In Umbris Sancti Petri

Today I will write about how Mary brings our prayers before her son. This is the second part to my response to a comment asking about Mary and prayer. My first answer to this question was Mary as an example of prayer (click here to open this post).

Mary is our spiritual mother; Christ gave us to her on the cross. She will do more for us than just bring our petitions before her son. She will also bring all of our good works, sacrifices, and praise to her son, if we offer it through her. This is part of what St. Louis Marie de Montfort called the 'True Devotion' to Mary, and it is important to remember that any devotion to any saint or any holy event is ultimately a devotion to Christ. True devotion to Mary is devotion to Christ through Mary. My words will not explain the importance of this effectively, so here is a one example of how St. Louis do Montfort explains his True Devotion.

"when we present something to him by the pure, virginal hands of his beloved Mother, we take him by his weak side, in a manner of speaking. He does not consider so much the present itself as the person who offers it. Thus Mary, who is never slighted by her Son but is always well received, prevails upon him to accept with pleasure everything she offers him, regardless of its value. Mary has only to present the gift for Jesus graciously to accept it."

For the Full Text of St. Louis Marie de Montfort's True Devotion to Mary Click here. I will start my next book review in my next post.

Hello to you the reader. We appreciate you taking the time to keep up with our adventures in the shadows of Saint Peter. This is my first blog and I hope you find it worth reading. (I certainly found it worth writing.)

Much of this site is devoted to giving you the reader an idea of what seminary is like in the shadows of Saint Peter. I plan to continue that mission, but specifically in the area of spirituality. In what I write, I hope to convey something of the spiritual insights that I receive here in Rome, this historically Catholic city. And so, I begin today with a few paragraphs on God’s Love:

A priest said something very profound to me today: “God is far more interested in us than we are in Him.”

Now, for anyone who has ever felt guilty for not having a strong prayer life or not living faithfully to the Gospel, this is a no brainer. Of course God is more interested in us than we are in him, because so often we tend to not be interested in Him at all.

However, this was not how the priest meant it. He meant rather that in those times that we are most in touch with the presence of the Lord in our lives and our prayer life is strongest, even then, God is more interested in us than we are in Him. This can be surprisingly true and very humbling. During times of great consolation and spiritual fruit we can catch ourselves on a sort of spiritual high-horse, thinking that it is during times like these that we are showing our love for God. This much is true, that we are showing our love for God, but what is mind blowing is that when we are doing our very best, when we are striving and succeeding in growing closer to God, we still do not come close to the striving that He has for us. He wants us, very much, and it is a testament to His love that He maintains our freewill, allowing us to be apart from Him if we so chose. When we do start to realize how much we need Him, and how much we want to be one with Him, this is truly a Grace, but our striving for Him pales in comparison to His striving for us.

I say this is humbling because who are we to be striven for in such a manner, especially by God? We are a corrupted and fallen people, no? And yet, “God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son.” We do not deserve such love, and yet it is given and given freely.

Actually, it kind of annoys me that I can so often take God’s love for granted—it is the greatest love in existence. It is Love itself, and it is only on certain (though not rare) occasions, as when I heard the words of this priest, that I am reminded of just how incredible God’s love really is. It’s just too easy to forget it. This is why I want to be a priest—to remind people of the “love amazing” that neither songs nor anything else can ever repay.

This is the first video podcast. We hope that you enjoy it, and please leave comments, suggestions and anything else that you think will help this to be a more valuable video podcast.

Often when we think about religion, I am thinking particularly of Christianity, we think of systems of rules, morality, obligations, etc. I wonder if we ever ask ourselves Who, in the case of the Catholic Church, the moral law of the Church, the obligations, etc. point toward.

Today I was reading from one of Pope Benedict's General Audience's where he speaks of a personal relationship with Jesus. The question I just posed came to the front of my mind and the word's of Pope Benedict reminded me again that everything comes back to our Lord, the Person of Jesus. "Before being sent out to preach [the 12 Apostles], they had to "be" with Jesus (cf. Mk 3: 14), establishing a personal relationship with him." (March 22, 2006 - General Audience) After reading this, I reflected on my own relationship with Christ, how much time do I spend with Him in prayer, meditating on the Scriptures, serving the poor and the needy, frequenting the Sacraments and so on. Then I thought to myself how quick I am to "preach" to other people without first examining my relationship with Lord.

This theme of friendship and a personal relationship with Christ has been a constant one throughout his pontificate. In fact, Pope Benedict says the secret to holiness, is friendship with Christ. Or in his first encyclical, God is Love, he writes, "Being Christian is not the result of an ethical choice or a lofty idea, but the encounter with an event, a person, which gives life a new horizon and a decisive direction. Saint John's Gospel describes that event in these words: “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should ... have eternal life” (3:16)."

When we encounter Jesus and love Him, keeping God's commandments, given to us in and through the Church, is no longer a burden but rather a joy and a most sure sign of our love for Jesus.

It is my hope that these words of our Holy Father lead you to strive all the more towards Him Who loves us and Him Who is Love.

"Only when we meet the living God in Christ do we know what life is. We are not some casual and meaningless product of evolution. Each of us is the result of a thought of God. Each of us is willed, each of us is loved, each of us is necessary. There is nothing more beautiful than to be surprised by the Gospel, by the encounter with Christ. There is nothing more beautiful than to know Him and to speak to others of our friendship with Him." (April 24, 2005, St. Peter's Square - Inaugural Homily of His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI)

Pope Benedict's book on the Apostles and first disciples of Christ can be found here.

Pope John Paul "the Great" left some big shoes to fill: it would be hard to find another human being who could be so absolutely and authentically loving of people in general. But, I contend, the current pope is doing a pretty good job of keeping up, and he certainly has a very warm personality that can't be easily disregarded.

Just one day after attending a Mass together, as a class, at the tomb of St. Peter the Apostle in the Vatican, the new men here at NAC had another amazing opportunity to visit our favorite (living) person in Rome – the Holy Father, Pope Benedict XVI. During the summer, though, like all the rest of Rome’s population, he leaves the city and heads for the hills and cooler weather. So we all hopped on a bus and took off to Castel Gandolfo, the summer home of the papacy. After a little ride – let me tell you – we were not disappointed in the least…

Although we had to wait about an hour to actually get inside the piazza where the audiences are held, we finally got in and were ushered right to the front – right in front of where the pope appears and gives a small lesson each Sunday before the Angelus prayer. When he first popped out onto the balcony, met with loud cheers, he looked down to his left, at us (see photo), and was actually shocked to see all the seminarians, in cassocks and suits, standing before him. Throughout the catechesis, we all listened attentively until finally he came to the words:



“I am happy to greet all the English-speaking pilgrims and visitors. May your stay at Castel Gandolfo and Rome renew your love of the universal Church. I welcome the new seminarians of the Pontifical North American College, and pray that their formative years in Rome will help them to grow in wisdom and pastoral charity.” (Click below to hear the audio clip!)




Well, needless to say, this just about put us over the top – we cheered and hollered while Pope Benedict just stood there and smiled at us; it was really an unforgettable experience. After singing him the song Ad Multos Annos (“[We Wish You] Many Years”), he moved along and finally finished the audience, after which we all walked out of the piazza and into the papal gardens for a little tour. However, I don’t want to focus on that, as amazing as it was. The real marvel here is the connection I described between the Holy Father and his seminarians – between the Church and Christ, in reality. When the Vicar of Jesus Christ on Earth, spiritual father to over 1 billion Catholics world-wide, looked at a bunch of young seminarians, he actually – and I’m telling this first-hand – he actually got a little excited! How amazing is that!

Sometimes it’s so easy to forget what great missions we are called to in life, but when even the pope gets giddy thinking about the gift of the priesthood to the people of God, it’s hard to avoid such an incredible reality. The same is true for everyone: there is no fathoming the dignity of the vocation that God calls each of us to, and no matter how hard it gets to see the beauty, we are obligated to continually strive toward that very vocation that He has in store for each one of us. A real consolation lies in the fact that we are able, sometimes, to realize the beauty of one another’s vocation more easily than that of our own; thus, we are just as compelled to point out the Truth to our brothers and sisters in Christ as we are to find Him in our own lives. The Holy Father is able to do this in something as simple as a heartfelt smile. Such a powerful reassurance through something so basic is surely evidence of his own holiness, and evidence of the grace given to him by the divine person he represents here on Earth – Jesus Christ.

Since the fall of our first parents, no vice has plagued the souls of men more than pride, that vice which worships and “loves self to the point of despising God," instead of worshiping and “loving God to the point of despising self.” (Saint Augustine, De Civitate Dei, XIV, 1) Simply put, pride fails to give credit where credit is due, namely God. Our response to pride must be the radical living of the virtue of humility.

In Donald DeMarco’s book, “The Heart of Virtue," he tells a brilliant story of Karl Rudolph's life and his unbelievable accomplishments despite his seemingly impossible circumstances. He was a man with 195 patents to his name for the then new General Electric Company; such things as man made lighting and improved electric motors to be used in elevators, making skyscrapers a reality. This man of high accomplishments, when once given a beautiful leather chair for work, chose rather to work kneeling on the floor or a stool he had. When he died there was a great presence not only of dignitaries but most notably of children at his funeral. "Let the children come to me; do not prevent them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these." (Mark 10:14) Karl Rudolph was a “successful person” not because of his worldly accomplishments, but because he recognized were he received the ability and strength to accomplish what he did. Again humility finds its true meaning and grounding in Jesus, who stripped Himself of His glory and “... although in the form of God, He did not deem equality with God, something to be grasped at.” (Philippians 2:6) He who took on flesh came into the world through a poor peasant woman named Mary. When His Mother, “a lowly servant,” (Luke 1:48) gave birth to her son, she, “since there was no room where the travelers where staying at the inn,” (Luke 2:7) placed her child in the feeding trough used by the animals. No greater witness do we have to the importance and goodness of humility than in the example of Jesus, who is God Himself. Mother Theresa once said that God's greatest attribute is His humility. Even the ancients recognized the importance of humility when Confucius remarked that, “Humility is the solid foundation of all the virtues.”

Alright, I'm pretty sure that our blogging staff is now complete. After a few additions, we currently have 5 total contributors to the site, which you can see in the "About the Authors" section in the right sidebar. Because of this - and to make the site less of a personal project and more of a group effort - I am going to change the site URL to: <http://inumbrissanctipetri.blogspot.com>. Hopefully, this will be done within the next few days.

Also, the idea of putting together a weekly Podcast has been brought to my attention; we would probably include things such as Gospel reflections for the week, catachetical and academic discussions on Catholic topics, and other news and such from the North American College in Rome. Soon, we will have the first one completed (I hope), and will post it here on the site for you to download. For those unfamiliar with Podcasts, they are simply free, personalized "radio shows" that can be downloaded to your computer for later listening, as well as distributed freely over the Apple iTunes network. Podcasts seem to be the way to go as far as modern communications go, so we are anxious to get ours up and running.

Thanks again for your support. Stay tuned for more frequent updates and a wider range of perspectives from our new contributors...

Yesterday was the Feast of St. Bartholomew the Apostle, who after Pentecost is said to have traveled to the Middle East, where he would ultimately face martyrdom by being flayed (skinned) alive. He is currently buried in a church on the island in the Tiber River, which flows through the middle of Rome. In recent years, at the instigation of John Paul II, this church has also become the home to a display of items belonging to those killed in our own time because of their faith in Christ. This really helps to drive the point home about what it means to lay one’s life down for Jesus- while it may be easy to get a romanticized view of martyrdom when all we see is some stylized, cleaned-up depiction of a saint’s death, when I saw a picture of a priest’s bloody, lifeless corpse lying where he had been shot, next to the actual cross he had been wearing (below), it really showed the depth of the sacrifice for which our love of Christ should prepare us.

As the exhibit wound around the church, I was taken on a tour of the suffering Christians have faced in the last century- from a letter by an Austrian layman killed by the Nazis, to the missal of Archbishop Oscar Romero (killed in 1980 for opposing a corrupt government in El Salvador), to a Bible belonging to a man killed in the Rwandan genocide (below), these personal belongings of those who faced persecution and death for their commitment to follow Christ serves as a powerful reminder that the age of persecution is not ended, and indeed shall not until the end of time.

Well, that’s all well and good, you ask, but how does this impact me? These stories certainly do serve to edify, but what are the odds I will be called upon to offer a similar witness? The Church speaks of two kinds of martyrdom; red martyrdom, that of the shedding of blood, is the first and most well known kind. The second is called white martyrdom, which refers to a kind of spiritual death, not in the sense that our relationship with God dies, but rather that our attachment to the world and our own desires apart from God do. While this doesn’t lead to physical death, it does include persecution from without and, often, doubts from within that cause a great deal of suffering. Both kinds of martyrs make a full sacrifice of themselves to God in a radical way: the red martyrs through the sacrifice of their actual life, and the white martyrs from a similar sacrifice of their life in the world. While the red martyrs faced the sword and emerged victorious, the white martyrs were prepared for such. Bl. Kateri Tekakwitha is an example of a white martyr: while she was not killed for her faith, she did face persecution from her family and others in her community for her belief, yet persevered and is today seen as a powerful witness of the love of God manifest in those who believe.

“Marytr” comes from a Greek word meaning witness. Those who suffered before us, whether in body or spirit, gave their witness of faith to us; are we prepared to do the same? May the martyrs, who suffered for the Faith we join them in professing, intercede for us with our common Lord, that when we face times of trial because of our Faith, we may be given the same courage as them.

Yesterday morning, the incoming class of seminarians here at the North American College began our orientation in the traditional manner: by making a trip to the tomb of St. Peter the Apostle, in the crypt of St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican. One of the greatest “features” of going to school here in Rome is the proximity of everyday life and the reality of the universal Church. This occasion was no exception.

Led by our Rector (the priest in charge of a seminary), we all piled out of the college a little after 7 o’clock in the morning and made our way over to the basilica – about a 10-minute walk. For as busy as it normally gets during the day, the morning provides a great chance for prayer since virtually none of the regular tourists are there yet. The people who were there got quite an eye (and camera) full, though; fifty-four seminarians walking in, dressed in Roman collars, is exactly the sort of thing people dream of catching on film when they go to visit the center of the Catholic Church. For some of our number, it was the first time they had ever laid eyes on the enormous, magnificent Basilica of St. Peter. Even more impressive than the architecture, though, is the reason why it was built in the first place...

In the confessio, under the high altar, are the bones of the first pope, Peter. It was exactly in front of these bones that we had the great privilege to participate in the Holy Mass, an honor which I will not soon forget. The Mass alone is enough to transform hearts, but knowing that you are present at the Paschal Sacrifice of Jesus Christ, in the physical presence of both Him (in the Real Presence of the Eucharist) and one of the greatest saints ever – Peter – really makes you see what being Catholic is all about. The Lord did not simply give us a memory of Himself, but rather a Church, founded upon the “Rock” of Petrus and called to continually make the same Christ present throughout the world until His coming again in glory.

Yesterday morning, fifty-four seminarians got a little better taste of what being a priest of Jesus Christ entails; just like Peter, we must be willing to suffer at the side of Christ (even confessing to Him our unworthiness after denying Him through our sin) and even be willing to suffer physical and spiritual martyrdom for the sake of the Kingdom, even as Peter was crucified in the footsteps of His Savior. However, in the end, and like Peter, we can be assured of God’s loving and saving plan for our lives, and be assured that if we suffer with Christ, we shall also reign with Him in heaven. Sanctus Petrus, ora pro nobis!

Oftentimes, it’s easy to get into a sort of “sacramental funk,” if you will – I coined that term, so don’t go looking for it anywhere else. What I mean is, it’s easy to just sort of breeze through the reception of the Sacraments without really thinking much about what is going on. It happens to us all, even seminarians and priests; we just lose sight of Jesus in the midst of all the liturgical hubbub. But, let this serve as a small reminder that there really is something more to being Catholic than simply going through the motions…

It struck me today that the two Sacraments most present in most of our lives – namely, Confession and the Eucharist – seem to complement each other quite perfectly. First off, if we don’t frequent both, then we should make a resolve to do so, since Christ wants us to 1) be freed from our sins by confessing them sincerely and being absolved, and 2) to receive Him fully, Body and Blood, in the Sacrament of the Eucharist. By making use of both Confession and Eucharist on a regular basis, God can do wonders in bringing us closer to Himself, even more than we could ever imagine.

The complementary nature of these two Sacraments can be seen on a few levels, which I’d like to share here:

First, the obvious harmony is that before receiving the Lord in the Blessed Sacrament, we should be freed from all mortal (and hopefully venial) sin. By going to Confessing, we present ourselves whole and entire to the same Lord, in the hope of His merciful healing. In this sense, Confession acts as a kind of necessary precursor for the Eucharist, allowing us to be properly prepared to welcome God the Son into our hearts and bodies. This by itself is an unfathomable mystery!

The second harmony between Confession and Eucharist plays off the above distinction; this second complement is the deeper of the two, and something that we all could/should meditate upon. In the Eucharist, Jesus Christ gives Himself to us, Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity, to physically consume so that He might consume us into His spiritual presence; it is a true communion (“union with”) that is beyond any superficial communion we could imagine by ourselves. In this way, the Eucharist is Christ presenting Himself to us in His entirety, without holding anything back from us. But, in order to receive Him worthily, He asks that we first present ourselves to Him, whole and entire, without holding anything back, in the Sacrament of Confession. By confession our sins to the priest – and in that way to the Church and to the Lord Jesus, acting through him – we open our hearts as wide as possible to welcome our King, who desires to dwell within us, and us in Him. In actuality, Confession and the Eucharist function together to provide a unity with the Holy Trinity that is inestimable in both depth and love: the infinite God communes with His people, dwelling fully within them, and allowing mere mortal beings to dwell completely within Himself.

In a previous comment I believe someone asked to hear a bit about Mary and our prayer life. I would like to approach this from two angles: Mary as an example of discipleship and prayer and in the next post Mary as Mediatrix (a female mediator).

Every time Mary appears in the Gospels she gives us an example of how we should live out our own lives as disciples of her son. I especially like to meditate on Mary's first and last words. Her first words in the Gospel are the fiat. "Let it be done unto me..." This is an example of how we should live out our relationship with God. Especially in our prayer lives, I think we are often dissapointed about our time spent in prayer because we want our prayer 'to be done according to our wills,' but the best time spent in prayer is time spent allowing God to do what he wills. Yes, this could even be a dry empty feeling prayer. Another crucial part of our lives that requires a personal fiat is the acceptance of our vocation in life. We must accept Marriage, Priesthood, or Consecrated Life. This means saying 'yes' to the one that God wants and at times this means saying 'no' to the one that I want.

The last words Mary speaks are at the wedding feast in Cana. Here she simply says to the servants "do whatever he (Jesus) tells you." In some sense these words are spoken to the whole world, because remember we are all called to become servants in our Fathers kingdom. She is also giving us an example. Our words as disciples of Christ should point others to Christ and not to ourselves. This is very difficult, but a good meditation about using the tongue correctly can be made by slowly reading and praying over the third chapter of James. Look for a piece on Mary as Mediatrix next time (then I will start the next review with the next post. Let me know if you would like to hear about a book on Mary).

OK, this is another call for input... perhaps more of a begging.

With blog contributors waiting in the wings (and some already contributing frequently, i.e. Andrew R.), I've been asked what sorts of things readers would like to see. I have no problem just writing about whatever crosses my mind - in fact I enjoy that most of the time - but we'd also like to know what you'd like. Moreover, I sort of want to gain an understanding of who's reading, how many regular readers we have, etc. - not for the sake of just knowing, but to help gear the site more toward those groups of readers that seem most interested.

Thus, with all that in mind, I would kindly ask you to take the time (if you've already taken the time to read this far...) and leave a comment below, at least with your first name and what you're areas of interest are regarding the blog; if you like our random musings, that's fine too. Just trying to get a grip on what/who we are writing for.

I appreciate the help. Thanks!

Sorry for not posting much recently. I just finished my move back into seminary, and we have been busy cleaning and planning for the coming year. To help with the accessibility of my posts, I want to provide a recap after I am done talking about each book that I review. I just finished a series of reflections on Fr. Thomas Dubay's book, Fire Within. You will have to wait in suspense for my next post to know the next book I will write about.

The other night, at a procession in honor of the first bishop of Assisi, the current occupant of that seat offered some insightful meditations on the Faith, one of which I would like to highlight here. In this he spoke of the communion, which must exist among all members of the Church. Returning to the popular theme that "no man is an island,"he went on to say that we are rather a body, or (in a geographical one-upping of Donne) an archipelago.

While others have provided commentaries on this concept that are far deeper and more learned than anything I could produce, I would like to gather some reflections on how this sense of communion really is one of the central ideas of our religious life. Sure, our faith life must be based upon a personal relationship with Jesus Christ; however, it must move beyond this into the practice of this faith within a community, which is why Christ founded the Church. Think about how much our faith depends upon others; our parents, other family members, friends, and (hopefully) priests and others within a church community. Unless you're St. Paul, our Lord is not going to knock you off your horse and tell you to get with the program; if you are a Christian, it's because you have been led to be one by others. Of course, this doesn't mean that one doesn't, at somepoint in their faith journey, have to make a personal choice to be a disciple; it's just saying that you don't get to that point all on your own.

The beautiful thing about the Catholic Faith is that this connection with others is not only in a sense "horizontal" (among those of the same time period), but also "vertical" (including those of different time periods). I think that one of the most awesome parts of the ordination Mass comes at the Litany of the Saints, when the ordinandi lay down before the altar, and everyone in the church kneels as we call upon the saints, those disciples who came before us in the faith, to come and help us today, continuing their activity in the Church even from beyond the grave (although I don't know if it would technically be theologically correct to call them benevolent zombies).

Of course, as with many things, there's a flip side to this coin. If we, the Church Militant on Earth, call upon the assistance of the Church Triumphant in Heaven, we ourselves are also called to pray for the Church Suffering, namely those who are saved, yet are now in Purgatory receiving a final purification before being admitted to the fullness of Heaven. In the same way, we are called to exercise this reaching out on the horizontal plane as well, leading others to Christ through our example and words. As it says in the Bible (always a good source book), from those to whom much has been given, much shall be expected; therefore, if we have received the pearl of great price, how much more are we called upon to lead others to it as well.

Hodie, Maria Virgo assumpta est ad caelos; Today, the Virgin Mary was assumed into heaven. Alleluia!

Well, what can I really say about this one? Perhaps I should just let Pope Pius XII, who defined the dogma of the Assumption, speak for himself:

“[We hope that] those who meditate upon the glorious example Mary offers us may be more and more convinced of the value of a human life entirely devoted to carrying out the heavenly Father's will and to bringing good to others. Thus, while the illusory teachings of materialism and the corruption of morals that follows from these teachings threaten to extinguish the light of virtue and to ruin the lives of men by exciting discord among them, in this magnificent way all may see clearly to what a lofty goal our bodies and souls are destined. Finally it is our hope that belief in Mary's bodily Assumption into heaven will make our belief in our own resurrection stronger and render it more effective.” (Munificentissimus Deus, 42)

No, that wasn’t Latin. That was just very complex English (which, as you might have guessed, is a translation from the Latin original). Permit me to venture a further “translation” of this somewhat elaborate yet absolutely essential statement…

The Church has always venerated the Blessed Virgin Mary above all the other saints, because it was through her womb that the Lord Jesus was made Incarnate for the salvation of the world. Through Mary’s fiat – “let it be done” – in response to the angel Gabriel on the day of the Annunciation, God’s Will was permitted to come into full force; by the humble, submissive “yes” of a lowly woman, the Almighty chose to send His only Son to live, suffer and die for the sins of all mankind. In a word, Mary’s love for the Lord was enough that she even offered her very life, her being, to bring about the completion of God’s plan for salvation through Christ!

This is precisely what Pope Pius XII intends to point out by his dogmatic proclamation of the Assumption. We can be sure – the Catholic Church as a whole – that Mary must have been assumed, body and soul, into heaven; she was absolutely unblemished, and her whole person was undefiled by sin (as we know through the dogma of the Immaculate Conception). By contemplating this glorious mystery of the faith, as the Holy Father states, we come to more fully realize the Father’s Will for the rest of humanity: we are called to act as Mary did, and to offer our whole being to the Lord. Even in a world that continually downplays the value of humble submissiveness (cf. my post on Christian Humanism), the model of the Blessed Mother is precisely what we need to focus on if we are going to be able to rightly offer our lives, whole and entire, to the Heart of the Father. If we truly focus on the virtue of the Blessed Virgin, someday we too might be humble enough to utter the same as she did at the Annunciation: “Fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum; Let it be done unto me according to your word.”

Alright. Time for a philosophically charged post. (I simply can’t go this long without writing something philosophic in nature – I mean, I do have a degree in it for goodness sakes… those 4 years will not have been spent in vain!) OK. Now that I’ve vented, let’s begin.

Pope Benedict XVI, in his Wednesday audiences, has been talking a lot recently about the Early Church Fathers. The Fathers – whose number includes such illustrious names as St. Irenaeus, St. Basil, St. Gregory Nazianze, Tertullian and Origen – were the group of thinkers and writers who provided the first true foundation for Catholic doctrine, way back in the centuries immediately following Christ’s life on earth. Needless to say, patristic study (i.e. of the Fathers) is an immense field of work, and there is no shortage of research left to be done. Of all the ideas we have to consider, though, there seems to be one overarching theme that sticks out, to me, as truly relevant in our current day; Pope Benedict has talked much about it, and I will write a little about it here: “humanism.”

If you aren’t familiar with the term, don’t run and look it up in the dictionary. Ironically enough, Webster seems to have overlooked the true meaning of the word (I never thought I’d be correcting a dictionary). Like most modern interpretations, the approved lexicon of the English language simply states that humanism is the rejection of the divine in favor of the human; that all import is placed on the use of reason, and none on the acceptance of anything other (e.g. revelation). But, alas, this is not what I mean when I say humanism. Nor is it the Holy Father’s intent.

The pope’s understanding on humanism might be best summed up in his recent words on the topic: “Without God, man loses his greatness; without God, there is no true humanism. That’s why we listen to this voice and also try to come to know the face of God.” (cf. Wednesday Audience. 8/8/07) First, let me say that Benedict is no dummy – although most people probably don’t realize this, the Vicar of Christ on Earth happens to also be one of the most intelligent people on earth as well. He is quite well educated, articulate, and straight-up smart, so the above comment is certain to be a product of more than just some artificial philosophic ruminations. In short, what he is saying is that the essence of being truly human is our ability to focus our lives entirely on God. What a beautiful thought…

The history of humanism can be traced from its recognizable roots during the Renaissance (man as a super-exalted being, raising him from the depths of the middle ages), through the 19th Century (man as replacing the need for God, as is evident in Marxist communism) and into Nietzschian nihilism (man’s glory as an objective end in itself). Even today, we find secular, non-Christian humanism at the center of many cultural and societal practices; any exercise that exalts man above God can most likely be termed ‘secular humanism.’ Secular humanism, by its very nature, is nothing short of atheistic humanism – that is, replacing God with non-God, and believing it to be adequate. For those inclined to learn about the historical progression of this school of thought, a terrific book on the subject is Henri de Lubac’s The Drama of Atheist Humanism, which I would highly recommend.

The goal of Catholic intellectuals – and us mere mortals alike – must not be to scrap humanism wholesale, but rather to understand it in terms of Christianity. There is nothing good about reverting to a purely Scholastic, pre-Renaissance way of thinking (which, I’m inclined to believe, some would just as soon do). Development of thought and doctrine is a good thing. On the contrary, we must strive forward in the disciplines of philosophy and theology, always seeking to learn more and continually tempering our knowledge with the Tradition of the Faith that has been given us for 2000 years. Hopefully, more posts on this topic will come soon – it is something worth looking at, even for those not so schooled in the world of philosophy, since it is undeniably the definitive face of modern society. As long as the Holy Father continues to spend time on it, so must we.

The (extremely lengthy) Gospel passage today made me think of a good post topic: locating and taking advantage of the “moment of grace.”

Jesus tells us, “if the master of the house had known the hour when the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. You also must be prepared, for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come.” (Lk 12) We hear this passage a lot, but what does it really mean? A simplistic – and absolutely correct – interpretation would be that we ought to live our lives as if each moment could be our last. Nothing wrong with this analysis; it’s quite accurate, as long as we live each “last moment” as an upstanding Christian should. But digging deeper into the words of the Lord, we find something very helpful that is not so apparent on the surface…

Perhaps Jesus is telling us of the “moment of grace” that we are all called to find each day – the moment of His love for us that we often overlook because of more “pressing obligations.” Quite simply, as Christians we are not called to live in the past or the future, to let troubles or worries overcome our thoughts so as to force all meditation of the Holy Trinity right out. No, we are most certainly called to live in the “here and now,” since it is only in the very moment we exist in that God conveys to us His immense grace. Times of prayer are often overrun with distractions (which almost always take us to a past or future event). The ironic thing is, if we let these distractions consume us, we are letting something non-existent occupy the space that the ultimate existence, God, should inhabit. The devil tempts us away from loving God by showing to us all the could-have and would-haves in our life, instead of allowing us the “is” of the Lord’s presence.

Back to the Gospel… Jesus’ instruction to “be prepared” for “an hour you do not expect” is actually a call to live our lives right here and right now. If the servant is caught up in the distractions of the past or future, how can he be ready when his master arrives? The master, certainly, will demand that the servant be welcoming immediately, and will be upset if he finds the servant neglecting his duty. In the same way, when we go to the Lord to pray, we must not let our distractions get the best of us. Surely, we can learn much from our distractions (like Andrew’s posts have indicated), but we can never give them free reign over our obligation to meet the Lord in the “moment of grace” that He offers us every single moment of our lives. When you think about it, it’s quite profound – a God who is absolutely, totally, all-encompassingly present in every solitary instant of our being!

This is my last reflection on Fire Within by Fr. Dubay. The topic for today is growing at prayer. I will summarize the synthesis that Fr. Dubay gives about St. Teresa of Avila's recommendations for growing in prayer. I will try to keep this as simple as possible.

The Basic Teresian Principles of Growth:
1. Practicing the virtues is more important than any method
2. Growth does not depend on our situation. It depends more on how generous we are in the situations we find ourselves.
3. We must generously go beyond what is strictly required of us by the commandments.
4. There is no prayer development unless it is accompanied by the purification of some faults.
5. We must actively attempt to purify ourselves. This does not mean that we should take on imprudent penances, but it does mean that we should have no time for pampering ourselves.
6. God gives growth precisely according to our degree of readiness for it.
7. Retrogression in prayer is possible!
8. The earnest practice of virtue causes deepening prayer at the same time.
9. Determination needs to be the key trait of our approach to the spiritual life.

Specific Conditions which Are Absolutely Necessary for Growth:
Humility: This is the rock on which we must build our house. If we are not humble, we are not able to receive advanced gifts in prayer, because these experiences would make our pride grow. Real humility is a recognition of the Truth. This means that we must recognize our complete dependence on God, and our helplessness without Him. Humility is not self-depreciation though, this is just a clever way for us to focus on ourselves.

Detachment: We must have an undivided heart for God. This means that every object in the world cannot be used for its own sake. Food, sex, money, and possessions must all be used in a way to glorify God (we must go beyond the commandments).

Solitude: We must take time to be alone with our beloved. No relationship grows unless you give your attention to it. We need time to be with God. Solitude does not just mean being alone; it means being with God. All of the other preoccupations of our lives must be put aside or offered to the Lord during this time.

Suffering Well: Everyone experiences trials and sufferings during their lives. What often separates the saints from the rest is that the saint suffers well. This means to suffer without complaint and turning the other cheek. Christ and Mary are the only victims in the history of the world that were also guiltless. Imitate their silent suffering which was the result of human selfishness.

Love-Generosity: Laziness and selfishness are the two deadly poisons to prayer. These things actually bring death to any relationship, whether it be marriage, a priest and his parishioners, or a spiritual life. Growth always happens on the battlefield of our will to love and our fallen nature. Laziness is the choice to not take up arms against the foe, and selfishness is taking up arms with the wrong side.

Fr. Dubay recognizes that many of these principles are almost completely ignored in most contemporary literature on the spiritual life. Things like humility and suffering are often looked down on now-a-days by "enlightened" modern writers, but these are the things that have made saints! When the Church is investigating someones life for canonization (to make them a saint), She does not look for the practice of diverse prayer methods. The Church has always and will always look for HEROIC VIRTUE in the lives of the saints. Heroic virtue is our calling, nothing less.

It’s that time of year – time for summer to wind down before our very eyes, and for the joys of learning to reemerge as school comes to session… OK, so the essence of learning might not be truly captured by the word “joy,” but nevertheless…

Next to praying, studying is one of the most beneficial things we can do to grow closer to the Lord. In fact, prayer without some degree of study (for anyone in the modern world, at least) could most likely be considered as lacking in love. The past few weeks of Italian language study have provided a good chance for me to consider this reality; watching my summer dissipate into 6-hour days of verb conjugations and grammar paradigms has been a (metaphysically) positive experience. Learning isn’t always fun – and sometimes it’s just absolutely tedious and painful – but we don’t do it because it’s fun, we do it for the glory of God.

It seems common that college students today believe in learning as a means to success in the work-world and a reliable way of ensuring a higher-than-average income. Why wouldn’t they think that; our culture screams it left and right. But again, the reality is not what appears on the surface – we are called by God to learn so that we might give greater glory to Him through our temporal (i.e. earthly) endeavors. When we feel overburdened by our studies, the only justifiable response is to offer the struggle to the Lord, since our studies are His anyway.

As I alluded to before, modern times present us with the most severe need for learning amongst the Catholic faithful that the world has ever known. With increasingly complex moral issues coming to the forefront (e.g. abortion, euthanasia, stem-cell research, contraception, AIDS, etc.), the only way justice can be done is if faithful Christians learn both the tenets of their faith and the principles of science. The same applies to the business world; holiness must spill over from churches into the office place and saturate the way business is carried out. This is precisely why God calls some men and women to be married or single, and to function in the world as secular, non-ordained/professed disciples of Jesus Christ. The call of the lay faithful is great indeed!

So next time you get stressed out about your studies (I know summer is still here, but let’s face it, it will happen soon enough…), don’t lament in vain, but offer your sufferings with the Blessed Mother at the foot of the Cross. By continuing to learn, we can edify the Holy Church and Her mission of conversion more than we ever thought possible. Pray especially to St. Thomas Aquinas, patron saint of students, for help when the times get tough... but I'm warning you, he won't give you the answers to essay exams if you haven't already studied for them!

Being in Assisi, the small Italian town where St. Francis (of said location) was born, lived much of his earthly life, and then passed on to the next, has proven to be a wonderful opportunity for reflection for Andrew Haines and myself, both studying Italian here for the next two weeks. The city is lovely – in fact, it feels so much like the 1300's that I expect at any moment a cart to go by with the driver shouting, "bring out your dead."

However, once such superficial observations are taken, deeper reflection brings one to realize the incredible ordinariness of this place: St. Francis, one of the greatest saints in our history, did not grow up in a monastery, nor in some shrine town like Lourdes or Fatima. Really, Assisi is like the ‘burbs of the Middle Ages, with St. Francis growing up in a family comparable, I'm sure, to those of many readers of this post. His father was a cloth merchant who had high hopes for his son (a career in the military, which ultimately didn't pan out when Francis got captured in his first battle). Because of his father's lucrative career, St. Francis was able to enjoy a comfortable standard of living – he wore Abercrombie, listened to Green Day, drove a Jetta, all that.

Luckily for the Church, and for us, he soon discovered a more noble calling when he heard a voice from the crucifix in a church he was repairing by hand, calling him to "rebuild my Church." He did this not by rebuilding physical church buildings, but rather by living a life in which he sought to build up, as best he could, the people who make up the Church, by his example of response to the call of our Lord in the Gospel, "follow Me."

In the interest of brevity, I will forgo giving a full account of St. Francis's life, many of which can be found online, and instead get to the point of this all (applause track). The thing about St. Francis, one of the greatest saints in history, is that he is really no different than any of us, at least in his origins. What made the difference in his life is that he put into practice what we are called to do, namely, to be living witnesses to the grace of God at work. Although he appreciated the finer things in life, he realized that God was calling him to love poverty (Lady Poverty, he called her), and so lived a life of radical poverty; though he cared about his own physical appearance, he would eventually overcome his initial revulsion upon meeting a leper and later embrace the sick man, seeing in him and his illness a reflection of the suffering Christ. Though he initially loved being popular according to the judgment of the world, he later realized that one's status in the Divine Judgment is more important. With such generosity of spirit did he follow Christ that he even received the stigmata, the physical marks of the crucifixion, on his body. However, he started out not that different from any of us.

So, what do we take from all this? While there are obviously many things of value in this story, let's focus on one in particular here: St. Francis responded to the challenge of Christ: "follow Me." He came from an average background, yet once he resolved to give himself fully to Christ, great things happened. You see, when we give God the permission to use us as instruments in accomplishing His will, extraordinary things will happen through our ordinary actions. It doesn't mean going out and doing something huge; rather, be like Francis: who are the lepers in your life whom you can embrace? What are the unattractive choices to which you feel God is calling you, or that you know are right, yet you are still holding back a little? Just as every relationship starts somewhere, so does our spiritual relationship with God have to start somewhere, even if it's something as simple as inconveniencing ourselves in some small way, because we know God wants more from us. By knowing the lives of the saints, God's friends, we can understand how to better respond to God in our own lives.

Today marks the Feast of the Transfiguration of Christ – a feast well-known but probably not so well-understood. In light of such nebulous circumstances, and like any good blog focused on better understanding the faith should do, we’ll take a look at the significance of the great event we celebrate today.

Perhaps saying ‘event’ is misleading. Certainly, the Transfiguration was an historical event: Jesus walked with some of His Apostles up a mountain, and was shown in glory before them, conversing with Moses and Elijah. (cf. Matthew 17: 1-8) The Apostles were shocked beyond belief (as we can see in Peter’s almost silly, dumbfounded comments), and the whole happening seemed utterly impossible to everyone present – except the Lord. Then, what’s more, Jesus commanded His Apostles not to say anything of the matter once they came down from the mountain. When you leave it at that, it sounds like Jesus was trying to pull off some kind of illustrious scam and then leave his friends totally out of the loop as to what had just happened. But, like any aspect of Revelation, God has given the grace of understanding to the Church (through the Apostles), and we are not as clueless today as Peter was 2000 years ago.

The Transfiguration is more than an ‘event,’ it is the revelation of the true person of Jesus Christ. Not only does God the Father confirm in words the mission of His Son (i.e. “This is my Beloved Son with whom I am well pleased; listen to Him”), but Jesus’ mission is physically shown to His disciples by His conversation with Moses and Elijah. Moses, who received from God the Ten Commandments, represents the power of the Judaic Law; the Jews had always been obedient to the Law and many saw Jesus as an opposition to that tradition. On the other hand, Elijah represented the lineage of prophets, who also commanded obedience to the written Law, but did so coupled with unique revelations from the Lord. Together, Moses and Elijah symbolize the whole Judaic tradition until the time of Christ. When Jesus was transfigured before the Apostles, He was in the middle of these two Old Testament figures, speaking with them. This is more than coincidence: Jesus’ conversation lets us know that He is, in fact, the completion of their teaching, which lacked fullness until then. Jesus did not “come to abolish the Law, but to fulfill it.” The glory radiating forth from the transfigured Christ is testament to the beauty of His mission. The Son of God had come to implement a law of love.

The truly mysterious part of this whole reality is that Jesus did not permit his friends to speak of the Transfiguration until the “Son of Man had been raised from the dead.” But why? A simple explanation lies in the fact that love is founded not on testimony, but actions. If the Apostles only recounted Christ’s glorification with their mouths, perhaps others would not have believed, and the message of the Gospel would have been stifled. But God, in His infinite wisdom, accounted for the frailty of their human nature, and commanded them to live the love that Christ came to preach. Thus we, today, understand the Feast of the Transfiguration as a day on which to remember the reason we profess and value the Catholic faith: to love the Lord and our neighbor more and more every moment so that, one day, we might all be with Him in paradise. The foreshadowing of divine glory shown to the Apostles on that day will be as nothing compared to the inestimable bliss, which the Father desires to share with us one day in His heavenly kingdom.

Thanks for the question. This is one of the reasons I only wanted to make one post on contemplation. I am not the best man to describe contemplation, but it would not be just to give a review of Fire Within without talking about contemplation. Really the only way to understand contemplation is to experience it, and even then, Fr. Dubay says that it is impossible to really describe one's understanding of contemplation with words. I did forget to make an important distinction in my post yesterday that should help everyone's understanding. I was kicking myself today when I realized that I forgot to mention this important point.

Contemplation is an infused type of prayer. This means that contemplation is only received; it is not something we actively do. Vocal prayer and meditation on the other hand, while they are enabled by grace, are primarily an action that is done by the person praying. Contemplation in contrast is only reeceived. Thus, what is really important to do is to prepare ourselves to receive this gift, and we do this by purifying all of our actions and remaining open to the Holy Spirit's actions in our prayer time and throughout the day.

In response to the question about contemplation asked in the "comments" of the last post, here is a quick explanation... The definition of contemplation, according to the Catechism of the Catholic Church, is this:

"Saint Theresa [says], 'Contemplative prayer in my opinion is nothing else than a close sharing between friends; it means taking time frequently to be alone with him who we know loves us.'

Contemplative prayer seeks him 'whom my soul loves.' It is Jesus, and in him, the Father. We seek him, because to desire him is always the beginning of love, and we seek him in that pure faith which causes us to be born of him and to live in him. In this inner prayer we can still meditate, but our attention is fixed on the Lord himself." (CCC 2709)

In short, contemplation is the effortless gaze of our spiritual eyes upon the Holy Trinity. It is the highest form of prayerful communion with God, and at the same time the highest spiritual gift that God bestows upon those who love Him. In fact, contemplation of the Lord here on earth is a foretaste of the contemplation we will experience in the heavenly, "beatific vision."

Like Andrew wrote yesterday, contemplation is not something that is easily attained (if I can use that word). The grounds for deep contemplation are quite strenuous -- a spiritual life already very purified by vocal and meditative prayer. Nevertheless, we are all called to experience contemplative prayer and to ascend to the levels of sanctity that we see in the greatest of saints. Again, our moral life is the best compass we can use to determine our "level" or prayer -- we are called to sanctity in both areas, and both areas will always coincide with one another. Contemplation is not only found in the physical presence of the Blessed Sacrament, either, as some might think, but rather anywhere we can focus our hearts on the goodness of God. It is even right to say that contemplation occurs when we are prayerfully overcome by the beauty of nature, or a human relationship, which leads us to know the Glory of God. There are many forms of contemplation, and many of them are quite accessible to those of us just beginning on the long path of prayer. (For those seriously interested in the topic of contemplation, a good book to look at is Transformation in Christ, by Dietrich von Hildebrand, which I will reference in the future.) The beauty of this mystery of prayer is that the more we meditate and focus our minds on the goodness of the Lord, the easier our minds are naturally disposed to contemplating the Face of God in the world He created for us!

In Fire Within, Fr. Dubay writes as much about contemplation as he does about every other topic put together, but I am only going to devote one post to it. To hear the full story you will have to get the book, or his similar more accessible book Prayer Primer. For the most part, to handle this subject I will let Fr. Dubay's words speak for themselves.

"Over the years I have gradually come to the conclusion that one reason so many people assume that contemplation is reserved for a select few is that they imagine it to be what it is not"(Fire Within p.57). Christ has called us to be perfect as His heavenly Father is perfect. One of the biggest points that Fr. Dubay makes in this book is that growth in prayer and growth in virtue cannot be seperated. We are all called to the heights of perfection in our moral lives, and we are all called to reap the benefits of this by experiencing the heights of prayer. "Advanced communion with God does not happen in isolation from the rest of life. One's whole behavior pattern is being transformed as the prayer deepens. So true is this that if humility, temperance, chastity, and love for neighbor are not growing, neither is prayer growing" (p.59).

So what is this contemplation that we are all called to experience? "Christic contemplation is nothing less than a deep love communion with the triune God. By depth here we mean a knowing loving that we cannot produce but only receive." (p.57) What makes contemplation for the Christian unique is that we are called to communion with a Divine Person, but we can do nothing to force God to grant us contemplation. Contemplation is a gift; it cannot be earned. The only thing that can be done to receive it is to live a more perfect life; a life that is full of generous giving of self.

Being in love with God like the saints is not boring, and the prayer is not always of the same type, even though we will always experience periods of dryness and dullness. These moments are simply preparing us to experience a more pure communion with God, or are letting us know that we are backsliding in our moral life. "In all types of infused prayer there are degrees of intensity, more and less, ebb and flow. There are dry, dark yearnings; slow and gentle enkindlings of love; ecstatic absorbtions and delights; experiences of refreshment, peace, pain, light and insights." (p.60) We experience God in a completely human way. He engages every aspect of our person, and although contemplation is a purely spiritual experience of God, this flows over into our body. But remember that this could create anything in the range of emotional experiences, from an absolute dryness to delight greater than any physical pleasure.

The next question that always comes to mind is, "am I experiencing contemplation?" I cannot tell you for sure, but St. Teresa taught that contemplation began in the forth mansion of the spiritual life (which she defines in her book Interior Castle). Of the people in the mansion prior to the forth mansion, she states that "they avoid committing even venial sins; they love doing penance; they spend hours in recollection; they use their time well; they practice works of charity toward their neighbours; and they are very careful in their speech and dress and in the governance of their household if they have one" (qtd. in p.84). I know, this sounds like the description of a saint, but it is only someone in the third mansion of the seven Teresian Mansions. Do not despair though, because God always meets us where we are. He sees our human efforts, and then He always draws us nearer to Himself than our own efforts could accomplish. He literally "transforms us from glory to glory." St. Teresa is clear that she believes someone who lives a generous life without corner cutting will advance in prayer very quickly. God always gives us the maximum that we can receive.

It is worth noting, to end this post, that which is called by Fr. Benedict Groschel, in his book Spiritual Passages, a "spark"; this is a common experience in the spiritual life. A "spark" is simply an experience of an advanced type of prayer before we are advanced. This is a pure gift from God that is meant to motivate us. Although it is often only experienced on the emotional level, it grants us the same rich purifying graces that the advanced prayer would. The only danger in these experiences is assuming that we have reached this advanced level in the spiritual life because of one experience; remember, our moral life is always the best way to know where we are. It is also dangerous after experiencing a "spark" to spend your prayer time trying to reproduce the experience. God Himself is always the goal of our prayer, not an experience, but a Divine Person who loves us and desires for us to love Him.

I hope this all helps. Sorry that I was a little long winded today. Please comment if anything comes to mind. Thanks for the comments up to this point. I will definitely post something about Mary and our spiritual life after my last post on Fire Within, which will also be my next post. The topic will be how to advance in prayer.

Emotion plays a very important part in our lives as Catholics: since we strive to model the example of Christ, who underwent the full spectrum of human emotion during His life on earth, we are called to be emotional people. In fact, even if we don’t consciously strive to be emotional, we nevertheless are, since emotion is a fact of human existence. Unfortunately, the word emotion has a pretty negative connotation nowadays; we immediately think of uncontrollable weeping, anger, happiness, etc. However, the real meaning of emotion (as defined by Webster) is “a natural instinctive state of mind deriving from one’s circumstances, mood, or relationships with others.” More or less, being emotional equates with just existing as a human being!

So what is distinctly Catholic about emotion? Well, to begin, the root of both emotion and prayer is the same: we reflect on our current situations and relationships – both human and divine ones – and express openly our innermost desires. These desires can be vocalized as emotions (in human relationships) and as prayer (in our relationship with the Holy Trinity). Ideally, these two areas of relationship should not remain isolated from one another, but should coalesce into one ‘emotional prayer’ that constitutes our entire life. In this way, we adhere to St. Paul’s teaching to pray without ceasing. Our whole being is handed over to the Lord, body and soul, when we are able to allow our emotion to enter our prayer, and allow our prayer to permeate our daily lives.

This being said, it is just as important not to allow a lack of emotion in our prayer life to cause us great distress. When the Lord allows us to experience some kind of emotional-spiritual consolation (in whatever form, be it tears or laughter, etc.), we must remember that these things are gifts and nothing else. As humans, we are totally unable to even muster up emotion without God’s grace! At various points throughout the process of conversion, it is common for the Lord to show us glimpses of Himself, which move us to periods of great emotion. However, we must never expect such emotion to occur. We must pray in spite of any emotional or spiritual consolation that we receive. In this way, we continue to offer ourselves to God as a complete sacrifice, not expecting to be repaid in any way for our selfless love of Him, who deserves nothing less.

In short, a simple rule to remember about prayer might be this: always be perfectly up-front with the Lord in times of prayer (telling Him everything, even if it is not pleasant or elegant), offering Him your whole heart, and gladly accepting any gifts He chooses to offer you for the greater glory of His Holy Name. If we would all remember this basic principle each time we kneel down to pray, our lives as Christians would become incredibly more joyful, and increasingly filled with the Love of Christ, in whose image we ought to be formed.

Sorry that I have not posted lately. I am currently finishing a seven week Spanish immersion program in Antigua, Guatemala. Since I posted last, besides learning Spanish, I have been blessed to be able to travel and see some of this beautiful country. I have swam in naturals pools created by a river that flows under ground, traveled deep into some caves and hiked up the side of an active volcano to get within ten feet of hot lava.

One of the other great experiences of this immersion has been seeing the indigenous Guatemalan culture, and especially the indigenous women in their beautiful traditional dress. The one thing about these women that struck me at first was the way their clothing modestly shows the beauty that God has given them, but with this I also saw them openly breast feed their children in public. This is something I had never seen before in the States, and it seems that it is an unwritten rule that this is not acceptable in the culture of the United States. Seeing this has taught me a priceless lesson that I may have never realized in the US: Motherhood is Eucharistic.

At the Last Supper, Christ said "This is my body given up for you." Then he showed the whole world what it really means to love when he died on the cross for us, and this mystery becomes present at each Mass. This is what a loving mother says to her child at every moment: "This is my body given up for you," as she carries the child in her womb, while she endures labor pains, as she feeds her child with her milk, and as she spends every moment loving her child in a way so beautifully, like the way God loves all of us. This is also true of every nun in the world, who is a spiritual mother to us all.