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Gen Z and young millennials are searching more ardently for meaning in life than generations before them. Monsignor James Shea shares firsthand observations on the struggles of young adults today and their deep desire for lives of purpose, as well as practical advice for evangelizing young people—laying the groundwork for a life of Christian faith, discipleship, and holiness.

Every few days, I bake bread, which makes the house smell cozy, slightly sweet and toasty. My husband and daughter love eating a warm slice of rustic bread straight from the oven. Being a family manager is the mission I’m called to do right now; though, it wasn’t always the plan to be this way.  

When I was pregnant with my daughter, I had planned to return to my office job after my maternity leave was completed, however, after the birth of my daughter, my health quickly derailed. After four days into motherhood and the excitement of having a baby at home, my husband had to take me to the hospital. 

I was quickly diagnosed with post-partum depression along with mania and psychosis. This diagnosis completely changed the plans of my family. I didn’t want to be at the psychiatric ward where I felt alone and missed my new family. It was a very dark time for both my husband and I. He was solo parenting—making all the decisions around feeding, changing, and getting up in the middle of the night. I, on the other hand, was trying to get enough sleep and become healthy again in my hospital room. 

The separation from my daughter and husband created a wound in my heart that I am still healing from. Feeling like a failure and a burden, every night in the hospital ward, I hung on to the hope that I would get better as I held a picture of my newborn daughter close to me.

My brain needed a lot of time to heal as it was an intense episode and the medicine took a while to be effective. After a month in the psychiatric ward, I was scheduled to use a virtual unit for a few weeks. I would check in with a nurse at least twice a day and once a week with a doctor. My family and l were adjusting to new routines; however, the illness was not getting any easier and the symptoms kept cropping up.  

Six months after giving birth, my doctor, my husband and I decided that it would be better for my health and wellbeing to stay at home with my daughter and not go back to work. I was not fit to work in the state I was in, even though I was released from the hospital. I felt that I was letting my husband down again because I wanted to have an equal share in providing for the family.  I had worked with that employer for twelve years and saying farewell to my colleagues that I had grown to love and care for was a difficult choice.

Father Ian Charles Stuart passed away on April 9 in Victoria, leaving behind an enduring legacy of welcome, courage, caring, and kindness to all who knew him.

Long before his ordination, Father Ian’s gift for connecting with people was already evident in his work as a young principal of St. Thomas Aquinas High School in North Vancouver. Martin Dale, one of his students at the time and now a school principal himself, remembers “Mr. Stuart” as a favourite among students and staff alike.

Dale recalled one particularly memorable adventure in the spring of 1977, when Ian served as teacher-chaperone for a two-week voyage to Alaska aboard a tugboat. Thirty students took shifts in various seafaring jobs, gaining hands-on experience under the guidance of a man who treated each of them with genuine kindness, humour, and dedication.

Those same qualities were front and centre when Father Ian answered the call to the priesthood. Ordained in 1987, he served as assistant pastor at Holy Rosary Cathedral and St. Mary’s in Chilliwack before being named pastor of St. Francis of Assisi Parish in Vancouver. His priestly vocation was filled with joy and strength, and he was always willing to travel to visit those in need, whether in a jail, a hospital, or at a sickbed.

Father Stanley Galvon fondly recalled the many trips and pilgrimages they shared, including visits to the Passion Play in Oberammergau and the Holy Land, as well as many trips to shrines in Europe such as Fatima and Lourdes. “He greatly enjoyed travelling with others,” Father Galvon said, and wherever his friend travelled, he remained faithful to his life of prayer and encouraged mutual respect and goodwill with everyone he met.

Near and dear to his heart were the islands of Hawaii, and the “spirit of aloha” may be one of the best ways to describe his character (and one he’d deeply appreciate). He organized pilgrimages to Molokai and even brought a work crew of young men from Vancouver to paint and repair the aging Catholic church there.

For Father Ian, everyone was family, and no one was unimportant. He had a remarkable ability to converse with anyone, aided by a natural gift for languages. He remembered people’s family ties, their cultural traditions, their favourite foods, the songs that mattered to them, and who among their loved ones needed prayer.

Father Ian later became pastor of St. Anthony’s Parish in West Vancouver before returning to Victoria in 2009 to care for his aging mother.

Laila Maravillas, who served as elementary school principal at both St. Francis of Assisi and St. Anthony’s during his tenure, saw firsthand how Father Ian “lived his life in a way that pleased God.” 

Recently a friend asked me how I cope when I’m anxious. The first response I gave was to pray. Praying for healing, for comfort, and for relief from pain or stress is a good way to support mental health.

“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:7) 

It doesn’t mean you should leave all the other supports behind. With the mental illness I live with, I need to make sure that I’m taking my medication daily, that I’m getting enough sleep and eating healthy. I exercise and regularly see my doctor. Treatment needs to be followed and not replaced with prayer.

“Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter, you will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth, you will again bring me up. You will increase my honour and comfort me once again.” (Psalm 71:20-21)

I can’t imagine what my life would be like if I didn’t believe in a loving God who came to save me. He is the only one who knows my mind, heart and soul. He is the only one whom I can rely on without any doubt that he will deliver.

God’s promises of a future full of hope and that he will supply the grace for each day bring comfort to my mental and emotional suffering. I pray daily, but sometimes my strongest prayers are when I am desiring a weight to be lifted off my shoulders and heart.

The Lord is all I want and I need him more than anything else. Healthy or not, Jesus Christ is my friend and he can turn everything into victory. In every season, he restores what the anxiety and illness stole. His love makes me whole.

“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore, we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.” Psalm 46:1-3 

All he asks is that we trust in his power and love for us. My life becomes prayer — my heart seeking his mercy and strength. I turn to him for guidance and encouragement. I offer up my work, play and suffering to his Sacred Heart.

“… And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” Micah 6:8 

I am confident that Jesus keeps his word and he fights my battles for me. I will always have bipolar disorder, but I will never be alone as I know that Jesus is with me.

Fifth Sunday of Easter, Year A
First Reading: Acts 6:1–7
Second Reading: 1 Pt 2:4–9
Gospel Reading: Jn 14:1–12

In his first encyclical, Deus Caritas Est (“God Is Love”), Pope Benedict XVI said that “the entire activity of the Church is an expression of a love that seeks the integral good of man”—that is, the good of the whole of each person, body and soul.

Accordingly, the Church’s love for humans takes the forms of 1) “evangelization through word and sacrament” and 2) promotion of human life and activity in its “various arenas.”

In this Sunday’s First Reading, we see both these forms of love. The apostles realized that their own task was to pray and preach God’s word, but they appointed deacons to “wait on tables.” They were obeying both of God’s commands: to love God with our whole being and to love our neighbours as ourselves.

The two commands are related, Pope Benedict noted. When we obey God, the communion between our will and his develops into a communion of thought and feeling. God’s will becomes no longer “alien,” something imposed from outside; it becomes our own. Then, the Pope said, “in God and with God,” we love people we do not like or even know, for we look on them not simply with our own eyes and feelings, but from Christ’s perspective: his friend is our friend.

Thus we see the interplay between love of God and love of neighbour, the Pope said. If we have no contact with God in our lives, we cannot see his image in other people. For example, our society condemns slavery, abuse, and unjust discrimination, yet murders unborn babies and old people because it has neglected love of God, who gives all persons their objective value and their inalienable rights. On the other hand, if we have no contact with other people, our relationship with God becomes dry and loveless.

The Pope praised saints who “constantly renewed their capacity for love of neighbour from their encounter with the Eucharistic Lord,” and described how “this encounter acquired its realism and depth in their service to others.”

Love of God and love of neighbour are “inseparable,” the Pope said; “they form a single commandment.” Love “is divine because it comes from God and unites us to God,” but “it makes us a ‘we’ which transcends our divisions and makes us one, until in the end God is all in all.”

As members of what St. Peter, in the Second Reading, calls “a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people,” we have the duty to “proclaim the mighty acts” of him who called us “out of darkness into his marvellous light.”

My wife and I aren’t a textbook couple. We’ve had some pretty nasty arguments that – in the moment – make me feel certain I am not qualified to write an article like this. And we’ve learned (and unlearned) a lot of painful truths along the way.

Marriage is the hardest and most important thing I’ve ever done.

That’s why I think it’s worth discussing as a fellow traveller. So, in that spirit, here are 10 things I’ve found helpful to create deeper connection after more than a decade of marriage:

1. Read the temperature gauge – Maybe you’re excited to be married. Maybe you’re not. Maybe you see your environment as a problem (or maybe your spouse!) Take a second to get a feel for the pulse of things. As Buechner says in his memoir The Sacred Journey, notice your life. That’s going to help you with every step to come.

2. Do not scorn the small stuff – If you’re like me, it’s instinctive for you to chase big wins in your relationship: moments that reward you in the immediate. But as Gandalf says to Frodo, “I have found it is the small things, everyday deeds of ordinary folk, that keep the darkness at bay. Simple acts of kindness and love.” It may not come naturally to you (it didn’t for me) but a million tiny celebrations have more potential for goodness than one giant, heavy expectation. 

3. Encouragement costs nothing – I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I used to dislike it when my wife thanked me for doing the dishes. “I’m just doing the job that needs to get done,” I would reply, a bit annoyed. Deep down I was embarrassed that I didn’t thank her for doing simple tasks around the house. She was demonstrating to me what simple gratitude could look like. And in a long-term marriage, the necessary tasks get done over and over and over again. “Thank you” creates a positive culture.

4. Your phone is an active agent – Phones are pocket portals into limitless worlds and they are NOT designed to support you during intimate moments with your partner. My wife and I have had a difficult (and on-going) dialogue about when and where and how our phones should be present in our relationship and lives at large. When conducted with sensitivity and judgment-free vocabulary, I think these conversations should keep happening. The conclusions you arrive upon are secondary, in my opinion. It’s the dialogue that’s crucial.

5. You’re not the same person you were – Neither is your partner. The world is a vastly different place than when you first met and you’re evolving within it.

TORONTO – Catholic Conscience is launching a new annual conference, “Building a Culture of Life & Dignity,” with its inaugural 2026 gathering set to tackle one of the deepest problems in contemporary society: the breakdown of our shared social covenant and the erosion of human dignity from conception to natural death.

The 2026 conference, “Restoring the Covenant: Catholic Social Teaching as Common Social Ground,” will take place on Saturday, May 30, at De La Salle Oaklands College in Toronto.

The gathering is rooted in Catholic social doctrine and inspired by Pope Leo XIII’s Rerum Novarum, in which he says, “Since the end of society is to make people better, the chief good that society can possess is virtue,” said Matthew Marquardt, executive director of Catholic Conscience.

Open to Catholics and all people of good will, the aim is to offer Catholic Social Teaching as a roadmap for renewing public life, he said.

In a world marked by radical individualism, moral relativism, and what organizers describe as “a culture indifferent to the dignity of life,” the conference proposes CST as a unifying framework for rebuilding the bonds that make us a true covenant people.

For example, CST offers a Catholic lens for evaluating and interpretating governmental wellness indexes, such as the Quality of Life Framework recently adopted by the Government of Canada. 

“Our social covenant is broken and needs to be restored, said Marquardt, who is also president of Canadian Catholic News. “And the responsibility for doing that is one everyone one of us. We belong to one another and each have a role to play in society.”

The conference grew out of months of discussions about the fragile state of Catholic apostolates in Canada and the surprising appetite among young Catholics for serious engagement, he said.

“If you go to church in Toronto since the pandemic, attendance is up a lot,” Marquardt said. “The difference is a lot of young people who are very ardent. They say they want things to do.”

Organizers say the event is intended to:

• Advance civic conversation on restoring a shared social covenant grounded in common principles and values, as an alternative to the social currents pulling people away from God and one another. 
• Bring together Canadian Catholic social and civic initiatives – along with other groups of goodwill – to increase awareness and promote cooperation among them. 
• Promote volunteer, employment, and fundraising opportunities for these initiatives, helping them find the skills and support they need to survive and grow. 

The vision goes beyond theory. In recent years, small Catholic organizations such as Catholic Insight, Catholic Conscience, and Canadian Catholic News have struggled with increasingly complex regulatory demands, especially those affecting interactions with agencies such as the Canada Revenue Agency, and the practical burden of running lean operations with minimal staff.

Father Vicente Miguel, Jr., delivered the homily at the Lapu-Lapu Memorial Mass at St. Andrew’s Church, Vancouver. He spoke to the community’s recent experience through themes of quiet hope, healing, and the Filipino concept of bayanihan—communal unity and mutual help—as both a cultural and Catholic Christian expression of unity.

“This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad.”

We proclaimed this as our Gospel Acclamation. But today, we hear it differently.

Because not every rejoicing is loud. Not every joy is expressed with smiles and laughter.

Sometimes, rejoicing is quiet.

Sometimes, rejoicing is simply this: to gather, to remember, to pray, and to trust God—even when our hearts are still healing.

So today, as a community, we come together.

Not because everything is already clear, nor because everything is already easy, but because we believe: this is still the day the Lord has made.

And in this day, we bring everything to him—our prayers, our memories, especially our loved ones, even our questions, even the parts of our hearts that are still heavy.

This morning, I went to the memorial site at Mountain View Cemetery. Before I reached it, I passed by the street where the incident happened.

As I walked through that place, some of the news I had read, some images, some stories—they came back to me. Not loudly, but quietly, like memories that remain.

But I continued my walk, step by step, toward the site, slowly and quietly, offering each step with a prayer.

And as I was walking, I told myself: I will be there as a Filipino and as a priest, as someone who wanted to pray and to be present.

When I finally reached the memorial, I saw the flowers, stuffed toys, and so many things. I saw handwritten notes—messages, many of them written with tears behind the words.

What struck me most was this: the messages came from different people—different nationalities, cultures, and languages.

Not everyone was Filipino, but many came. Many stood. Many remembered.

And as I stood there quietly, I felt something difficult to explain.

Yes, there was pain. There was sadness. There was a heaviness in the air.

But at the same time, there was also something else.

There was love. There was presence. There was a quiet kind of unity.

People came not because they had to, but because they chose to stand with others.

They did not come with answers. They came simply to be there.

And in that moment, one word came to my heart: bayanihan.

For us Filipinos, bayanihan is something very familiar. It is when neighbours help one another, when people come together to carry a burden, when no one is left alone.

“Splashdown confirmed.”

With those words from NASA’s Mission Control came the end of a remarkable and historic 10‑day space mission, the likes of which arguably has not captivated the world since the heady days of the Apollo program, when man first—and last—walked on the moon.

For many, the moon landings are ancient history, happening before they were born. Others, like Senator Mark Kelly, a CNN commentator for the Artemis II mission and himself a storied Space Shuttle astronaut, were too young to remember those landings. He recounted, while viewers were waiting for the crew to be extracted from the Orion capsule, that his mother said he actually slept through Neil Armstrong’s historic first steps on the moon.

The Artemis mission did not include a moon landing. No moon rocks were brought back. Even so, it mesmerized many, perhaps because of the various superlatives frequently quoted in the extensive media coverage: the farthest any human has ventured from our home planet; the first astronauts to set eyes on certain parts of the so‑called dark side of the moon; the first astronauts to witness an eclipse while orbiting over that dark side; and the fastest speed ever achieved by humans, set just as re‑entry occurred into the home planet’s atmosphere.

There may well be additional superlatives as more data emerges from the mission. The four‑person astronaut crew will receive extensive post‑mission medical study. The return capsule will be subjected to particular scrutiny of its heat shield, an object of concern during the first Artemis mission when it was excessively ablated.

It is also worth noting that some of the superlatives repeated multiple times during mission media briefings were, in fact, a bit of hyperbole. Both the farthest‑distance and greatest‑speed metrics were only small incremental increases over those set by the Apollo missions in the 1960s and 1970s. Nonetheless, the Artemis mission has particularly captured the attention of students, some of whom may well become the first to live for an extended period somewhere other than on our home planet or in close orbit around it.

During the atmospheric return portion of the Artemis II mission, the tension was palpable not only for those in mission control but also for those watching from their homes. I, for one, was holding my breath for part of the six‑minute window during which Orion was subjected to maximum heating from the friction of re‑entry and was essentially surrounded by a plasma field that blocked any radio communication.

Here in Canada, we were proud to follow along with Canadian Space Agency astronaut Colonel Jeremy Hansen. Yes, we essentially bought a seat on the Artemis II flight by contributing more than $2 billion to the overall program, but Canada has a long history of space accomplishments.

Your identity—what Jesus really calls you—is the foundation for everything (yes, everything!) you do for the rest of your life. Yet too many of us have never heard Jesus speak our true identity to us. Today, Jamie Winship discusses the simple, three-step approach to receiving our true identity so that our hearts, and the world, can truly be transformed by God’s grace.