I will walk before the Lord in the land of the living. // Psalm 116:9 What are the chances that copious tears won’t destroy my careful application of mascara? Nope, not worth it. I scanned my image in the mirror and breathed deeply in an attempt to summon the emotional strength to attend a public Mass and reception in honor of the bishop who had become a trusted spiritual father to us. Only weeks before he had celebrated the funeral Mass for our son. “I will walk before the Lord in the land of the living.” The familiar words from Psalm 116 rang in my head off and on as I noted the joy and love on the faces of our friends who, like us, were grateful for the life, witness, and fatherhood of our beloved shepherd. The whole crowd was alive with love for Jesus and one another. It was good to be there, even as sorrow for my son ached inside me. What does it mean to walk before the Lord in the land of the living? Here on earth we get glimpses of what it means, but our lives are sometimes shadowed by sin and death. In Heaven, where the Saints and angels are fully alive in the presence of the Holy Trinity, by God’s grace, we will be at last free from all pain and sorrow and walking before Jesus, receiving His gaze of love for us, never turning away.  In the meantime, because the Holy Mass draws us from the realm of time into that of eternity, when we get up from our knees and walk toward the altar to receive Jesus in the Eucharist, we walk before the Lord amongst the Saints and Angels who are in Heaven there, worshiping God with us. Sister, next time you rise from the kneeler to walk toward the altar to receive Jesus, I challenge you to remember these words: I will walk before the Lord in the land of the living. Ask our Lord to make you faithful all the way to Heaven, the eternal land of the living.

I will walk before the Lord in the land of the living. // Psalm 116:9 What are the chances that copious tears won’t destroy my careful application of mascara? Nope, not worth it. I scanned my image in the mirror and breathed deeply in an attempt to summon the emotional strength to attend a public Mass and reception in honor of the bishop who had become a trusted spiritual father to us. Only weeks before he had celebrated the funeral Mass for our son. “I will walk before the Lord in the land of the living.” The familiar words from Psalm 116 rang in my head off and on as I noted the joy and love on the faces of our friends who, like us, were grateful for the life, witness, and fatherhood of our beloved shepherd. The whole crowd was alive with love for Jesus and one another. It was good to be there, even as sorrow for my son ached inside me. What does it mean to walk before the Lord in the land of the living? Here on earth we get glimpses of what it means, but our lives are sometimes shadowed by sin and death. In Heaven, where the Saints and angels are fully alive in the presence of the Holy Trinity, by God’s grace, we will be at last free from all pain and sorrow and walking before Jesus, receiving His gaze of love for us, never turning away.  In the meantime, because the Holy Mass draws us from the realm of time into that of eternity, when we get up from our knees and walk toward the altar to receive Jesus in the Eucharist, we walk before the Lord amongst the Saints and Angels who are in Heaven there, worshiping God with us. Sister, next time you rise from the kneeler to walk toward the altar to receive Jesus, I challenge you to remember these words: I will walk before the Lord in the land of the living. Ask our Lord to make you faithful all the way to Heaven, the eternal land of the living.

[W]e ourselves boast of you [ . . . ] regarding your endurance and faith in all your persecutions and the afflictions you endure. // 2 Thessalonians 1:4 My deacon husband had prayed many funeral vigils and burials with grieving families, but this time was different. The son of our dear friends, who were godparents to our youngest daughter, had died. Though our hearts ached for our friends and their children for whom we’d prayed for many years, we were far enough removed from their trauma to enter fully into the beauty of the funeral rites and take comfort in the certain hope Mother Church offers grieving families.  My introverted friend received all who mourned the death of her son with remarkable grace and poise; her evident faith moved me deeply. The love she and her husband shared with others shone like a beacon of hope, especially the tender love they showed their son’s friends.  The above experience serves as an example of a modern-day answer to Saint Paul’s prayer for the Church in the First Reading (see 1 Thessalonians 1:1-5, 11-12). He well understood that a good shepherd prays and trusts God’s work in and through the people he has been appointed to lead. In contrast, the religious leaders of Jesus’ day busied themselves with judging who was and wasn’t fit for God’s kingdom. Jesus knew that in spite of all their knowledge of the Scriptures and the law, many of their hearts were far from the heart of His Father. Twice in today’s Gospel Jesus calls the religious leaders blind (see Matthew 23:13-22). Dear sister, let’s make sure we don’t fall into the trap of blindness, thinking that the path to Heaven is one we must traverse through only our own efforts. Though study and work are both good, we can neither study nor work our way to Heaven. As Saint Paul admonishes us, "For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not from you; it is the gift of God; it is not from works, so no one may boast" (Ephesians 2:8-9). Instead, we must humble ourselves, like sheep who receive everything from their Shepherd. Then we can find solace in the words in today’s Gospel Antiphon: “My sheep hear my voice, says the Lord; I know them and they follow Me” (John 10:27). With Him, surely our faith will endure to the end. 

“Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and 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.” // Matthew 10:37–38  “Please change before going out. Your clothing communicates something. Others judge you by what you wear.” No matter how many times I gave advice, my son’s rejection of my attempts to guide him felt like a rejection of my love for him. We’re sometimes blind to the ways our grasping love robs our most cherished relationships of life and joy, but when we put Him first, Christ heals our blindness. Then we see our impoverished love for what it is: wanting what we want and wanting others to be who and what we want them to be. Our desire to love on our own terms becomes our cross.  If we refuse to embrace the cross of dying to our own desires, our family relationships weaken. Members turn in on themselves, forgetting their dignity and worth. But when we embrace Christ’s rightful claim on our love, Love Himself renews us. Trust Me, He beckons. Trust what I’m doing in all those you love. Come with Me and die to your own ideas about what is best for you and your loved ones.  How can we refuse Christ’s invitation? Although the weight of the cross threatens to crush us, we hear Him whisper, Let’s do this together. He weeps with us, watches through sleepless nights with us, prays with us, remains with us (see John 15:9–11).  My sister, we can embrace the cross of offering our family to Him—yes, even joyfully—because death isn’t the end! We will rise with Him! Today ask God to help you clearly see your own impoverished love, to strengthen you as you embrace your cross, and to fill you with His self-donating love.  Jesus, I love You most. I’m sorry for trying to love without You. I want to die to myself and live with You. I entrust all my loved ones to You. Amen. Lani Bogart was born in Hawaii and grew up in Ohio and Michigan. She was a small child when she first loved Jesus. Married to a woodworker Deacon, she enjoys his skilled work and delights in her children and grandchildren. Her perfect day involves singing softly while holding a sleeping baby, dancing, or loudly singing while cooking in her own kitchen.

When they saw him, they worshiped, but they doubted. // Matthew 28:17 After a long day at a retreat center with deacon candidates and wives, we gather for Eucharistic Adoration, and I’m painfully aware of my own doubts and discomfort. We sing a traditional hymn the Church provides for a Holy Hour. The lyrics were penned by Saint Thomas Aquinas in the thirteenth century. We sing in Latin, which I don’t fully understand—making it difficult to grasp the meaning.    A few more prayers, then all is silent until an annoying fly buzzes around my head. I choose to turn my thoughts back to Jesus. Does it matter to You that I’m hot and irritable and unable to focus? Why don’t I sense Your presence? I squirm in the uncomfortable chair.Silence . . .  Nothing . . . The fly returns. Ugh!!!  Just as Jesus was fully aware of the disciples’ doubts when He sent them to preach the Gospel before His Ascension, He knows my doubts when He sends my husband and me to lead a marriage retreat.   After almost an hour, it’s time for Benediction and the Divine Praises. It seems almost miraculous that reciting the words of this ancient prayer renews my love and fills me with the peace and joy I was sent to share. God has a work for you to do today, dear sister. I hope you will pray with me the Divine Praises and allow the Holy Trinity—on this Solemnity celebrating our one God as three Persons—to dispel any lingering doubts: Blessed be God.  Blessed be His Holy Name.  Blessed be Jesus Christ, true God and true Man.  Blessed be the Name of Jesus. Blessed be His Most Sacred Heart. Blessed be His Most Precious Blood. Blessed be Jesus in the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar. Blessed be the Holy Spirit, the Paraclete. Blessed be the great Mother of God, Mary most Holy. Blessed be her Holy and Immaculate Conception. Blessed be her Glorious Assumption. Blessed be the name of Mary, Virgin and Mother. Blessed be Saint Joseph, her most chaste spouse. Blessed be God in His Angels and in His Saints. Amen.

The LORD is my life's refuge; of whom should I be afraid? // Psalm 27:1b Trembling inside, I walked into my employer’s office. I’d been to Reconciliation the day before and I imagined, as the priest had advised me, that Jesus was on one side of me and Mary on the other. I asked my boss if he would listen without interruption while I read what I had written. I believed God was calling me to a new job, so I read the letter thanking him for all I’d learned from him and giving my two weeks notice.  When I finished reading, I was afraid he would yell at me in anger; instead my boss crumpled my letter and threw it in the trash, saying, “Leave my office now.” A few minutes later his assistant came to relay the message that I had four hours to clear everything out of my office. Because of God’s goodness, I can now look back with gratitude that God strengthened me to face my fears and to obey what I believed He was asking of me. I could never have imagined the emotional healing and restoration He had in store for me, nor the future reconciliation (nine years later) He had planned for me and my former employer. Dear sister, when we run to the Lord as our refuge, we can trust in confidence even when we feel afraid. God will not forsake us.  Is there someone you’re afraid of? A relationship you’re afraid of losing? I encourage you to pour out your heart to the Lord and listen to what He asks of you. Then step out in courage and confront your fears, remembering that you are God’s own beloved daughter and you are safe with Him.

Then [Jesus] said to them, "Is it lawful to do good on the sabbath rather than to do evil, to save life rather than to destroy it?" But they remained silent. // Mark 3:4 My announcement of upcoming changes planned by the new pastor to our parish retreat ministry was met by the team members with an uncomfortable silence; the kind of silence that clamors inside hearts and minds resistant to change. In today’s Gospel (see Mark 3:1-6), Jesus is angered and grieved at the hard hearts of religious leaders resistant to change even when it brings life and health. The Pharisees are not prepared for Jesus to exercise a higher authority than their own.  Yet, how do we respond to the changes Jesus allows in our own lives? Do we prioritize divinely given or man-made rules without charity for those they serve? When we close our hearts to His invitation to grow, He ought to be grieved. His ways are always life-giving, healing, and restorative.  Obedience to legitimate authority always bears good fruit. Team members open to their pastor’s revisions were rewarded with life-giving fruits in an abundance they’d not previously experienced. That’s the way it works in God’s kingdom.   In today’s Gospel, we are challenged to let go of our own way of doing things and open our hearts and minds to the healing power of Jesus.  Is there a hard place in your heart? Our Lord wants to soften it. Come to Him, just as you are, and tell Him that you’re ready to receive His love and healing. Is your mind set on an idea or perceived injustice of which you can’t seem to let go? Pray for the grace to have your thoughts shaped by the humility and love of Christ. Let’s pray:  Oh God, nothing in my life is hidden from you.  You know me better than I know myself. Remove any walls of fear or pride. I’m sorry for listening to doubt. Doubt whispers lies that I’m alone and unworthy.  I am not alone. I am Yours. Help me to surrender everything to You. Help me to trust You to fulfill my dreams and desires. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, shelter me in Your Communion of Love. Help me to remain with You now and always. Amen.

“And this is the will of the one who sent me, that I should not lose anything of what he gave me, but that I should raise it on the last day.” // John 6:39 What about my son? He hadn’t been to Mass for years. (He never got past the scandalous behavior of certain Church leaders.) He drowned in a river in Guatemala; no priest came to give him Last Rites. Yet, a few weeks before he died, he asked my forgiveness for hurts he’d caused and forgave me for hurting him. He regretted his faults, even his hypocrisy. He also lived a life of charity. From what little he had, he gave to the poor. He stood up for the weak and vulnerable. Was he numbered among the faithful? Those of us haunted by such questions find deep solace in the Church’s prayers on All Souls Day.  I’m consoled by Jesus’ teaching that it’s the Father’s will that my son is not lost and that Jesus raise him on the last day (see John 6:39). My son’s Baptism, each Holy Communion he made, and his Confirmation were real encounters with Christ. He most certainly belonged to Christ.  And yet, as much as I’d like to, I cannot glibly claim that he went straight to Heaven. While I remain on this side of eternity, I cannot know. I receive this mystery as an invitation to trust God more fully.  Will you trust with me? Let’s pray for all our beloved who’ve preceded us in death. Together let’s entrust them to God’s mercy and pray for their final purification in Purgatory and entrance into Heaven. And in a distinctly Catholic practice, let’s also ask for their prayers, that on the last day we may rejoice together in the final Resurrection.