A Prayer that Stands the Test of Time...

For me, one of the greatest gifts of the Catholic Church, besides its lineage to Christ and the Apostles, the Sacraments, the Communion of Saints and its God-given authority, is its spirituality. 

Nice gift!

For nearly two thousand years, the Apostles, Church Fathers, Doctors and a plethora of saints (not to mention sinners) have reflected, prayed, meditated and written about the mysteries of God and shared that wisdom with the world.  (I love that word; plethora.  It always reminds me of El Guapo's question to Rodrigo in Three Amigos, "Do u no wat a plethora ees?")

It is mind boggling to think of the millions of texts, books, documents, reflections and prayers that have been preserved, since the 1st Century, including some that were considered inspired before the cannon of the Bible was assembled in the late 4th century, that have captured the thoughts and insights of popes, bishops, priests, religious and laity alike, many of which are kept today at the Vatican library and can be accessed through the internet!

One of those prayers, the Anima Christi, or Soul of Christ, which is believed to have been penned in the 14th century by Pope John XXII, is one of my favorite.

The prayer gained widespread recognition a couple of centuries later, when St. Ignatius of Loyola, who was a Spanish knight and nobleman before renouncing his wealth and position to become a priest and follow in the footsteps of St. Francis of Assisi, and eventually founding the Society of Jesus, better known as the Jesuits, of which, ironically, Pope Francis (who took the name of St. Francis) is the first in the order to be selected pope, used it as part of his "Spiritual Exercises."

The exercises have been used as part of St. Ignatius' silent retreat by the Jesuits, other religious and laity (including me several years ago) ever since.

However, it wasn't until recently that I was reintroduced to the prayer when I noticed it in the back of our church missal.  I have been using it, as St. Ignatius intended, as a prayer I recite before getting up to receive the Lord in Holy Communion.  It goes:

Soul of Christ, sanctify me;
Body of Christ, save me;
Blood of Christ, inebriate me;
Water from Christ's side, wash me;
Passion of Christ, strengthen me;
O good Jesus, hear me;
Within Your wounds conceal me;
Separated from you, never let me be;
From the evil one, protect me;
In the hour of my death, call me;
And close to you, bid me;
That with your saints, I may be, praising your forever and ever.
Amen.

Lip balm?

Needless to say, although this might be a stretch (and anytime you mix Hollywood with prayer, it might be!), since I already mentioned it, when I ride into my sunset one day, as Lucky, Dusty and Ned did after defeating El Guapo and bringing peace to Santo Poco, I can only hope that the Anima Christi is on my lips, as it has probably been on the lips of many saints and faithful riding into the eternal sunset and sunrise of life, over the past seven hundred years...

The Limits of Tolerance; a Commentary by Fr. Barron...

Speak, see and hear no evil...

One of the biggest problems facing society today is the confusing of love with tolerance.

In fact, even among Christians, in our earnest desire to avoid being seen or labeled as intolerant, bigoted or closed-minded, we have been willing to accept things that may go against our better moral judgments, just because it is, at least outwardly speaking, accepted by society as the more "loving" response to a particular issue or behavior.  In turn, these behaviors become cultural norms.

However, love is more than just acceptance, tolerance and inclusion.  It is a sincere desire, as St. Thomas Aquinas described, "to will the good of another as other," even if it involves or, as Fr. Robert Barron points out in his latest commentary, it must involve, an intolerance towards adverse behavior and thought.

Abraham Lincoln once said, "Freedom is not the right to do what we want but the right to do what we should."  And, he well could have been speaking of today's culture.

The dangers of this contrast and misguided acceptance between tolerance and love for Christians, Fr. Barron states, was made clear in a recent sermon by the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church of America, Katherine Jefferts Schori, who, while praising the beauty of diversity, indicated that St. Paul himself was subject to the intolerance of his time when he cast out the spirit that gave a slave girl fortune-telling abilities in the Acts of the Apostles and thus "depriving her of her gift of spiritual awareness."  (Which by the way, is a perfect argument as to why the Church teaches that Sacred Scripture must be read through the lens of Apostolic Tradition and not personal interpretation!)

In any event, Barron says that once tolerance replaces love, as the motivating virtue driving society, truth becomes irrelevant and even the devil can be accepted as beautiful and holy...

Celebrating 50 Years of Marriage and Loving Life...

St. Thomas Aquinas once wrote, “Friendship is the source of the greatest pleasures, and without friends even the most agreeable pursuits become tedious.” And also, “There is nothing on this earth more to be prized than true friendship.”

Now, as a Dominican monk, I'm not sure this is exactly what St. Thomas meant, but, at the risk of disappointing many of my Facebook friends, who feel closer to me than Wade and LeBron during a Heat playoff win, to me, there is no greater friendship than that of a husband and wife; not only on an intimate physical level, where they become conduits of God’s love by serving as co-creators of life as parents, but also on a spiritual level, where their two souls are sealed by God in the Sacrament of Marriage.

In fact, as the most important human relationship I can have on earth, my wife is, and has to be, my best friend, confidant and partner in life (not to mention my lover and, in my case, psychologist, accountant and memory for all those things I can’t ever remember!).

In any case, the best example of that marital bond and friendship for me has always been my parents, who, last weekend, celebrated their 50th Wedding Anniversary.

That's a long time, I know.  And, I was calculating that for my wife and I to celebrate our 50th, we would have to make it into our 80's!

As great as that accomplishment is, in their typical unassuming style, and since my brother is tied-up in a theatrical play in Oregon until October, they celebrated with little fanfare.  After a special blessing and renewing their vows at their parish, my wife, the kids and I took them to dinner at night.  That was about it but for them, it was more than enough.

If I were to describe my parents, I would say they love God above all else, which, in turn, has given them a zest for life and are, what I would describe as, the epitome of loving and joyful marriage.

I’m sure they would say it hasn't always been easy. But, then again, what relationship that lasts over half a century, as my grandparents on my mother’s side also lasted, can say it has?

I don’t think it’s meant to be. Doesn't the vow we take say, “In good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, ’til death do us part?” Anyone whose been married will attest that, like life itself, marriage is a journey of ups and downs, twists and turns and joys and sorrows.

As I tell my wife, I think I’m her purgatory! And, that’s the idea. Marriage is a vocation meant to help the partners and their children get to heaven. I guess you can say that, to my wife, I am like that fire that tests her iron, even when she wants to hit me with it!

Unfortunately, many couples today, actually half, including myself in a previous marriage, where I wasn't exactly what you would call the poster child for living the Church's teachings on the subject, call it quits when the going gets tough. Although there are the exceptions that really try to make it work, for the most part, we’re too used to what's convenient, and, since society makes it so accessible and socially acceptable, far too many couples are not willing to make the sacrifices to endure the trying times.

My parents, on the other hand, are an amazing example of faith, love, commitment and respect for one another, love of family and endurance.

I can’t begin to imagine the disruption, stress and toll that leaving everything and everybody you know to relocate to a new country and culture, without knowing the language, having a source for income and very little family, would take on a marriage, as my parents had to do when they left Cuba to give our family a chance to live in freedom.

Yet, through those difficult and lean early years, where my father had to work two jobs to send me to Catholic school and my mom, who also worked full-time, through college to become a teacher, after having been a principal of a school in Cuba, and the typical first generation immigrant struggles, I believe they grew closer together and helped shape them into the healthy and happy relationship they have today.

It's like the Darius Rucker song which says, "For every stoplight I didn't make, every chance I did or I didn't take, all the nights I went too far, all the girls that broke my heart, all the doors that I had closed, all the things I knew but I didn't know; Thank God for all I missed; cause it led me here to this."

At times, they struggled financially. From time to time, they had trouble communicating. They had different personalities; she an extrovert, he more introverted. They had different ways of handling things; he is more controlled and calculated (not to mention is a clean freak, who would occasionally throw away her homework), and she more reactive, emotional and, at one time in her life, when she was the disciplinarian of our household, a bit temperamental. But, they always complimented each other and had a clear priority in life; God and family.

As Jerry Maguire famously coined in his speech to Dorothy Boyd at the end of the movie, “You complete me.”

And, that is the purpose of marriage; complementing and completing one another, according to God's plan, who's first command was to be fruitful and multiply.

Hence, family was always most important to my parents, which if you think about it, is the truest and most profound expression of marital love, where we are completed in the image and likeness of God, and two bodies become one and then become three like a reflection of the Holy Trinity; the perfection of love and of family.

At any rate, coming from a family, where his parents were divorced at a time when divorce was considered taboo, my dad always made sure his wife and children were first in his life.

In fact, when I was about three or four years old (before my brother entered the picture), my dad was forced to spend several weeks a month working in the sugarcane plantations, as part of the Cuban Revolution’s communal labor mandate.

While he was away, I slept with my mother in their bed but when my dad would get home, I am told I would say to him, “Dad what are you doing here? This is mommy and my bed!”

He would always wait for me to fall asleep before taking me to my bed. (My brother came shortly afterwards, so, I guess it all worked out!)

I guess as they say, “the fruit doesn't fall far from the tree,” because now it's my five-year-old son, who thinks his bed is ours and every night for the past several months, sometime in the early morning hours, he  climbs over my wife and into bed between us.

My parents are now in their 70’s and both retired, but as they tell me, between their volunteer work at their parish and picking up and taking care of my kids after school, they are working harder than when they worked full-time jobs, and even spending 24-hours-a-day 7-days a week together, they look happier than they have ever been.

It’s funny because a co-worker recently told me that if she knew how hard it was to be married, she probably would have waited a little longer before tying the knot with her husband.

As I thought about her comment, I realized that I wish the opposite. Granted, I met and married my wife in my 30’s, but I wish I would have met her a lot sooner so that, as St. Thomas Aquinas wrote about friendship being the source of one’s greatest pleasures, we could have experienced them a little longer and one day we could also celebrate our “Golden Anniversary” (without needing a walking cane, heavy medication or cataract surgery to look into each other's eyes!).  But, then again, this brings me back to the Darius Rucker song; what was meant to be was meant to be.

At the end of the day, I think the obvious "secret" to my parents success is love; love of God, love of family and love for one another.

For me, the best description of love was written by St. Paul, in the 1st Letter to the Corinthians, in which he states, "Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, [love] is not pompous, it is not inflated, it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury, it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things."

If more people took these words to heart in their marriages, there would be more couples like my parents and, without a doubt, in my mind at least, the world would be a happier and more loving place for it.  May God always bless them with health, happiness, love and an everlasting friendship...

My Calgon Moment at the Funeral Mass...

They may be smart but owners aren't always!..

One of the things that most annoys me, aside from my wife’s condescending tone when she asks me to do something and I forget, is when, at the most inopportune and solemn point of a Mass, just as I am immersed in silence, peace and reverence; praying and focusing on our Almighty God, a cell phone goes off.  It totally kills the moment!

In fact, that’s why I usually leave my cell phone in my car when I go into Mass (just in case).

Unfortunately, I broke my own unwritten rule Wednesday, and I got a taste of my own contempt in the process.

I was at a funeral Mass in Coconut Grove. The church packed to the extent that the doors had to stay open to accommodate the huge crowd that did not fit into the sanctuary.

As in any funeral Mass, it was a very somber and sobering affair.  Anytime death afflicts a family it is difficult but when it involves the unexpected death of a 29-year-old man, it may be even harder.  He was the son of a very well known and well liked public figure, who happens to be my wife's boss.

As the liturgy concluded, and before the priest’s final blessing, the father got up to say a few words of gratitude for the outpouring of support and to remember his son’s memory. All of a sudden, as he begins to speak, I hear a phone start to ring.

Are you kidding?  I thought.  It rang once. It rang twice. I rang three times. By now, I think most people standing in my area in the back of the church were starting to get uncomfortable.  I'm not sure if the father heard the phone ringing but he continued speaking without disruption.

It rang four times. What’s going on here?  Why doesn’t that person turn it off?  I started glancing back over my shoulder.  It rang a fifth time.  Seriously people, what’s happening? Turn off that darn phone!  We’re in God's presence for Christ sake!

I was starting to get upset.  It rang a sixth time. This is getting ridiculous.  The man is pouring his heart out and he's being interrupted by someone's ringing phone! 

Then I noticed another man looking at me. What? You've got to be kidding! I specifically remember putting my phone on vibrate before going into the church. But, at that point, just to be safe, I stick my hand in my back pocket and, suddenly feel the vibration.  Oh!

It was my alarm!  I felt like I was in one of those Calgon commercials, where the person in the middle of an embarrassing situation looks at the camera and says, "Calgon, take me away!"  Only there was no camera and I had so many people around me that I couldn't go anywhere!

It just so happens that I set an alarm for noon everyday to remind me to take a moment to pray the Angelus (or the Regina Caeli during the Easter season). But, since the ring tone is different from my regular cell phone ring, I didn't recognize it!  As soon as I realized what it was, I quickly pushed the off button at the top of the phone.  And, there was peace again.  The tension around us subsided; at least temporarily!

About 10 minutes later, as now the younger brother of the deceased started speaking, I hear the ring start again. Fortunately, this time, I had put the phone in my front pant pocket and kept my hand near it just in case, and was able to shut it off on the first ring. Whew! I guess I had only hit the snooze button first time but, now I also realized that I didn't know how to turn off the alarm!

I started sweating.  I began trying some preemptive button pushing to avoid the annoying alarm from going off again.  Luckily, while I stood there avoiding eye contact with anyone around me, the Mass ended and the casket was wheeled off for a final blessing before exiting the parish.

What a relief!  Listen, I’m still new to this iPhone thing.  I had no idea that when you put the phone on vibrate, the alarm will still ring.  Moreover, as I found out after talking to some of my co-workers after the fact, I didn't even know you could shut off the phone completely!  I thought it had a life of its own and was always on!

I guess you can say that, like the old United Negro College Fund commercial used to say about the mind, technology is a terrible thing to waste!

In any case, I was foiled by my own piety.  Fortunately, I was standing in the back of the church, and blended into the standing room crowd. Hopefully, nobody in the front, not even my wife who was several rows of people standing in front of me, noticed who the culprit was; at least until now...

May Feelings, Elvis and the Battle of Lepanto...

“Give me an army saying the Rosary and I will conquer the world.” -- Blessed Pope Pius IX.



I love that video.  It was first posted on YouTube in 2009 but every time I watch it, I get inspired.

It was the brainchild of a 23-year-old Spanish filmmaker, Santiago Requejo, who says he was just sitting around with some friends listening to Elvis Presley one day, when a song came on called, "The Miracle of the Rosary."

They were shocked, not only because there was a song dedicated to the Rosary and the Blessed Mother, but because Elvis was a Protestant!  Yet, there he was singing about the Rosary.  It made them think.  If Elvis who was Protestant was honoring the Virgin Mary, then they had to do something too.

The fact that it was four days before May, the month the Church honors the Blessed Mother and asks Catholics to pray the Rosary, prompted them to produce an earlier video using 50 friends who said why they liked to pray the Rosary.  This music video came a year later and they have produced a couple of others.  

The Rosary is a powerful prayer that, for me, led me to a thirst for the Bible.  Since the mysteries are based on Bible passages, I started wanting to learn more about the circumstances in the passages that I was praying about.  Before long, I got hooked, not only on praying the Rosary, but on reading the Bible.

At any rate, while Bl. Pope Pius' quote at the beginning of this blog may sound a little strange, it may not be far from the truth.

Even though, Europe today is being conquered by what some have referred as the "Silent Jihad," where Muslim families are having eight children for every one that a European family has, and studies indicate that, unless this changes, Muslims will be a majority in Europe during the next 50 years, the continent would have already been under Muslim control since, as early as, the 16th Century, if not for the Rosary.

Battle of Lepanto...

It was at the Battle of Lepanto, where a comprised fleet, organized by Pope Pius V (a popular papal name,
if you haven't noticed), which included ships from the Holy See, Venice, Genoa and Spain, held off the main fleet of the Ottoman Empire, which was steam rolling through the region conquering everything in its path and had not lost a major naval battle since the 15th century.

As the powerful forces approached the small port town of Lepanto, which was strategically situated for the Ottoman Empire's push into Europe, and threatened Christianity in the entire area, the Pope implored Catholics to pray the Rosary and ask for the Virgin Mary's intersession.

In five hours, the superior Ottoman Empire was defeated and forced to retreat.  The Pope was so elated that the date was declared as the feast day of Our Lady of Victory, which later became the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary (read more here)....

Behold Your Mother...

"All generations will call me blessed"

Yes, I realize Mother’s Day was Sunday but since May is the month of the Blessed Mother, i.e. the mother of all mothers, I’m still within the Mother’s Day time frame for this blog.

Dr. Scott Hahn, who happens to be one of my favorite authors, once wrote that at the foot of the cross, Jesus’ home became our home. His Father became our father and His mother became our mother.

Sadly, many non-Catholics have as much aversion to Mary's motherhood as humility has to a Rick Sanchez radio show (I’m sorry, did I just write that out loud?).

In fact, I recall someone near and dear to me, who left the Catholic Church, once telling me, "She's not my mother!" when the topic of Mary came up in a discussion about our faith.

I'll be honest, as a freshly-minted revert at the time, I didn't have much to offer on the subject but, thankfully, the exchange left a lasting impression and prompted me to dig deeper into what the Church believes.  It wasn't long before I discovered that, according to the Bible, which all Christians hold as the infallible Word of God, Mary is the mother of all who believe in her son (and not just the Catholic ones!).

"Then the dragon was angry at the woman, and went off to make war on the rest of her children, those who keep the commandments of God and hold the testimony of Jesus."  (Rev 12:17) 
    
As I'm sure most of us would attest, a mother's love is immeasurable.  I love my mom and, as a parent, I know she loves me more than I can ever love her.  In fact, in all of humanity, there is probably no greater love than the love of a mother for her children, although, as a father, I might argue that a dad's love is close behind.

Still, after watching, learning and experiencing motherhood from a different perspective as a husband, I have to admit that, with rare exceptions, there is no closer bond than that of a mother and her child.

Of course, I'm not making any novel observation.  As most of us know, moms form a unique connection with their children from the time they are expecting.  Not only do they carry the baby for forty weeks (give or take, according to the pregnancy), but, during that time, their blood intermingles and nourishment flows from the mother to the baby; creating a total and absolute dependency, that no father could ever match (not even Jim Anderson or Mike Brady!).

Then, after months of sleepless nights, back aches, indigestion, gas and swelling up like the Puffer Fish in Finding Nemo, they finally give birth, which in my wife's case, couldn't come fast enough and looked excruciatingly painful, to the point where, seeing my usually tough-as-nails marathon running wife whimper during the birth of our second daughter, I inadvertently told her to "suck it up," which I have yet to live down.

And, for those moms that opt to try to lessen the blow, or because of some complication, have to go with the other option, which requires surgery, the throes of childbirth aren't much better.  My son, my brother and I were born through C-section, which only makes the recovery even more agonizing!  In other words, the operative word, as "Clubber" Lang said when asked to give a prediction about his fight against Rocky Balboa, in Rocky III, is "Pain!"

The bond continues to grow after the baby is born.  They feed their child from their own body (although my wife bottle fed and the one time she did try to breast feed, it was too painful for me to watch!), cuddle and comfort them when they are crying and nurture them when they are sick.  

Although fathers are also irreplaceable in the development of their kids, mothers often set the tone and rules around the house.  They teach their kids right from wrong, guide and instruct them about life and discipline them when needed (up until I was too old for her to control, my mom was the disciplinarian in our house).

So, a mother's love and devotion to her children are boundless, which reminds me of the many times my kids go to my wife to kiss their boo-boos when they get hurt because, as everyone knows, a mother's kiss has magical healing powers!

My mom is so supportive that on my first day of high school (10th grade back then), I was so distraught about going to this big school, where I didn't know anyone (I wasn't sure), and wasn't remotely familiar with, that, since she was a Miami-Dade public school teacher, at the time, and had been to my high school before, she showed me around the building and walked me to my homeroom classroom (I'm sure by now my wife is thinking, "That explains a lot!").

In any case, this brings me back to Mary.

If I, who am very flawed, selfish and self-centered (and you can ask my wife and children if you have any questions), can love my mom unconditionally, or at least as close to unconditionally as humanly possible, as most children love their mother (despite the occasional Adam Lanza in the group), how much more can the One who is Love, is perfectly self-giving and chose the woman that would carry, raise and be with Him until his dying day, love her?

Powerful little book...

Something I read in a book recently really gave me a fresh perspective on the Blessed Virgin, who I already held dear to my heart.

In his popular book, 33 Days to Morning Glory, which is based on the Marian writings of St. Louis de Montfort, St. Maximilian Kolbe, Bl. Mother Teresa of Calcutta and Bl. Pope John Paul II, Fr. Michael Gaitley points out something I had never considered before. He wrote that the first person to entrust his life to Mary was none other than God himself.

That's a very poignant taught.  Consider that she was to be the mother of His Son. Her human blood would mix with His Divine Blood. She would feed Him from her own bosom, love him, teach him, protect him and raise him (with the help of St. Joseph, let's give some credit the father here!) to be the man that he was meant to be.

And, make no mistake; Jesus was fully man. He experienced the love of his mother and for his mother, as all of us experience, only their bond is even deeper because, as great as a mother's love for her child can be, and being a parent, I would say that my children can never love me as much as I love them, she could never love Him more than He loves her. It is love taken to its infinite degree (literally speaking, since we're talking about God and His Kingdom!).

Moreover, as a devout Jew, Jesus was also faithful to the Law of Moses, i.e. the Ten Commandments, among which state, "Honor Your Father and Mother." Therefore, Jesus, who we believe is Lord of Lord and King of Kings, always honored his mother.

Hence, as Catholics, we are only imitating Christ! We can never love or give Mary more honor than she hasn't already been given by Jesus himself.

In fact, her role in Salvation History is intricately grafted to her son's role. He, in his humanity, was part of her (probably even looking like her) and she a part of Him. And accordingly, she is the only constant in His life from birth to death.

Therefore, at the foot of the cross, when every breath He took was excruciatingly painful, after having suffered hours of torture and knowing the end was near, we read in John's Gospel, "When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, 'Woman, behold your son.'  Then he said to the disciple, 'Behold your mother.'  And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home."  (John 19:26-27)

We are that beloved disciple and, as such, despite what some may think, Mary is our mother too and our  response, as Fr. Gaitley suggests in his book, should be to take her into our home and make her our own as well...

Tears of Joy at Our Daughter's First Communion...

I am the Bread of Life...

I couldn’t help myself. As soon as I saw the children walking down the aisle in their beautiful white gowns and ill-fitting suits, my eyes started watering.

This is the future of the Church, I thought; the next generation of faithful.  I wondered if there was a future priest or nun in the group and I prayed that they would be profoundly touched by Christ on that day.

By the time the first boys and girls got up after the consecration and bowed before receiving the Body and Blood of Christ for the first time, I felt tears involuntarily running down each of my cheeks.

And to think, my daughter was still a couple of pews behind. I was concerned that by the time it was her turn to receive the Eucharist; I might be slobbering like John Boehner talking about the fading “American Dream” on 60 Minutes.

And, if that wasn’t bad enough, I was afraid of looking at my wife, who was kneeling next to me, because, either we might start crying even harder, or, worse, she would start laughing at me (which isn’t uncommon!).

In any event, I couldn’t contain my tears.  And, to be honest, why would I?  This was the Blessed Sacrament that she was about to receive; the “source and summit,” as the Catechism states, of everything we believe in as Catholics; the Bread of Life, the Daily Bread that we pray for in the Lord’s Prayer and the sustenance of our soul.

To think of the humility of our God to offer Himself as bread to feed His disciples is so profound, that it could only be understood in faith through the perspective of a God, creator of heaven and earth, of all that is seen and unseen, who took on human flesh, and was willing to suffer and die, for our salvation.

Moreover (which always gets me), since God, who is Father, Son and Holy Spirit cannot be divided; while three separate persons, there is but one God, and where one is all are, and since the Church, as St. Paul writes, is the Body of Christ, then in that Holy Host, that we believe to be Jesus Christ himself, as instituted during the Last Supper, is contained the entirety of the Church; the saints in heaven, those on the way to heaven and those of us that comprise the Body here on earth; a true communion!  It’s mind boggling!

St. Therese of Little Flower, whose mother died before her First Holy Communion, later wrote of that day, “As all heaven entered my soul when I received Jesus, my mother came to me as well… we were closer than ever. It was joy alone, deep ineffable joy that filled my heart.”

In other words, it's personal!  You wanna talk about having a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, as our separated brothers in Christ always talk about?  Nothing could be more intimate than the Lord living and transforming us from within.  In fact, it's so personal that St. Paul compares the relationship between Jesus and the Church with that of a husband and a wife; where two flesh become one.

Venerable Archbishop Fulton Sheen once wrote, “All love craves unity. As the highest peak of love in the human order is the unity of husband and wife in the flesh, so the highest unity in the Divine order is the unity of the soul and Christ in communion.”

Needless to say, I am absolutely in love with the Eucharist. As a matter of fact, it’s one of the main reasons that I send my children to Catholic school; to learn to love the Eucharist and their faith.

Therefore, I'll never forget when I overheard another father at my older daughter’s First Communion four years ago say, “I don’t know what’s the big deal is. It’s just the First Communion!” How sad, I thought; how little understanding about his faith. Unfortunately, it's not uncommon, which is, without a doubt, the greatest reason so many Catholics stray away from the Church, as I once did.

Nevertheless, as I sat there kneeling and feeling a bit self-conscious, especially after holding another man's hand in prayer, whom, by the way, I hardly knew but felt a sudden kinship to since our kids were being united with us and God in the most profound way through the Blessed Sacrament, with tears running down my cheeks, my daughter finally went up to receive Him for the first time.  I mustered the courage to glance over at my wife, who looked at me with tears in her eyes as well and smiled.  We quickly turned our gaze back to our daughter.  How proud we both were and how grateful to God for that moment tears and all.

Anyway, while living a sacramental life can be emotional for us, and, to think, we still have our son's First Holy Communion and their Confirmations to look forward to, the true test of our Boehneresque imitation, as far as our daughters are concerned, may be on the day I walk them down the aisle on their wedding day (Then again, let's just hope nobody is watching us when our son gets married!)...