​Dearest Eucharistic Family,
 
Heaven is revealed to us who believe; in our prayer, we begin to see all things in the light of the Eucharist. God's Providence is made known to our hearts, even through the trials of life. We require restoration. Souls in need of rehabilitation, our own first on the list. 
 
How can we restore all things in Christ? 
 
Building trust may be a way to begin. Imagine the moment Judas dipped his hand in the dish with Jesus. 

Imagine if Judas had dipped his hand into the dish with Jesus and, at that moment, had taken an inward glance at his soul. On the paten our Lord rests; the hands of the priest, they take him to us. We partake in the Paschal mystery. If fear were cast out of Judas and replaced by trust in the mystery, perhaps as Judas dipped his hand with Jesus, He would have been restored in his humanity and raised to the divinity of Christ. Judas would have been the apostle Jesus longed for him to be.  

How often do we betray with an inward thought or glance that may hurt God and another person? The Eucharist is the purification of our interior being. It is the only way to genuinely extend exterior glances, smiles, and the joy of the Gospel to others in sincerity of heart. Our purity of intention is our hope from suffering to glory, the Cross to the Resurrection. In this life, we can only find true peace in the Blessed Sacrament of God's love. For restoration to become a lasting reality, we must constantly converse with our Lord. God knows the longing of our hearts. He wants us to follow His will and to see as He sees. In this, there is healing, restoration, and peace beyond this world.  

If we follow our hearts and see the miracles of life in God's Providence, we can help restore our humanity to God's merciful love. 
 
Jesus asks us to pay attention to His words. Jesus knew He would be handed over to people who would kill Him. Are we dipping into things we should not partake in because of anxiety and fear? Perhaps it is our first impulse to take what may harm us. If we can think past vanities into the humility of Christ, we may take a moment to dip into the Chalice of Salvation. Being restored through the Eucharistic mystery invites us to be in communion with others. We do not take and eat and run. We take and eat and fly with our brethren searching for souls to heal. As children of Mary, we need to seek out our brothers and sisters to find them as they run and hide. We are to meet them where they are and console them in their suffering so they may rise to a new hope. Restoration of lives, the forgiveness of sins, and living in the grace of the present moment will make known to others the resurrection of eternal life, the firmament of Heaven.

Are we paying attention to the living Word of God? 
 
Life comes from the Cross. May our embrace of it help us find our hearts' true desire to carry out God's Will. 

​What is the Eucharist? Let us never forget why our Lord is present on the altar. What did our Lord Jesus Christ say? This is my Body, take and eat; this is my Blood, take and drink. Amen
 

The respectfully hushed sound of shuffling feet was only briefly interrupted by the signal for the change of guard. Sitting with my laptop on my bed, I watched as thousands waited in line for their turn to say goodbye to the queen. Some held back tears, others allowed them to flow; some were quite stoic in their manner, yet all were there in one accord.

Each with their own story, they come, united in their grief as a nation, to mourn their queen's death. Yet, Queen Elizabeth II's death reverberates worldwide, surprising many with unexpected pangs of grief. Death has a way of tugging at hidden places, at deep memories, and perhaps even finding some unresolved grief.

I remember very clearly the day we buried my paternal grandmother. Watching my uncles dressed in black suits as they stood by their mother's graveside is a memory that remains forever etched in my heart. There was something comforting about seeing the family's elders conduct themselves through the rituals and ceremonies surrounding my grandmother’s death. I did not realize it at the time, but as I held my young sons close to me, my heart and mind were learning something about how to say goodbye. Family coming together to remember, mingling laughter and hugs with prayers and tears. The sorrow of the one leaving us tempered by the experience of shared grief. We were all together, old and young, a family in mourning, blessed by rituals shared with love.

​As I have gotten older, I have attended fewer funerals than I would have expected. Even within Catholic families, many choose not to have a funeral Mass or even a service. Some, rather than a funeral, tell their loved ones they want a "celebration of life." They don't want people to wear black; they don't want people to be sad. Whatever the reasons behind these choices, I have always had the sense that we are missing something important when we disconnect our lives from the reality of death. For those of us who are Catholic, the richness of the funeral rites speaks truth amid confusion, turning darkness into light. 

Our Holy Mother Church wants to accompany us in our times of sorrow and comfort us in our grief. As we allow our families and communities to be present for one another in their time of need, the burden is shared, and the heart is healed. These things can’t be hurried, and they can’t be ignored. It is a heavy burden to walk through life carrying grief unmourned.

​Witnessing the ceremony around Queen Elizabeth II's passing, we have the opportunity to learn about making space and taking time to say goodbye. Let us allow ourselves to experience this moment in our shared humanity. And if some memories of unresolved grief come up, perhaps we can take this opportunity to bring them to the light of Christ; perhaps we need the time to properly say goodbye.

By: Rick Hernandez

​Saint Ignatius of Loyola encourages us to make use of those things that can help bring us closer to God and leave aside those things that do not.
 
Some years ago, I was invited to a retreat at a well-known shrine. This shrine, in particular, has a beautiful but tiny chapel built on top of a tall hill. It was built in such a way that even over a long distance, it was easy to both see and discern that the chapel was to be our final destination.

If we were to follow the vehicular road, it would have been effortless to go up from the entrance directly to the chapel, but if you were to take the walking trails, you would have to wander quite a bit before you get to the final destination.

Along the meandering walkway were beautiful gardens, towering statues, memorial plaques with poems and prayers, and crosses, both simple and ornate... All these places were there to help break the monotony of the walk and help us focus on why we were walking there.

Every stop invited us to slow down and contemplate our faith. Eventually, and with some effort, we would move away from the beautiful cove and resume our trek upwards. Finally, after much effort, we would arrive atop the hill and lay eyes on the beautiful chapel with its scarce seats.

The recompense for the arduous journey was to meet our Lord, Christ Eucharistic, exposed in the Blessed Sacrament atop the simple wooden altar.

We then had the opportunity to practice our love and our humility. We would kneel before our Lord, present our effort as an offering, and adore our Lord for a few minutes, rejoicing in his Real Presence among us.
 
The view from the top of the hill invited us to contemplate the beauty of creation. We could see the green and blue of the mountains, the many beautiful mature trees, and the myriad colors of all the blooming flowers. Looking to the horizon, we would see the vast sea in its full blueness, almost merging with the crystalline blue of the sky. The sky was so close you felt as if you could touch the clouds. It was very affirming to be there.

What I appreciated the most was the silence, only broken by the murmurs of the wind... Peace...

It all invited us to stop and try to understand the meaning of our driven journey. God is with us in everything, but it is our concerted effort toward Him, that search that allows us to find Him. Our effort this one time resulted in finding Christ Himself present for us in the Blessed Sacrament.

No one that sincerely looks for Christ is left unaided; it is just that the journey may not be for all of us a direct one...
 
Sometimes the path up the mountain contains many wrong turns and even some dead ends. Yet, these are all, at the end of the day, experiences.

These are experiences that God allows us to have. Like the path up the hill at the shrine, sometimes you find what feels like a wondrous place, a place where you may even want to stay, a fantastic experience, but no matter how great that place is, we cannot indeed stay there.

Any place we are at where we have not been called to by Christ may be incredibly inspiring but ultimately can only become a distraction as it is neither the final goal nor the final destination.

​We must stop and appreciate the discovery, but then we must continue our journey. We store these precious things in our hearts and move on yet again to the path so we may journey closer to Christ himself atop his holy mountain.

​Our lives are our journey. Our destination is Christ himself. We must look at the world and appreciate its beauty, but do it with the detachment Saint Ignatius mentions. Make use of it, grow, and continue the journey. May we be rewarded with finding exactly where Christ wants us to be.
 
Let us pray: Lord, we are your called ones. Help us to seek You and help us to find You even among all the distractions of the world. Help us to see your mighty hand in all things and receive your direction so that we may grow in focus towards the goal of sharing our very lives with You. That we may grow saintly and meet You atop your holy mountain. Amen.