Monthly Newspaper • DIOCESE OF BRIDGEPORT

During the summer months, the Diocese of Bridgeport will be sharing homilies from pulpits all over Fairfield County in an effort to showcase our diversity and our communities of faith.

This week’s guest homilist is Deacon Anthony Cassaneto of St. Lawrence Parish in Shelton.

St. John’s Gospel has rightly been called the “Eucharistic Gospel.” This is so because it is filled with Eucharistic images and language intended to help us go deeper into that mystery of Christ’s Body and Blood. It is the fruit of decades of spiritual reflection on this gift by Jesus’ beloved disciple.

In the Bread of Life discourse, the focus early on in chapter 6 is on faith. Jesus is confronted by the crowd who ask him, “What can we do to accomplish the works of God? Jesus answered them, “This is the work of God that you believe in the one he sent.”

We must first truly believe in Jesus’ divinity and that Jesus is sent by the Father in order to be open to the message that Jesus explicitly teaches us in today’s Gospel: “I am the living Bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will have life forever, and the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.”

The Jewish religious leaders of Jesus’ day quarreled among themselves, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat? They were appalled at the idea of eating Jesus’ flesh. Jesus stood his ground against these Jewish religious leaders who were self-righteous, arrogant, and close-minded. Jesus said to them, “Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood you do not have life within you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day.”

The first reading from Proverbs sees Wisdom calling to her followers: “Come, eat of my food, and drink of the wine I have mixed.” We have a similar invitation in the Holy Eucharist. The food and drink offered to us by Jesus are not symbols or magic. They are truly his Body and his Blood. The person who receives them remains in Jesus, and Jesus in him.

Let me be clear about the effects of receiving the Body and Blood of Christ. When we receive the Lord in Holy Communion we are in an intimate relationship with him. During these sacred moments, we speak to the Lord from our hearts. Thanking and praising him for all the blessings he has bestowed on us. We submit our will to his and grow in the love of the Lord. The transformation of mind and heart occurring as a result of our encounter with the Lord, may be gradual, but in time and through God’s graces, it becomes more significant since it has the potential to change our disposition, attitude, and our persona to be more like Christ. We will then be recognized not so much by what we say, but rather by what we do for each other in love.

“Eucharist,” as you may well know, means “thanksgiving.” Filled with the Holy Spirit, we give thanks to God for inviting us to share in his wisdom, and to partake in the reception of his Body and Blood. The Eucharist is one of the most critical and fundamental beliefs that we hold as Catholics. But accepting and believing in it is not universal.

Many Protestants vary in their understanding of the Eucharist. Several denominations doubt or do not believe in the real presence of Jesus in the Eucharist. Rather, they believe that the bread and wine are symbolic and do not change during communion. They view communion as a memorial of Christ’s death and suffering, Recent C.A.R.A. (Center for Applied Research in the Apostolate) surveys of Catholics indicates that 49 percent of Catholics correctly identify what the church teaches, “Jesus Christ is truly present under the appearance of bread and wine.” But 51 percent of Catholics believe, incorrectly, that the church teaches that Jesus is “only symbolically present.” This, my sisters and brothers, is not only troubling but disheartening.

Bob and Penny Lord in their book, This is My Body, This is My Blood: Miracles of the Eucharist, present a powerful story of a Basilian monk from Lanciano, Italy, who was wise in the ways of the world, but not in the ways of faith. He was having a trying time with his belief in the real presence of Our Lord Jesus in the Eucharist.

One morning, while he was experiencing a strong attack of doubt, there was a miraculous moment at the time of consecration. What he beheld as he consecrated the bread and wine caused his hands to shake, indeed his whole body. He gazed at the host in his sacred hands and then slowly turned around to his congregation and said, “O fortunate witnesses to whom the Blessed God, to confound my disbelief, has wished to reveal himself in this Most Blessed Sacrament and to render himself visible to our eyes. Come and marvel at our God so close to us. Behold the Flesh and Blood of our most beloved Christ.” The Host had turned into flesh. The wine had turned into blood.

This miracle occurred in AD 700. As a result of the miraculous event, the monk no longer doubted. The people, having witnessed the miracle, went down on their knees in respect, and thanksgiving for the gift the Lord had bestowed on them. Pilgrims flocked to Lanciano, Italy, to venerate the host turned flesh. We might call this supernatural event the very first Eucharistic revival because belief in the Eucharist had been reborn.

In 1970, an extensive scientific research, using the most modern scientific tools available, was conducted. The results of that analysis were quite stunning. The flesh was real flesh. The blood was real blood. The flesh and blood belong to the human species and have the same blood type (AB). To this day, you can visit Lanciano and can still see the Host-turned-Flesh and the wine-turned-Blood present in the reliquary above the tabernacle on the main altar. Despite this evidence, there are some who still refuse to believe.

Jesus gives us his Blood with his Body in the Eucharist every day to heal us and nourish us.

The real presence in the Eucharist is both a mystery and a gift. If we believe that Jesus is the Son of God, and if we believe that what Jesus said is true, then we must take his words at face value and believe in the Real Presence. It is only by faith that we come to understand the Real Presence in the Eucharist, but it is only through the Eucharist that we come to the fullness of faith.

Christ is present in other ways during the Liturgy: in the words of Sacred Scripture, in the moments of silence, in the hymns and prayers. He is present in the tiny hands of an infant, in the dim eyes of an elderly man or woman and in the sign of peace. In the Holy Eucharist, however, Jesus is present in a unique way. When we approach the priest, deacon, or extra ordinary minister of the Eucharist to receive the Body of Christ we respond to their proclamation, “The Body of Christ” with an audible “Amen” (I believe). How privileged are we who come to the banquet prepared for all who believe in Jesus.

There may be some whom we may know either in our own family or among our neighbors and friends who may have many reasons for staying away from church and the Holy Eucharist. However, the truth is that, no reason is good enough not to respond to God’s invitation to share in His banquet of life and true wisdom. No reason is good enough not to accept the life that Jesus offers us through his Body and Blood. Invite those who have marginalized themselves to come back to church and to the sacraments, most especially the Sacrament of Reconciliation and the Eucharist.

Henri J. M. Nouwen, author of Bread for the Journey writes, “When we gather around the table and break bread together, we are transformed not only individually, but also as a community. We are people from different ages and races, with different backgrounds and histories, who become One Body.” St. Paul also reminds us, “As there is one loaf, so we, although there are many of us, are one single Body, for we all share in the one loaf.”

Not only as individuals but also as a community, we become the Living Christ, taken, blessed, broken and given to the world. May our presence in the world become a living witness of God who is Love.

During the summer months, the Diocese of Bridgeport will be sharing homilies from pulpits all over Fairfield County in an effort to showcase our diversity and our communities of faith.

This week’s guest homilist is Father Frank Hoffmann from St. Matthew Parish in Norwalk.

Back in the early ’90s, I made a trip to Germany to visit some relatives, and I wound up having a chat with a cousin. I don’t know what he exactly is, his grandmother and my grandmother were sisters, so whatever that makes him to me. And he, he was very fond of, at this time back then, every so often he would make a pilgrimage, the famous Camino pilgrimage: that is, to travel from France, through the north of Spain to the great church of San Diego de Compostela. Back then, it was not, I mean, it was, it was a thing. It was a thing for hundreds of years, but lately it’s become kind of an ‘in’ thing. And I’ve known more than a few people have done it.

But it’s interesting that throughout Europe, there are even roads or ways along which people can travel to different religious sites. There’s actually a way from all the way from Canterbury in England to Rome, it’s called the St. Francis Way. It still exists in many ways. And actually, Italy has kind of upgraded it; people backpack and things like that. But it’s the idea of traveling a certain amount of time to come to a place. And the people going to St. James, they wear a scallop shell. That’s the sign that they’re traveling there, to this great place.

And so there are still lots of other places too. Of course, even in England, famously, people made pilgrimages to Canterbury, to the tomb of St. Thomas Beckett, as in The Canterbury Tales, that’s what that is: a story about people making up stories on their way there.

So the idea is that they travel, and that part of that traveling is the whole experience is something happens, especially if you walk it. Things start to kind of go away. You start to start to see things a little more clearly. And I think I thought a little bit of that when I was reading the story of Elijah. The reason Elijah’s on the run is because after a confrontation between him and a huge crowd of prophets of Baal, he’s won out. And God has shown very dramatically that he’s God. And Elijah has slaughtered them all, and the Queen Jezebel ain’t happy. And so he runs into the desert and he figures, as you hear in the beginning story, he’s just like, “I can’t take this anymore. Just kill me. It would be a lot easier to be dead and be dealing with all the things you want me to do.”

But instead, he has this experience. He’s sleeping. He wakes up. There’s an angel, you know, “eat this, drink this.” And then he makes this pilgrimage, this journey, uh, that it talks about 40 days and 40 nights of walking till he gets to the mountain of God. The fact is, literally, if you could walk all day and night, you’d probably be way past the mountain of God. It’s just a symbol for a long time. And that food that God provides him gives him the strength that he needs to make the trip.

The image of the pilgrim or the pilgrimage has long been used to describe our life and the world as followers of Jesus. The idea that we are in the world, but not of the world. That we are traveling to our true home. This is a temporary place, and we will eventually get to the place that’s permanent, that is heaven. Our lives are pilgrimages then to that great place that we hope to get.

Our goal is not the mountain of God, but life on high with Jesus Christ. And we look to see what provides us with sustenance for this journey. And there are a lot of things that we could talk about. Prayer, spiritual reading, care and concern for the poor, the sacraments, of course. And, um, and of those sacraments, the most obvious is the Eucharist itself. The bread of life. As Jesus says, “I am the bread of life. The living bread come down from heaven.” That enables us to share in the very life of God. That gives us eternal life, that enables us to make this pilgrimage, this trip. It’s this bread for the journey. That is why it’s so important that we make great use of it. It is something that makes a difference.

As long as we don’t abuse the idea, receiving communion more often is beneficial to us. If we can receive it every day, that’s a great blessing. A lot of us can’t ,because for a variety of reasons, we just can’t get to church that way, but that grace that we’re given every time we receive. Now, of course, you know, you go to the other extreme, that part of the reason, many of you know, that the Church has always had a rule that you can’t receive Communion more than once a day. And the reason for that was because there were these people that literally would go from one church to another, they’d receive four, five, six times a day, with the extreme version of “more is better.” But we believe that it is what gives us all the strength we need because it is an encounter with the real person of Jesus Christ every single time.

And it’s interesting that using the same image of this trip, this food for the journey, when the church talks of the Eucharist in, in a very special way about receiving the Eucharist just before we can die, and it’s ideally the real last sacrament is meant to be the reception of the Holy Eucharist. Pretty often that can’t happen because people are not capable of receiving the Eucharist near the very end. But when we give it at that time, it’s called “Viaticum.” And that literally means “bread for the journey.” And it gives us that ability to make that final, final push to get to the goal, which you’d call heaven.

It follows many traditions. There are many faiths that have special things that they do at the end to help the person make it from this life to the next life. We give the Lord Jesus himself to assist the person on this very last leg of our journey: the Eucharist, the Body and Blood of Christ. Whether we receive it close to the end of our early lives, or all during it, it is that food that sustains us in our spiritual lives, the true bread that enables us to make our pilgrimage to the mountain of God, the place where we may share in the joys of God’s reign forever.

During the summer months, the Diocese of Bridgeport will be sharing homilies from pulpits all over Fairfield County in an effort to showcase our diversity and our communities of faith.

This week’s guest homilist is Father Colin Blatchford from St. Pius X Parish in Fairfield.

Over the next few weeks, we’re continuing our look at the Bread of Life discourse, preparing for it here in John chapter six. So pay attention to that. There’s a lot of Eucharistic imagery. But there’s also some things that go a little bit deeper too, here.

Paul’s telling us in the second reading we need to live as if we believe that the Eucharist means something, as if God has truly given us a new life, as if we’ve truly been fed with his Body and Blood and can go forth and do whatever it is that he asks, because we have confidence in what he has told us.

And then in the first reading, which is a reference to the passage from Exodus that the townspeople quote in the Gospel, we hear the Israelites so worried about what they’re going to do after following a massive pillar of fire that has destroyed the Egyptians, led them into the desert, parted the sea. But I don’t know if he can feed us. And so here they are saying, well, we’ll go back, we’ll go back to Egypt, even if they’re gonna have the lash, right? Even if we’re gonna be slaves.

You know, this is, I think this is something that kind of speaks, at least to my soul, probably everybody’s experience on one level or another: that we will work so hard for certain things, right? And yet we struggle to have that conversation with God, right? How many times did we retake that selfie for Insta, right? Get it just right. How much have we worked to get that next promotion? And these things aren’t bad, but we can get caught up in them. How much more did we study or prepare for that sports trial to that test?

You know, there’s a desert father, they would live out, out in caves or up on pillars of stone by themselves. And the town came to seek his wisdom and asked him to come into town and, and give them his wisdom. And he comes in and he comes to the town square and he begins to weep like, “Oh, holy Father, holy Father, no.”

“What is it? Why are you crying?”

He says, “Do you see that, that theater actor over there? Do you know how hard they work to draw others right in into that, that fantasy to make them feel good? I don’t even work half that hard to love my Lord and to serve him.” This guy lived in a desert on his own. I mean, whew.

But I think he makes a good point, right? How hard do we actually work on our relationship with God? How often do we spend time with him or, or contemplate what it is that he’s asking of us? We can do many charitable things, giving money or serving the poor, et cetera. But that’s not what we’re about as a Church. What we’re about is giving Christ to others.

Mother Teresa required her sisters to do an hour of Adoration before they served the poor. And one of the sisters at one point came to the realization that if they shaved a few minutes off their Adoration, they could get another 30 or 40 minutes caring for the poor. And mother said, “Thank you very much for this and your attention to it. You’ve done a wonderful job daughter. Two hours of Adoration for your convent now.”

Because it’s not about serving the poor, it’s not about giving money. It’s not about giving time. Those are all things that will happen. It’s about giving Christ. It’s about giving Christ when you go to school. It’s about giving Christ when you go to work. It’s about giving Christ when you encounter a friend in everything that you do. Not just on Sundays, not just when it’s convenient.

I was running a big conference last week, and I did not give God his time. And there were a few times I didn’t give Christ to other people. And that was on me. Ten, 15 minutes in the morning would’ve probably given me enough to keep going even though we had Mass every day. It was exhausting. And yet throughout that time, he kept showing me how he was with me and working for me. And he had it in hand.

“Lord, I don’t know if I have the time for that.” All of a sudden I make, I go ahead and make a stop thinking I don’t have the time for it, but okay Lord, whatever. And I encounter a couple of people who really needed to talk to me that I had no idea were there. And they didn’t know that I was a priest at the time., because I was in cities. I was driving back in my car, but it just came out of the blue.

And so if we give ourselves to the Lord, if we surrender ourselves to the Lord — “Lord, I surrender myself to you. Take care of everything” — right? If we give ourselves to the Lord, then he will continue to deliver for us joy and happiness, even in the midst of suffering in this life. See, this is what it means to be a Christian, to be a follower of Christ, to become a saint is when we come here to receive our Lord. And he takes up residence within your soul. You then take him out into the world.

At the end of Mass, we say, “Go forth. The Mass is ended. In Latin, it’s ite Missa est, you are sent forth, to bear Christ in your souls into the world.

That’s what it means to be Catholic. That’s what it means to go to Church, to receive the Eucharist this week. Let us take some time to think about that. Do I take Christ with me from mass out into the world? For he is the way and the truth and the life. If I carry Christ with me, I have life within me. I don’t hunger and I don’t thirst. And the more and more that I surrender myself to him and I bring him with me, the easier it is to discern his will and to become the saint that he has called me to be.

Let us take time to meditate upon this, this week that we may go forth and become those saints we’ve been called and the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.

During the summer months, the Diocese of Bridgeport will be sharing homilies from pulpits all over Fairfield County in an effort to showcase our diversity and our communities of faith.

This week’s guest homilist is Father Cyrus Bartolome from Assumption Parish in Westport.

One of the main roads in the city of Rome that connects the Basilica of St. John Lateran to the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore is called Via Merulana. It is very famous because every year it is the road that used by the Pope to do a grand procession, a Eucharistic procession. He will celebrate Mass at the Basilica of St. John Lateran , and then will have a big procession towards Santa Maria Maggiore to do the Benediction. And on that road, it is basically a hill, one of the main hills in Rome, Equiline Hill. There is a dip in the middle of that road, and then you go up towards Santa Maria Maggiore.

One day when I was still a seminarian, my first time in Rome, a good priest friend of mine invited me to join the Eucharistic procession. And it’s wonderful because he said to me, during the middle of the procession, “Look behind you.” Remember, we’re going down and now we’re going up. “Look behind you. “It is interesting because why is this good priest friend of mine saying, look behind you?

Because once you look behind you, you’ll see a vast people up in the hill and going down, holding candles, joining the procession, worshiping the Eucharistic Lord, while the Pope is praying earnestly during that procession.

The Gospel account that we just heard today reminds us of the generosity of God and also trusting in God. The gospel mentioned to us the feeding of the 5,000 people from the five barley loaves and two fish. If we deeply think or meditate on that Gospel account, we see that the good Lord is always inviting us to join him in a wonderful way. It is the Eucharistic gift that the good Lord is giving us the Eucharistic banquet that the Lord is inviting us to join in.

As we all know here in our country, there is this Eucharistic revival going on in Indianapolis to remind us of the presence of God in the Most Blessed Sacrament, and how the good Lord is offering himself to us in the form of bread, in the form of wine to receive him, Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity, in the Sacrament. Unfortunately, there are so many of our brothers and sisters in Christ, in the Church, outside the Church, in our country, and some parts of the world who do not believe in the real presence of the Lord. As we all know, a few years ago, there was a big survey that happened in the United States, and one of the questions is about the Eucharistic presence or the Eucharistic belief in the Church, and how there’s so many of our brothers and sisters Christ who do not believe anymore in the Eucharistic Lord.

Why? There’s so many reasons why, but I don’t want to bore you with so many reasons. But one thing that we have to remind us, all of us, in our reflection, in our prayer, is that the Lord is always present in the tabernacle. The Lord is always here wanting to invite us. The feeding of the 5,000 with the five loaves of bread … and two fish really instill in us the value of the Eucharist in our life.

The generosity of God is always being offered to us, but in order for us to receive that generosity, we have to trust in the Lord. Actually, if we will look and reflect in the Gospel account, that the generosity of the boy who gave the five loaves and two fish, even though he knows that he’s giving away all that he has, because he believes, because he trusts in the Lord.

And in that trust and generosity, there is this multiplication of the Eucharistic bread, the Eucharistic Lord. In this world, we are surrounded there so many things that hinder us in seeing God in our lives. Yes, there are some crosses to bear. Yes, there are some challenges that we have to face, but one thing that we have to remember is that once again, the generosity of God is being offered to us. We have to trust in the Lord, just like those people at the procession in, in Indianapolis. There are so many priests, religious bishops, and also many of our brothers and sisters in Christ came from all around the United States to celebrate, to renew, to believe, and to proclaim the Eucharistic Lord.

As you remember a few months ago, we had an opportunity to welcome and be part of that eucharistic procession coming from (New Haven). And as they went on to Indianapolis, we had an opportunity to show our faith in the Eucharistic Lord. We had an opportunity to pray the vespers and to have that blessing, that Eucharistic blessing, the Benediction here in our church. It’s a wonderful gift. It’s a wonderful blessing.

Just like those people, once again, joining that procession in Via Merulana, holding their candles, worshiping the Lord, proclaiming the Eucharistic Lord. Along with so many people, we too are being invited to proclaim the Lord, to worship the Lord in the Eucharist, and to live the Lord in our lives. In a few moments, Jesus is coming to us once again in the Eucharist. We are going to be the temples of the Holy Spirit. We are the tabernacles of the Lord. We become what we eat as the Church proclaim the good Lord is inviting us to receive him worthily wholeheartedly, and with faith and conviction.

During the summer months, the Diocese of Bridgeport will be sharing homilies from pulpits all over Fairfield County in an effort to showcase our diversity and our communities of faith.

This week’s guest homilist is Father Peter Cipriani from St. Rose of Lima Parish in Newtown.

“I will appoint shepherds for them who will shepherd them so that they need no longer fear and tremble.” A shepherd is anyone who is in a position of authority, not in the sense of being one’s boss, but more so like a caregiver, a parent who protects, defends, nourishes and affirms a spouse or a significant other, who is meant to gather you up into one’s arms and press you to one’s heart, creating the condition that parents are meant to create for their children of security.

“You are the safest in this world in my arms because I love you and deeply, very deeply care about you.” Those in the medical profession who gather others who are ill, leading them toward improved health, A teacher who guides others along the way of knowledge that they may be positive contributors to society and why nothing encouraged the wrath of God more than when shepherds instead, assume the role of a ravenous and terrifying wolf preying on your fears and further intensifying your insecurities until a relationship of affection, intimacy and trust is all but impossible to live in the vice grips of fear, instead of the liberating arms of hope and love.

As the prophet insists today of God, our good shepherd, who we are to emulate in our caring and creations of secure environments. In his days, Judah shall be saved. Israel shall dwell in security and who of us do not crave security, especially for our children and why? One of the greatest threats to one’s mental health is insecurity and how it can often cripple one’s ability to be confidently loving, caring, and a boldly giving person. And sadly, because insecurity can become life threatening, we’re at the very least inflict, intense, emotional and often physical harm, there need to be shelters in place that provide that security, that safety, that insecure people are deprived of.

The bomb shelter craze of the 1960s, the haunting fear that the whole world was about to go nuclear because of the hatred between Russia and the United States as the Rolling Stones sang in “Gimme Shelter”: “Ooh, a storm is threatening my very life today. If I don’t get some shelter, oh yeah, I’m gonna fade away. War children. It’s just a shot away. I tell you love sister. It’s just a kiss away.”

We are not meant to live in the fear of annihilation, but the confidence and security of children of God. Our nations are meant to be extensions of our homes, one nation under God, our neighborhoods, extensions of our homes as well. The neighborhood watch area, keeping the peace, keeping the law, keeping things secure so that entire families may sleep in peace and why perhaps one’s vocation and perhaps why the one vocation we all have in common is that of a security officer or security shepherd to not only keep the peace and promote it, but only that peace we receive from Christ exchanged fully during the attendance of each Mass in church, which like our homes are meant to be for us, our greatest shelters.

Though a comedy perhaps these words from Paul Blart: Mall Cop should resonate with us in terms of being these law enforcement officers who assume the role of badge shepherds. Though we are enforcing the law of love as peace officers that Jesus defines in this way, you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength, and your neighbor as yourself:

He says, “I am honored to be in the presence of the greats from the past. Just looking at these faces reminds me of the question so many people ask, why do we do it? Why walk a beat knowing that on a typical day you’ll get zero pats on the back? I get it. We’re easy targets. Confidence is like a building. Don’t let others knock you down. Use the bricks they throw to build yourself up. But when you clip on that tie and holster, that flashlight at the loading dock, supermarket or industrial park, when everyone else is tucked into a warm bed and it’s just you against the night. And yet when people ask me, why do you do it? I have to laugh because they think I have a choice. I don’t. I like you didn’t choose security. Security chose me. You can’t just wipe it off you. It is you. Every morning I put my pants on one leg at a time. Then I slip on my soft-soled shoes And I hear the same calling you do: ‘Help someone today.’ Sounds easy, doesn’t it? But if being a security officer were that easy, anyone could do it. And sure, you meet all kinds of people in this line of work: shoplifters, pickpockets the freeloaders, stealing a nap in a Brookstone massage chair. Then there’s the confused people who can’t find her car on parking level F because she doesn’t have a car and there is no parking level F, and all of a sudden you’re asking yourself, why do I do it? Until a little boy with tears in his eyes tugs on your sleeve and says, Mister, I can’t find my mommy. That’s why you do it.”

I’ll close with this. If you believe the purpose of life is to only serve yourself, then you have no purpose. Help someone today. In other words, be someone’s shelter closer to home and reality. From the life of the saint whose life we celebrated this week, and patron saint especially of those in the medical field: St. Camillus, whose life inspired the creation of the Red Cross. We hear these words: “The mere sight of the sick was enough to soften and melt his heart, and make him utterly forget all the pleasures, enticements and interests of this world. When he was taking care of his patients, he seemed to spend and exhaust himself completely. So great was his devotion and compassion. In the sick, he saw the person of Christ. His imagination was so vivid that while feeding them, he perceived his patients as other Christs. His reverence in their presence was as great, and as if he were really and truly in the presence of his Lord. And to enkindle the enthusiasm of his religious brothers for this all-important virtue of inflamed charity, he used to impress upon them the consoling words of Jesus: ‘I was sick and you visited me.'”

Great and all embracing was Camillus’ charity, not only for the sick and dying, but every other needy or suffering human being found shelter in his deep and kind concern, which has motivated so many others to create shelters. The bitter that there is a need for shelters in the first place, but the sweet that there are those who care enough to create them, support them work and volunteer there.

A homeless shelter, for example, the pain of not having a place to call home, which means one no longer is connected to a group of loved ones called family. Domestic violence shelters, “Woe to the shepherds who mislead and scatter the flock of my pastors, forcing them in their fear and terror to find safety in a shelter. “These are no strangers, people who are meant to love and nurture you, not threaten, abuse and harm you. Birthright and Malta House, shelters for frightened pregnant women. There should be no more secure dwelling in all the universe than a mother’s womb. But in our abortion frenzied world, there is a desperate need for shelters to encourage women, we are here for you, your child. Let us be your family, your shelter, your home.

When there is an issue in the workplace, we call security. When there is an issue in one’s life, one’s home, one’s heart, one’s country, and one’s world, and there always is, call security. Call, pray to Christ, who, removing the threat, healing the hurt, has then announced, “All is secure,” because he has risen. But the security that Christ provides comes from another form of being secure, as in secured as a child might be in her car seat, all strapped in. Prior to being secured to the cross by nails, Christ would be secured to a pillar where he would be scoured to an inch of his life. In each scourge, Jesus would endure and absorb the full paralyzing effect of all our insecurities, securing for us any number of graces that might assist us, if not to overcome our insecurities at the very least, transform them into opportunities of heroic, loving, caring, giving, and sympathizing with the many others who suffer these debilitating realities and assuming the heart of Christ, we might then share his divine and human concern.

“When he disembarked and saw the vast crowd, his heart was moved with pity for them, for they weren’t like sheep without a shepherd. “Then he began to teach them many things, teach us many things at the school of his church, modeling for us many things: how to love, how to hope, how to forgive, how to heal, how to promote and encourage wellness, experiencing a trauma. If one does not seek a therapist, what hope, if any, is there to heal, experiencing life? If one does not seek Christ, what hope, if any, is there to live a fully purpose driven life?

Secure to a pillar, secure to the cross, that we might know the security of relief from all pain and fear, knowing that we are that loved. Living in the shadow of the cross is living within the shelter of the cross, that we might say with great confidence, “Even though I walk in the dark valley, I fear no evil for you are at my side.” And you, Father, Son and Holy Spirit are at our side, now and forever.

During the summer months, the Diocese of Bridgeport will be sharing homilies from pulpits all over Fairfield County in an effort to showcase our diversity and our communities of faith.

This week’s guest homilist is Father Joseph Marcello from St. Catherine of Siena Parish in Trumbull.

My friends, all of us have had the experience of either being in the hospital ourselves or visiting someone who was in the hospital or both. And when someone’s in the hospital, that person is referred to as a patient, and that’s because the word patient comes from the Latin word, patient, which means “bearing” or “enduring. “So a patient is literally the one who is bearing or enduring the pain and suffering of illness while in the hospital.

When we use the word “patience” in common parlance, as in, “I need to grow in patience” or “I would like to be more patient than I am now, “what we are really saying is,” I need the strength to suffer well, to endure well to bear well, whatever I’m going through or dealing with right now.” That’s what it means to grow in patience.

At the end of the Gospel passage we just heard is a reference to the 12 apostles anointing with oil many who were sick and curing them. This is a foreshadowing of the gift that Christ would leave to his Church, which we know today as the Sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick. Even more explicitly, in the Letter of St. James in the New Testament, we read these words: Are there any who are sick among you? Let them send for the priests of the church and let the priests pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer of faith will save the sick persons and the Lord will raise them up. And if they have committed any sins, their sins will be forgiven them.”

One thing I’ve noticed over the years is that there seems to be some misunderstanding or confusion around the Sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick. So I thought that this weekend would bring a good opportunity to offer a few points of clarification of this sacrament, which is such a beautiful aspect of our life in Christ.

First, for a long time in the life of the Church, the Sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick was customarily given just just before death. And so it was customarily referred to as unctio in extremis, or Extreme Unction. And back when I was first ordained, I remember clearly that when I would go to the hospital to visit the sick, especially visiting an elderly person, when I offered them the Sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick I was surprised that they would almost instinctively decline it because they thought it was going to kill them.

But that’s not what the sacrament is. That’s not why Christ has given it to us. It is a sacrament of healing. And nowadays the sacrament of the anointing of the sick is appropriately given to anyone who is experiencing serious illness or the frailty of old age. Physical healings do sometimes come about from this sacrament if God wills them. This is something I’ve seen happen with my own eyes, but this sacrament is more than about just the physical. So it would be a misunderstanding to think that if this sacrament does not bring about physical healing, it somehow did not work.

Think about it this way. You and I were baptized and when we were, we were baptized into Christ, into his life, his suffering, his death, and his resurrection. So the wonderful truth is that because you are baptized, because I am baptized, when you or I intentionally unite our sufferings, whatever they may be to the sufferings of Christ on the cross, then you and I can truly come to share in Christ’s work of the salvation of the world.

So the sacrament of the anointing of the sick has two primary effects, and they are these:

The first grace of this sacrament is one of strength, peace, and courage to overcome the difficulties that go with serious illness or the weakness of old age. This grace is a gift of the Holy Spirit who renews our trust and faith in God and strengthens us against the temptations of the Evil One, which are the temptation to discouragement and anguish in the face of death. This assistance from the Lord by the power of his spirit is meant to lead the sick person to healing of soul, but also healing of the body if such is God’s will.

The second effect of the Sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick is union with the passion of Christ. By the grace of this sacrament, the sick person receives the strength and gift of uniting himself or herself more closely to Christ’s passion. In a certain way, this sacrament consecrates the sick person to bear fruit by configuration to the savior’s redemptive passion, suffering which is a consequence of original sin now acquires a new meaning. It becomes a participation in the saving work of Jesus Christ.

Speaking of the Anointing of the Sick or being in the hospital, here’s something I’d like everyone to keep in mind. If you or someone in your family is ever in the hospital, please be sure to let us know at the parish office. Because of HIPAA laws, hospitals are no longer allowed to notify us when our parishioners are there, even if the parishioner indicates their parish affiliation when they are admitted to the hospital. And what I don’t want to happen is that if someone from the parish is in the hospital, they think we know, but we don’t know and they’re anticipating a visit from us, but there’s no visit because we don’t know. So this is just to say, if you or someone in your family is ever in the hospital, please let us know because the hospital cannot. Similarly, just going under general anesthesia is reason enough to receive the anointing of the sick. So if and when that need ever arises for you, don’t hesitate to reach out, and I would be more than happy to impart to you this beautiful and powerful sacrament.

All of this is just one example of how Christ is alive and active in the world today, and how the work of the apostles continues: the apostles who received from Christ himself the power to anoint with oil many who were sick and to cure them.

During the summer months, the Diocese of Bridgeport will be sharing homilies from pulpits all over Fairfield County in an effort to showcase our diversity and our communities of faith.

This week’s guest homilist is Father Peter Adamski from St. James Parish in Stratford. This homily from the 14th Sunday in Ordinary Time, specifically targeted the children parishioners as a part of the parish’s monthly Family Mass.

Well, good morning everyone! Good morning. I hope that you all rested ready for a wonderful week ahead.

Who can tell me, what holiday did we celebrate with this past week? The Fourth of July? Yes, this week, we are honoring our country and we’re talking about it. We hear a lot of good things said about our country around the Fourth of July when we celebrate our independence from England, many years ago. We declared our independence from England in 1776, and we see a lot of red, white, blue around these days, don’t we?

We are all citizens of the United States, or we’re trying to become citizens of the United States. Right? And so, can anyone tell me what flag this represents? The American flag, yes! You get 4,353 points for that answer. Yes. The American flag. And you’re gonna see a lot of American flags around this week. I have placed a lot of these American flags around our church grounds this week because we live in the United States, and in my humble opinion, it’s the best country in the world to live in.

So we’re proud of that fact. We all live here. We’re supposed to be good, loyal citizens of the United States. Wave those flags. But you know what, everyone? We belong to someone who is bigger than any one country.

Who can tell me who we belong to? God! Yes, we belong to God. You get a million points for that. Yes, we belong to God and we are should not be ashamed to say that Jesus is Lord. That’s what He wants us to do. He wants us to confess that Jesus is Lord. “Confess” means to speak it with our mouth.

Jesus told us in the Bible that if you confess me, meaning Jesus, I will confess you to the Father, to God the Father. So “Jesus is Lord” is something that we should be not ashamed of, but is something that we should say and do. Right?

So I want you to practice this with me. Say,  “Jesus is Lord.  Jesus is Lord.” Say it again. “Jesus is Lord.” One more time. “Jesus is Lord.” Yes, he is. And I want you to do me a favor this week, okay? Every time after you leave church today, every time that you see an American flag, I want you to say, “Jesus is Lord.” Okay? Better yet, I want you to tell somebody Jesus is Lord, when you see these flags.

Will you do that for me this week, please? Yes, who’s gonna do it? Raise your hand. “Jesus is Lord,” say it again. “Jesus is Lord.” Amen!

So let me just spend a moment talking to the more mature people here in this church. This morning, Deacon Joe proclaimed that beautiful gospel passage where Jesus is in front of his native people. Some of the Pharisees were there, but in his own town, they were looking at him saying, wait a minute. Isn’t this guy a carpenter? Isn’t he the son of Mary and Joseph? We’ve watched him grow up, but he seems to have a lot of wisdom, doesn’t he? And we’ve heard about these miracles that he did.

So there’s kind of this discontinuity going on with Jesus. They’re looking at the external Jesus and saying, he’s just an ordinary guy. But then their hearts are telling them, wait a minute. There’s more to him than him just being a carpenter, my friend.

Sometimes I gotta confess to all of you. I feel that I’m just an ordinary guy because I am. I’m just an ordinary guy. But every once in a while, I do a few things that amaze me. Perhaps I say the exact right thing to someone in counseling, or I say the right thing in that reconciliation room, or I say the right thing at the bedside of somebody who’s ill. And I’m amazed that this came out of my mouth. Or sometimes I’m so generous with some of my treasure that I plan to use to buy something nice for myself. But no, it’s all a gift from God here, it’s yours. And I’m amazed when that happens. Or sometimes I get requests outside of this parish, perhaps to do a funeral or a wedding or to give a talk someplace. And I go that extra mile. And I’m, I’m amazed that I can do that.

But yet, I, I feel that I’m just an ordinary guy. And I think most of us will admit that we feel we’re just ordinary people, living ordinary lives. Am I not the student? Am I not the receptionist? Am I not the accountant? Am I not the construction worker? Am I not … and you fill in the blanks, my friends. We are more than that, much more than that. And God wants us to allow the Holy Spirit that dwells in all of us, to inspire us, to encourage us to live in us, and can go out into that world and be more compassionate, more merciful, more loving, more kind than we ever could imagine us to be.

So don’t ever think of yourselves as ordinary. Yes, none of us are national or international public figures perhaps, but we are not ordinary. You and I are created by Almighty God, and you and I and every other human person has a dignity about them and has a mission from God. And we are to go out into the world and be disciples of Jesus Christ and extensions of Jesus Christ, his eyes and his hands, and his feet, and his voice in that world.

Praise be to Jesus Christ, now and forever!

By Deacon Anthony P. Cassaneto, Ph.D.
Currently serving as a deacon at St. Lawrence Parish in Shelton and former director of the diaconate office of the Diocese of Bridgeport

St. Paul in his 2nd Letter to the Corinthians 5:6-10 reminded the Christian community of his day as well as ourselves today that we are exiles in this world, yearning for our true home with God.

Today the demands of the world consume our time and energy. I often wonder how many of us take time to reflect on one simple fact: we will die. While we are away from the Lord, you and I are called to be holy, merciful, just and kind in a manner pleasing to the Lord. Anchored by our faith and trust in the Lord’s Divine Providence, we aspire to do the will of God in our lives.

The parable of the mustard seed gives us food for thought. It is a seed, seemingly insignificant, that sprouts and grows in ways beyond our understanding, symbolizing the Kingdom of God. Think of an oak tree, towering into the heavens. It puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the sky can dwell in its shade. It came into being from an acorn no larger than the tip of your thumb. Nothing is impossible with God.

Sr. Madeline, a colleague from Preston High School, gave me a gift for my diaconate ordination that I have treasured for the past 38 years. It expressed a powerfully faith-filled message: “Who plants a seed beneath the sod and waits to see believes in God.” Her sister composed, and beautifully framed this inspiring reminder. Like the mustard seed, may we grow and flourish in our faith, nurtured by the knowledge of God’s active presence and faithfulness.

The Spirit of God is the seed of the Christian life. It had been implanted in you and me at our Baptism, growing within us quietly, patiently, and powerfully over many years. As it matures within us, we have the option to resist the gifts given to us by the Spirit: wisdom, knowledge, understanding, piety, and fear of the Lord, or we can embrace these gifts and so grow closer to the Lord as we await the coming of His Kingdom.

Be aware the Kingdom of God surrounds us each and every day when we put the Word of God into practice in our lives. As we journey through life, our work is to proclaim the Kingdom of God by demonstrating through our words and actions that we are true disciples of Jesus the Christ, By refocusing our life’s journey from the worldly to the sacred, we allow the Spirit of the Lord to guide, to shield, and to lead us on the path of righteousness and justice.

Be aware that on journey we will get distracted and at times take the road untraveled. Do not be discouraged. We must be patient with ourselves and our progress in the spiritual life. Know that the Lord is working is us through the Holy Spirit. We will not become saints over night, but by opening our hearts and minds to the will of God, our foresight is clear and our goal is before us: the Kingdom of God. St. Augustine “Thou hast created us for thyself, and our heart is not quiet until it rests in Thee.”.

Remember always to give thanks to the Lord, to proclaim His kindness and faithfulness. God’s word will produce a bountiful harvest within us if we let it. What we need to do is provide a rich soil for the seeds of Faith, Hope, Love, perseverance and justice to take root. When we open our hearts to the will of God, the Holy Spirit will overpower us with His tender loving care. The seeds that may lie dormant will grow miraculously, quietly, and powerfully to transform us into servants of the Lord who will be known by our words and works.

The following is from Msgr. Kevin T. Royal, Pastor of St. Mary Parish from their Keeping the Faith newsletter (June 7, 2024)

Dear Saint Mary Friends,

June is many things to many people (end of school, weddings, the NBA Finals, and my favorite, the Stanley Cup Finals). The month has also been commandeered for certain 30-day long observances – although mom gets only one day in May and dad one in June.

Do a search and you’ll find June is African-American Music Appreciation Month, Caribbean-American Heritage Month, LGBTIQA+ Pride Month, National PTSD Awareness Month, and National Safety Month.

You likely didn’t know about most of these designations because one of them swallows up the rest in the public’s attention. And that’s a shame. This is not meant to be disrespectful to those observing that month, but simply to point out it has become a social behemoth not allowing for rivals.

And for the umpteenth time, do we have to say all human beings deserve respect and are precious in the eyes of God, but that every human thought, action, or choice may not be so? Disagreement does not mean hatred. In fact, in the church’s case it means love.

It’s all too bad, because June is also the Month of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. The month of absolute Divine Love.

When Jesus appeared to St. Margaret Mary Alacoque and revealed his desire that we have devotion to his Sacred Heart, the heart he showed her was pierced with thorns (our sins) and surrounded by flames (his burning love for us).

The humble heart of Christ pierced in death on the Cross out of love for all.
The humble heart of Christ offered as healing and mercy to all.
The humble life-giving heart of Christ inviting everyone to come to him.

About her vision she wrote:

I saw this divine Heart as on a throne of flames, more brilliant than the sun and transparent as crystal. It…was encircled with a crown of thorns, ….He made me understand the ardent desire He had of… drawing us from the path of perdition….to manifesting His Heart to men, together with all Its treasures of love, mercy, grace, sanctification and salvation….

Who does not desire those treasures?

He is the Light “more brilliant than the sun” who shines in any darkness in our lives.

Back briefly to the behemoth celebrating this month.

Would that there could ever be a reasoned, respectful, and dispassionate conversation on Christ’s Light and his true Love in relation to the purpose and importance of the human body and identity, but that is difficult these days.

Would that there could ever be an appreciation and understanding that the body is an essential part of our identity and communicates who we are (there’s a reason Christians insist on the Resurrection of Jesus in his body – our body).

Would that this would be the first medicine sought in our times.

Please take this month of June to see yourself in the Heart, Mind, and Body of Christ. It is your primary identity. An identity to which all other secondary identities are united, blessed and healed.

Marhabaan. Chào mừng. Tervetuloa. Su’agata hai. These words and others, mostly unfamiliar, appeared above the Leo D. Mahoney arena at Fairfield University, greeting me as I entered the building for Saturday morning’s Mass of Thanksgiving. After absorbing the immensity of the crowd and the beauty of the temporary sanctuary, I caught a word I recognized among the many I did not: Bienvenido. Welcome. This single word, displayed in so many languages, summarized the day. Hello. Greetings. Great to see you. Welcome, everyone, to the altar of the Lord.

Karibu. I came alone, my family unable to attend, but I did not feel alone. Though I knew personally just a dozen or two of the thousands in attendance, a feeling a fellowship permeated the entire Mass. What is it, I thought, that brought these thousands out early on a glorious Saturday when errands, a morning walk, sleeping in, or even mowing the lawn could have otherwise occupied their time? Something even more glorious – the chance to be welcomed to a celebration at the Lord’s table and share that with our brothers and sisters in Christ.

Maligayang pagdating. With hymns and prayers in English but also Spanish, Vietnamese, Polish, Portuguese, and Haitian-Creole, each of us had the opportunity to recite and chant in our own language, becoming an intimate part of the experience. A woman seated beside me prayed in Spanish while a couple behind me spoke a language I could not understand. No matter. They were understood – and welcomed – by God.

Selamat datang. The families with young children. Those in jeans or summer shorts. The elderly stooped with walkers. The crying babies. The women in heels and the men in jackets. They sat and sang and kneeled as I did, coming together to worship the Lord and share in a communion of faith. We came from places nearby and across the globe, some having been born and raised in this community and others having immigrated from countries where those words above me are spoken fluently. Diverse in so many ways, we united as one, holy, catholic apostolic church.

Hwan-yeong. Though the inclusivity of music and language allowed us to worship together, we were joined more closely as we stood together to receive the Body of Christ. Having sat with folded hands and sang a joyous Alleluia, I felt nothing as powerful as kneeling before the monstrance as the Bishop carried our Lord to us all, an awesome experience that moved many, including myself, to tears. Jesus, fully present in our midst. There is nothing more glorious.

Welcome. We came to Mass that day as we always come, ready to worship with an open heart but left with something else. A heart more open, more joyous, one set on sharing with others our diverse cultures under our one true faith.

By Emily Clark

By Deacon Paul Kurmay
Deacon Paul has served as a Deacon at St. Mark Parish in Stratford since 1985. He founded Bethlehem House in 2000 (a transitional home for homeless families). He also founded the Lord’s Kitchen.

Let me tell you a little story. One day a priest went to the hospital to give a dying parishioner the last rites. When he got there, the man’s wife was relieved to see him and offered to wait outside the door so they would have some privacy. The priest saw that the man was conscious but could not speak. He said to him, “Harry, I know it’s hard for you to speak so let me give you a pen and paper so you can give your wife your final farewell message. With that, the man hurriedly wrote down a few words and gave it to the priest who put it in his pocket. As he was administering the Sacrament, Harry quietly passed away. He blessed him and went out to console his wife. “Marge,” he said, “Harry wanted to give you his last message.” He then gave her the piece of paper. “What did it say?” he asked. As she opened it, her face blushed as he repeated Harry’s last words:” Take your foot off of my oxygen line!”

Ah yes, I bet you didn’t expect a little gallows humor! Actually, before you think I am totally insensitive and callous, there really was a spiritual message in that story. Without even being aware of it, we have the power to stand on the Holy Spirit’s lifeline and to cut off the spiritual oxygen to our souls. And the result can be catastrophic, just as it was for poor Harry.

This weekend, we’re celebrating Pentecost, one of the three most important solemnities of the year, along with Christmas and Easter. In the eye witness account from the Acts of the Apostles, we can vividly experience the miracle as it took place. A driving wind mysteriously fills the inside of a closed room. Tongues of fire, bright red, descend on each person’s head and they all begin to pray in different tongues. Jews from every corner of the world can understand the various languages spoken by foreigners. And they are all filled with wisdom, peace and fortitude. They had truly become one in Christ.

This was in stark contrast to the story of the Tower of Babel taken from the first pages of Genesis when human pride and ambition sought to acquire the power and glory of God Himself, and when, in response, God took away their ability to understand one another. They were no longer a united people, but a badly divided one.

Today, in our nation, we have reverted to the days of Babel. By stepping on the gifts of the Holy Spirit, we are no longer united as at Pentecost but terribly divided and no longer able to understand one another, no matter what the language spoken.

Our society is suffering from a frightful case of extreme angst and anxiety, resulting in agitation, impatience, irritability and intolerance. We look for scapegoats everywhere, to blame for what ails us. If only they would go away and go back to where they belong, there would be peace and harmony in the valley again. To justify our thoughts, we enter a vast social media echo chamber in which the like-minded applaud one another for their wisdom and despise everyone else! The result is bitterness, anger and hatred, leading to both verbal and sometimes physical warfare — the exact opposite of the fruit of the Holy Spirit.

So, what is the antidote for this spiritual and social disease? What are we to do as followers of Christ and temples of the Holy Spirit? Surely the Lord is not calling us to engage in more verbal warfare. That’s precisely what Jesus came to save us from! But the world doesn’t want a Savior, does it? You’d have to admit that you need saving in order to want a Savior, and that is something the egotistical mind can’t imagine or accept. The world wants a conqueror, to redress the terrible wrongs committed against it. It doesn’t want peace and reconciliation. It wants conquest and victory. And how does the world see victory? — not in harmony and peace based on mutual understanding and respect, but by the annihilation of our enemies, domestic and foreign. That is the medicine the world has prescribed for its angst, and its side effect is spiritual death. Thomas Merton once remarked: “It may make sense for a sick man to pray for health and then take medicine, but I fail to see any sense at all in his praying for health and then drinking poison!” That is exactly what we are doing when we swallow Satan’s lies.

The famous Franciscan spiritual author, Fr. Richard Rohr, put it this way: “if a voice comes from accusation and leads to accusation, it is quite simply the voice of the ‘Accuser,’ which is the literal meaning of the word ‘Satan.’ Shaming, accusing or blaming is simply not how God talks. It is how we talk.” Merton made it even clearer: “In the devil’s theology, the important thing is to be absolutely right and to prove that everybody else is absolutely wrong. *** It means that everyone wants to be absolutely right himself or to attach himself to another who is absolutely right. And in order to prove their rightness they have to punish and eliminate those who are wrong.” Sound familiar? I heard two Congresswomen verbally attacking each other on the House floor the other day. To say that they were acting like two year olds is to insult two year olds! I fear what would have happened if they were wielding pistols instead of vicious tongues.

The Holy Spirit acts in the exact opposite way. He is the loving Advocate, defending each one of us from attack and false accusations. In sharp contrast to Satan’s deadly medicine, the Holy Spirit offers us His life-giving medicine: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. St. Paul told us long ago: “You must know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit. *** You are not your own. You have been purchased, and at a [great] price. So glorify God in your body.”

In the little book, God Calling, filled with spiritual lessons given to two British women in the 1930’s, Jesus offered this sage spiritual advice: “All agitation is destructive of good. All calm is constructive of goo, and at the same time destructive of evil. When man wants evil destroyed so often he rushes to action. It is wrong. First be still and know that I am God. Then act only as I tell you. Always calm with God. Calm is trust in action. Only trust, perfect trust, can keep one calm. Never be afraid of any circumstances or difficulties that help you to cultivate this calm. As the world, to attain, has to learn speed, you, to attain, have to learn calm.”

Each of us has a choice: to swallow and promote Satan’s poisonous lies or to take the Holy Spirit’s life-giving medicine. Which medicine will you take? If you listen carefully enough, you might even hear the good Lord whisper to you: “If you really want to live, take your foot off of the Holy Spirit’s life line and follow me!”

By Dr. Patrick Donovan

Thirty years ago this month, the people of Rwanda experienced a tragedy my western American mind could not fathom. Over the course of 90 days or so, members of the Tutsi minority ethnic group, as well as some moderate Hutus, were killed by armed Hutu militias. Neighbors killed neighbors. Family members turned on other members of their family. Even ministers, gathering their flock into the Church, betrayed the faithful and saved themselves.

By the time it was over, nearly one million people were dead. Most of the world, including the U.S., just watched.

Because justice was such a slow process – and in an attempt to heal the communities – the Gacaca courts were established. These trials, to put it simply, allowed those who were willing to admit their part in the killings a chance for early release. There were conditions: if they showed where bodies were buried, and if the communities were willing to take them back, people who had participated in the atrocities could be released from jail to return home. Nearly two million trials were held and though the system was plagued with problems, nearly a million people were released.

Ten years after the genocide and eight years before the Gacaca courts were shut down, I was in Rwanda with a small group from Catholic Relief Services. We were there to witness, among other things, what micro-finance programs had done to reestablish small businesses, restore dignity to the people – especially women – in the years after the genocide. We were also there to pray with the people, visit the mass graves, and talk about what the country had been through. It was then, and likely will always be, one of the great honors of my life. It was also deeply disturbing.

After several days in the city of Kigali, the group was split up and my friend, Anthony, and I traveled to the far western part of the country to the Diocese of Cyangugu. There, we visited parishes, prayed with the residence, played soccer with the students, and visited refugee camps (the people fleeing Congo). Mostly, we listened to their stories.

It has been 20 years since our visit, but several conversations remain in my mind as though they occurred yesterday. On one particular morning, we were sitting with less than a dozen people, listening to their stories of the days of the genocide. We heard how people hid from neighbors. They spoke about never finding the bodies of loved ones. They spoke of darkness, fear, and what it was like to run for your life.

Then, unexpectedly, one man introduced himself and said he had participated in the genocide. He had killed many people. He had been jailed. Then, through the Gacaca courts, he had admitted to what he had done, revealed the mass grave to his town, and been freed – welcomed home, returned to his family, and was now sitting across from me.

I think my shock surprised them. My limited capacity to love could not comprehend how this person was free. He had killed people. We had been to that mass grave. I vaguely remember saying something, more to myself than anyone in the room, “How does that happen?”

The elderly woman sitting next to me took my hand. I can still feel her small, wrinkled fingers on top of mine. Through our interpreter she explained.

“If we do not forgive, hatred wins.”

That was it. That was her explanation. For her, it was just that simple. Either you forgive or you rot inside. Suddenly, the loss I had experienced in my own life – losing grandparents, a brother, friends – my own struggles in life – all rearranged in my head. My loss was nothing compared to theirs. My life was easy compared to theirs. My whole world needed a reboot. All these years, I had believed forgiveness was something you gave to others, but this woman, still holding my hand, reminded me that, often, forgiveness is something you give yourself.

The alternative is you can let hatred win. You can let yourself be eaten from the inside out with the anger, disillusionment, frustration, and lament.

At the cross, Jesus loves hatred to death. His “yes” to God gives hatred a space to die. This man who is not owed forgiveness, forgives others. He sees what is happening around him and knows the world needs saving. He knows, at his core, if we do not forgive, hatred wins.

I think about the people of Rwanda all the time. I am still challenged by the words of that old lady and I am still struggling to forgive as she had, as her community had. But each day, I feel like I get a little bit closer.

This week, let us strive to forgive those little things around us. May our perspective be rearranged so we understand injuries as inconveniences and people who irritate us as opportunities to love other people more sincerely.

Most of all, may we love the hatred around us to death so that new life can begin again.

This article originally appeared on the personal blog of Patrick Donovan, director of the Institute for Catholic Formation. To read more, visit https://fiveminutesonmonday.com

Fr. Joseph Gill, the host of Restless Catholic Young Adults, partnered with Veritas Catholic Network to release a Divine Mercy Sunday Special explaining the Divine Mercy Chaplet, Image, and Feast Day.

He also shares stories about saints that illustrate God’s gracious Mercy.

My personal favorite was a story about Pope St. John Paul II and a former priest in Rome.

The humility of the Pope in this story made real the mercy of our Father in Heaven…

We hope that you will enjoy this special presentation.

By Rose Brennan

Against my own will, something happens to me every Good Friday. And unfortunately, knowing it’s coming doesn’t make it any easier.

I walk through the doors of my home parish. The altar is bare. And the sight that causes me to involuntarily gasp every year: the tabernacle is open—and worse, it’s empty.

When I see the open tabernacle with nothing in it, I feel nothing short of distress. Dramatic? Maybe. But allow me to explain.

There is a certain feeling that comes over me whenever I enter a Catholic place of worship: parish, shrine, chapel or otherwise. I feel a deep and abiding sense of calm and peace. And much of that is tied into the True Presence in the Eucharist. Whether the host is in a monstrance, on the altar or even in the tabernacle, Christ is with me when I am there.

Imagine, then, not feeling that. That sense of peace, gone. Only an open, empty tabernacle.

That absence was one that followed me this Holy Thursday. For the first time, I had the opportunity to undertake a seven church pilgrimage with several other young adults in the diocese, visiting the altars of repose at seven different parishes throughout the city of Bridgeport. And at each of them, an empty tabernacle greeted us.

Many of the parishes had beautiful altars of repose, decorating the repositories where the hosts would remain until Easter. I tried to direct my attention to them, to reflect upon Our Lord’s agony in the Garden of Gethsemane, recalling his humiliation at the hands of Annas, Caiaphas, Pilate and the crowd as he neared the hour of his crucifixion. But every so often, my eyes would wander to the empty tabernacles, and that feeling of distress would return.

It didn’t get easier with each church I visited. Each time, the same words would come back to me: “He is not here.”

We try to recognize the presence of God in every moment and every aspect of our lives, but there’s something to be said for his True Presence in the Blessed Sacrament. And when he’s not so easily located, it can be very distressing indeed. Especially so when you experience it seven times over.

At about midnight, we found ourselves at the last of the seven churches on our journey. The altar of repose was particularly breathtaking, truly fit for Our Lord as we awaited his resurrection. Once again, the same words came to mind: “He is not here.”

This time, I allowed myself to think and pray more on those words. What might they mean? They surely meant something, if I kept thinking of them.

And then, I recalled what was to come in just a few days. How those exact words– “he is not here” – would come into play for the women at the tomb. The stone rolled back, the burial cloths lying on the ground, and the tomb empty.

Those women must’ve felt the same level of distress I did during the Triduum—perhaps even more so. But unlike the women at the empty tomb, we know how the story ends.

The emptiness of the tomb is a promise fulfilled. The disciples didn’t know Jesus really meant it when he said he’d raise the temple again in three days. Maybe they thought he was being allegorical, as he was known to do.

But no. He kept his promise. And that’s what I remembered when I entered my home parish for Good Friday services this year. Yes, I was still taken aback at the initial emptiness of the tabernacle, but now I had a new perspective.

With the sorrow and bitterness of Christ’s death we commemorate every Good Friday, there is still a promise of the joy to come on Easter Sunday. And in the same way, the emptiness of the tabernacle becomes a promise of the emptiness of the tomb.