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He was a skeptic until Christ came, but there was one thing the Doubter didn’t lose faith in — and that saved him.

Jesus said to him, “Have you come to believe because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.”

—John 20:29

In those first days following the death and burial of Jesus, the Apostles were left adrift. After all, the One who had been their focus and point of reference through years of mission and service was gone. God had gone quiet, no longer speaking to them or guiding them. How could they make sense of everything that had happened to Jesus? Everything that had happened to them?

As their hopes crumbled around them, there was no escaping the darkness brought on by the Crucifixion. The disappointment and disillusionment of Good Friday had not yet been transformed into the light of Easter.

Then everything changed. But Thomas had been absent when Jesus first appeared to the Apostles on that first Easter Sunday. Should it be any wonder, then, that he would still be overwhelmed by Holy Saturday sadness?  And I don’t think it’s fair to fault Thomas for being skeptical at the stories of Mary Magdalene and others seeing Jesus. With these same themes in mind, Pope Francis has reflected, “Doesn’t the same thing also happen to us when something completely new occurs in our everyday life? We stop short, we don’t understand, we don’t know what to do. Newness often makes us fearful, including the newness which God brings us, the newness which God asks of us” (Homily for the Easter Vigil 2013).

Although Thomas did not initially believe in the resurrection of the Lord, he remained faithful to the call he had received from Jesus—the call to be a part of the community of the Apostles. While his doubts would not allow him to believe that the others had seen the Lord, Thomas never lost faith in their fraternity and it was ultimately in and through that community that Thomas finally encountered the Risen Christ.

In The Genesee Diary, Henri Nouwen recalled that Didymus, the name of Thomas, means “twin” and that the Fathers of the Church had commented that all of us are “two people: a doubting one and a believing one. We need the support and love of our brothers and sisters to prevent our doubting person from becoming dominant and destroying our capacity for belief.” And so, we might say that the Church is inviting us reflect not so much on “Doubting Thomas” as on the living and dynamic faith of the community—the Church—of which Thomas was a part.

He was a skeptic until Christ came, but there was one thing the Doubter didn’t lose faith in — and that saved him.

Jesus said to him, “Have you come to believe because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.”

—John 20:29

In those first days following the death and burial of Jesus, the Apostles were left adrift. After all, the One who had been their focus and point of reference through years of mission and service was gone. God had gone quiet, no longer speaking to them or guiding them. How could they make sense of everything that had happened to Jesus? Everything that had happened to them?

As their hopes crumbled around them, there was no escaping the darkness brought on by the Crucifixion. The disappointment and disillusionment of Good Friday had not yet been transformed into the light of Easter.

Then everything changed. But Thomas had been absent when Jesus first appeared to the Apostles on that first Easter Sunday. Should it be any wonder, then, that he would still be overwhelmed by Holy Saturday sadness?  And I don’t think it’s fair to fault Thomas for being skeptical at the stories of Mary Magdalene and others seeing Jesus. With these same themes in mind, Pope Francis has reflected, “Doesn’t the same thing also happen to us when something completely new occurs in our everyday life? We stop short, we don’t understand, we don’t know what to do. Newness often makes us fearful, including the newness which God brings us, the newness which God asks of us” (Homily for the Easter Vigil 2013).

Although Thomas did not initially believe in the resurrection of the Lord, he remained faithful to the call he had received from Jesus—the call to be a part of the community of the Apostles. While his doubts would not allow him to believe that the others had seen the Lord, Thomas never lost faith in their fraternity and it was ultimately in and through that community that Thomas finally encountered the Risen Christ.

In The Genesee Diary, Henri Nouwen recalled that Didymus, the name of Thomas, means “twin” and that the Fathers of the Church had commented that all of us are “two people: a doubting one and a believing one. We need the support and love of our brothers and sisters to prevent our doubting person from becoming dominant and destroying our capacity for belief.” And so, we might say that the Church is inviting us reflect not so much on “Doubting Thomas” as on the living and dynamic faith of the community—the Church—of which Thomas was a part.

A striking convergence of events connected to health care is unfolding in British Columbia, with legal, liturgical, and pastoral elements intersecting.

At the centre is a B.C. Supreme Court trial in Vancouver examining whether religious hospitals can be required to allow practices on their premises that conflict with their moral convictions. The case raises questions that go beyond law and policy, potentially touching on the future shape of Catholic health care in Canada.

The trial began on Monday, Jan. 19, propitiously the feast of St. Marguerite Bourgeoys, one of the earliest figures associated with Catholic care for the sick in what would become Canada. Through her Congregation of Notre Dame, Marguerite and her sisters brought care directly to the ill and vulnerable in 17th-century Montreal, long before formal health systems existed. Their work reflected a missionary model rooted in the Visitation, going out to meet people where they were, especially the sick and the poor.

Depending on the outcome of the trial, that model of care grounded less in brick-and-mortar institutions and more on service could again become a prominent feature of Catholic health ministry, even as Catholic hospitals continue to operate within public systems.

The trial is expected to conclude Feb. 6. Just days later, on Feb. 11, the Church observes the World Day of the Sick, which coincides with the Feast of Our Lady of Lourdes, a date chosen by St. John Paul II because of Lourdes’ longstanding association with healing and care for the ill.

Following the Marian apparitions in 1858 and the arrival of thousands of sick pilgrims each year, the Church moved beyond informal charity to a system of medical volunteers, including doctors, nurses, religious sisters, and trained lay caregivers, who provided care. The result was one of the earliest large-scale models of pastoral health care, focusing on compassion, accompaniment, and the dignity of the suffering person. It was that understanding of health care as an expression of mercy that John Paul II drew on when he established the World Day of the Sick.

The week after the Feast of Our Lady of Lourdes comes Ash Wednesday, which similarly reminds us of human frailty and mortality.

It is in the midst of these moments that National Catholic Health Care Week arrives, when Catholics across Canada are invited to reflect on a tradition shaped by the Church’s healing ministry. Reflected in a post-Jubilee theme of “Open Hearts, Healing, Hope,” the tradition has been defined less by bricks and mortar than by what John Paul II described as making present “the merciful love of God through the care and closeness of others.”

With the sun shining on the waves, Archbishop Richard Smith made a pastoral visit to Vancouver’s port ministry, accompanying port chaplains in their duties supporting the spiritual welfare of docked seafarers and ship workers.

The Archbishop toured the facilities with Father Pereira, the national director of Stella Maris Canada, Deacon Dileep Athaide, and long-time ship-visiting volunteer Douglas McDonald, as they performed their duties at the Port of Vancouver.

Port Chaplain Father Eslin Pereira, CMF, said the Archdiocese of Vancouver Apostleship of the Sea team was grateful for the Archbishop’s visit and support. The visit included a meeting with the Port Ecumenical Centre’s Mission to Seafarers administrator, Rev. Peter Smyth, who gave a guided tour of the Vancouver waterfront Seafarers Centre and an overview of the activities and services available to visiting seafarers.

Archbishop Smith also toured a cargo vessel loading Canadian-grown barley at the Alliance Grain Terminal, one of the many independent dock operators along the south side of Burrard Inlet harbour. He met with the ship’s all-Filipino, mostly Catholic, crew of 21, who were thrilled to have the Archbishop visit their ship and to share with him a bit about their work and life aboard.

“It was a real joy to meet the crew aboard the cargo vessel and to spend time with these hardworking men, many of whom are far from their families for long stretches of time,” Archbishop Smith told The B.C. Catholic. “I was grateful for the opportunity to listen to their stories and pray together.”

The Archbishop also thanked port ministry workers and volunteers for being a “powerful sign of the Church’s care for those who are often unseen yet essential to our daily lives.”

“I am deeply grateful for the faithful service of all who ensure seafarers are welcomed, supported, and reminded of their God-given dignity,” he said.

The Apostleship of the Sea is an international Catholic ministry dedicated to the pastoral care of seafarers and their families. It was established in Scotland in 1920 to meet the spiritual and practical needs of sailors who often spent long periods far from home.

In its early years, Stella Maris operated hostels where seafarers could find rest and companionship while their ships were in port, supported by parish volunteers who offered hospitality and guidance.

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A Vancouver pro-life activist has been charged with mischief after being arrested Jan. 6 during a four-hour protest outside Every Woman’s Health Centre on Commercial Drive.

Lane Walker, 62, who lives in the Downtown Eastside in an intentional interdenominational Christian community, said he was initially charged with violating B.C.’s Access to Abortion Services Act. 

Every Woman’s Health Centre is one of several abortion facilities in Metro Vancouver and has previously been the site of protests and counter-protests. 

Walker, 62, has a history of protesting human rights violations and abortion that goes back to the 1980s.

Walker, who although not Catholic attends Mass at St. Paul’s Church near Oppenheimer Park, said he was taken into custody shortly after 3:30 p.m. while protesting outside the clinic at 2525 Commercial Dr. 

Walker said he had been outside the clinic engaging in conversations with members of the public and police officers. He said he told police he intended to openly defy the Access to Abortion Services Act, the provincial legislation that restricts certain forms of expression within designated access zones around abortion clinics. 

He told The B.C. Catholic the police were “exemplar civil servants” who have “a truly difficult job because high-conflict situations can be very stressful.”

Walker said officers approached him and told him to leave the 50-metre access zone around the clinic. After making it clear he intended to stay in protest, he was arrested and read his rights, he said.

Police told him handcuffs would not be used because his demeanour “did not warrant more forceful measures,” he said.

Police were hesitant to arrest him, he said, describing the process as unusual. “I’ve never been served, read my rights and given my court date all at the same time,” he said. 

He said he was initially charged with violation of the Access to Abortion Services Act, but the charge was later reduced to mischief, a decision he believes was made to avoid engaging with the substance of the protest. 

Under the Criminal Code, mischief is conduct that intentionally interferes with the lawful use of property. 

Walker is scheduled to appear in court on March 18.

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Wait. What’s a sacramental?I have always been drawn to sacramentals. I keep on hand holy water, medals, and many Lents’ worth of palm branches, not to mention a drawer full of miscellaneous holy cards and third-class relics (some of which are blessed, though I’ve mostly forgotten which ones).

I often think to myself that it might help me to use them a bit more. But sometimes I worry about abusing them, falling into the error of treating them like good luck charms. I guess that despite my attraction to the idea of sacramentals, I have always been foggy on exactly what they are, and how they work.

So I poked around a bit and found out three things that took away my fears and cleared things up for me.

Sacramentals are more than just blessed objects

Religious (and sometimes ordinary) objects that have been blessed by a priest are sacramentals. But other things are too. A sacramental can be an action, time, place, or event — anything used by the Church to open us up to God’s grace. So, for example, fasting, genuflecting, or making the sign of the cross is a sacramental, as is a sacred place like the site of an approved Marian apparition. There are also blessings of the home or vehicles, or special blessings and objects associated with saints, such as the blessing of throats on St. Blase’s day, or St. Joseph’s table. Even Olympic sprinter Usain Bolt’s flying Miraculous Medal is a sacramental. Sacramentals are all around us.

Sacramentals get their power partly from your disposition

The seven sacraments don’t rely on your disposition to work. I can be a real jerk but still contract a true marriage. A priest’s ordination can be valid whether or not he is a holy man. A baptism can be performed on a small child unaware of what is happening. But with sacramentals, your disposition opens you up to the grace God wants to give. In this sense, using a sacramental is like praying. Just saying the words or going through the motions isn’t enough. Blessing yourself with holy water or genuflecting might not be a way to open yourself to grace, if you’re doing those acts unthinkingly, or with wrong intentions, just as saying the words of the Our Father doesn’t mean much if your heart isn’t lifted to God, however imperfectly.

Sacramentals also get their power from the prayers of the Church

But your disposition isn’t the only thing that counts. Using a sacramental unites your prayer—as flawed and weak and poor as it most certainly is—with the intercessory prayers of the universal Church, the Bride of Christ.

In chapter 20 of The Spiritual Combat, Lorenzo Scupoli addresses the harmful effects of sloth and offers guidance on how to combat it. Sloth is not merely physical idleness, but a deadly torpor of the soul that paralyzes spiritual growth, dulls discernment, and opens the heart to deception.

Scupoli points out that sloth is like a worm eating away at wood. The danger of sloth lies in silent and gradual decline—small delays, minor indulgences, and habitual postponements that lead to spiritual bondage. It attacks not only good intentions but also developed virtues. Left unchecked sloth can hollow out our spiritual life completely. However, armed with immediate action, true diligence, patient persistence, and the grace of God, we can fight this battle and win.

Scupoli counsels us to avoid curiosity, worldly attachments, and unnecessary occupations that feed distraction. He emphasizes the importance of immediate action (i.e. prompt and cheerful obedience to divine inspirations and the demands of duty) for delay makes tasks seem more burdensome over time. Sloth feeds on delay. The moment between inspiration and action is where spiritual battles are won or lost. Act immediately and you starve sloth of its power. Hesitate and you give it a foothold.

We must also watch out for false productivity. This is when we rush through our spiritual duties—racing through prayers, speeding through the Rosary, hurrying through Scripture reading—just to check them off our list and get back to what we really want to do.

This isn’t true diligence; it’s sloth wearing a mask. True diligence consists in performing each task at its proper time with full attention. Real spiritual practice requires presence, attention, and a willing heart. It is better to pray one decade of the Rosary with full devotion than to recite an entire Rosary while mentally planning your day.

To reawaken zeal, Scupoli exhorts us to remember the immense value of every act done for God—even a single prayer or act of self-denial outweighs the world’s treasures. Each victory over laziness brings heavenly reward, while habitual neglect leads to withdrawal of divine grace.

One of sloth’s most effective lies is making tasks seem overwhelming. The ancient spiritual masters knew the antidote: break overwhelming tasks into manageable pieces – break long prayers or labours into short periods until strength returns; rest briefly when overwhelmed, then resume the task steadily. This gradual discipline weakens sloth and strengthens virtue. As one Desert Father wisely said: “The person who begins with small things will eventually accomplish great ones.”

Patient persistence is another key remedy against sloth. We must fight sloth with immediate, forceful action and yet we must also exercise patient trust in God’s slow work within us.

Is your faith certain enough to stand up against the doubts and different ideas out there? 

Fr. Mike shares insight about certainty from Dr. Montague Brown, professor of philosophy at St. Anselm College, New Hampshire. Dr. Brown says certainty is intellectual belief based on the evidence. It’s not blind belief. Someone with certainty is not going to change their mind without new objective evidence. Many times people change their minds not because of new evidence, but just because of new people in their lives. They’ve simply been exposed to new behavior. This happens to students in college quite often. 

Christianity is evidential. It hinges upon an indisputable event, the life and death of Jesus. 

If you’re from a small town, you may think the way you were raised is just part of your small town’s way of thinking, and that a well-known university in a big city must have a broader, more enlightened way of thinking. But really, the university is just as subject to its way of thinking as the small town is. The culture of a university is just as insulated as that of a small town. 

Don’t get so caught up in the culture around you that you give in to new ideas without evidence—whether that culture is a university, a new workplace, new friends, new family, or a new city. Let your faith always be backed up by the evidence. Fr. Mike is certain in his belief that Christianity will then always come out on top.

“Democracy” is one of the most frequently invoked yet least understood words in contemporary politics. It is used to praise, warn, accuse and moralize. We hear that democracy is “under threat” or that certain views are “undemocratic.” Yet when the word is pressed, divergent notions emerge.

For Catholics, this conceptual fog is not an abstract problem. Because truth is a moral category, political discourse clouded by equivocation threatens our ability to judge rightly. What, then, is the Catholic response to the invocations of democratic values? 

As Jacques Maritain argues in Christianity and Democracy, Catholic thought has long intuited a harmony between human dignity, social services and political participation that are commonly associated with democratic life. Articulating this intuition is, therefore, crucial for both the believer and non-believer today.

A helpful way to illuminate the confusion is to distinguish three meanings of “democracy” that are often conflated: as a form of rule, as a form of association and as equality. Each suggests legitimate political concerns but also aligns differently with Catholic teaching.

The first is democracy as a form of rule, understood in its literal Greek sense: the people are the source of political authority. This definition focuses not on the regime’s character but on the location of power. Many assume this form of democracy is inherently good; but Catholic social teaching is more cautious. The Church values participation and shared responsibility, but has never taught that majority will is automatically legitimate. St. John Paul II warned explicitly against this temptation in Centesimus Annus: a democracy without objective moral reference easily becomes a “thinly disguised totalitarianism” — the arbitrary will of a ruler replaced by the arbitrary will of the majority.

The second meaning is democracy as a form of association, more closely associated with the rule of law or constitutionalism. Here, democracy is not based on who holds power but the structures within which power operates: equal treatment before the law, institutional limits, stable procedures and protections for human rights. This understanding resonates deeply with Catholic thought. A political order that protects the dignity of each person, regardless of social standing, through impartial norms aligns with the Church’s insistence on the intrinsic worth of the human person. Yet, crucially, nothing in this understanding of democracy requires popular rule. A constitutional regime could even be monarchical and still uphold these “democratic” values.

The third meaning takes democracy to imply substantive equality: such a society must guarantee not only equal legal standing but a wide range of social and economic outcomes. Goods like housing, health care and food security — once matters of familial duty, communal responsibility and personal charity — are recast as enforceable entitlements.

3rd Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year A
First Reading: Is 9:1-4
Second Reading: 1 Cor 1:10-13, 17-18
 Gospel Reading: Mt 4:12-23

The Church’s Jubilee Year of Hope has ended, but Christian hope has not.

Unfortunately, Catholics have almost ceased to notice that Christian hope “ensues from a real encounter” with God, said Pope Benedict XVI in his encyclical Spe Salvi (“Saved by Hope”).

Non-Christians try to comfort themselves at funerals with empty promises like, “He’ll never be dead, for we will always remember him.”

A man dying of AIDS told a pastoral worker that he had “no hope.” He burst into tears, sobbing like a child, and cried out, “Tell me how I can have hope!”

In contrast, Christians know that “they have a future,” the Pope said: they do not know “the details of what awaits them, but they know in general terms that their life will not end in emptiness.”

This Sunday’s readings tell us that when God became Man, “the people who walked in darkness” saw “a great light”; “the yoke of their burden” and “the rod of their oppressor” were broken; “anguish and gloom” were replaced by hope.

Jesus “knows even the path that passes through the valley of death,” the Pope said; he walks with us “even on the path of final solitude,” where no one else can accompany us.

“He himself has walked this path, He has descended into the kingdom of death, He has conquered death, and he has returned to accompany us now and to give us the certainty that, together with him, we can find a way through.”

“This was the new hope that arose over the life of believers” when God became Man, he said.

According to the Christian faith, our salvation is not simply a given. In the Second Reading, St. Paul speaks not of “us who have been saved,” but of “us who are being saved.”

No; “redemption is offered to us in the sense that we have been given hope, trustworthy hope, by virtue of which we can face our present,” the Pope said.

Without such hope, life is unbearable, he said. With such hope, we can face poverty, persecution, and even death. “The present, even if it is arduous, can be lived and accepted if it leads toward a goal, if we can be sure of this goal, and if this goal is great enough to justify the effort of the journey.”

Humans have a profound need for hope, as that AIDS patient realized. “We need the greater and lesser hopes that keep us going day by day,” the Pope said, “but these are not enough without the great hope, which must surpass everything else.