 The past few months have been especially challenging for our local faith community and for me personally. We are mourning the loss of several cherished members, gone today from this earth, and their absence is deeply felt by all of us. Beyond that, my last surviving grandmother and two other close friends are battling severe illnesses, constantly in and out of hospitals. Another dear friend, a priest, sits battling ALS and descending little by little into his last days. All this sits heavily in my heart. Can I ask all of you to unite yourselves with us in prayer for them and all who are battling illness at this time? It is easier when we face the struggles together, united in faith and hope, praying for God’s will to be done and for His mercy and compassion to be made present. Despite all our help, prayers, and hopes, I acknowledge that the grief we feel is heavy and difficult to bear. Grief is defined as “a deep sense of sorrow caused by loss.” Grief can result from the loss of a person or from changes in our state or situation. It can be a profound and aching experience, often overwhelming and disorienting. This intense sadness and resulting imbalance stems from our separation from what we have lost and can make life very challenging if not properly acknowledged and addressed. The Church teaches us that grief is a natural response to the separation from those we love or from significant changes in our lives. I imagine our Blessed Mother Mary at the foot of the Cross, witnessing the sacrifice of our Lord and mourning Jesus' passing. Life changed profoundly for her and the faithful that day. The grief must have been overwhelming because, at that moment, it was not yet understood what Jesus had accomplished with His death. Reflecting on it, would we have hope for Heaven today if Christ had not died on the Cross?
Knowing this, it is much easier to understand and accept Christ’s passing on the Cross. He died so we could live, and by His resurrection, the mourning turns to joy. We are "baptized into His death," meant to reach the newness of life. This truth should inspire our drive and hope, yet we remain here in this "Valley of Tears," where the pain of loss can be isolating. We are not in the joy of Heaven yet. So, what can we do? Let us remain faithful. Loss can guide us closer to God, for He is the source of all comfort. As we lose the physical connection with someone, we must remember our unity remains in the mystical body of Christ. We are not alone. In the Eucharist, we remain One, united in Christ, and praying for one another. We trust in our Faith, as our hope is grounded in the trustworthy words of Christ.
Seeing death reminds us that our faith is in God and our hope is in the reality of resurrection and eternal life. This is the essence of our hope, that if we remain faithful, we will be with Christ and all the saints in Heaven, alongside our loved ones who have gone before us.
Saint Paul captures it perfectly. Christ is the beacon of our hope, the light through the darkness of mourning. For all of us who remain here, the Church, as the family of God, encourages us to seek solace through prayer, the sacraments, and the community of believers. Let us support each other during these difficult times, praying for one another and building each other up.
Our love for those who have passed and now behold God's face is returned to us through their intercessory prayers. This is part of the Eucharistic life, that together we are nourished and comforted. Those who have “finished the race” are now cheering for us and supporting us.
Indeed, we mourn, and that is perfectly fine and right. Let us take the time to mourn well and properly, let us be sad and cry copiously if we need to, but let us never lose the hope that comes from our belief. Remember, God acknowledges our temporal pain while affirming the hope of eternal life. We will be comforted.
Our mourning is met with Divine Compassion and Mercy. Let us find comfort in Him who loves us, in our faithful community, and in our loved ones. May we trust that those who have passed rest in the arms of our loving and merciful God. May those who have gone on to the light of our Lord help us along the way.
Let us pray: "Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May their souls and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen. Like the seed buried in the ground, you have produced the harvest of eternal life for us; make us always dead to sin and alive to God. Amen." (Prayers for our Faithfully Departed)
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 It was March 14, 1970, when I was baptized into the Catholic faith of my parents, grandparents, and our predecessors before them. At the time, my young parents were not where they are today in their own journeys of faith, but they knew enough to desire that I be baptized, cleansed from original sin, and marked as a child of God. I have always been amazed by the graces from this gift of faith on their part, for they knew then, as I know now, that I was formed for this, born for this, blessed to serve in this life.
As some would argue, it is true that I did not choose my faith at that time, but it was given to me as a gift of love from my parents. My baptism was their way to share with me their connection to Him who loved them, and who had given me to them to continue fulfilling a covenant of love. My baptism was indeed done because of love, and I am grateful, for I was given the opportunity to belong to His family and to know Him who formed me with His very hand. And as my parents grew in their faith, I was shown the way to Christ. They did this gently, lovingly, and patiently, the same way that a gardener cares for his rose bushes. Sometimes a firm hand was needed, so a firm hand was applied. Sometimes dreams and ambitions were encouraged, other times trimmed. I was formed slowly, lovingly, and patiently. I was taught to look at the world and recognize God’s hand in all. Gently, I was encouraged to keep dear Mother Mary close to my thoughts and heart. Likewise, I was made aware of the angels that keep watch over us, and of the many saints that have lived here, died, and now live forever looking at the light of God’s face while interceding for us. All these traditions from our Faith help unite us to the Greater, the Holier, and the Sacred. We need to be lovingly formed to become aware of our gifts, and that awareness needs to be present so that we may learn to care for and use our gifts correctly. We are formed to live our gifts of Love, Hope, and Faith, and all so that we can “live what we believe,” and that our knowledge of God be embedded into our hearts and minds.
We are formed into God’s people, but this is something we need to nurture. We are the rose bushes, and we need Christ to care for us, to trim us. To do this we approach the Seat of Mercy. We go to the Eucharist, and at that moment of intimate union with our Eucharistic Lord, we allow ourselves to be nurtured and trimmed, formed yet again. We are called to be malleable in the hands of the Divine Master, but for some of us, to be malleable and vulnerable as is required is difficult and scary. It requires courage. We can pray for that courage. I am blessed to have been encouraged since youth to be open and trusting with God, and I could trust because I knew I had the support I needed. My parents raised me to know trust, but let us understand that not all of us had had this same experience. We have not all been formed beyond the womb. Some of us have been left to our own devices, to self-form, and to take wisdom from wherever we are able to glean it. But wisdom is not easy to find.
As Mr. Carroll says, wisdom can be had, but only if found. God is always willing to impart His wisdom. Our Faith’s history, traditions, scripture, and rituals are there to form us, to impart that wisdom required to live saintly lives. It is true that we live in the world, but we are not “of the world”. The wisdom we are searching for comes from being formed in Christ, and for this, we have to seek Him, openly, honestly, and sincerely.
This bears repeating. “Our Faith’s history, traditions, scripture, and rituals are there to form us, to impart that wisdom required to live saintly lives.” When we are finally “formed,” our lives become aligned to God’s will for us. May that be for us a happy and fulfilling life, and that our lives become a living prayer of thanksgiving. Oh, joyful Eucharistic lives!
May our lives become lives of witness. May we testify to what we have heard and seen. May we, formed in His love, “Preach the Gospel at all times, and if necessary, use words.” (Saint Francis of Assisi). Let us pray: Lord, please continue forming us every day. May we steadily grow in Charity, Hope, and Faith. May we become the people you have created us to be. Amen.
This is the beginning of the Parable of the Prodigal Son. The word “prodigal” means to be recklessly wasteful with our resources, spending our riches, talents, and gifts for no benefit. We do not want to be prodigal. I sometimes think of the many gifts that we are given and how we squander that beautiful inheritance and end up depleted. For many of us, it is not until we realize that we are barren from our wastefulness that we remember that it is not meant to be this way. Spiritually, wasting our gifts on our own desires and sins separate us from our Heavenly Father. This is sometimes done consciously and other times unconsciously. In the search for our own desires, we can forsake our dignity as sons and daughters of the Most-High, breaking our relationship with the Father. Yet, the same as the father in the story, God always acknowledges our dignity. He is always waiting for us to return, but to return we must consciously take that first step on the journey back to who God calls us to be.
We read of the repentance of the son coming from the realization of that which was lost, spent, and wasted. Do we realize this as well? Can we see all that we have been gifted, and all that we have wasted? Like the Prodigal Son in the parable, shouldn’t we also turn back? We repent from our selfishness, and gain humility in truth from our faults… We go back home to our Father, yet so many of us fear that we can’t be forgiven; that we can’t go back; that we can’t live a righteous life again… We must fight that fear from the lies the enemy sends our way. The enemy will tell us that we cannot go back to a life of Grace, and that we cannot be redeemed nor loved again. Who does this liar thinks he is that he can try to keep us from the One Who Loves Us? Let us not believe the lies of the enemy, Our Heavenly Father awaits us, just like the father in the story of the Prodigal Son.
When the father sees the son coming, he runs to the son! How much more would our Heavenly Father do for us? God reclaims us when we repent, runs to meet us with open arms, and thus restores our dignity as His sons or daughters. In the story, the father gave the son three things:
God forgives us. He restores us and gives us a purpose to live for, but He needs to hear and see our repentance.
If we have broken trust with the Father, we would do well to atone. Like the Prodigal Son, we acknowledge our faults and ask forgiveness, and to do that we approach Him who loves us. The Sacrament of Reconciliation is where we go to do this. We approach with humility, love, and hope. Through our sincere repentance and the Sacrament of Reconciliation, we are reclaimed and restored.
In my carefree youth, whenever I did something wrong, I doubted my worth and value. This would show up behaviorally as depression and sadness, and it was very rough for me. My parents would notice my struggles and embrace me. I was lovingly reminded that I was not perfect and that I was not expected to be. I was reminded that we are meant to ask for forgiveness, learn from the experience, and do better next time. This embracing and teaching from them was their love for me in action. It was them claiming me. And is not God’s love for us greater than our parent's love? We learn from our faults and commit to do better. We repent and let ourselves be loved and claimed. Our Father loves us, but it is on us to act as the sons and daughters of God that we are. After we are again restored, we are to live our gratitude. Our very lives are our gift to the Father as an offering of love.
At every Mass, we can approach the Throne of Glory, Mercy, and Love. Let us humbly approach in our dignity as sons and daughters. Let us imagine ourselves in the river Jordan, soaking wet in our white garments while being presented to the world, our dignity acknowledged as we hear our Divine Father say to us "This is my beloved, in who I am well pleased" and let us stay there for a moment… Let us allow our loving Father to embrace us and let Him bask in the love He has for you, for me, for us... He is claiming us as His sons or daughters. He is doing this for all to see... such is His love for you and me. Our Father is here for US. How will we respond? Let us pray: Heavenly Father, we are your children, your beloved. May we be ever reminded of our dignity as Your very own at every moment of our lives, that we may glorify You in all that we do and wherever we go. Amen.
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AuthorsWe are Ivonne J. Hernandez, Rick Hernandez and Laura Worhacz, Lay Associates of the Congregation of the Blessed Sacrament, and brothers and sisters in Christ. 
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