My introduction to the great Saint Joseph came as a young child through my parents. When my brother, Joseph was born, a year before me, my parents purchased a statue of his patron, Saint Joseph, for his room. When I was born the next year, I received a statue of Our Blessed Mother. Both statues were covered with a glass globe and glowed in the dark, giving them an almost celestial radiance.
During this Lent, I have been reflecting on the parable of the Prodigal Son. St. Joseph stands before us as the quiet contrast to the prodigal son. In the Gospel, the younger son’s demand — “Give me my inheritance” — sounds cold, almost blasphemous, as if he wished his father dead.
Lent invites us to ask the Lord for a new heart—one that sees as He sees and loves as He loves. Through the words of the prophet Isaiah, “a bruised reed he shall not break and a smoldering wick he shall not quench” (Isaiah 42:3), God reveals something of His own Heart. Where we might see weakness, failure, or disappointment, God sees something fragile but precious: a wounded heart still capable of life.
This Lent is a good time to delve further into the mystery of St. Joseph. It reveals a mystery brimming over with questions. A mystery still awaiting answers. Yes, biblical authors allude to St. Joseph, but they refer to him in a narrative form. We do not have one word written by him, nor any word attributed to him. There is no quote by St. Joseph in the New Testament and that is stunning!
It was Lent. I don’t remember what year exactly. As Carmelite Sisters, we pray the Rosary every day, and like other Catholics throughout the world, because it was Monday, I knew it as the day for the “Joyful Mysteries” of the Rosary… Somehow or other I got the idea of “Praying the Rosary with St. Joseph” or described in another way – “Praying the Rosary through the Eyes of St. Joseph.”
I have always struggled with the story of the unnamed man in the Gospel who, for 38 years, seemed content to lie on his mat by the pool of Bethesda. Why didn’t he ask those who brought him there every day to move him closer to the water or help him into the pool?
Lent. The Holy Land. Mother Luisita. Let’s connect the dots together, because, yes, there is a connection and it contains both a Lenten reminder and an invitation. The other day, I was reflecting on an article I had recently read, The Tale of Two Seas. Its lesson impacted me in a deep way. When I finished reading it, I felt, rather I realized, that it contained a special message for me personally.
One of the priests in the Los Angeles Archdiocese shared the story of his conversion to Catholicism and, ultimately, to the priesthood. It all began when a friend invited him to attend a Catholic Mass. He told us that the moment he stepped into the church, he sensed a special presence of God.