Ave Explore Series

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Tuesday, April 01, 2025

Wisconsin’s Belgian Immigrants Expressed Devotion to the Saints through Roadside Chapels

By Fr. Edward Looney People express their devotion to the saints in lots of different ways. They might have statues in their home reminding them to ask the saint’s intercession or maybe they have a prayer card and say that prayer every day. Others might make pilgrimages to shrines dedicated to the saint or even visit the homeland of the saint on pilgrimage. The immigrants who settled in Wisconsin brought customs from the motherland. The Belgians who settled in northeastern Wisconsin slowly began to establish roadside chapels dedicated to Jesus, Mary, and the saints. These roadside chapels afforded believers a place to pray daily if they were unable to visit the parish church. When a person would pass by in the fields or along the road, they might stop and say a prayer. When I became pastor of two parishes where these chapels abound, I started visiting a handful of them. Two of my churches had roadside chapels on their property. Wanting to aid people’s faith and devotion during the Covid-19 pandemic, I decided to do a virtual tour of all the chapels. I created a special Facebook page and posted a daily video. It seemed to be received well with more than 34,000 plays in just thirty-two days. I learned a lot as I visited these roadside chapels. Some of the chapels were the result of an answered prayer: Someone prayed for a particular grace and when the favor was received, a chapel was constructed as a sign of thanksgiving. One chapel was built because a person survived a near-death drowning experience. In the chapels, the principal patron can often be found as the focal point. Other little statues might adorn the altar, mementos of a person’s devotion, or a reminder of a pilgrimage to a shrine like St. Anne de Beaupre (something I found often). I learned more about the saints, meeting some familiar saints like St. Anthony of Padua or St. Therese and being introduced to new saints such as St. Roch, St. Donat, and St. Ghislain. At times I learned something about a saint that I didn’t previously know. I couldn’t believe the story of St. Roch and how appropriate it was to pray at chapel dedicated in his honor. St. Roch lived during a plague and was known to bring healing to the sick by the sign of the cross. The Council of Constance in 1414 called upon St. Roch’s prayers to bring an end to the plague. It was a prayer immediately answered. With the increase of Covid-19 cases within my parish boundary, I’ve been visiting that roadside chapel daily to ask St. Roch’s powerful prayers. I knew nothing about St. Donat and St. Ghislain and my quick googling only informed me that there were certain municipalities named after these saints. I found some biographical data, but not much. Apparently, St. Donat is invoked during thunderstorm, and St. Ghislain, fittingly a Belgian saint, invoked for children with convulsions. My visit to a chapel dedicated to the hunter saint, St. Hubert—also a Belgian saint—revealed a greater story than just praying for a big buck. The Belgian locals would visit the St. Hubert Chapel to pray for relief from nervous disorders. Two chapels dedicated to St. Odilia revealed two different legends about two saintly women, both claimed to be the patron of those with eye disorders. Little roadside chapels in northeastern Wisconsin stand as a testament to the faith of the Belgian people, the power of prayer, and trust in saintly intercession. Other immigrant communities have similar customs. The Polish have little shrines alongside the road. In the greater Madison area, other chapels were built for similar reasons after a tornado or a diphtheria epidemic. I’m willing to bet that such saintly devotion isn’t confined to Wisconsin. You might find similar expressions where you live. The Belgian chapels teach us to make time for God, find a saintly intercessor, and be sure to give thanks to God for the many blessings of your life. That’s a message for you no matter what your nationality or where you live. Rev. Edward Looney is a Marian theologian, writer, and speaker who serves as a priest in the Diocese of Green Bay. He is the author of seven books, including A Heart Like Mary’s. He has contributed to numerous publications, including Catholic Digest, Catholic Exchange, Ignitum Today, Catholic Lane, and Homiletic and Pastoral Review.

Tuesday, April 01, 2025

Getting to Know Young Saints

By Brian Rhude “Through the holiness of the young, the Church can renew her spiritual ardor and her apostolic vigor.”—Christus Vivit, 50 When I arrived at The Catholic University of America as a first-year student, I had a very specific goal in mind: make friends. I know that sounds pretty common, but I was new to my faith, recently confirmed, and knew that I had to surround myself with a community of young people with whom I could share the journey of faith. I had mentors—older people who had walked with me as my faith was growing and who would continue to walk with me along the way—but there’s just something about being around people your age who share similar experiences and who you can relate to. In the same way, I’ve loved getting to know young saints who I can look to as models of faith and friends on the road. In recent years, I’ve grown in devotion to three young saints, each with different lessons to learn, who offer me a lot of inspiration in this journey of faith. The first is St. Francis of Assisi who Pope Francis reminds us that, “while very young and full of great dreams, heard Jesus’ call to become poor like him and to rebuild the Church by his witness.” (CV, 52). I forget that Francis was a young person when he heard God’s call, but it makes his witness of humility, poverty, and charity so much more powerful. It’s easy for me to think that an older person can live humility, poverty, and charity in such a radical way, but as a young person in the midst of our individualistic culture, it just seems tougher. But there’s St. Francis, a young person who renounced his father’s wealth, faced rejection, and worked to change the world he found himself in. Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati was another young person born into wealth and success but chose to follow Christ in a life dedicated to the poor. He died in 1925 and so his experience seems a bit closer to mine. He lived the Beatitudes and constantly encouraged his fellow young people to live lives for Christ, wanting to reflect “the love of Jesus that he received in Holy Communion by visiting and helping the poor,” (CV, 60.). Frassati loved to climb mountains, something that you’ll definitely never find me doing, but it was like a lived analogy for him, climbing verso l’alto (to the heights) physically and in his life as a missionary disciple. I love how normal Frassati was and he reminds me that a life of holiness doesn’t require extraordinary acts, but a life of love. The last is Blessed Carlo Acutis, who was beatified on October 10, 2020. Acutis died at the age of fifteen from leukemia. He loved computers and was very gifted with them, a reality that should resonate with young people today. More than he loved computers, he loved Jesus and his Church. Acutis helps us to remember that even the youngest of young people can be instruments of God’s love. Sometimes young people are thrust to the side, claimed to be too young with not enough experience, but Acutis proves that age isn’t a hindrance to evangelization and a life of charity. In his youth, he helped the Church to “renew her spiritual ardor and her apostolic vigor.” I think we can learn a lot by forming relationships with these young saints. St. Francis reminds us that young people, in the midst of all of their struggles and the culture that tells them otherwise, they can live poverty, and charity, and humility in radical ways. Frassati reminds us that a holy life doesn’t have to be extraordinary, but that we can live radical holiness in everyday actions that help lead us and our friends to Christ. Acutis reminds us that we’re never too young to be saints! May these three, and all young saints, be inspirations of holiness that accompany us on our journey with Christ. Brian Rhude is the assistant director of summer programs and formation for the Lay Apostolate for the School of Theology & Religious Studies at The Catholic University of America in Washington, D.C.

Tuesday, April 01, 2025

My Friendship with St. Oscar Romero

By Vanesa Zuleta-Goldberg I grew up with a great disliking for the saints. I had my reasons—all the saints I learned about in Sunday school were quiet and seemed to know how to say all the right things to God; they were presented to us as absolutely perfect; and of course, most shared with us were white. My first real encounter coming to terms with my dislike for the saints occurred in college when I stumbled upon the writings of St. Oscar Romero. I had heard of Romero a bit here and there growing up, but all I knew was that he was a saint and that immediately placed him in the “he is probably perfect” box in my brain. One day I was scrolling through Facebook where someone shared a caption that highlighted parts of Romero’s work, The Violence of Love. I was completely thrown off by the title, and in reading the quote, soon found myself on Google searching for Romero. His life is one of the things I believe the Holy Spirit put in my way to radicalize me to live a life centered on mercy and social justice. My friendship with Romeo was short-lived, though. I found myself intrigued with his work and his life but I soon got caught up in other things that seemed more down-to-earth and that had a greater effect on my life at the moment. I said farewell to Romero and moved on my journey, still hesitant when fellow Catholics would bring up the saints. Romero was not done with our friendship, however. We reconnected two years later and this second encounter changed my outlook on the saints. I was working on my graduate thesis on Hispanic youth in the Church and had an awakening. I finally began to wrestle both with the racism I had experienced in my life and the lack of caring for social justice that the Church around me seemed to embody. My research led me once more to the writings of Romero and I realized that he was not this perfect person I had imagined him to be. His struggles mirrored my own struggles and his love for his people in El Salvador mirrored my love for the Hispanic community. His heart for social justice catapulted me into what has become a lifetime commitment to serving the Body of Christ through Catholic social justice, uplifting the dignity of the oppressed and marginalized. My radicalized heart for social justice was brought into fruition because of this friendship that I suddenly had with a priest I had never met. It was part of my conversion in seeing the saints as my friends who also loved the Body of Christ. I slowly began to realize the humanity that each of the saints embody and I realized that they were flesh and soul like me: They, too, struggled and had moments of pain. They, too, rejoiced on their good days and maybe had days when they just wanted to stay in bed. My newfound friendship with Romero taught me three things: As a Latina, I was created in the image and likeness of God; social justice was at the heart of the Gospel that changed my life; and sainthood does not equal perfection. Sainthood equals mercy, compassion, and forgiveness despite failure. Sainthood equals the fullness of life that in which God yearns for each of us to participate. Let us never get caught up in a routine of perfection, but rather one of holiness that seeks to love as Christ did and to remember that the saint's journey with us daily as we discover our own path to sainthood. Vanesa Zuleta-Goldberg is the director of Youth and Young Adult Ministries and Pastoral Juvenil for the Diocese of Las Cruces.

Tuesday, April 01, 2025

The Saints are Good Company

By Jen Norton Every few months I get a notice from my energy provider comparing my home’s usage to that of my neighbors’. I am compelled to check the little bar chart to see how I rate. Peer-pressure works. I immediately wonder if I can use less energy, or feel grateful if I’m conserving well. We often alter our behavior based on insight from others we admire or know. We want validation. We want to know we’re in good company. The saints are just that: good company. God so desperately loves us that he sent his only Son to be our friend, a friend who is true to the end. Even with the symbol of the cross, we are prone to forget that promise of love. We can begin to doubt, believing that we are not worthy of that depth of devotion. Like the fading memory of early childhood classmates, tales of Jesus might have been forgotten long ago if not kept alive by the saints. Saints are regular people throughout history who have gotten to know Jesus. Some have fallen so in love with him that they were able to undeniably declare this love to the world through their deeds and words. If we want to be friends of Jesus, these folks should be our friends, too. They invite us to be part of an ever-widening circle of communion. In a modern skeptical world, works of art can provide that reminder of connection. They aid in keeping the generational, mystical memory of our Christian family alive. A painting, song, poem, or sculpture speaks to our soul without the confrontation of debate, calling to mind a historical person with whom we share a Christian family connection. We find comfort in their promised intercession and hope in their stories of transformation from everyday humans to exalted beings. I didn’t attend Catholic school, so I have to admit I wasn’t particularly aware of most saints growing up. They seemed as remote to me as the “popular kids,” admired from afar maybe, but never people I would approach. Making art gives me that conversation starter. While doing something I love, I learn their stories and find commonality with others who have strived to live lives of faith in their times just as I do in mine. Learning how God transformed their human weaknesses into strength and grace gives me a light for my own path. I begin each piece with some simple Google research into their history. What were their origins and pivot points? Where did they fail and how did they allow God to forge them into the beings we now revere? What were their temptations and ultimate truths? What symbols have previous artists used to identify the saint or tell their story? What do they have to say to me? To you? I choose to paint in a very friendly, folk-style manner. I want my art to be welcoming and approachable, never austere or distant. I also want the freedom to let my mind wander as I paint and not be focused on hyper-realistic details. This is my personal spiritual need; an attempt to escape again from the perfectionism of my youth. Once I get the basics of my design laid out, I let the art reveal itself to me. I let it tell me its story without trying to over-control it. I can meditate through my brushstrokes on the details of the saint’s life and what they mean to me rather than trying to dictate everything from my viewpoint. My ultimate desire is that you might find connection and encouragement through my art. I want you to sense the joy a saint emanated because of their relationship with Christ. I want you to know that you are worthy of that kind of love too. I hope that you might see the saints as your own confidants and friends, both giving your life purpose and fulfilling theirs. I offer that if we meditate on the lives of saints, we know we are never alone. Jen Norton is an award-winning painter whose work has appeared on the cover of books including Word by Word and The Catholic Mom’s Prayer Companion. She is the author of Surrender All and Arise to Blessedness.

Tuesday, April 01, 2025

Befriending the Saints

By Katie Prejean McGrady When I was pregnant with my first child, my doctor joked early on that I could “pick the birthday,” if I wanted. I didn’t fully understand what he meant until he asked me if I had a preferred date to schedule the induction. He didn’t want me to go past thirty-nine weeks. So my husband and I pulled out the calendar for the end of August and began perusing it for saints’ feast days. Why not schedule a birthday around the celebration of a holy hero of the Church? We ended up choosing August 24, which in 2017 was the 400th anniversary of the death of St. Rose of Lima. We planned to name our daughter Rose and we were thrilled to bring her into the world on the same day her patron saint left this world. You can’t say we aren’t Catholic. A devotion to and love of the saints is a key element of Catholicism. Why do we learn the stories and honor the lives of the dead? It almost seems weird that we name our children, parishes, and schools after men and women the Church has declared heroically virtuous, giving them the title “saint.” It’s unique to our faith tradition that nearly every day of the calendar year there’s a person whose story we tell and whose life we celebrate. The Church is deeply rooted in the idea that we are in communion with the saints—that the saints pray for us as we cry out to them and that we are invited to befriend them. The lives and stories of the saints can help us live a holy life ourselves. The communion of saints and friendship with holy men and women is perhaps more relevant at this moment in our world than ever before. The saints can be a comfort, encouragement, and source of strength to us. In Ave Explores: The Saints you will learn the stories of a number of holy men and women and also examine how to grow in friendship with the saints. You will find answers to questions such as: How can we ask the saints to intercede for us? What does it mean to name a family patron saint? Why should we learn the stories of a diverse group of saints? How do the saints challenge each of us to be holy and how can they help us on that journey? The saints can become more than a name on a building or pictures on the wall or holy cards. They can be friends you grow to love.Katie Prejean McGrady is host of the Ave Explores podcast and The Katie McGrady Show on Sirius XM’s The Catholic Channel. She is an international speaker, the author of Room 24: Adventures of a New Evangelist and Follow: Your Lifelong Adventure with Jesus, and the coauthor of Lent: One Day at a Time for Catholic Teens and Advent and Christmas: One Day at a Time for Catholic Teens.

Monday, March 31, 2025

Helping Young People Understand the Connection between Faith and Science

By Dani Seckfort Most young people I’ve met are just trying their best to figure out this crazy world, and that leads them to have a lot of questions. Often these questions arise when the science they learn in school does not match up with the religion they have been taught at Church. It is a disservice to not address their questions, but it can be difficult when you are not a scientist. The Catholic Church has worked closely with scientists for centuries to present the world with what is true. God is the way, the TRUTH, and the life. It is important to fully present this to questioning young people. So, what are some strategies you can use that do not require a doctorate in science? Emphasize the Catholic Church’s relation to science: The Catechism of the Catholic Church clearly states: “…there can never be any real discrepancy between faith and reason. Since the same God who reveals mysteries and infuses faith has bestowed the light of reason on the human mind, God cannot deny himself, nor can truth ever contradict truth.” (CCC 159) Both are searching for truth; they are simply asking different questions. Science asks “what” and “how” while the Church asks “who” and “why.” Tell them about the Pontifical Academy of Sciences, an honorary society at the Vatican composed of the top scientists of various religions and backgrounds from all over the world that discusses the leading scientific research and how that information affects Catholic teaching. Some previous members include such Nobel laureates as Ernest Rutherford, Max Planck, Niels Bohr, and Erwin Schrödinger. Become familiar with a handful of famous faithful Catholic scientists. For example, Gregor Mendel, Louis Pasteur, Georges Lemaître, St. Hildegard, St. Albert the Great, Blessed Nicolas Steno, and Servant of God Jerome Lejeune. Pope Francis was a chemist in Argentina before joining the seminary; he continues to advocate for science. Try including science in your religious teachings. A firm grasp of science or how science relates to Catholic teaching is not required. Simply share whatever you know. People often feel a disconnect between faith and science because they are not talked about together. The simple change of them hearing about science in a church setting, even if it is not the science they have questions about, will help to bridge that gap. Here are some examples of integrating science with faith if it is snowing outside. Water is frozen into beautiful crystals, but it can thaw if it’s not kept in cold conditions. We can be changed into something beautiful when we move towards God, but we may fall back into sin if we don’t maintain that prayerful condition. Snow falls as part of the water cycle. Some of it will be used in the ground while some will evaporate back to the clouds. Our Christian love is like the water, no matter whether it is used immediately, it is never wasted. Therefore, we should follow Christ in loving others at all times. The Catholic Church provides many resources with answers to young people’s burning questions about faith and science. I encourage you to search them out and learn more about these fascinating discussions, I hope this gives you an idea of how to help young people understand the connection between faith and science in their own pursuit of truth. Dani Seckfort is a Catholic scientist with a doctorate in structural and computational biology and molecular biophysics. She created the Catechist Scientist to help people understand the connection between faith and science.

Monday, March 31, 2025

The Catholic Approach to Bioethical Issues

By Joseph Meaney The Catholic approach to bioethical issues is distinctive. It is a combination of deep respect for the dignity and rights of the human person and a positive appreciation for science. Bioethics is a young academic discipline. The term was only coined in the early 1970s. Medical and general ethics preceded it, but a consensus emerged in the latter-half of the twentieth century that we were in the midst of a scientific and medical revolution that had profound ethical consequences. The atomic bomb and the proliferation of Nuclear weapons marked the first time in history when human beings possessed the power to destroy our planet, the common home of humanity. Biological and genetic discoveries in recent decades have tremendous potential to serve or attack human beings. Genetic manipulation in particular could be used to produce changes to our very species by modifying inherited traits and abilities. The COVID-19 pandemic has made us all aware of the global vulnerability to a super virus that could arise accidentally or through scientific design. The Church urges a compassionate and objective search for what is true and good when bioethical dilemmas arise in medicine or scientific research. Utilitarian or consequentialist ethics cannot be accepted by Catholics when it pursues the greatest good for the greatest number at the cost of committing injustice in order to achieve a good end. Both the end sought and the means used have to be good in Catholic moral reasoning. It is sadly true that certain situations arise in which no completely satisfactory solution is possible. A classic example of this would be the case of a pregnant mother who is diagnosed with an aggressive cancer. Something that immediately distinguishes the Catholic approach from many others is the basic principle that all human lives are precious and must be respected. Just because the preborn child is small and helpless does not mean that his/her life is expendable. Everything possible must be done to care for both the lives of the mother and her child. It should also be kept in mind that if a thing is impossible, it cannot be morally obligatory. There are terrible cases where it is simply not possible to save the life of the mother, the child, or both. If there is a true maternal/fetal vital conflict, then there must be careful ethical discernment. The Principle of Double Effect was formulated by St. Thomas Aquinas as a Catholic approach to such difficult situations. This involves a good or indifferent action that one foresees will have both good and bad effects. The principle does not allow for an evil action, such as a direct abortion, in order to achieve a good like safeguarding the life of the mother. It is also quite important that the intention of the agent must be the good effect and the evil effect is only tolerated. This would be the case of a cancer treatment with the intention of saving the mother and done in such a way as to minimize harm to the preborn baby. The good effect, saving the mother, may never be achieved by the bad effect, harming the child. It is also clear that there has to be a positive proportionality between the good and bad effects. So how is Catholicism contributing to bioethics? We demand justice for all. When science or medicine is tempted to discriminate against certain classes of human beings, the Church is a strong voice of conscience for basic human rights from conception to natural death. When some ask only the question of what can be done scientifically, the Catholic bioethicist brings the question to whether it is truly respectful of the dignity of the human person. This approach rejects manipulation or exploitation and reflects awe and wonder toward every human being as a marvel of God’s creation. Joseph Meaney became president of the National Catholic Bioethics Center in 2019. He is a leading expert on the international pro-life and family movement, having traveled to eighty-one countries on pro-life missions as director of international outreach and expansion for Human Life International.

Monday, March 31, 2025

The Miracle of Water

By Michelle Francl-Donnay I lived too long at the edge of the desert not to be in awe of water. Even now, forty years later, a scant handful of cool water drawn from the kitchen faucet and splashed on my face never fails to astound me. It seems a miracle, like the water from the rocks at Meribah. That handful of water is a portal that opens into the vastness of God. Each time I pour a glass or dip my hands into a bowl of water, I contemplate anew the almost inconceivable depths I can hold in my hand. A few ounces of water contain ten times as many molecules as there are stars in the known universe. A million million million times a million atoms of hydrogen and oxygen can dance on the palm of my hand. I get a glimpse of the universe as it was a fraction of a second after creation, when everything that was, that is, and that would be could be contained in a tea cup—or cupped between Christ’s hands. And I remember a lavish mercy that I still cannot grasp when we thrice scooped up a newborn universe’s measure of water and baptized my sons. To gaze at water is to contemplate not only the vastness of God but also to peer into the depths of time to catch sight of eternity out of the corner of my eye. The hydrogen atoms in the water molecules careening around in the glass on my desk are nearly as old as the universe itself. They were created 13.82 billion years ago, a second after the Big Bang. They were old when the sun was born, ancient when stardust gradually settled into orbits around that sun and gathered itself into the earth and the moon. The Spirit of God hovered over these very atoms and created the heavens and the earth and all that dwell upon them. Take and drink of what was prepared for us from the beginning. We wash the dishes and our children’s faces in water. We wash each other's feet with it and pull it from our wells to offer to the thirsty. But we also sign ourselves with water when we enter sacred space. We baptize in water and the Spirit and mingle water with the wine in the chalice of salvation. Water reminds me of how often the extraordinary comes cloaked in the ordinary and the infinite is veiled in the finite. It reminds me that once time was pierced through and God came to earth, the infinite incarnate in the finite. As unimaginable as it is to cup a universe of water molecules between my hands, I am staggered by the thought that I can hold the very Body of Christ in my hands, cradle the Word that when spoken brought the universe into being. I look into a vast pool of mercy, cupped in my hands. Living water, come down from heaven. Michelle Francl-Donnay is a professor of chemistry at Bryn Mawr College and an adjunct scholar at the Vatican Observatory.