The lives of the saints are beautiful testimonies to the Catholic Faith. In fact, Pope Benedict XVI said that along with evangelizing power of beauty, the lives of the saints are the “true apology of Christian faith, the most convincing demonstration of its truth.” Immersing ourselves in the stories of our predecessors should remind us that holiness is possible and the Christian life is worth living.

Some of the saint stories, however, might cause you to wonder if you really can do this whole saint thing. Wolves don’t listen to me, like St. Francis of Assisi. I don’t levitate in prayer or bear the wounds of Christ on my flesh. I don’t have the power to lecture the Pope like Catherine of Siena or bilocate like Padre Pio.

To be a saint, do I have to throw off all my personal possessions, renounce my family, and run around the countryside preaching the Gospel? We have the saints as examples, but what if I don’t want to emulate St. Rose of Lima to disfigure my beauty and chop off my hair? What if I don’t want to live as a beggar under the steps of my parents’ home like St. Alexis? How does holiness work if I have a job, family, and other responsibilities?

In short, is holiness always so… weird?

 

The other day I was standing in my kitchen and noticed my calendar was still set to December 2019. I just had to laugh—it was a sort of visible manifestation of 2020. I don’t know what you had expected 2020 to be like or what your plans for 2020 were … but chances are, the year has been quite different from anything you anticipated.

Later that day, I overheard someone comment that we should all just forget 2020 happened. Once December 31 rolls around, we can make a pact to just ignore the last year.

I disagree. And it kind of made me want to go get a 2020 calendar to hang on my wall. Because 2020 has been given to us. Regardless of whether it is what we wanted, it’s here. And it’s a gift.

To ignore the days we’ve been given—even if they’ve been a dumpster fire – is to ignore the opportunities God has given us for holiness. Each day we wake up, regardless of what awaits us, is a new opportunity for grace, for conversion, and for mission. What will you do with what you’ve been given today? Maybe you’ll be given an unexpected cross. Or maybe you’ll be given an unexpected joy. Both can be used to further God’s plan in your life. Both can bring you to holiness.

 

I stood on the Mount of Olives and looked across at Jerusalem, the skyline a mix of old and new. The light blue dome of the Holy Sepulchre seemed to almost touch the dominant gold Dome of the Rock, and the Western Wall was invisible to my eye but present in my thoughts. I saw a crowded Mount Moriah that visibly proclaimed complexity and tragedy.

Over 150,000 graves cover the Mount of Olives, facing the city and the site of the Temple. These are Jews awaiting the resurrection of the dead, when they believe the Messiah will come and rebuild the Temple. Their feet are facing the Temple Mount, ready for his coming.

I stood there, on the spot tradition tells us Jesus wept over the city.

“Would that even today you knew the things that make for peace! But now they are hid from your eyes. For the days shall come upon you, when your enemies will cast up a bank about you and surround you, and hem you in on every side, and dash you to the ground, you and your children within you, and they will not leave one stone upon another in you; because you did not know the time of your visitation” (Luke 19:42-44).

Jesus Christ loves his people: the Chosen People. He loves the Holy City. As he looked out across the Kidron Valley, he could see what was going to happen in less than forty years. He saw the destruction and the desecration, the loss of life and the atrocities against the sacred. He saw the siege and fall of Jerusalem. And he wept.

 

Even if you can’t get to daily Mass, I highly recommend using the readings of the day in your daily prayers. It is a way to unite your prayers with Catholics throughout the world, to live liturgically, and to become familiar with the great stories and wisdom of Sacred Scripture. Today’s first reading is the familiar story of the fall of David with Bathsheba. We know the story well; lust fills David upon seeing Bathsheba bathing on her roof. They commit adultery, and she conceives their child. After his attempts to hide his sin fail, he resorts to arranging for Uriah’s death in battle. The great king, the Lord’s anointed, the just ruler, has fallen mightily. David is an adulterer and a murderer.

This pivotal moment in David’s life has inspired countless writings, conjectures, and reflections. Why was he lingering at home instead of being out on the battlefield? What role did Bathsheba play? How would history have turned out differently if Uriah would have “cooperated” with David’s scheming and gone home to his wife?

I can’t help but wonder what I would think of David today. The prophet Nathan comes to him with a parable of a rich man stealing a poor man’s lamb, which angers David. Nathan’s dramatic revelation, You are the man!, prompts David to great contrition and repentance. David perhaps never tires of reflecting on the Lord’s mercy, the fruit of that reflection we can see in Psalm 51.

Would I be as merciful as God was towards David?