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Question: In the Gospel of Matthew, there is a story of a man who discovers a concealed treasure lying in a field (cf. Mt 13:44). What does this treasure symbolize, and where exactly is the field located? It’s one of those parables that I find somewhat perplexing.
— Jonathan Marcus, Washington, D.C.
Answer: We frequently prefer to perceive parables as concise tales that convey a specific message. However, in reality, similar to any narrative, they function more like puzzles or comparisons that permit various interpretations. Jesus would frequently elaborate on the parables extensively to his disciples “in the house” — for instance, Peter’s residence. In this instance, we lack a complete revelation of Jesus’ explanation of the parable. Therefore, akin to any narrative, we should permit it to signify multiple things. For this response, I will focus on one particular interpretation.

The virtuous thief or the wicked one, the decision is ours.
Jesus was explicit; he indicated consistently that followers should forfeit belongings and connections, deny themselves, carry the cross, and follow him (cf. Lk 14:25-33). He frequently discussed his impending death and resurrection (cf. Lk 9:22-26, 43-45). He aimed to instruct his disciples on the implications of this for them — that they were also expected to die and rise, and to love as Jesus did throughout the entire process.
However, that’s a difficult pitch. Mark explains how Peter struggled to acknowledge it, how he chastised Jesus when he initially mentioned the concept of his pain and demise (cf. Mk 8:31-33). To avoid suffering, to shun death, to evade discomfort, to deny the cross: When faith is frail, it’s simple to justify our avoidance of following Jesus in this aspect, diverting from the way of the Passion. It’s effortless to transform our Christianity into merely comfort, into comforting phrases of sentimentality and gradually substitute the Faith with a kind of devout, indulgent hedonism. This, naturally, evolves into something entirely different from Christianity — regardless of how Christian it may seem on the surface. As St. John Henry Newman once remarked, our phrases — even terms like “God” — can lose their significance; we can strip even our most sacred words of any true meaning. That’s the outcome when we disregard Jesus’ cruciform call. Such represents the deceptive Christianity that declines to accept suffering.

“His friend,” Jesus referred to him (Jn 11:11).
That is exactly what Lazarus represented; it explains why Jesus approached him and why he brought him back to life. Lazarus was a dear friend of Jesus. The onlookers could perceive it in his expression; they remarked to each other, “Look how much he cared for him” (Jn 11:36). Beneath this miracle, as with all miracles, love and friendship are influential. Ultimately, that is the core message — the most fundamental message, at least — that Lazarus embodies us, or ought to embody us. As Lazarus experiences, so should we. We should be friends with Jesus just as he was. For that is what this Christianity matter entails: becoming a companion of God, discovering existence in that companionship, including everlasting life.

March 26 – Fifth Sunday of Lent

Ez 37:12-14
Ps 130:1-2, 3-4, 5-6, 7-8
Rom 8:8-11
Jn 11:1-45

What Jesus accomplished for Lazarus is exactly what he promised. Previously in John, he stated, “Do not be astonished at this, for the time is approaching when all those in the graves will hear his voice and will emerge, those who have performed good actions to the resurrection of life, but those who have committed evil acts to the resurrection of judgment” (Jn 5:28-29).
He was, naturally, speaking broadly in this context; Lazarus, on the other hand, serves as a symbol, a wondrous indication of what is valid for all believers. The event involving Lazarus provided a preview of splendor. He stated this clearly: “This illness is not destined to result in death, but is for the glory of God, that the Son of God may be exalted through it” (Jn 11:4). Similar to Cana, that miracle also acted as a sign, further disclosing his glory (cf. Jn 2:11). Through these signs, many chose to have faith; that was the purpose of these wonders. This is also one of the more inspiring aspects of the narrative, that God sometimes unveils his glory through the miracles he has performed in us, that God can influence others via us, through our remarkably transformed lives. Provided, of course, that we’re genuinely loyal friends of God.
Being a friend of God necessitates faith — correct faith; specifically, orthodoxy. This is the essence of Jesus’ exchange with Martha. “I am the resurrection and the life; anyone who puts their faith in me, even though they may die, will live, and everyone who exists and has faith in me will never perish. Do you accept this?” Jesus prompts her. Drawing out, similar to Peter previously, her complete and heartfelt declaration of faith, she replies, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world” (Jn 11:25-27).
The essence here is that true friendship with God necessitates genuine faith. There is no existence of simply cultural, non-believing Catholicism, nor can there be positivist or solely materialist Catholicism. Without belief in the Gospel, you cannot be considered a Catholic or a friend of God, and the glory that Jesus mentioned will never radiate from you; it will not transform or rescue you. I understand that this may seem harsh. However, we must keep in mind that this narrative unfolds at a tomb. The core theme and moral of the story is, in fact, life and death. Therefore, it’s crucial to understand what a relationship with God involves, as the implications are significant.
This is the type of faith the Church encourages us to rejuvenate during these closing days of Lent before we enter the week of Christ’s suffering. Ours is a fundamental yet contemporary faith; we continue to be captivated believers in love, friendship, and even wonders. Our faith should resemble that of the initial witnesses to Jesus’ miracles. Our faith is, of course, refined by spiritual insight. We understand, for instance, why Lazarus retained his burial garments, and why he didn’t, unlike Jesus, neatly arrange them and leave them behind in the tomb (cf. Jn 11:44; 20:6-7). Lazarus would require them once more; he would eventually face physical death, just as everyone does.
We understand that what Jesus offers us is everlasting life, heaven; we recognize that this is ultimately the focus of this narrative. Just prior to experiencing his own crucifixion, Jesus desires for his followers to possess authentic faith, genuine hope, and true love. He wishes for his disciples to perceive his Passion in a more profound way, a spiritual perspective. Jesus refers to his death as “glory” as well, which initially appears strange. However, this perspective changes if you’ve been perceiving the signs as they were intended to be understood, if you’ve been listening — with authentic faith. Moreover, all of this centers on friendship. Friends comprehend, friends maintain faith, and that’s all Jesus desires — friends who will accompany him to the cross, who will not waver in their faith.
So, what about you? As we are aware, the majority who witnessed Lazarus being raised fled during Jesus’ arrest. Only a handful managed to witness what transpired on the cross. But what regarding us? Will we reach Good Friday as faithful companions of Jesus? Will we observe his death with comprehension? Will we recognize in his death the unveiling of God and the achievement of our salvation? Will we perceive it as the everlasting fulfillment of our bond with him? These are the inquiries the Church provides us right before Holy Week. Questions only the true friends of God have the ability to respond to.
Father Joshua J. Whitfield is pastor of St. Rita Catholic Community in Dallas and author of “The Crisis of Bad Preaching” (Ave Maria Press, $17.95) and other books.

The writer has taken the occasion of his son’s first Communion to speak about the Eucharist considering the readings for the Fourth Sunday of Easter.
Since you were a young child, you have yearned for this moment. Initially, your desire stemmed from a desire to emulate rather than anything significant. Your mother and your father were presented with the body and blood of Christ, and if it served as nourishment for them, then it ought to be nourishment for you.
You were correct, dear son. Nonetheless, the Church’s wisdom had you hold off until this year. In your patience, your toddler tantrums during Mass transformed into a peaceful, nearly reflective, look of affection. You desired to partake in the body and blood of Christ not merely because your parents do, but because you learned to understand who was offering himself to you at that altar.

Episode 5 of Amazon’s latest series, “The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power,” begins with an eerie tune crafted for the program. “This Wandering Day,” performed by Poppy Proudfellow (a Harfoot hobbit), wraps up with a memorable phrase from another cherished J.R.R. Tolkien song: “Not all who wander are lost.”
I’ve come across this expression on camping mugs, stickers for water bottles, and even on a spare tire cover of a Jeep Wrangler. It has been embraced as a sort of slogan for everyone who enjoys hitting the trails. Displayed on wood carvings, watercolors, and leather impressions, Etsy creators have provided the phrase with every conceivable setting.
But why? It’s wonderfully unlikely when you contemplate it. An Oxford scholar — who participated in daily communion — focusing on philology has composed something akin to an anthem for today’s aspiring bohemian wanderers. The phrase, extracted from the poem “The Riddle of Strider” in the fantasy saga “The Lord of the Rings,” has become a familiar motto for seekers of various kinds.

One of the genuinely life-enhancing teachings of the Catholic Church is its doctrine on human sexuality. Through this, we can grasp the truth and beauty of the human being, as designed male and female by God. We can address the difficulties we face in society today — particularly same-sex relationships and, more and more, matters of gender identity — with both understanding and empathy.

That’s the reason the recent disclosure that a diocesan hermit in Kentucky, known as “Brother Christian Matson,” is actually a woman is quite troubling. Even more alarming is the fact that she was granted approval for ministry by her local bishop, despite media reports indicating that he was aware of her medical interventions aimed at altering her sex.

The Diocese of Lexington, under the leadership of Conventual Franciscan Bishop John Stowe, issued a statement in late May endorsing the way of life of “Brother” Matson using masculine pronouns and explaining how Matson “has for a considerable time aimed to dedicate his life to Christ within the Church through adhering to the evangelical counsels of poverty, chastity, and obedience.”

“The statement mentioned that Bishop John Stowe, OFM Conv., received his profession and expresses his gratitude to Brother Christian for his example of discipleship, honesty, and contemplative prayer for the Church,” the statement said.

VATICAN CITY (CNS) — Following the recent Vatican guidelines regarding purported supernatural events, an Italian bishop has provided his “nihil obstat”recognizing the pastoral and spiritual significance of” devotion to Our Lady of the Mystical Rose of Montichiari and accommodating any possible pilgrimages to associated locations within his diocese.

Bishop Pierantonio Tremolada of Brescia released the decree on July 8 following the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith informing him that it did not uncover any assertions that directly oppose church doctrine in the works of the late Pierina Gilli, who asserted she had received messages from a sequence of Marian apparitions in 1947 and 1966.

The Vatican grants approval to the apparitions of Our Lady of the Mystical Rose.

“The believers are permitted to offer (the phenomenon) their support in a cautious way,” the bishop stated in his directive. Nonetheless, the directive does not serve as a declaration affirming the supernatural source or nature of the purported occurrences, and the faithful are not required to place their belief in them, he noted.

Adam Wright has never encountered Michelle Duppong, yet he continually shares her tale.

Duppong, an ex-missionary for the Fellowship of Catholic University Students (FOCUS) and a staff member of the Diocese of Bismarck, North Dakota, died on Dec. 25, 2015, following a fight against cancer.

This summer, the Bismarck Diocese declared Duppong a “servant of God” and initiated her cause for canonization. A recent documentary, “Radiating Joy,” created by FOCUS, set to be released in theaters nationwide on Nov. 12, highlights the saintly existence that Duppong led and the influence she had on her family and friends.

Wright, a broadcaster for Covenant Network Catholic Radio in St. Louis, Missouri, discovered Duppong’s narrative after speaking with her parents at the FOCUS SEEK conference that took place in St. Louis earlier this January.

Her guardians invited Wright to attend a preview screening. of the documentary.

Upon viewing it, Wright was astonished.

“When Michelle’s parents shared her story, I couldn’t help but feel, ‘Wow, this is truly an incredible, uplifting narrative,’” Wright remarked to Our Sunday Visitor. “Then came the sneak preview of ‘Radiating Joy’; I watched the documentary and was brought to tears. I was touched by the strength of her testimony and the difference she created through her pain and throughout her life.”

Michelle Duppong is seen in the documentary “Radiating Joy: The Michelle Duppong Story,” produced by Anderson Art. The OSV News classification is A-II — adults and adolescents. Not rated by the Motion Picture Association. (OSV News photo/courtesy FOCUS)

A saintly story

Michelle worked as a FOCUS missionary for six years and subsequently took on the role of director of adult faith formation for the Diocese of Bismarck.

When I first met Mother Teresa on the airport tarmac in Atlanta on June 12, 1995, I could never have anticipated that she would change my life eternally. I found myself in a difficult position, burdened by grief following the death of my husband due to cancer and drifting through each day, devoid of direction or significance in my existence. The peak of my faith-driven life involved reporting on activities for the Archdiocese of Atlanta.
Nevertheless, my inner void was becoming apparent in every facet of my existence. Everything shifted in an instant when Mother Teresa grasped my hands on that foggy, overcast day in Atlanta and, gazing intently into my eyes, urged me to “Come and see.”
It was the invitation I had been anticipating my whole life, and I responded with, “Yes.” It would be another ten years before I truly accepted the Catholic faith as my own, and it was during the beatification of Mother Teresa in St. Peter’s Square on Oct. 19, 2003, that I felt the urge to join the Church — not in the capacity of a journalist, but as an individual motivated to partake in her sacraments.
Seeing Jesus
Mother Teresa is pictured in a 1979 photo. (CNS photo/KNA)
When I think back to the moment when Mother Teresa took my hands more than 25 years ago, it felt like I was being graced by Jesus himself. My thoughts faded away entirely, and as I gazed into her eyes, I sensed I was in a realm of pure love and acceptance. That feeling remained with me throughout the day. At that moment, I realized that Mother Teresa would be the one to guide me and countless others in our journey towards understanding the Catholic faith.

Actor Mark Wahlberg recently shared insights on the significance of Lent and the role of his Catholic faith in his life to a nationwide audience.
“It encompasses everything,” the 51-year-old expressed regarding his beliefs on Wednesday during NBC’s “Today” show. “God did not arrive to rescue the righteous; he came to redeem the wrongdoers. We have all faced challenges and problems in our lives, and we aspire to become improved versions of ourselves, and by concentrating [on] my faith, it has enabled me to achieve that.”
Both Wahlberg’s statements and his look testified to his beliefs: He had ashes in the shape of a cross on his forehead, in observance of Ash Wednesday, the inaugural day of Lent.
“The planet offers you plenty of ease, but we weren’t created for ease; we were created for greatness,” he went on. “And to achieve greatness, we must engage in the struggle to attain the rewards.”
Wahlberg, identified as one of Our Sunday Visitor’s 2022 Catholics of the Year, featured on the program as a guest storyteller and endorsed representative for the Catholic prayer application Hallow. Catholics might also recognize him for creating and acting in “Father Stu,” a 2022 movie that narrates the tale of an ex-boxer who becomes a priest.

Prayer Spirituality Looking at the three theological virtues, the gems of the Faith Adobe Stock Faith, hope, and love. These three theological virtues ought to be the cornerstone of our spirituality. Unfortunately, faith, hope, and love appear to be significantly absent in many aspects of our public lives today. This is evident in the conflicts…

During my childhood, I wasn’t exactly a savage, but I was not far from being one.
I was baptized as a Catholic to parents who had moved away from the Faith. They separated when I was around 4 or 5, and depending on whose weekend it happened to be, Sunday mornings were either at a Lutheran church or staying in bed. I favored the sleep. However, church camp each summer was enjoyable. I committed verses from the Bible to memory and can still sense the campfire smoke when I hear “They Will Know We Are Christians By Our Love.” I was confirmed as a Lutheran in the most nonchalant manner, but my participation dwindled shortly thereafter.
During high school, several of my friends attended the nearby Missionary church, so I went along with them to the social gatherings. There was always food at the youth group events, and the band was impressive. At a youth conference when I was around 15, the speaker inquired who among us was prepared to commit their lives to Christ and embrace Jesus as their personal savior. A handful of my friends approached, and I followed suit. I truly meant it at that moment. And although I never prayed or opened the Bible (except for taking part in the Bible quiz team), I was, it seemed, saved. It appeared to be a fantastic offer — the Christian equivalent of a no-money-down, get-rich-quick scheme. I had somehow achieved the greatest reward with the least effort possible.

It was somewhat amusing, yet at the same time, it truly wasn’t.
As Bishop Robert Barron, auxiliary bishop of Los Angeles and founder of the media apostolate Word on Fire, participated in the Synod on Young People, the Faith and Vocational Discernment in Rome, which concluded at the end of the previous month, his team ventured out into the streets of Rome to conduct some “person on the street”discussions with various young individuals.”
They began with a straightforward approach, inquiring of individuals, couples, and families: What defines a saint?
The responses were diverse and certainly amusing. Several responses came close, labeling saints as individuals who performed good deeds. At least two respondents referred to saints as individuals from long ago — figures from history and religion who had significant impacts and accomplishments. One participant mentioned that saints are those who carry prayers straight to God since we are unable to approach him directly.

In a recent appearance during a television news segment, JD Vance expressed the “Christian idea that you care for your family first, then your neighbor, followed by your community, and subsequently your fellow citizens in your nation, and only after that, you can direct your attention to the wider world.” This statement prompted swift and severe backlash from numerous voices within the Catholic commentary sphere, criticizing Vance’s viewpoint. Some have raised concerns about his individual faith. A well-known British journalist even challenged the faith of the priest who welcomed Vance into the Church.

The National Catholic Reporter, for instance, published a viewpoint column titled “JD Vance is incorrect: Jesus does not urge us to prioritize our affection for others.” Throughout the piece, the writer did more to endorse the validity of Vance’s statement than uphold the argument indicated in the title. As an illustration, she notes, “Paul reminds them: love begins nearby. It first extends to those directly in front of us, making sure widows were not neglected while safeguarding the church’s resources for those genuinely in need.” This is essentially a rewording of Vance’s point, but I assume that went unnoticed by the author and the editors of NCR.

In the same vein, a well-known Jesuit priest began to X to reference the parable of the Good Samaritan, claiming that Vance “misses the point” of the story. However, he misinterprets both Vance’s comment and the parable itself. Vance’s statement does not in any way suggest that he opposes assisting the victim of the crime depicted in this parable. The priest’s assertion “misses the point” of both the parable and what Vance has expressed.

“From the Chapel” is a series of short, daily reflections on life and faith in a time of uncertainty. As people across the world cope with the effects of the coronavirus — including the social isolation necessary to combat its spread — these reflections remind us of the hope that lies at the heart of the Gospel.
Arguably the most well-known, and undoubtedly the most contentious, statement made by Pope St. Paul VI was “Satan’s smoke has infiltrated the temple of God through some crevice.” The interpretation of what “Satan’s smoke” signifies appears to be largely influenced by an individual’s perspective on the issues that have arisen within the Catholic Church in recent decades.