In high school, I suffered from a pneumothorax, which means that my right lung collapsed. When it happened, all I felt was sharp back pain. My parents began to drive me to the emergency room, but I decided it really wasn’t a big deal and I made them turn around and go back home. The pain continued, so I eventually went to see a doctor. He listened to my lungs with a stethoscope, and when he got to my right lung, he said very calmly, “There are no lung sounds in your right lung. You need to get to the emergency room immediately.” He explained that in thinner young men, small bubbles called blebs form on the tops of their lungs and can pop, creating a hole in the lung, and causing the area above to fill with air. After I spoke with the doctor, I was able to go the emergency room to get the surgery and care I needed. Thankfully, I haven’t had another pneumothorax for over ten years.

I bring this up because when I had the surgery for my pneumothorax, I learned that the word that Jesus uses for the Holy Spirit in the Bible is pneuma. It can mean spirit, and also more literally, breath and wind. The Responsorial Psalm says, “If you take away their breath, they perish […]. When you send forth your spirit, they are created, and you renew the face of the earth.” The Holy Spirit is as necessary to us as our breath. Just as we need to breathe to stay alive, we need the Holy Spirit to fill our souls to keep us spiritually alive.

We first receive the Holy Spirit at our Baptism, and we receive the fullness of the Holy Spirit at our Confirmation. And so we are alive. But many of us do not know the Holy Spirit. Many of us are like me after my lung collapsed. We are still alive, but we feel that something is wrong. We just can’t put our finger on it. And maybe, like me, we refuse to go to the emergency room because we think we are okay. But in reality, we are trying to breathe with only one lung while the other lung has a hole in it!

So what’s the remedy to this? We need to ask the Holy Spirit to renew the grace of Pentecost in our hearts so that we can live out the mission He is calling us to. And after we ask the Holy Spirit for this grace, we need to get to know Him, becoming more aware of His voice, and following His promptings in our daily lives. We might not notice any change at first, but when we open the Upper Rooms of our hearts to the Holy Spirit, we will be amazed at the transformation He will begin to work in our lives. And it all begins with one simple prayer: Come, Holy Spirit!  

Father Frank

I’ve known a lot of foolish people in my life; in particular, I’ve known many foolish women. I should probably rephrase that. I’ve known many women who have loved greatly. Have you ever noticed that from the outside looking in, those who love seem to act foolishly? We see an example of this in our faith, as the Apostles left everything behind because of their love for the Lord. And we also see this “foolishness” in our daily lives.  In my own vocation, I’ve had people ask me about choosing the celibate life of a priest, only seeing it as something that is foolish. Of course, my response is that it is not foolishness, but really a response to love, for the sake of the Lord and his people, and only possible with God’s grace to respond to the call.

As we celebrate mother’s day, and a month dedicated to our Blessed Mother, I thought I would honor the “foolish” women in my life who loved radically. To my Grandmother, who allowed her husband to move to the United States to work for two years before reuniting with their 4 children. To my mother, who was engaged to another man, called off the wedding the night before, only to accept my Dad’s proposal three weeks later. To my sister, who after being firmly established in her practice and field, found a man online, picked up her life, and moved across the country to follow her heart and started a family of her own. From the outside looking in, these actions may seem foolish, but if you know their stories, you can see how greatly these women loved!

I’ve also been lucky to know friends who have left everything to join religious communities: from my friend Sister Joshua Marie, who left Notre Dame her sophomore year (a sin to the Irish I’m sure) to pursue a life with the Missionaries of Charity (St. Mother Theresa’s order), to my friend Mother Marie Benedicta of the Cross, who after college decided to join the Carmelites in the Des Plaines cloister. (Meaning that she is never able to leave and is called to live a life of continual prayer) I look up to these women, and am grateful for their example of how to love.

As we crown our Blessed Mother this weekend and celebrate Mother’s Day, I think it is only fitting to honor those who have loved so greatly, that to the world it seems foolish.  May we be inspired by their “foolish” acts of love. May our Blessed Mother continue to bless us, guide us, and encourage us as we respond to her son, our Lord Jesus’ Christ and his beautiful call to bring the faith to all we meet. In the eyes of the world, our actions will look foolish but we know that it is all worth it because we are in love.   

Father Michael

One of the most stressful things I have experienced is being an altar server at an Ordination Mass. Not only do you have the eyes of the people on you, but also the eyes of all the seminarians, who know exactly when you make a mistake. One of the first times I served at an Ordination, I had the easy job of simply holding the bishop’s miter. All I had to do was wait for the Master of Ceremonies to tell me when to carry it over. During the actual Ordination Rite, we all had to come to the front of the sanctuary. The MC said to me, “Stay here, and I’ll tell you when to go back,” and then he walked away to do something else. I dutifully stayed in place, but noticed a second too late that everyone else was walking away, leaving me standing in the front of the church alone. Since the MC had disappeared, I followed everyone else in deep embarrassment.

In the Gospel, Jesus says, “Remain in my love.” When we hear the word “remain,” we think Jesus is saying something like what the MC said to me: “Stay here.” But Jesus doesn’t just tell us to “stay here” while He abandons us. He instead calls us to remain in friendship with Him, especially through prayer.

As we remain in prayer with Jesus, it might feel like we are doing nothing. In reality, we are allowing Jesus to work in us. This weekend, we have the great joy of celebrating our First Communions, and one of the most important things the First Communicants learn is transubstantiation—the change by which the bread and wine truly become the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Christ. But as Christ comes to us in the Eucharist and we remain with Him, He also works a transformation in us. He changes us to become more and more like Him.

As He transforms us to become more like Him, then we are able to “bear fruit that will remain.” This fruit remains, not because of anything we do, but because of Christ working in us. One way that we can become more aware of Christ’s Presence in us even as we leave the church is through a simple examination of conscience. All we have to do is pray, “Jesus, am I remaining in Your love?” The difference here is not that we’re focusing on what we did, but how we are remaining in relationship with Jesus, and the fruit will naturally grow from there.

When Jesus tells us to remain in His love, He isn’t telling us to stay here while He goes off to do something else like the MC did to me at the Ordination, but He wants us to stay with Him. As we remain in that friendship with Him, may we allow Jesus to transform us to become more like Him so that we can bear fruit that will remain.

Father Frank

What does it mean to be a disciple? In today’s first reading, it is Sauls’ boldness in Christ that makes the other Christians finally acknowledge him as a disciple. That boldness is a quality we are also called to have.

In the second reading, we hear of Jesus’ commandment to believe in him and love one another as he commanded us. This commandment has two features, which we might be tempted to separate into two commandments, but it is a singular directive. We are told that our faith should bear fruit in our works, especially in the way we love others. Our faith should find expression in our actions. To believe in Christ is to entrust yourself to Christ. It would be odd to believe in Christ and not obey him. Rather, to not obey would shed light on an area in yourself that Christ needs to be brought into, and that other brothers and sisters should be consulted about. Therefore, the disciples of Christ obey his commandments, and that obedience is proof of their faith.

The Gospel continues with the imagery of vines, branches, fruit, and pruning. Jesus makes the point through this imagery that it is impossible to grow in holiness without also producing good fruit for others. The Gospel takes a frightening turn when it says that anyone who does not remain in Christ will be thrown into a fire like dead branches! As previously mentioned, faith and works go together as one. Thus, believing in Christ but refusing to do anything he asks us to do for our own good is the same as rejecting Christ. Perhaps we are not rejecting him entirely, but the invitation is to completely surrender ourselves to Christ and trust in him. In the same respect, he has already given himself entirely to us. The disciple is, therefore, dependent on Jesus and his grace. This leads to a deep unity, which bears much fruit.

As a man who has committed himself to Christ, is seeking to be his disciple, and strives to make others his disciples, this Gospel reminded me of many of the fears I had when surrendering to God and entering priestly formation. One of the fears I had was that in configuring myself to Christ, I would become a different person. Perhaps I would become a priest who prays abundantly, but has little personality left afterwards. While I have changed in many respects, the Lord has pruned certain aspects of my life to make me more fruitful. All those moments of pruning and letting go of things has resulted in deep happiness. I am becoming who God truly created me to be. It is when I begin to reach for that which has been pruned away, that I often lose my peace. My invitation today is to ask Jesus a hard question: “Jesus, are you asking me to do something in order to love you more?”

Jonathan Hernandez

When I was in eighth grade, we had that classic project where we would be given a baby doll to take home with us for a weekend to experience what it was like to be a parent. The baby would cry randomly, especially in the middle of the night, and we had to make sure we were there to touch a special wristband to its back to stop the crying. I was a very dedicated “parent,” taking the baby with me to Mass, Confession, and a friend’s house. The only hiccup was that my sister broke off the baby’s leg. Somehow that did not cause the baby to cry, and we were able to reattach it without any problem. I even got 100% on the project. But this project missed the point.

If we made a list of all the sacrifices that parents have to make for their children—getting up in the middle of the night to soothe a crying baby, changing diapers, giving up their free time—I don’t think many people would be eager to do that. But a child is not simply a list of sacrifices. Fathers and mothers say yes to these because they love their children.

This is why St. John describes the love of God as the love of a loving Father for His children. But living for others, laying down our lives for others, making sacrifices for others, is hard. We only find the strength to live this way through love, both the love we received from Christ and the love we have for others.

There is one sacrifice which parents are called to make which often gets ignored, and that is passing on the faith. The Church tells us that parents are called to be the first teachers of the faith to their children. This is a great responsibility, and it might seem daunting at first, but what it boils down to is that parents must first know the love of the Good Shepherd so that they can bring their children into that love.

Here at Our Lady of Mercy, our faith formation model is different from what you might find at most other parishes in that it is based around the family. This means that when the children come for formation, the parents also receive formation at the same time. But the goal is that the formation doesn’t stay in that classroom. The goal is that both parents and children can encounter the love of the Good Shepherd here, and take that love home with them. On the weekend of April 20th and April 21st, we will have an open house so that you can learn more about Family Faith Formation here at Our Lady of Mercy. And thankfully, there will not be any baby dolls involved.

Father Frank

From our daily confessions, which are many, to our week long confessions during the 5th week of Lent, our long Holy week confession lines, and our Divine Mercy service confessions, you would think that as a priest I would say, “Ok, no more confessions please!” However, I know that I will always both promote, and seek out the beautiful Sacrament myself. This is not only because it has a tremendous impact on my life, or because I’ve been consecrated as a priest of Jesus Christ to offer the Sacrament and forgiveness of sins. At an
even more fundamental level, our Gospel today points out that repentance and forgiveness of sins is the foundation of our Church, and needs to be proclaimed to the whole world (cf. Luke 24:47).

In our first reading from the Acts of the Apostles, St. Peter recounts our Lord’s Passion to the crowds gathering after he performed a healing in the temple. He recalls the Israelite people choosing Barabbas, a murderer, over Jesus. What was St. Peter doing? He was encouraging those listening to “repent so that there can be forgiveness of sins” (cf. Acts 3:19). Barabbas has an interesting meaning in Scripture. Bar means “son of” and Abba means “father.” Hence, Israelite people were making a choice: which son of the father they would follow. Will they follow Barabbas, who followed his selfish passions, or Jesus, who surrenders himself completely as a self-gift?

This same choice is offered to us every day. How many of us choose our own selfish desires over that of a sacrificial love like our Lord? And if we choose selfishness, what should our response be? Well, as the readings and Gospel point out, we need to repent (again) and receive the forgiveness of our sins (again)!

As we journey in our faith together, can I encourage you to see the Sacrament of Reconciliation as a gift that the Lord desires you to receive? It is not a punishment, but a reception of great joy and love. The Lord is patient with us and always merciful. He is moving us by His grace to grow ever closer to him in this Sacrament. In receiving his mercy and love, we are able to respond in
mercy and love to the world. Even with all our scheduled confessions times, as your pastor, I will always be open to finding more opportunities for the Sacrament of Reconciliation to be celebrated and received.

Father Michael

One of my first experiences as a seminarian was a retreat about healing, and I was pretty skeptical. They kept talking about how we had all these wounds that needed to be healed. And I didn’t doubt that I was a sinner, but I was skeptical that I had the kind of wounds they were talking about. I had a good childhood with maybe the usual bumps in the road of life, but nothing that I thought could qualify as a “wound.” As a result, by the end of the retreat, my heart had not been touched though my notebook was filled with some of the best doodles I had ever drawn.

In the Gospel, St. Thomas is absent when the Risen Jesus appears to the Apostles, and he gives the famous declaration that he will only believe if he touches the wounds of Christ. The problem with Thomas’s doubt is that he has the eyewitness testimony of his ten close friends to contend with. But I think we can all sympathize with Thomas to some extent. Speaking for myself, I had those who were in charge of my seminary training saying the healing retreat was a good idea, so if nothing else, I should have at least tried to be open to it.

In the following years, with the help of many spiritual guides in seminary, I made the discovery that I, like everyone else, have wounds! In fact, I became so aware of my wounds that I would joke, “I’m just a big, walking wound!” It was a joke, but I think it revealed where my heart was. Whereas before I was unaware of the wounds in my life, now I had gone to the opposite extreme of overemphasizing them. Nobody is simply their wounds. But how should we approach our woundedness?

Jesus Himself shows us when He shows us His wounds after His resurrection. Even though His wounds are used to identify Him, He is not saying that He is His wounds. Instead, He is saying that He is the One Who was wounded on the Cross, but is now victorious over sin and death. He is still wounded, but His wounds are now made glorious. His wounds have become a place of encounter.

This Sunday we celebrate Divine Mercy Sunday. Just as Jesus’ glorious wounds were a place of encounter for Thomas, so are our wounds a place of encounter with the mercy of Jesus. They are the place where He wants to encounter and heal us. And just like Himself, our wounds do not vanish, nor would we want them to. Instead, they remind us of the victory that He has won within us. As Pope St. John Paul II, the great Pope of Divine Mercy, says, “We are not the sum of our weaknesses and failures; we are the sum of the Father’s love for us and our real capacity to become the image of his Son.”

Father Frank

If you go to the Cathedral Basilica in St. Louis, you will actually be visiting the second largest mosaic in the world; thousands of small pieces of glass depicting the life of Christ adorn the church. When you walk down the center aisle and look to your right, you will see the following passage on the wall: “Christ is not risen, your faith is in vain.”  When I first encountered it, I was confused as the statement was contrary to the faith.  Why was this in the Catholic Cathedral Basilica? It wasn’t until I moved closer toward that side of the church that a very important word was revealed, which had been previously blocked by my field of vision: “If”. This word completes St. Paul’s quote from his first letter to the Corinthians, “If Christ is not risen, your faith is in vain.” 

Every time I walk into that Basilica, I have my own little April Fool’s day!  Christ is not risen – April fools, just kidding, He has risen!  However, what is St. Paul getting at with his rhetorical statement?  He is declaring a necessary need for action. Because Jesus rose from the dead it changes everything. Our faith was never meant to be something idle, or something stagnant. It was never meant to be something that we just acknowledge for one hour a week on Sunday, or even once a year!  It is meant to move our very being to its core!

When you encounter love, do you just sit there?  Or do you respond to it with your whole being?  When someone tells you that they love you, what happens if you say nothing? It becomes very awkward.  Why? … Because encountering truth and love requires a response! 

What do we celebrate this Easter? God’s unconditional love for us: that even in the midst of our sin and death, God conquers both for our sake!  The question is: are we going to sit idle while God professes His love for us, or are we going to respond with our very being, saying a great yes, a great AMEN?

Christ is Risen! Alleluia! Alleluia!

He has risen indeed! Alleluia! Alleluia!

Father Michael

Recently, my fellow priests and I were sharing our experiences of Ordination with some of the men preparing to be ordained deacons. For many of them, the experience of preparing for diaconate was more daunting than preparing for priesthood because this was the first time we made the promises of celibacy, obedience, and praying Liturgy of the Hours. I remembered being relatively calm as I prepared for the diaconate. But as I reflected more after the fact, I remembered that I hadn’t been calm in the months leading up to Ordination.

During my retreat in preparation for Ordination, all my apprehensions about the diaconate came to the surface. I knew my faults better than anyone. How could someone like me become a deacon? When I shared my doubts with the retreat director, he reminded me that there was Someone Who knew me better than I knew myself, and that He was the one calling me to priesthood. I only had myself, with all my sins and wounds, and so I offered that to Him for Ordination.

When we consider Jesus’ Passion, we probably remember His strength and serenity in the face of brutal torture. But in this weekend’s readings, we hear that as Jesus approached death, “he offered prayers and supplications with loud cries and tears.” In the Gospel, Jesus even says, “I am troubled now.” Just as we will see later in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus experiences the human desire to avoid death. In spite of this, He still says yes to His Passion. How can we possibly imitate Him?

Jesus reminds us, “Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit.” As we come face to face with our own individual crosses, we see our fears, our sins, and our weakness, and everything in us cries out to the Father to take it from us.

In this moment, we are faced with the choice to rely on self or to rely on God. When we give into the temptation to rely on self, we reject the Cross because we don’t think we can bear it. But Jesus teaches us to rely on God when He says, “Father, glorify your name.” He places all His trust in the Father’s plan, believing that the Cross is for the salvation of the world, and the Father will save Him from death.

As we confront the cross destined for each one of us, we confront our own inadequacy before it, but we also realize our need to rely on God, believing that it is through the Cross that we will bear fruit, through the Cross we will reach the Resurrection. I’m grateful that I experienced those moments of fear and doubt before my Ordination because they gave me the opportunity to see that it was God Who was calling me to priesthood and to rely on Him rather than myself to bear fruit.

Father Frank