The Mass, like Bethlehem, represents both an arrival and a departure on our pilgrimage of faith.

“Let us go over to Bethlehem to see . . .” (Luke 2:15). Responding to the heavenly announcement, the shepherds set out in a sacred procession to find their Savior, as did the Magi in response to creation’s announcement in the form of a star (Matthew 2:1-12). Our Advent procession, like theirs, has again brought us into the Christmas season (Christmas Eve through Jan. 9), offering a beautiful respite from the year’s journey that is concluding and preparing us to continue our procession into the New Year: a procession to Bethlehem.

The distance from Nazareth to Bethlehem is about 80 miles, a bit less than the distance from Knoxville to Kingsport. I don’t know about you, but I’d be hard pressed to make a journey of that distance on foot. Some could make the trip more easily than others, but one wonders how unbearable the journey would become once the cell phones and iPods ran out of power. Silence has become almost a form of suffering for many when it should be an indispensable part of our faith procession.

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As the people of God, we need one another’s help to draw closer to Christ.

Pray for me.” No doubt we have made this request of others many times and have likewise been asked by others to pray for them. We need help, and people need our help. But although we understand the importance of not neglecting our relationship with others, particularly the poor and needy, too many neglect their relationship with another community that is no less important—the saints in heaven and the souls in purgatory.

Most people are pretty selective about those from whom we ask for prayer. After all, when we need specific help with concerns in our everyday life, we generally approach people whom we know are dependable and knowledgeable about what it is we need help with. It’s even better if they have “connections” and can put in a good word for us in the process. If this is the case in our earthly relationships, then all the more should we should seek the help of the saints whom the Church tells us are closest to God.

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We best reverence the liturgy by making an offering of ourselves upon the altar.

Which is more sacred—Mass in the cathedral with a contemporary choir, the extraordinary form of the Mass with Gregorian chant, Mass celebrated on the back of a Humvee in Afghanistan, or the rich liturgy of the Maronite Rite of the Church? I hope you answered that all are equally sacred because in each and every Mass it is Christ who offers the sacrifice and who is offered.

It surprises many to learn that the Catholic Church is actually made up of 23 churches and seven rites. Each of these rites reflects the different cultures and traditions that helped form and shape its particular liturgical and sacramental expression of the one true faith. The rite and church we are most familiar with is the Latin Rite of the Roman Church of the West.

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Our Lady of Guadalupe helps us to recognize our brothers and sisters in need.

The science of photography, even before it went digital, has always intrigued me. But nearly 300 years before the first photograph was taken and developed in 1826, we have record of an image of rich color and great detail that developed upon the unlikely photographic film of a poor Mexican peasant’s cloak woven of coarse plant fibers. Capturing the apparition of Our Lady of Guadalupe to St. Juan Diego in 1531, this miraculous image is not so much a photograph as it is a presence. In contemplating God’s living photograph of their Heavenly Mother, a people of great diversity and culture came to recognize themselves as brothers and sisters and in unity to call God their Father. More than ever, with such growing division in our country today, we should have recourse to Our Lady of Guadalupe.

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Like water that refreshes us from the heat, thankfulness refreshes the soul in its trials.

Real baseball fans know the importance of the “dog days” of summer, the 40-day period ending in August that typically marks the hottest and most sultry days of the year. It’s during this time that teams either renew their passion for the game or succumb to the fatigue of a long season intensified by the heat and humidity.

But the teams that advance into the playoffs (like my St. Louis Cardinals always do) embrace the struggle and use it to strengthen and form themselves into a championship team. That’s also true in the spiritual life.

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So many are concerned about the ‘when’ of Christ’s return that they miss his presence in others.

The world didn’t end May 21 as some had predicted. Personally, I was worried it might until Matt Holliday’s eighth-inning two-run homer broke a scoreless tie and led my St. Louis Cardinals to a shutout win against the Kansas City Royals that day.

Humor aside, it seems lately that I cannot change the channel from baseball to the news without groaning “not again,” as yet another story of natural or man-made catastrophe makes the headlines.

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Chattanooga’s Sts. Peter and Paul represents the goal of our life’s pilgrimage.

There’s nothing like a front-row seat. Although I wasn’t in the front row for the beatification of Pope John Paul II on May 1, I sure felt as though I was. From my seat I was able to overlook the vast crowd, estimated at more than 1.5 million, who filled St. Peter’s Square and the length of the Via della Conciliazione and beyond. Given my view, I felt I had a glimpse of St. John’s heavenly vision, when he beheld “a great multitude which no man could number, from all tribes and peoples and tongues” standing before the throne of God (Revelation 7:9).

This incredible, beautiful image of the universal Church became even more personal for me and for us as a diocese two days later. On May 3 I received the decree signed by Cardinal Antonio Llovera, Prefect for the Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments, declaring Sts. Peter and Paul Church in Chattanooga a minor basilica. This honor has been extended to fewer than 70 churches in the United States, and the church is Tennessee’s first basilica.

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God gives a home to the forsaken when we open our heart to others.

Of the many memories I have from my recent pilgrimage to the Holy Land, one remains particularly vivid: the image of a tiny infant in the loving arms of an elderly religious sister from an orphanage we visited in Bethlehem. I keep recalling this tender scene—like an icon that nourishes the faith of one who contemplates its sacred image—and the promise of Jesus that we celebrate at Easter and every Mass: “I will not leave you orphaned: I will come back to you” (John 14:18).

Illegitimacy is particularly taboo in the Arab world. Because of the stigma attached to children born out of wedlock and subsequently abandoned or orphaned, their adoption is rare. There are several reasons for this.

I learned that adoption of Muslim children by non-Muslims is strictly forbidden by sharia law. I also learned that adoption is highly commended in the Quran, which even specifies that the adopted child keep the biological father’s surname. But because a father has shamed his name by fathering a child out of wedlock, the child also carries the stigma of his offense. The shame brought to the unwed mother’s family is also considered very grave.

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