Category: BC Catholic

When Paul was brought before the Roman governor Felix, three very different souls stood in the same room, and Acts 24 lets us watch them closely. Felix’s own administration was, by every historical account, inefficient and troubled. Yet the case against Paul opens not with evidence but with theatre: the orator Tertullus, hired to prosecute, begins by flattering the very man who will decide the verdict. “We acknowledge this in every way and everywhere, most excellent Felix, with all gratitude,” he says, heaping praise on a governor he knows does not deserve it. It is a calculated move, an attempt to purchase favour before a single charge is laid.

The charges themselves do not hold up well. Tertullus calls Paul a ringleader of “the sect of the Nazarenes” and accuses him of stirring dissension among Jews throughout the world — serious-sounding words, but thin on substance. The one charge with real teeth, that Paul had tried to desecrate the Temple, collapses on inspection. Roman law required accusers to appear in person before the tribunal to make their case, and Paul’s original accusers from Jerusalem are nowhere to be found. A prosecution built on flattery and absent witnesses is not much of a prosecution at all.

Set beside Tertullus, Paul is almost startling in his plainness. He does not flatter Felix, and he does not lash out at his accusers, though he has every reason to. He simply states the truth of his conduct and his faith: “I always try to keep my conscience clear before God and men.” It is worth pausing on how much restraint that sentence contains. Paul had been seized without cause, struck, conspired against by forty men sworn to kill him, and shuttled around under armed guard. He had ample grounds to accuse his captors of violence and false imprisonment. He says not a word of it. Instead of counter-accusation, he offers only a clear and simple defence of who he is and what he believes.

That defence reaches its theological centre in a single sentence: “I worship the God of our fathers, believing everything laid down by the Law or written in the Prophets, having a hope in God which these themselves accept, that there will be a resurrection of both the just and the unjust.” In one breath Paul ties together fidelity to the Law and the Prophets — the whole inheritance of Israel — with the hope of resurrection that awaits everyone, the just and the unjust alike. 

Felix, for his part, is not an ignorant man. Acts tells us he was accurately informed about the Way and had genuine knowledge of the Gospel — this was not new information landing on deaf ears.

Years ago, Abbot John Braganza, OSB, stressed to me the importance of keeping my peace. We were on our way to Mass and had hit traffic. I was concerned about getting to Mass on time, not at all about maintaining my peace. I am only now comprehending Abbot John’s wisdom.

Having children with highly sensitive nervous systems to the point of disability has taught me much about the necessity of maintaining my peace. My children and marriage have long set me on a path of healing so that I can best serve and love my family members according to my created potential. Through the ongoing hard work of healing from trauma, of repairing my insecurely attached nervous system, as well as of learning to meet the needs of my neurodivergent marriage and family, I have come upon the wisdom of relational neuroscience and attachment science. I have come to understand the ways in which my nervous system impacts my people and how theirs impacts me.

My best shot at leaving a legacy of faith to my children, at showing them an accurate representation of The Father’s face, is not by means of excellent catechesis or of enough exposure to faith-based experiences or of doing everything to do with church “right”. Rather, it hinges on how well I maintain my peace and as such my connection with my children.

Our parent coach impressed upon me this fact: all learning is an emotional experience for better or for worse. Learning is firstly not a matter of imparting knowledge, facts, figures, and skills. I may deliver all the points of a lesson to my child with precision and accuracy, but his retention of the information will largely depend on the state of my nervous system during the lesson. Was I regulated, and as such, warm and calm? Or was I dysregulated, and as such, cold and chaotic? If I am regulated, warm, and calm, then my child will likely not only retain the information but also remain open and curious. If I am dysregulated, cold, and chaotic, then my child will likely not only not retain the information but also develop a bad taste in his mouth and an aversion to everything that is associated with the experience.

Maslow proposed a Hierarchy of Needs. I propose a Hierarchy of Goods, one whereby the foundation is care for every individual at a relational and nervous system level. The goods of being on time for Mass, of being dressed in our Sunday best, of being able to recite prayers, of being able to stay focused during Mass, of being able to be quiet and to sit still in the pew, of being formally catechized and so on are all beautiful ideals – but they are goods that sit higher up on the pyramid.

The process of Renewal that launched last Pentecost is taking greater shape with the creation of a prayer card. This is meant to be a means for the faithful to pray together for the intention of listening for what the Lord is calling us to do in the work of renewal. 

The cards, which began arriving in parishes during the month of September, features the Prayer for Renewal in the Archdiocese of Vancouver, written by Archbishop Smith. The other side of the card includes a newly designed image that is meant to visually represent this process.   

The goal of the prayer cards is to invite the faithful to pray this prayer together and often, discerning the movements of the Holy Spirit at work. 

“Behold, I make all things new”

On the front of the prayer card, there is an image of a crucifix over mountains and rivers. The crucifix at the centre of the image reminds us that, whatever our own efforts and contributions, renewal is ultimately the work of the Lord. 

From the crucifix, everything else flows. This is symbolized by the rising mountains and flowing rivers flowing from the crucifix – a testament to our geographical landscape that makes up the Archdiocese of Vancouver. The imagery of the river also symbolizes the work that is already in motion – what Archbishop Smith has called a “current of grace” that is already at work in the Archdiocese. A lot of this work isn’t necessarily new; rather, it is a continuation of what the Lord is already doing.  

Surrounding this image is the passage from the Book of Revelation that was chosen to guide this process of Renewal: “Behold, I make all things new” (Revelation 21:5).  In his letter to the Christian faithful this past May, Archbishop Smith told the faithful that these words “assure us that Christ is renewing his Church, and that our task is to listen, discern, and follow.” 

The Prayer for Renewal 

On the other side of the prayer card is the Prayer for Renewal in the Archdiocese of Vancouver. 

The opening line of the prayer cites Pope Leo XIV’s Apostolic Exhortation Dilexi Te, highlighting the fact that “all genuine renewal in the Church has the care for the poor at the centre.” 

The prayer comprises five short intentions, each tying back to one of the pillars of the Renewal Process: priestly life, parish life, liturgy, schools, and infrastructure.  

It closes with a reminder of the heart of this initiative: that renewal is not simply an administrative process, but a spiritual journey that calls each of us to deeper holiness, discipleship, and mission. Further, it is an invitation to embrace more fully our baptismal call to holiness and mission – invoking a personal Pentecost within our lives and the life of our local Church.

In Acts chapter 23, Paul stands trial before the Sanhedrin. But no scheme, however devised, can obstruct God’s plan for his witness. God had a plan for Paul, and what had to happen would happen. Paul was destined to go to Rome to bear witness for God, and he declared, sincerely and simply, that he had always lived with a clear conscience. This, in fact, is a recurring theme in Paul’s letters — that he consistently served God and did God’s work with this same integrity of conscience.

At one point, the high priest ordered someone to strike Paul on the mouth, and Paul responded that God would strike this high priest. Paul did not know at the time that the man was the high priest, but some saints have seen this as prophetic, since what he foretold did in fact come to pass — in AD 66, this same high priest was assassinated, seemingly fulfilling Paul’s words. When someone objected that he should not speak that way about the high priest, Paul humbly admitted his fault, revealing his humility of heart.

Later, Paul made a statement that struck at the heart of the matter. During this trial, he declared himself a Pharisee, the son of a Pharisee, on trial precisely because of his hope in the resurrection of the dead. At this, the assembly split: the Sadducees deny the resurrection, deny angels, and do not believe in spirits, while the Pharisees affirm all these. The scribes then said they could find no fault in Paul — perhaps, they said, a spirit or an angel really had spoken to him.

They reasoned that if it could be said an angel had spoken to Paul, then by that same logic, the risen Lord himself could have spoken to Paul — yet they refused to accept that Paul was an apostle sent by direct revelation from God. This shows that their accusations against Paul truly sprang from malice, unlike Paul, who acted in complete sincerity.

That night, the Lord himself came to encourage Paul, telling him to be courageous and not to be afraid — for just as he had testified for the Lord in Jerusalem, he must also testify for him in Rome. It was precisely in the midst of this hardship that God came to console him, and Paul drew strength from God to face every trial.

At that time, more than forty men bound themselves by an oath to neither eat nor drink until they had killed Paul. Such a plan was utterly unreasonable, yet it also brought out something very human — when Paul’s own relative heard of the plot, he went to help him, enabling him to escape the conspiracy.

When the doors of Whistler’s new Our Lady of the Mountains Catholic Church finally opened for its consecration on the Feast of the Visitation, May 31, pastor Fr. Andrew L’Heureux stood inside a space that, while still slightly unfinished, carried the sense of years toward a completed vision. 

Now, months later, the formal grand opening on Sept. 19 transfigures that feeling into quiet certainty: the years of struggle and physical labour across millions of dollars raised were all worth it. In that same church, the newest expression of Catholicism in the small mountain resort town found itself finally ushered in. 

This occasion united local Catholics, the Whistler community at large and donors who helped the nearly $8 million project come to fruition. While the sheer beauty of the parish’s new alpine-laden look took the breath away of many in attendance, L’Heureux attested they weren’t the first to feel that way. 

“Stepping in for the first time was a surreal experience, and it took a while for it to sink in. Anyone who’s restored a building knows the suffering involved, and so it was incredible to see the many beautiful miracles that happened to get us to where we are and how the parishioners were a part of that,” he told the Catholic Register. 

“We’ve seen how valuable and worthwhile the suffering was, because the product at the end is just so good. When we got the tabernacle, the altar and the communion rail in, we started to see how special this would be. Some of the donors came in crying when they saw it for the first time, one saying, ‘This is exactly what I would have envisioned a church in our Whistler to look like,’ he expressed. 

The statement rings true by the very nature of the building, with Our Lady of the Mountains now sporting countless elements that celebrate both traditional Catholicism and the unique expression of Canada’s West Coast outdoors, winter and ski culture. 

In what was once a mere recreational hall that could seat a maximum of 200 parishioners, now stands an expansive, wooden chalet-esque structure with the capacity to seat 500 with the use of the hall and additional seating. 

As L’Heureux explains in detail, while he remains blessed and thankful to inherit the parish’s former Holy site, the product of the restoration project has become far more than a new structure, but rather a celebration of the faith, Whistler, and Catholicism’s special place in Whistler.  

“There is just something very powerful about the building; the upper part resonates and comes alive beautifully with voices, the circular window on the west side of the church with a cross through it so it looks like a big Eucharist that shines like a spotlight in the afternoons, and even the new eight-sided baptismal font that represents the eight days of creation and us becoming a new creation when we’re baptized as the spiritual entrance into the church,” he said. 

In recent days, a fraternal gathering brought together representatives of the U.S., Mexican and Canadian episcopal conferences in Cuernavaca, Mexico, to share experiences, identify common challenges and seek pastoral collaboration on migration, human dignity and evangelization.

OSV News spoke with them about the outcomes, conclusions and commitments resulting from this Aug. 30-Sept. 4 gathering.

Bishop Ramón Castro Castro, president of the Mexican Bishops’ Conference, initiated this trilateral meeting, which he described as the first of its kind in Church history. The bishops came together “as brothers” and pastors to analyze the three nations’ social, political and economic realities so that they could “discern in accordance with what the Holy Spirit is asking of us” and “seek ways to better serve our people at such a difficult, complex and challenging time,” Castro said.

“These realities — migration, politics and the economy — are so different, yet we are united by a single baptism, a single Church, a single ministry and a single service,” said Castro.

He added that the violence plaguing Mexico is undoubtedly one of the greatest challenges facing his Church and one of its deepest sorrows.

“It is a violence that we must confront and that is forcing us to question so many important and difficult issues,” he said.

“As Mexican pastors, we are trying to find a way to seek peace,” he assured, adding that each Mexican bishop is “weaving” a “much-needed network of peace.”

Alongside the specific challenges each country faces, the participants also highlighted signs of hope. Bishop Daniel E. Flores, vice president of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, told OSV News about the bishops’ prayer before the tilma of Our Lady of Guadalupe at the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City and their shared commitment to finding new ways to evangelize and accompany immigrants, vulnerable communities, young people and families.

“The remedy comes through grace. Grace comes through personal and human encounter, and in this, the Virgin Mary sets a great example, as she went out to seek Juan Diego,” he said.

In a joint statement titled “Three Nations, One Church, One People Walking in Communion” — issued in Spanish, English and French on Sept. 4 — the bishops agreed that migration is a common challenge for Mexico, the United States and Canada.

“To contemplate the phenomenon from the country of origin and transit, and then from the countries of destination, made it possible to look together at the two shores of one same journey,” the bishops noted in the statement. “In the faces of those who migrate we recognized stories, needs and hopes that call for our closeness, accompaniment and solidarity.”

Standing in chains before a hostile crowd in Jerusalem, Paul does something unexpected. He does not defend himself with arguments. He tells a story — his own. Acts 22 records Paul’s testimony to the mob that had just tried to kill him, and in many ways it is a deliberate echo of chapter 9, where his conversion was first narrated. What Paul offers here is not abstract doctrine but personal witness, and in it we find one of the richest theological moments in the whole book of Acts.

The scene opens with a small but telling detail. When Paul addresses the crowd in Hebrew, their own language, the uproar quiets. He begins, “Brothers and fathers,” placing himself among his hearers rather than above or against them. This matters, because Paul was often accused of betraying his own people. The truth was more balanced: Paul remained a devoted Jew who loved his people and their traditions deeply. What he insisted on was simply that Gentile believers should not be bound to Jewish ceremonial law. He loved his own people, and he loved the Gentiles — including, in a sense, most of us reading this today, since we are not Jewish by birth. When that love became grounds for false accusation, we see a familiar temptation: the either/or mentality that says if you are not entirely with us, you must be against us. For Paul, it was never either/or. It was both.

He goes on to lay out his credentials: trained at the feet of Gamaliel, one of the great rabbis of the age. To sit “at someone’s feet” meant total submission as a disciple. Paul mentions this not merely to defend himself, but to make a deeper point — his radical embrace of the Gentiles could not have come from ordinary human reasoning. He had been a zealous Jew, a persecutor of the Church, trained by the finest teacher of his generation. For a man with that formation to be transformed so completely, something greater than himself had to be at work.

There is a lesson here for anyone who wants to share their faith. Doctrine matters — the Trinity, the person of Christ, the Eucharist — and explaining it well is often necessary. But sometimes nothing is as persuasive as simply telling our own story. “I used to be careless about my faith, and now I pray the rosary every day — what happened?” Paul’s testimony reminds us that our own history of grace can preach louder than argument.

Paul then recounts the road to Damascus: the blinding light, and the voice that called him by name — “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?”

24th Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year A
First Reading: Sir 27:30 – 28:7
Second Reading: Rom 14:7-9
Gospel Reading: Mt 18:21-35

“Pardon, and you shall be pardoned,” say this Sunday’s Readings. “If you do not pardon, you will not be pardoned.”

Jesus made this point repeatedly. After teaching us to say, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,” he added, “If you forgive the faults of others, your heavenly Father will forgive you yours. If you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive you.”

We find it hard to accept this teaching. One reason is that our neighbours’ faults seem so great, while ours seem so small.

We probably all have someone who makes our life much more difficult than it need be: a parent, spouse, child, boss, co-worker, employee, etc. We see the fatal flaw in his character which brings all our efforts to grief. We have tried talking to him, but he refuses to listen, or shouts us down, or agrees to change but does not.

If we are not mistaken, we are seeing what God sees in this person: what He sees when He looks into any home, school, parish, or workplace. It is this, no matter how bad it is, that He is willing to forgive.

Now when God looks into any home, school, parish, or workplace, He sees another person, one whom we do not see: ourself. We may be quite certain that, just as in other people, there is something in us on which our neighbours’ best efforts are always shipwrecked. They have tried to tell us about it, but we did not understand them, or we thought they were mistaken or simply in a bad mood. This, too, is what God is willing to forgive.

“How small the debts men owe to us, how great our debt to You,” we sing in the hymn. To help us realize this fact and correct the bias we have toward ourselves simply because they are ourselves, we must be careful to interpret our neighbours’ thoughts, words, and deeds as favorably as possible. “Every good Christian ought to be more ready to give a favourable interpretation to another’s statement than to condemn it,” says the Catechism of the Catholic Church.

At the same time, we must be careful not to minimize our own sins. If we are not conscious of our guilt, then, though we are part of the world Jesus came to save, we are not part of the audience to whom His words are addressed.

It is good to think of our own sins with the horror with which we think of our neighbours’ sins, especially the sins they commits to which we are not tempted.

For years, people have told Deacon Zak Santiago he needed to write a screenplay about his life, but he never felt it was the right time. After years of half-commitments and other delays, the sign he was waiting for arrived when John Cassini, his friend, producer and actor, gave it to him, straight: “We gotta make a show about you, man!”

That show, christened Deacon, is now in development at Front Street Pictures and will be introduced to potential partners at the Toronto International Film Festival Market in September. 

The story will follow the life of Santiago “Santi” Luna, a former boxer and street criminal who finds redemption as a Catholic deacon. 

“I’ve been trying to develop a show about some things in my life for a number of years,” Deacon Santiago told The B.C. Catholic. Originally, he thought this might take the form of a reality show centred on his life as a DJ, but he had to place the idea on that back burner “when the call to the Church [permanent diaconate] came,” he said. 

Making a television show, even if a miniseries, is a lot of hard work, but he feels confident that this is where the Holy Spirit is leading him. “The Spirit told me this is going to tortuous,” he said, but “I just trusted and it felt right.” 

This was largely due of Cassini and Jonathan Lloyd Walker’s support and encouragement.  Walker is a producer and showrunner of series such as Amazon’s House of David.  “With them it just felt peaceful,” Deacon Santiago said. 

While Deacon draws inspiration from Santiago’s life, the series will be a fictional drama that uses the unique intersection of Santiago’s experiences to explore redemption, forgiveness, grief, community and the belief that no one should be defined by the worst thing they have ever done.

“I’m bringing everything I know,” he said about the creative process. 

“At its heart, Deacon is about showing up for people, especially when they feel forgotten,” said Santiago, and it’s about “believing that everyone deserves the opportunity to find their way back.”

“It’s not that people aren’t wounded, or this character isn’t wounded – I am; you are – but we also don’t want to make a show that’s corny in any way,” he said. “I don’t want [the protagonist] to be a figure that isn’t true to the faith … Goodness is there; [Christ’s] goodness is there. Jesus is the driving force behind everything.” 

The story won’t shy away from the difficulties of life. “It’s going to be real life – like my life, like the streets of Vancouver; like our parishioner’s lives.

As Paul made his way toward Jerusalem, prophets warned him again and again, through the Spirit, of what awaited him: arrest. Yet Paul’s decision to go was itself made under the guidance of that same Spirit. At Tyre, the whole community—women and children included—knelt together on the beach to pray with him before he sailed. Describing this farewell, Saint Luke seems to echo Old Testament language about the daughters of Tyre, and St. Bede concludes that no city had sent the apostle on his way with greater kindness.

Further along, we meet Philip the evangelist, whose four daughters were gifted with prophecy, and a prophet named Agabus, newly arrived from Judea. Agabus did not simply speak his prophecy—he acted it out. Taking Paul’s belt, he bound his own hands and feet and declared: “Thus says the Holy Spirit: This is the way the Jews will bind the owner of this belt in Jerusalem, and they will hand him over to the Gentiles.”

This journey deliberately echoes the journey of Jesus in Luke’s Gospel—and since both books share an author, the echo is intentional, not accidental. A great structural feature of the Gospel is that ten chapters, from chapter 9 to chapter 19, are devoted to Jesus “on the way to Jerusalem,” with many of his most important teachings set within that journey. Luke portrays Jesus there as the Prophet marching toward his own death.

Now Paul does something strikingly similar. He too marches toward Jerusalem, toward arrest and being “handed over to the Gentiles”—language that recalls Jesus’ own three predictions of his passion. Prophecy after prophecy foretells Paul’s coming suffering in terms that recall the suffering of Christ himself.

“What are you doing, weeping and breaking my heart? I am prepared not only to be bound but even to die in Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus” (Acts 21:13). When these prophecies came, the disciples begged Paul not to go. This was his answer. He would not let natural affection, however sincere, hold him back from bearing witness to Christ; loyalty to Jesus mattered more. Convinced this was God’s call, he continued on his way.

The scene recalls the Gospel in which Peter’s very human affection tried to hold Jesus back from his own passion, and Jesus rebuked him: “Get behind me; you are a stumbling block.” Paul, in imitation of his Master, would not let human affection stand in the way of his mission.

In the end, the community stopped pleading and simply said, “The Lord’s will be done” (Acts 21:14)—an echo of Jesus” own prayer in Gethsemane: “Not my will but yours be done.” To accept suffering, ultimately, is to accept it in that same spirit of surrender.