Friendship Never Ends

Since the beginning of the year, I’ve been reading a book that features a small biography of a holy person each day. Not quite hagiographies (as they aren’t all saints), each entry focuses on that person’s call, work, and relationship with God.

Growing up without saints, prayer to them always seemed strange. God is always there; why add extra steps? But as I’ve begun to learn more and more about particular saints, I see what wonderful role models they are. They are my church friends, just as much as the people in the pews on Sunday. So I can chat with them and ask for their prayers too. And by taking the time to know them, I’m inspired by their acts of faith or convicted by my own habits that I see reflected in their stories.

But the stories of saints aren’t really about them. They are about how God works through people. He comes into all of our lives. The variety of tales of holy people spanning the world over thousands of years is all one story: God works through us.

Sometimes those stories overlap one another. St. Claire followed St. Francis. St. John of the Cross learned from St. Teresa of Avila. St. Jane Chantel received spiritual direction from Sts. Francis de Sales and Vincent de Paul. Would any of their stories be complete with the support of a faithful community?

In Luke 5:18-20, Jesus is teaching and has drawn a big crowd. It’s packed as people jostle to get closer—to hear and see this man. One man believes Jesus can heal him. But he is unable to move. His faith is strong, but he unable to reach Jesus on his own. Fortunately, he has friends who also believe that Jesus can help their friend. They carry him on a bed to where Jesus is, but they can’t get through the crowd. Determined to help their friend reach Jesus, they don’t give up, but make a hole in the roof and lower him into the room.

How many friends would literally carry you and destroy property to get you to Jesus? The saints would. They yearn to draw us to Jesus. They want their stories to remind us not how great they were, but how God worked through them.

I hope that as I keep learning about new holy people, I remember that each story is the same one; each a reminder of God’s power and love. He worked through them. He’s working through us.

I hope I have a community of faithful friends who will drag me to Jesus when I need it, and I hope I’m the kind of friend who leads others to Jesus through my story and actions.

Saturday Mornings

I rarely attend vigil Masses, but recently I found myself at one. Besides it being dark outside and being surrounding by parishioners I’d never seen before, it all felt quite similar to Sunday morning service. But as I looked around, I saw the distinct markings of Saturday. 

The Paschal candle stood next to the baptismal font; there must have been a baptism today. A bridal bouquet was placed on the Mary altar; there must have been a wedding too. It felt like a normal day to me, but it was an important day for several other families.

I’ve learned to love churches on Saturdays. It seems to be when they are most active. Yes, more people show up on Sundays, but there is more movement on Saturdays, a hustle of community. A morning Mass, a group in a corner audibly praying the rosary, a line forming for confession, a family trying to wrangle members for a picture to mark the baby’s baptism, sacristans placing flowers for the afternoon’s wedding, the smell of coffee from a Bible study wafting in.

It’s busy, but quiet—sacred. A steady hum of peaceful activity. It’s what churches should be. Here is community. Here are sacraments. Here are people using this holy space in a regular, Saturday morning routine. Here are people using this holy space to mark important milestones in their lives. No one is obligated to be here, yet here we are. Here is where we want to be.