Faith

The sacrament of confirmation is represented by a rich array of symbols developed over the centuries, and they help to reveal its meaning and add to its beauty.

Our culture tends to be ambivalent about those with higher education. On the one hand we are wary of the highly educated, perceiving them as snobs with elitist stances toward the rest of humanity. On the other hand, we appreciate those who have achieved multiple university degrees, with a string of distinguishing letters after their names, as experts whose knowledge may and should be of help to humanity.

Q) I’ve been having a difficult time with the idea that I’m called to be a saint. I mean, I have responsibilities and work that needs to get done. I have people who need me to be present to them. I don’t have time to live in a church and just pray. Does that mean that I have no chance of being a saint?

Have you ever asked yourself why the greatest of the commandments is to “love the Lord, your God”?

The social encyclical Pope Francis released in October extends a formidable challenge to us all, the challenge to create "a different culture." What kind of culture? It is the kind where people who basically are indifferent toward each other and deeply divided resolve their conflicts and begin to "care for one another" (No. 57).

Pope Francis, in his new encyclical "Fratelli Tutti, on Fraternity and Social Friendship," explores what it means to be a good neighbor. Reflecting on the parable of the good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37), the pope explains the importance of caring for others to build healthy relationships within families and communities, and then in our cities, nations and world.

In the reception of the sacrament of confirmation, the person receives the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, wisdom and understanding, counsel and strength (fortitude), knowledge and fear of the Lord (Is 11:2), and piety. These gifts are not to sit idle or be kept in storage. Rather, they are to be put to good use so they will bear much fruit.

If you were to walk past my parish on your dark and damp walk on the evening of Nov. 2 in years past, you would have heard the strains of Mozart's Requiem drifting outward from the bronze doors of St. James Cathedral, Seattle.