Each Sunday millions of Catholics gather the world over to celebrate an event of cosmic proportions: an event in which the meaning of time itself unfolds; an event of incomparable joy in which the eschatological dimension of man’s existence is encountered, and on which the foundation of hope and joy held in every Christian heart is based.
The proconsul read Cyprian’s condemnation and the multitude cried, “Let us be beheaded with him!” He was taken into the grounds, to a hollow surrounded by trees, into which many of the people climbed. Cyprian took off his cloak, knelt down, and prayed.
Given humankind’s fallen state, God had to do something radical to move men’s hearts to conversion; otherwise, we would hardly have noticed.
Two weeks away from graduation, I felt everything slipping from my control, into a place where every question was open ended. And there seemed no answers. Would I get a job? Would I be a failure?
Self-deception is a real danger everyone faces. It’s not only a roadblock to holiness, but may even place a person’s soul in eternal peril, as Christ himself warned, “Not everyone who says to me ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven.”
For many of us the question of God’s existence seems more an accusation against Christianity than a question, yet it is a fair question, and there are many who sincerely ask it.
Thinking about my desire to be humble as is Jesus, an image from my teen years came back. My father was sitting at the head of the dinner table, as usual, teaching us life and academic lessons. I was complaining about not being recognized for some “good deed” I thought deserved some reward. Patiently hushing my words, he asked: “Have any of you ever heard of the theory of the invisible pillar?”
As Valentine’s Day approached, I prayed, “Please God, will you send me a rose?” Soon that dreaded day would arrive, when girls receive roses from their boyfriends. But I knew I would receive none. I had no suitors.