Sometimes, especially as parents in times of trial, we can feel very much alone. We can feel as if the world — or at least our children’s small worlds — depends entirely upon us. We feel as if we are the vine and they are the branches and their very lifeblood runs through us and only through us. Of course, this isn’t true at all.
Five years ago, when Pope Francis released the encyclical “Laudato Si’, on Care for Our Common Home,” people inside and outside the church rushed to read the first environmentally focused letter from a Roman Pontiff. While the letter did give rousing support to the efforts to care for God’s creation, our common home, it also contained something beyond the now-familiar rhetoric of environmental concern.
With the latest Gallup poll, the apostolic challenge is stark: every Catholic ought to be meeting the stunning SBNR/A (“Spiritual But Not Religious/Affiliated”) explosion with a plan. In case you missed it, the “unaffiliated” have soared to 21 percent of Americans and formal membership in a specific house of worship has cratered to a new low of 47 percent.
Two things recently coincided to get me thinking about family culture. At first glance, they are fairly disparate. Look a little closer, and they dovetail perfectly. My adult son Patrick was asked to consider his family mission statement in a business school assignment. As part of the assignment, he asked me, his dad and his siblings what we thought our family mission is. That sparked some treasured conversation with Patrick. The other thing was pondering the Good Shepherd over three days’ liturgies during the fourth week of Easter. I promise: This all fits together.
Q. Where did the Ascension take place? Matthew and Mark tell us that the apostles are to go back to Galilee, but Luke says that they should stay in Jerusalem until Jesus has risen. (Louisville, Ky.)
There is a particularly unexpected twist in the saga of many families when the child suddenly starts acting the parent and the parent resembles the child.
“Stand up,” my husband nudged me. I gritted my teeth and stood in my pew. It was Mother’s Day, the annual “blessing of all the mothers” at the end of Mass, and it made me nauseous.
Over this past year, the role of communications in the Catholic Church has been unprecedentedly evident. With growing concerns about COVID-19 and shrinking access to public Masses, many Catholics found comfort in viewing livestreamed Masses, listening to our Bishop’s podcasts, reading about charitable works in diocesan publications, watching their pastors’ spiritual reflections online, and sharing upbeat messages through social media.
The breath of God
Given today’s COVID-19 context, it might seem odd that Jesus breathes on his disciples in our Gospel for Pentecost Sunday. In John 20:19-23, Jesus appears to his disciples gathered in the upper room, proving that he is risen from the dead and giving them peace. He also gives them a commission, “as my Father has sent me, so I send you.” But then comes the gift that enables the mission: He breaths on them and gives them a share in the Holy Spirit, through which they have the power to forgive sins.