket with a warm drink and a good book. Here are some new releases in the Catholic book world that you may want to add to your own Advent reading list.

2021 Advent Reading List for Catholic Millennials

It seriously feels like it was just summer, yet here we are approaching Advent. Advent is a liturgical season that invites us to delve deeper into our faith as we prepare our hearts for Christmas Day. It also coincides with a time of year that is perfect for cuddling under a blanket with a warm drink and a good book. Here are some new releases in the Catholic book world that you may want to add to your own Advent reading list. And don’t worry – these are all available on Amazon so you can take advantage of your free two-day shipping (if you’re an Amazon Prime member) to get these into your hands before Advent starts on Sunday, November 28th. E-book editions are always an option too.

“Adore: A Guided Advent Journal for Prayer and Meditation” by Fr. John Burns (released September 24, 2021 by Ave Maria Press). I first encountered Fr. John Burns on the @manyhailmarysatatime Instagram page (if you don’t follow that, go follow it right now and then meet me back here). He is a dynamic, knowledgeable young-ish priest who exudes enthusiasm for the Catholic faith. In this, his second book, he offers guidance on the meaning of Advent through the themes of vigilance, preparation, nearness and Emmanuel. The journal acts as a good starting point for prayer through brand-new artwork, scripture-based meditations and prayers, and reflection questions.

“The Greatest Philosopher Who Ever Lived” by Peter Kreeft (released November 20, 2021 by Ignatius Press). Spoiler Alert: it’s Mary, Mother of God. Peter Kreeft is a well-respected Catholic writer powerhouse who has written almost a hundred books on theology, apologetics and philosophy since converting to the Catholic faith. Thanks to the deep well of Catholicism, he still hasn’t run out of things to write about. In his newest release, he provides a unique look at the Virgin Mary, mother of wisdom incarnate (Jesus).

“Wisdom and Wonder: How Peter Kreeft Shaped the Next Generation of Catholics” edited by Brandon Vogt (release date November 27, 2021 by Ignatius Press). Speaking of Peter Kreeft, this collection of essays offers 18 different perspectives on why he has become one of the prolific Catholic writers of our time. It includes essays by people you’ve probably heard of in the Catholic world, such as Brandon Vogt (author, speaker, content director of Word on Fire Catholic Ministries), Trent Horn (author, staff apologist for Catholic Answers, host of the “Counsel of Trent” podcast), and Jackie Francois Angel (Catholic singer-songwriter, author and speaker).

“St. Dymphna’s Playbook: A Catholic Guide to Finding Mental and Emotional Well-Being” by Tommy Tighe (released November 5, 2021 by Ave Maria Press). Tommy Tighe is another name you’re probably familiar with if you follow Catholic media; he’s the author of “The Catholic Hipster Handbook” and the host of the “St. Dymphna’s Playbook” podcast. Tighe pulls from his background as a licensed marriage and family therapist and his solid understanding of Catholicism to explore how effective a spiritual approach to mental health can be when combined with a professional therapy and intervention.

“Seriously, God?: Making Sense of Life Not Making Sense” by Fr. Mike White and Tom Corcoran (released October 8, 2021 by Ave Maria Press). I discovered Fr. Mike White at the beginning of the Covid lockdown because his parish, Church of the Nativity in Timonium, Maryland, provides extremely well-produced online Masses. I found myself looking forward to Fr. Mike’s homilies each week, which offered a bit of salve for those weeks when I couldn’t attend mass in-person due to state guidelines. Fr. Mike White and his associate Tom Corcoran have now written a number of books, including this latest release which looks at hardship as an opportunity to get to know God.

“Pray for Us: 75 Saints Who Sinned, Suffered, and Struggled on Their Way to Holiness” by Meg Hunter-Kilmer (released October 22, 2021 by Ave Maria Press). Known in the Catholic world as the “Hobo for Christ,” Meg Hunter-Kilmer has lived out of her car for almost a decade as she travels the world teaching others about God and the Catholic faith. In the past year she has published not one but TWO books about the saints. I am most excited about her latest release, which takes a look at how saints can be made in the most unlikely of people through the love of God. I love the question posed in the book description: “How is it possible that a chain-smoking socialist, a teenage video gamer, an opium addict, a satanic high priest, a disabled beggar, and a self-absorbed mean girl became saints?” Read Hunter-Kilmer’s book to find out!

“The Silent Knight: A History of St. Joseph as Depicted in Art” by Elizabeth Lev (release date November 23, 2021 by Sophia Institute Press). This title is a good pick for someone who may prefer a book with more pictures! I heard Elizabeth Lev on the Fountains of Carrots podcast awhile back and she really knows her stuff as an art historian who works in Rome as a professor and Vatican Museums consultant. This book takes a close artistic look at one of the other major players in the Christmas nativity story – Joseph. It can be a perfect bookend to 2021, a year which Pope Francis proclaimed as “The Year of St. Joseph.”

So, what will you be reading this Advent as we draw closer to our celebration of Jesus’s birthday? Books can be a great way to fill our minds with words that remind us of what matters most. Just don’t forget to spend some time with the Word (the Bible) as well this holiday season! Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good book. 

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2021 advent reading list for catholic millennials