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Why do we chase love that hurts us? Why is it so hard to receive real love? 

Many of us carry unmet childhood needs into adulthood, leaving us stuck in unhealthy patterns. In this episode, Fr Columba helps us recognise our emotional wounds, stop self-sabotaging relationships, and open ourselves to authentic love—from God, from others and for ourselves.

Do you think of Christianity as a set of rules? A list of dos and don’ts? 

In this episode, Fr Columba opens with a striking line from the Acts of the Apostles: the angel doesn’t tell the disciples to preach a doctrine or teach a philosophy. He tells them to share “this way of life.” Drawing on his own experience of encountering Catholic teaching on the human person for the first time, Fr Columba walks through the practical essentials that actually make us human: works of charity, daily prayer, the sacraments, real fellowship in the Church, and passing the faith on to others.

St. Luke opens Chapter 9 of the Acts of the Apostles, describing Saul as “still breathing murderous threats against the disciples of the Lord.” He has intensified his campaign against the followers of “the Way” even into Damascus.

What meets him on the road is not punishment but an extraordinary manifestation of the actual grace of God. A light from the sky suddenly flashes around him, and from that light comes a voice of gentle reproach: “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?”

The identification of Christ with his members is so complete that injury to them is injury to him. St. Bede comments: “He did not say, ‘Why do you persecute my members?’ but ‘Why do you persecute me?’ Because he is still suffering from enemies in his body, which is the Church.”

Saul rises from the ground, led by the hands of his companions, unable to see. The man who came to bind others is himself bound by blindness. For three days, he neither eats nor drinks. St. Bede writes: “Since he had not believed that the Lord had conquered death by rising on the third day, he was now taught by his own experience of the replacement of three days of darkness by the return of the light.”

Father William Kurz, S. J., points out that fasting, “a traditional sign of penitence, is Saul’s instinctive response to his encounter with the Lord and a preparation for his baptism and further enlightenment.”

God appears to a disciple in Damascus named Ananias and entrusts to him the task of healing and baptizing Saul. St. John Cassian sees in God’s choice of the obscure Ananias a deliberate pedagogy of humility: God entrusted Saul to an elder so that he would be instructed by human teaching rather than by private revelation alone, lest each disciple conclude that he needed no guidance but his own spiritual experience.

When Ananias enters the house and calls him, “Brother Saul”. One who had come with threats is received with a fraternal embrace. Saul’s proclamation after receiving healing and baptism is immediate and total. He does not merely announce that Jesus rose; he preaches that this Jesus “is the Son of God.”

In Jerusalem, Barnabas brings Saul to the apostles and plays the same role here that Ananias played in Damascus: the human bridge across which grace passes. St. John Chrysostom says, “God does in many things leave them to manage for themselves by their own wisdom and in a human way, so to cut off the excuse of idle people.”

After Luke’s summary of the Church at peace, he turns to Peter’s apostolic journeys through Judea.

The mailbag was mostly empty this week, so in lieu of letters we’d like to provide a short list of additional video resources and commentary on Magnifica Humanitas for those who want to dig a little deeper into Pope Leo’s first encyclical.  

Ascension Press published a great explainer video by Father Gregory Pines for anyone who wants a solid rundown of the document.Fr. Mike Schmitz & Dr. Arthur Brooks Discuss Magnifica Humanitas on YouTube

From the B.C. Catholic archives, our columnists have been giving their take for the last few weeks. 

11th Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year A
First Reading: Ex 19:1-6a
Second Reading: Rom 5:6-11
Gospel Reading: Mt 9:36 – 10a

This Sunday’s Readings make it clear that the Jews are indeed God’s chosen people. As St. Paul reminded the Romans, “Theirs were the adoption, the glory, the covenants, the lawgiving, the worship, and the promises; theirs were the patriarchs, and from them came the Messiah.”

“God formed Israel as his people by freeing them from slavery in Egypt,” says the Catechism of the Catholic Church. “He established with them the covenant of Mount Sinai and, through Moses, gave them His law so that they would recognize him and serve him as the one living and true God, the provident Father and just Judge, and so that they would look for the promised Saviour.” 

In that covenant, God said, “Now, therefore, if you obey my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my treasured possession out of all the peoples. Indeed, the whole earth is mine, but you shall be for me a priestly kingdom and a holy nation.” 

What is “a priestly kingdom”?

The purpose of the Old Covenant priesthood, the Catechism says, was “to proclaim the word of God and to restore communion with God by sacrifices and prayer.” This, then, was to be Israel’s role among the nations: to proclaim God’s word and restore humanity’s communion with him. 

Only gradually, however, did God extend his self-revelation from the Jews to all peoples. For example, until his ascension, Jesus commanded his apostles not to visit the Gentiles or the Samaritans, but to go only “to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” 

The Jews are—not were—God’s chosen people. “God’s gifts and his call are irrevocable,” St. Paul said. “This extraordinary people continues to bear signs of its divine election,” said Pope St. John Paul II.

True, God now extends “his gifts and his call” to us Gentiles as well, but he does it through the Jews. At Mass, we hear God’s word as he communicated it to the Jewish prophets and apostles. We have been reconciled to God and saved from His wrath because God became a Jewish Man.

Comparing the Jews to a cultivated olive tree and Gentiles to branches of a wild olive tree that have been grafted on, St. Paul says that it is only because the root is consecrated that the branches are consecrated. Accordingly, the Church cannot “forget that it draws sustenance from the root of that good olive tree.”

If “the Jews do not remain in their unbelief they will be grafted back on,” St. Paul told the Romans.

Many Canadians, myself included, have been uncomfortable poring over this year’s census, particularly the long form, with some of its uncomfortably personal, even intrusive, questions on identity, mental health, sexual orientation, homelessness, and personal finances.

Despite assurances from government, it’s hard these days to put complete faith in promises of confidentiality and security.

For context, however, it’s not as if the Canadian census only recently started exploring intimate areas of our lives. Look back at the 1976 Census of Canada and you’ll see deeply personal questions that are no longer asked, such as asking women how many babies they had ever borne alive, excluding stillbirths.

The census hasn’t been just a modest household head count for a long time.

But the state’s curiosity hasn’t appeared out of nowhere. It has grown alongside the size and priorities of government. The more pertinent issue is what government chooses to ask, and what it does not.

Why ask about the number of rooms in a home, but not whether the people in that home have a family doctor?

Why ask about commute times, but not health-care wait times?

Why ask whether someone has anxiety, depression, or substance-use disorder, but not whether they can actually access treatment?

Why not ask someone with a serious illness whether adequate palliative care was available before MAiD was discussed?

Governments don’t ask census questions merely for the benefit of Canadians. What they ask reveals what they believe matters most. The problem isn’t whether the census is intrusive, but whether government is willing to ask questions that aren’t necessarily in its political interests.

A similar thought came to me while covering the B.C. Supreme Court trial involving MAiD and St. Paul’s Hospital.

Much of the trial revolved around transfers and religious freedom. But the key realization for me from listening to weeks of testimony was the extraordinary degree to which Canada’s health-care system has prioritized the delivery of death.

The trial pulled back the curtain on the MAiD system — the bureaucrats, the memos, the efforts to promote MAiD, and the extent to which those advocating expanded MAiD access will go to ensure it is available at any time, in any place, including in Catholic facilities.

It was remarkable — impressive, even — during the trial to see the gusto that MAiD providers have for providing their services. Testimony described an expectation that urgent eligible MAiD cases be facilitated as quickly as possible, including during vacation time or after hours.

At one point during testimony came the striking line: “We go beyond … depending on the suffering … all of us will work on a weekend, or whatever we can do.”

The directors described the production as the beginning of “an exciting new chapter for theatre at our school,” celebrating a year spent building skills, confidence, and a strong theatre community.

Meanwhile, St. Patrick Regional Secondary’s Theatre Department staged Ghostlight by Stephen Gregg. The production ran April 9-11 at The Cultch’s Historic Theatre in Vancouver, giving students the opportunity to perform on one of the city’s most recognizable stages.

Your voice matters! Join the conversation by submitting a Letter to the Editor here.

Growing up, I was taught to pray the Rosary, but I don’t think I truly understood the relationships it is meant to foster.

In university, a Protestant friend found my rosary beads a little intimidating. I didn’t have the words to properly explain the prayers to her and, admittedly, I think her questions and feelings planted some doubts in my own mind as well.

Later, a Catholic friend commented that she didn’t want to “go through” Mary to have a relationship with Jesus. She respected Mary but didn’t think it was necessary to pray to her; she preferred to communicate directly with Jesus. Also wanting to prioritize my relationship with Jesus, I again began to doubt the need to pray to Mary regularly.

As a young mother, when I was invited to attend a mother’s Rosary group, I was unsure. I declined the invitation a couple of times and then finally surrendered and attended. I found that I loved the way these women of faith looked to the life of Mary through the Mysteries of the Rosary for guidance in their own lives. I attended weekly for several years and, through it, came to see the Rosary in new ways.

First, I realized that since my Protestant friend did not know the “Hail Mary” prayer, she may have found it strange to hear a prayer repeated over and over. For me, though, while pondering stories drawn directly from the Bible to the rhythm of familiar words, I found myself imagining Mary’s point of view in the events of her life with Jesus. As a result, I came to understand that I can turn to her when dealing with situations of my own, as a mother and as a woman seeking God’s plan for my life.

I also realized that I am in no way compromising my relationship with Jesus by reaching out to his mother. Mary was a woman who worked, worshipped, and raised a child, just as I have. She faced challenges, pain, and joys while always trusting in God’s plan for the world and her role in that plan. Mary is someone I can identify with because she is not God; she was a human woman, with the experiences of a woman and a mother. She “gets” me, and she wants me to turn to her, not instead of Jesus, but alongside him, as my heavenly mother.

This leads to something else people of other faiths say about Catholics and their relationship with Mary. Because we pray to Mary and even sing songs about her, we are accused of worshipping her. The reality is that we believe in the Ten Commandments and worship only God.

The “Preferential Option for the Poor” is a Catholic social teaching on how the Bible gives priority to the well-being of the poor and powerless. 

Referring to the Preferential Option for the Poor, Pope Leo XIV writes in his Apostolic Exhortation Dilexi Te, “This ‘preference’ never indicates exclusivity or discrimination towards other groups, which would be impossible for God. It is meant to emphasize God’s actions, which are moved by compassion toward the poverty and weakness of all humanity. Wanting to inaugurate a kingdom of justice, fraternity and solidarity, God has a special place in his heart for those who are discriminated against and oppressed, and he asks us, his Church, to make a decisive and radical choice in favor of the weakest… With St. John Paul II, the Church’s preferential relationship with the poor was consolidated, particularly from a doctrinal standpoint. His teaching saw in the option for the poor a ‘special form of primacy in the exercise of Christian charity, to which the whole tradition of the Church bears witness.'” 

Fr. Mark-Mary shares powerful examples of how we can put the poor and weakest among us at the front of our hearts and minds.

Shift your attitude about leadership and it can change your life.Think of the names of some living leaders.

Is your own name on that list?

I guess not. But it should be. Each of us has a leadership opportunity and responsibility, every single day, whether at home or at work. What’s more, showing leadership is core to our calling in this world. That will become clear in following paragraphs, as we discard some faulty stereotypes to reach a more authentic understanding of leadership.

We don’t typically think of ourselves as leaders. We stereotypically associate “leadership” with hierarchy and fame. You and I aren’t leaders; popes, presidents, and chief executives are. To proclaim oneself a leader? That sounds like chest-thumping arrogance, directly contradicting the New Testament’s manifold exhortations to humility: “For those who exalt themselves will be humbled,” for example, or, “Blessed are the meek,” or “Humble yourselves before the Lord,” and we could go on.

But a life of leadership is not at all inimical to a Christian worldview; rather, it’s core to the Christian calling.

Consider one common dictionary definition: Leadership involves “pointing out a way, direction, or goal,” and “influencing others toward it.” Well, every one of us is living that definition every day. We’re not standing on street corners holding road signs and literally pointing out the way. But we’re doing so implicitly. By our behaviors, values, and priorities, we’re pointing out a way of living, our vision of how human beings ought to live and treat one another in this world. Many of us are parents, and all of us have parents: Could there be any more obvious example of “pointing the way” and “influencing others” than what parents do for children over a lifetime? Good parenting, then, is good leadership.

Once we embrace this way of thinking, the “leadership light bulb” goes off and transforms our approach to life and work. Leadership becomes today’s challenge and my challenge. Remember Martin Luther King, Jr.’s eloquent call to embrace “the fierce urgency of now”? Well, that happens upon accepting one’s leadership responsibility: We “embrace the now” by discovering each day’s small opportunities to point out a way of living through our example: How am I using my time? How am I treating my children, community members, or work colleagues? How am I using my money?

It’s no longer some remote opportunity that may emerge if I someday manage hundreds of subordinates; instead, leadership is about the influence I can have today, whether I’m managing hundreds or indirectly influencing a handful of family members and colleagues. And it’s no longer the exclusive domain of high and mighty personages who wrestle with world-shaking issues in the global limelight; it also involves the more humble impact that I can make.