Every relationship we have in life depends on some variation of give-and-take. Even those relationships that seem to have one person completely dependent on another, like a parent and an infant, still offers this element to some extent: A parent obviously gives their entire beings to the well-being of their infant, but the infant gives the parent meaning, the identity of parenthood, and hope for the future of their family. At the same time, the infant’s entire livelihood revolves around the parent, making them attached to them in a very profound way. When this mutual respect and dependence is no longer there, the relationship will cease to be a relationship. This is not exclusive to relationships between two people; this is just as true with our relationships with God.

When we read the stories of the Old Testament, God seems to be so intimately involved in the lives of certain figures. For example, why did He seem to give so many gifts to Abraham? What was so special about Abraham that cannot be found in anyone today? In the simplest sense, it seems to come down to gratitude and faithfulness. Abraham was not merely given these great gifts and promises arbitrarily; rather, they were graces from God as part of a mutual exchange. God gave special graces, and Abraham gave complete and total obedience, gratitude, and faithfulness in return. A gift, like the ones given to Abraham by God, is only seen with value in the eyes of the recipient if they accept it. In this same way, our relationship with God depends on a mutual acceptance of each other in order to flourish - if we obey God and acknowledge Him to others, He will acknowledge us. If we ignore Him, He will accept our choice and ignore us in return because we chose not to foster that relationship.

We sometimes demand God to treat us in ways in which we don’t even treat others. If we were to ignore a friend, how could we possibly expect that friend to constantly chase us lovingly? And if we say to a friend that we don’t want to talk, wouldn’t the friend be disrespecting our wishes and pushing personal boundaries by attempting to talk to us? If we can recognize these situations, why would we expect God to act any differently? The difference between our relationships with others and our relationship with God is that God will never ignore us, He will never abandon us, and He will always want to be with us. It is, then, our choice whether that relationship grows. 

Saint Joseph must be one of our primary models as we try to navigate life through the Christian faith. There have been plenty of great and powerful saints throughout the history of the Church, but Joseph has a particularly special place in our history. He was the one who God chose to be the husband of the Blessed Virgin Mary. He was the one who God chose to raise Jesus according to the customs and traditions of the Jewish faith. Through Joseph, Christ is linked back to God’s promise of the Messiah to David. Through Joseph, Mary was protected through her pregnancy. Joseph wasn’t just a father figure to Jesus Christ, he is a father figure to all believers in more ways than one. 

In this passage, we hear from St. Paul as he addresses the Romans that the Law was passed on to the Jews as the means by which they should ordinarily live their daily lives (this still applies to believers today). But the father of Judaism and the catalyst of all believers, Abraham, did not have this Law when God chose him to be the father of many nations. All Abraham had at the time was his faith and the power to assent to God’s will. It was because of his faith, not how closely he followed the Law, that Abraham was chosen for this role. It is the same situation for Joseph because he proved to God his faith over his emotions. As he was betrothed to Mary, we can deduce quite easily that he must have loved her deeply; imagine the pain and confusion he experienced upon learning of Mary’s pregnancy. According to the Law, it was completely within his right to turn Mary over and to have her stoned to death. Instead, his love for her motivated him to divorce her quietly for her sake. It was because of this loving action, not a dependence on the Law to carry out his emotions, that God propositioned him to be the father of the savior of all mankind. It was an act of faith that led Joseph to take on this role, and he is remembered in heaven and on earth as the great fatherly saint.

There is one word we must equate with Joseph: fatherhood. He was a father of faith, chosen by God to be the arbiter of the mystery of God Incarnate, which superseded the Law of justice with God’s providence and mercy. Although God acted outside of the Law to bring the Savior into this world, that same Savior was taught by his foster father and raised with the Law, and worked with it to spread a message of hope and salvation to the world. We should see Joseph in our priests, who are father figures of our parishes and churches, and whose love and faith for the Church allow them to form us in the Law while still offering us the mystery of the altar. We should thank Joseph everyday for being a model to our priests and for assenting to God’s will to be the father figure of our faith.

Throughout most of human history, most individuals lived in small, tight-knit communities in which everyone played a vital role. With the rise of industry, technology, and social media, humans today are more likely to live in large cities and are increasingly aware of just how populous the earth actually is. In these large environments, many people can begin to feel insignificant or unimportant because of just how many people are around them. At the same time, most needs for survival are met and many jobs or occupations can feel absent of any meaning. The problem of “blending into the crowd” of a large environment like this is that it is all an illusion; when we consider the whole, we tend to forget just how complicit or how beneficial the individual choices are that make up the consensus of the whole. In reality, it is through the individual, rather than the collective, that human communities flourish, and all individuals have the capacity to be the one voice, the one person, to impact change.

Paul expressed this in his letter to the Romans: all it took for humanity to completely unravel through sin and death was the choice of an individual person. It was through the free will of Adam that humanity fell into sin because he passed the mark of original sin onto all of his descendants. To this day, even though we are born with original sin, we actively choose to commit personal sins on an individual level. When we do something wrong, we cannot blame anyone other than ourselves. On the other hand, though, great things can be done through the power of a single individual. Paul says that just as humanity fell by the actions of one man, humanity was also redeemed by the action of one man: Christ’s sacrifice on the cross redeemed us of our sins and saved us from the certainty of perpetual death. In this same way, when societies begin to abandon evil traditions, it can always be traced back to an individual or group of individuals who went against what was popular for the sake of goodness. In an era that claims to celebrate individuality and uniqueness, the truth is that so many will resort to ceding their individual influence in order to live a more comfortable life, one in which decisions are made for them, where there are fewer responsibilities, but also where there is less of a chance to strive towards greatness. However, through the inspiration of the Holy Spirit and the teachings of Christ, the Church is the true defender of individuality: every single life matters and is worthy of dignity. Every single one of us plays a unique role in the world around us. Every single soul has the power to bring the presence of God into the lives of everyone else. These are the things that the Church adamantly teaches. 

Every saint embodies this idea that the actions and choices of a single individual can change the course of human history. This could be for good or bad, but it is those saints who act for good whose actions stand the test of time. Think of Mary and her fiat that enabled Christ to come into this world through her. Think of Peter and his office whose authority is still expressed today. Think of someone even as recent as Pope Saint John Paul II, who fought against the destructive political forces that defined his life and lived a life of courage and hope, empowering entire nations to do the same. These are the individuals who were ready to follow God’s calling at a moment’s notice. Do not be afraid of following this call, even if you feel like you are alone, because history tells us that there is great power even in the actions of one person. If your individual actions change the world, make sure they’re changing it out of goodness and love.

For many of us who were raised in Catholicism or who work towards raising our children in the faith, we are very familiar with the concept of infant baptism. Christ taught us in his conversation with Nicodemus in the Gospel of John that unless we are born again through the waters of baptism, we cannot see the kingdom of God. Therefore, it is absolutely crucial that we give our children the opportunity to be baptized as soon as possible in their lives and that we promise, to them and to the Church, that we will teach them the faith and form them in the words of Christ. A baptism is a very lovely and happy moment, made particularly sweet when it is being done for a young baby. As we celebrate the sacrament for the young child, our happiness in the moment might overshadow the solemnity of what it is we are actually providing the child through the Holy Spirit.

To be baptized, as Jesus tells us, is to be born again. When we come into this world, we inherit original sin which ties us to this fallen world. Even though through infant baptism, our “re-birth” occurs quite close to our original birth, our souls are radically transformed because that original sin is washed away by the waters of baptism. That original sin is what prevents us from uniting ourselves to God for eternity, which means baptism restores us to who we were created to be from the very beginning. It also means, though, that the sins we commit after our baptism are our choice. If the promise our parents and godparents made for us at our baptism hold up and we were instructed in the faith, it becomes our own responsibility to avoid sin and to know better. We cannot see baptism as access to an exclusive club or as a means by which we get to skirt the system of cosmic justice; baptism is restoring ourselves to the state of authentic humanity. It is the state of humanity lived out perfectly by Christ. This ought to reveal to us that baptism is not a simple little action to do in order to avoid suffering or hardships, since obviously Christ suffered greater than any other human in history despite being the most blameless. When we are baptized or when we allow the children of our community to be baptized, we need to remember the words of St. Paul in this passage: “we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death.”

To have original sin washed away by the waters of baptism is to purify ourselves according to the desire of God as taught by Christ. It also means that we become susceptible to the same hardships, the same rejection, and the same persecution experienced by Christ. As a parent, the last thing you want is to place that burden on your child; but Christ is very explicit in the Gospel: “whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me.” The pain of the Christian life is minute compared to the magnitude of being born again in Christ. Yes, we are taking upon ourselves the burden of our own crosses, but this is what we were meant for - to express love for our neighbors, even when it hurts. A baptism is a cause for celebration and joy in much the same way as a wedding is. But the wedding precedes the sacrificial life of marriage with ups and downs, sadness and joy. Our baptisms precede the sacrificial life of Christianity, but at the heart of it is love. Christ so desperately wants us to live like him and sacrifice like him so that we may understand how to love like him.

The body is the instrument through which the soul expresses itself physically. When a soul is pure and oriented towards God, the body will express that. When a soul is disordered or oriented toward sin, that is also expressed physically through the body. As human beings, our bodies are crucial to our being in its entirety; if the heresy of Gnosticism is true, that the material world is evil and only the spiritual world is good, then God never would have become incarnate in the human person of Jesus Christ. The truth is that our bodies united with our souls is what makes us truly human. Just as our soul was created to glorify and honor the One who created it, our bodies are also oriented to serve Him and do His will. However, most of the sins we regularly commit are done through our bodies.

Through the human person of Jesus Christ, we have the opportunity to see exactly what humans were created to be in our perfect expression of humanity. When humans first sinned and sin entered the world, it is true that much of the material world became distorted, including certain aspects of the human person. But even Jesus, in his perfect humanity, looked exactly like us and expressed himself exactly like us, except for sin. It shows us that we are not so far from human perfection, we simply need to reject sin. Jesus’ time on earth was primarily to lead us to participate in this perfect humanity, which he did through imparting his wisdom on us by teaching, by healing the sick, and by undergoing the ultimate act of solidarity - dying to perfect our imperfections. These imperfections were spiritual, but the fact that he healed the physically sick prefigures the eventual perfection of the physical world, as well.

Jesus’ healings are truly peculiar; people genuinely suffered from things like blindness, deafness, leprosy, dropsy, withered hands, etc. However, Jesus does not heal everyone he encounters. He healed those who came to him out of faith in him, but shouldn’t he have healed everyone if he truly wanted to perfect the physical world? The fact that he didn’t tells us that he did not heal simply to alleviate the pain and suffering of physical abnormalities. The body expresses the soul. As Jesus says, “if your hand causes you to sin, cut it off.” If Jesus were to restore sight to the blind and heal the withered hands of those who would then use their eyes and hands to sin in ways they couldn’t while blind or withered, he wouldn’t heal them. Our bodies are imperfect, and we should appreciate that. We receive from God as much as we can handle, and all things that are kept from our physical beings by God are kept from us for the protection of our souls.

The interior of a Catholic church is a fascinating amalgamation of old Judaic rituals and the evolution of a community gathering around the person of Christ for the last 2000 years. There is nothing in existence today quite like a Catholic church. It is not merely a community center. It is not merely a place for people to go to worship. It is a place where sacrifice occurs, where the Word of God penetrates the hearts of those listening to Him, and most importantly where heaven meets earth. In Second-Temple Judaism (The Judaism of the historical Jesus), these three things were available but were in three separate places - The sacrifice occured in the courts outside of the Temple interior, the Scriptures were read and expounded upon in synagogues all over, and the place where heaven and earth met was in the very center of the interior of the Holy of Holies. 

Through Judaism, followers of God were able to have an intimate understanding and relationship with Him, but that became far more intimate when God became flesh and dwelt among us through the person of Jesus Christ. Likewise, through the Church that Christ instituted, the Temple mount and the synagogues eventually became a single location: the church building. Despite the intimacy of a church, where all can witness the sacrifices and the presentation of God on earth regardless of background, there are still limits to what someone can do or how they can behave. For example, the altar is a sacred space and should be approached with fear and reverence by those who are allowed to approach it. The tabernacle is closely monitored to make sure nothing could possibly desecrate the space. The pulpit, lectern, or ambo is reserved for the readings and sermons of the Scriptures. This space is sacred because it has been sanctified, blessed, and reserved as the house of God, just as the Temple was for Judaism. It becomes the body of Christ in which we participate.

Now, in the time of Christianity post-Jesus, we understand just how significant our bodies are to our being. A common adage, that the body is a “temple”, reminds us that our own physical beings also need to be sanctified. What is the difference between any other building and a church? It is not merely architecture; it is the act of sanctifying and inviting the Real Presence of Jesus interiorly. If we are going to invite Jesus into our own bodies through the Eucharist, then we need to sanctify our bodies beforehand. Do not treat your body as something inherently sinful nor as something insignificant. Rather, prepare your body as a housing place for God, both through your physical being in the reception of the Eucharist and your spiritual being through receiving Christ’s Word into your heart.

Life is filled with ups and downs, with wonderful moments and trying times, with immense joy and great suffering. It is the combination of good times, bad times, and everything in between that gives us a full sense of what it means to be human and what it means to grow. However, the suffering that we endure in life can often overshadow any of the good parts, especially when we are in the midst of suffering. At our lowest moments, it is nearly impossible to imagine an escape. These dark moments are when people lose their trust in God most often. In these moments, the greatest argument against God may come to our minds, an argument that has been posed from the very beginning of human history: how can a good God allow bad things to happen? How can a God who loves us be willing to witness our suffering?

There are two crucial points in understanding the nature of suffering in our lives. First, we must constantly recite to ourselves the words found in Psalm 23: “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.” In our most trying times, God is there with us. He walks alongside us through our suffering out of solidarity because He, too, underwent the greatest suffering as a human (not just physically on the cross, but spiritually by bearing the weight of our sins). He walks alongside us both in the moment of our suffering and metaphorically as one who understands from experience the pain of human suffering. The second point of understanding the nature of suffering lies in answering the question of why suffering is necessary in the first place. Because we are in an imperfect state in our fallen nature, we need to work our way back to perfection. When we consider anyone who works towards perfection, we know that it requires constant training, practice, and sacrifices. A star athlete will train their entire life to make sure their body is in peak physical condition, and this does not even account for the actual skill in the sport that they need to hone. This road to perfection is filled with difficulty and pain because we can only grow by slowly overcoming increasingly difficult resistance. Any suffering we experience in life is a way for us to train our spiritual “muscles”. We must not give up. Suffering is a sign that we are on the right path, to rectify our weaknesses, and to prove to God that we are willing to take this on in order to come back to Him. We must show Him that we reciprocate His love for us, and bearing our own crosses is the first step.

Above all, we must remind ourselves constantly that the suffering of this life is nothing compared to the glory of the next, as Paul tells us in his letter to the Romans. Consider very young children, whose emotional states are usually conveyed in extremes because of their limited life experiences. To them, the smallest of inconveniences elicit the most dramatic reactions, just as the smallest gifts of life elicit true joy within them. In the grand scheme of things, our experience of this life is just as small in comparison to eternal life. What we may consider life-altering today will be nothing more than a fleeting moment in our story when all is said and done. When you truly suffer, listen to the message of Paul and hold onto the hope of the glory that is to come. A fraction of the love and warmth of God’s embrace is so much more altering than the greatest pains of this life, and makes the suffering of sacrifice and love worth it for us in the end.

As Catholicism begins to open itself up and the fullness of its Truth is slowly clarified in a substantial way, understanding God and His plan for the world and His creation becomes much more easily recognizable. If we were to look at the way Christians approached the Bible and the Sacraments a thousand years ago compared to how we look at it now, we currently have far more knowledge and understanding than believers in the past. The reason why is because Theology continuously builds upon itself through the works of great thinkers and Saints. In the modern age, we can look at the Gospel through the eyes of someone like St. Therese and understand exactly what it means to approach God like a child. Through the extensive works of Joseph Ratzinger (later Pope Benedict XVI), the historical person of Jesus Christ becomes more approachable within the context of his cultural setting, while at the same time affirming his divinity. 

Through these two examples and the countless other discourses on the Faith over the last two thousand years, there are so many different ways in which we can see the breadth of Catholicism that simply was not available to Christians in the past. Despite this, unfortunately, it was far more common to find faithful and ardent believers among the masses back then than it is today. While the arguments for Catholicism are abundant now, so are the distractions of a worldly life. It is far easier to initially look at what is immediately in front of you and satisfy your desires instantaneously than it is to sit down, study the faith, and cultivate a prayer life. For many, taking that first step of seeking out Catholicism, even if they desire it, can seem daunting. However, the Truth of Catholicism is unlike anything else - the more you study it and the more you question and challenge it, the more you come to realize that it is the fullness of Truth.

This can be simultaneously exciting and intimidating. It is exciting to slowly realize that you are beginning to find answers to the greatest questions posed by humanity. It is exciting to realize that you possess and can openly share with others the meaning, purpose, and trajectory of the story of humanity. But it is intimidating because there is no going back. Once you study this Truth and become convinced that it is indeed true, to reject it or to ignore it is to willingly live in falsehood. It is not easy to be Catholic. But with the fullness of Truth comes a burden to live within the Truth. This may not satisfy our momentary desires, but it certainly satisfies our souls. 

Whenever we receive a piece of good news or bad news, we tend to express our reactions towards the messenger. The phrase “Don’t shoot the messenger” is widely used because when we receive bad news, our natural reaction is to assume the messenger is the source of the news. However, this also applies to good news. When we hear something that instills joy in our hearts, we cannot help but want to celebrate the one who brought it to us, even if they may not be the source. If the Gospel is truly the Good News, as we hear so often, then it makes sense for us to celebrate those who have brought it to us, whether they are missionaries, preachers, friends, or even saints. Even though they are simply sharing the Gospel with us, they are worth celebrating. Paul agrees, as he quotes the prophet Isaiah in this passage: “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring the good news!”

This is especially true when we consider the Apostles whose responsibility it was to go out and share the Good News of the Gospel to the world, like St. Andrew. Andrew was not merely another “messenger” of Jesus and his Gospel; he was the first. Andrew is certainly not as popular as Peter or John, but his role in salvation history is crucial. In the Gospel of John, we learn that Andrew was originally a disciple of John the Baptist. John the Baptist’s whole life was dedicated to be a messenger for the coming of Christ (which is our focus during Advent), and there is hardly any evidence that he knew Christ personally. Andrew, on the other hand, took the Baptist’s words to heart, and recognized Christ for who he truly was (which is our focus during the rest of the liturgical year). Through the message of John the Baptist, Andrew recognized the “buds on the fig tree” - those signs that Jesus instructed us to be watchful for. Once he encountered Christ, he immediately knew that this was the one of whom the Baptist spoke. There was no indication of doubt or pause in him. Andrew was the first to testify to Christ’s identity and one of his first followers. He even introduced him to his brother, Peter. He introduced the vicar of Christ to Christ himself.

Andrew’s pivotal role in salvation history is sometimes overlooked. As followers of Christ, our tendency is to desire being like Peter, his chosen successor with authority and precedence, or John, his beloved disciple, or Paul, the great missionary. We want Christ to know that we love him entirely and that we are willing to take on the responsibilities that he assigns to his greatest followers. However, we should more often pursue being like Andrew - the first one on the scene, bringing others to Christ, and introducing the greatest saints of the future to the Son of God for the first time.

The Gospel of Luke spends some time following Jesus’ discourse on the invitation to the Wedding Feast, where he outlines his preference for the marginalized, the inclusiveness of his kingdom, and the strict demands he places upon those who accept his invitation to the banquet. As a society, a certain narrative has been growing among more developed areas to promote inclusion, to seek after the marginalized, or to open up an invitation to all. We have even been seeing these same motives in the Church’s recent Synod on Synodality, which was almost certainly inspired by this discourse in the Gospel of Luke. However, Christ’s calls for inclusion are far more fascinating than the surface level request for more openness in our earthly communities; he is revealing to us the inner-workings of Heaven itself. 

We hear in this passage from the letter of St. Paul to the Romans that we all serve individual roles in the community at large. In this diversity, the Church thrives; obviously, we don’t want everyone trying to occupy the same responsibilities, since there is so much that needs to be done in many different areas. Unfortunately, we must also accept the truth that there are certain roles that require those who are highly capable, and these roles tend to be in leadership. Those who are called, those who lead us, those who have taken the positions of the great Apostles and disciples of Christ, are usually of this capacity. Theologians in the Church are highly intelligent, Vatican insiders are well-connected, benefactors who guide the way the Church is run are very wealthy, and the list goes on. When we look at the way the Church is run, we could easily think to ourselves as lay people that there isn’t a place for us in directing the Church because we are not as capable, not as intelligent, not as wealthy, not as well-connected. But Christ is clear in his discourse on the invitation: some are called to certain areas because of their abilities, but this places an immense responsibility upon them. It’s also not inherently evil that able individuals are leading the Church; they were called to do this precisely because of their abilities. But what Christ reveals to us is that the banquet is not exclusive to those who are capable. Each one of us is invited according to how we can serve God. If those who are called do not live up to the requirements of the invitation, they will be replaced by someone else. We must understand that Christ does not lower his expectations by inviting everyone; rather, he elevates the “marginalized” to be capable of rising up to the occasion and becoming great. 

The direction of the Church is not guided by a select few at the top, nor should it be a democracy; it moves forward and flourishes only when each individual does precisely what they were called to do, according to their abilities. At our baptisms, either we or our parents were presented with the invitation to the Feast. We accepted that invitation. Some of us are called to serve with our time, volunteering when needed. Some are called to utilize their natural abilities, given to them by God, to fill those leadership needs within the Church. Others are called to give back those things they’ve built up in life (wealth, connections, talents, etc.) to the benefit of our spiritual community. A banquet is communal, naturally promoting equality and sharing. To be inclusive and to be inviting means extending the same gifts and the same responsibilities of being a Christian to everyone, regardless of their place in life. God made us unique and different from one another so that all of the Church’s needs may be filled. Christ is telling us that this is exactly what it looks like in Heaven - each individual serving God the best way they can.