Natalie Conseur

The Eucharist looks like bread and wine. But its reality is transformed—this is what the Church calls transubstantiation. What appears ordinary is, in truth, extraordinary: the living Christ.

The response of the disciples is immediate. They return to Jerusalem, back to the community, back to faith. Their encounter changes everything.

So what should we do? If we truly believe the Eucharist is Jesus, then we should seek him—every Sunday, and even more often. We should prepare our hearts through confession and spend time with him in adoration. The question is no longer whether communion is offered, but whether we are ready to receive. How deeply do we desire him?

Readings: Acts, 1 Peter, John

That is how we can believe in only one God who is yet three persons: the Father is not the Son or the Holy Spirit, the Son is the not the Father or the Holy Spirit, and the Holy Spirit is neither the Father nor the Son. Yet, these three identities share one existence.

Why reflect on this?  Jesus suffered, died, and rose from the dead. He did it to save us from sin and death, and ultimately to offer us life with himself forever in heaven. Jesus wants you, as a person, to be with him forever. It is personal. Through Jesus, the Son, we share in the very life of the Trinity. It is personal. When Jesus appear to Thomas to answer his doubt, it was about personal relationship.

If you want to live forever, what do you hope heaven looks like?  A golf course?  Or better, a never ending relationship of love between persons: you with God in Jesus, and through Jesus with everyone else.

Readings for Sunday: Acts, Colossians, John

The shocking truth: Jesus, in his humanity, rose bodily from the tomb. We live in a culture where people often think that a human is a soul in a body, as if the soul were merely driving the body like we drive our cars. And then, at death, the soul is free from the body to live forever without the body. However, that is not true. Jesus’ bodily resurrection, and he now lives forever, shows us the truth.

We as humans do not simply have bodies, like we have cars — we are bodily. We are the unity of body and soul. If someone were to punch you, your response would not be, “why did you hit my body?” but “why did you hit me?” Your body is an integral part of what you are as human. In Catholic thought we are soul-bodies, the unique combination of the physical and spiritual. In that way we are both like and unlike the other animals; in that way we are both like and unlike the angels.  Animals are merely physical creatures.  Angels are pure spirits. Humans sit at the threshold or boundary of both realms.

Death, then, is not natural to our design but a rupture. It is the tearing apart of what was meant to be united: body and soul. This is why both lifeless bodies and disembodied spirits unsettle us—they point to something fundamentally broken. More deeply, death also reflects a rupture between humanity and God, brought about by sin, which is a failure to love.
The resurrection of Jesus transforms this reality. In Him, the division caused by sin is healed. His resurrection was not the mere reunification of body and soul, but also the transformation of the soul-body in glory. Jesus is glorified and now lives forever, making it possible for humanity to live in relationship with God forever. It was not a return to Eden, but the beginning of divine adoption of men and women as sons and daughters of God, heirs of the kingdom.

Readings for Sunday: Matthew, Isaiah, Philippians, Matthew

About 2,000 years ago, Jesus walked into Jerusalem in triumph on the first day of the Jewish week. They were waving palm branches, the historic and biblical sign of victory. By Friday, the crowd was yelling, “crucify him!” What happened in between? Even among the twelve apostles, Judas betrayed him, Peter denied him, and all but John ran away. The Blessed Mother Mary and a few other women stood fast. But overall, Holy Week begins with the reading of the Passion story: Jesus was abandoned, denied, tortured, and publicly executed. The man did absolutely nothing wrong in life whatsoever; he was and is sinless.

We see in Jesus, God’s love for us in that God took on our humanity and then suffered and died at our hands to save us from sin and everlasting death.

When we celebrate Easter, Christ’s victory, the cross itself becomes transformed. In that way, the cross takes on multiple meanings: our sins, God’s mercy and love, the transformation of human suffering, and ultimate victory.

All four Gospels, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, are different in their own ways. Yet all four center on, and devote the most space to, the Passion narrative. It is the center of our faith. If Jesus didn’t suffer, die, and rise, we simply would not exist as the Church; there would be no St. James Parish.

Readings for Sunday: Ezekiel, Romans, John

One of the biggest questions people ask is: why does God allow bad things to happen to good people? Many of us have known someone who lived a good and faithful life but still suffered greatly. Imagine a man who goes to Mass every Sunday, loves his wife and family, works honestly, and cares for others—yet suddenly develops a very aggressive cancer. Situations like this can seem confusing and painful. While entire books have been written on this question, the Christian faith offers a brief answer: God sometimes permits suffering or evil in order to bring about a greater good.
The Gospel story of Lazarus helps illustrate this mystery. Lazarus, along with his sisters Martha and Mary, were close friends of Jesus. When Lazarus became seriously ill, the sisters sent word to Jesus, believing that he would come quickly and heal him, since Jesus had already performed many miracles. Surprisingly, Jesus did not come right away. Instead, he stayed where he was for two more days and said, “This illness is not to end in death, but is for the glory of God.”

By the time Jesus arrived in Bethany, Lazarus had already been dead for four days. Martha, though upset, still showed faith when she said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. Yet even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you.” Jesus responded with one of the most powerful statements in the Gospel: “I am the resurrection and the life.”
Jesus was deeply moved by the grief around him, even weeping at Lazarus’ tomb. Yet he also challenged the people’s faith. When he commanded, “Lazarus, come out,” the dead man returned to life. Through this miracle, many began to believe in Jesus.
This story reminds us that suffering is not meaningless. God may allow difficult moments so that something greater can emerge—often a deeper faith in Christ, who alone brings true resurrection and everlasting life.

Readings for Sunday: 1 Samuel, Ephesians, John 

People who are suffering (perhaps from illness, the loss of a job, or some other hardship) may say, “God is punishing me.” It is an understandable feeling, but it is not really how God works. Instead of explaining this in the usual three-point way, we can look to the Gospel story of the man born blind to understand it.

In Jesus’ time, many people believed that suffering was a direct punishment for sin. When Jesus and his disciples saw a man who had been blind from birth, they asked, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” They assumed that someone must have done something wrong. But Jesus rejected that idea, answering, “Neither he nor his parents sinned; it is so that the works of God might be made visible through him.”

This reveals an important truth: God permits evil, but He does not cause it. There are two main kinds of evil. First, there is moral evil—when people misuse their free will. A thief who steals, or any time we lie or gossip, is an example.

God could forcibly stop such actions, but doing so would destroy our freedom and turn us into robots. Instead, He allows us the freedom He gave us, even when we misuse it.

Second, there is physical evil—things like disease, disasters, and suffering. These are part of a world affected by original sin. God usually does not miraculously prevent them, but He permits them.

Why? Because God can draw a greater good from them. In the Gospel, the blind man is healed by Jesus, but the greater miracle is spiritual. Step by step, the man comes to recognize Jesus—not just as a man or a prophet, but as Lord. His suffering ultimately leads him into a relationship with Christ.

The greatest example of this is the cross. God allowed His sinless Son to suffer and die so that we might be saved. When suffering enters our lives, then, we should remember: God does not cause it, but He can use it to lead us closer to Him and, ultimately, to our salvation.

Readings for Sunday: Exodus, Romans, John

For what do you thirst? I am not speaking of ordinary, physical thirst, the kind that sends us reaching for a glass of water on a hot day. I mean the deeper thirst—the ache within us for something more. What do you crave? Love? Attention? Success? A better life? If we are honest, we notice something unsettling: we are never quite satisfied. We achieve one goal, and another appears. We fill one desire, and a new one rises. It seems our thirst cannot be quenched.

In the Gospel, Jesus meets a Samaritan woman at a well at noon, the hottest part of the day. She comes alone, likely to avoid the whispers of others because of her complicated past. Jews and Samaritans avoided each other, yet Jesus deliberately passes through Samaria and asks her for a drink. Shocked, she questions him. Then he speaks of “living water”—water that will become a spring welling up to eternal life.

She misunderstands, thinking of physical water. But Jesus is speaking of her deeper thirst—the longing for God. When he reveals her five husbands and the man she now lives with, he exposes the truth: she has been trying to satisfy an infinite thirst with finite relationships.

Marriage is good, love is good, but no human being can fill the space in the heart meant for God. We were created by God for God. Whether we recognize it or not, He is what we crave.

Like her, we try to quench our thirst with entertainment, success, pleasure, even sin. None of it satisfies. Only Christ can. Through prayer, Scripture, confession, generosity, and true discipleship, we draw deeply from his living water.

So the question remains: Are you thirsty? And what are you willing to do about it?

Readings for Sunday: Genesis, 2 Timothy, Matthew

In the Gospel, as Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem to suffer and die on the cross, he takes Peter, James, and John up a high mountain by themselves. Mountains in Scripture are places where heaven and earth meet—where God reveals himself. This ascent points to heaven itself. Jesus leads them; they do not get there on their own, reminding us that heaven is not something we achieve by our own efforts, nor can we rely on someone else’s faith. Relationship with God is personal, and it is Jesus who brings us there.

On the mountain, Jesus is transfigured: his face shines like the sun and his clothes become dazzling white. Moses and Elijah appear, representing the Law and the Prophets—the whole of the Old Testament. Their presence reveals who Jesus truly is: the fulfillment of everything God ever promised, from Abraham onward. In Jesus, God’s plan to save humanity from sin and everlasting death is revealed. He is not just a teacher, but God incarnate, come to restore our broken relationship with the Father.

This is why heaven is better than hell. God created us for himself, for relationship with him. We are only truly at peace when we live in loving union with God. Heaven is the fullness of that union—complete, tangible, and loving beyond our comprehension. Hell, by contrast, is the absence of God: no sense of his presence, no experience of his love, no living relationship with him.

That relationship is only possible through Jesus Christ. Through his passion, death, and resurrection, he forgives our sins and opens the way to heaven. Peter wanted to stay on the mountain, but they had to come down, because the cross had to come first—and because the disciples themselves still needed transformation. The same is true for us. Lent reminds us that we must be transformed, sanctified through hardship and grace, so that we may one day share in Christ’s glory. To live with God forever in heaven—that is better than hell.

Readings for Sunday: Genesis, Romans, Matthew

Ever wonder what is wrong with the world? When we turn on the news, it is a parade of violence, scandal and lies. We have experienced injustice in our own lives. When we ask, “What is wrong with the world?” Christianity offers a direct and challenging answer: Original Sin.

In the creation story of Genesis, God creates the world and calls it good. He does not make junk; God is not responsible for the evil we see in the world. In the story, he creates Adam and Eve not because He needs them, but because He desires to share His love with them. Love is its own reason. In the Garden, they walk with God in harmony—this represents the state of Original Justice and Holiness. Humans were in a right relationship with God and with one another. In the story, they are free to eat from any tree except one, the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. It was not a test or a trap, rather, it represents that love has limits. Love is a commitment and a choice.

Tempted by the devil, Adam and Eve reject God. The fruit represents more than disobedience; it symbolizes the desire to “be like God” without God. The first sin is a rejection of divine love. Its effects ripple outward like a stone thrown into a pond. With it is the loss of Original Justice and Holiness. Humans are now marked by the stain of Original Sin and will struggle with concupiscence, an inclination to sin.

The human condition is now marked by a clouded intellect and a weakened will, and death has become part of the world. As St. Paul teaches, through one man’s sin came death—both bodily and spiritual separation from God.
Yet there is hope. If through Adam came death, through Christ comes life. Jesus, the new Adam, overcomes temptation, suffers, dies, and rises to redeem us. In baptism, we share in His victory and are restored to relationship with God. What is wrong with the world? Original sin. But there is a cure: Jesus Christ.

Readings for Sunday: Sirach, 1 Corinthians, Matthew

Why did God give us the Ten Commandments? Is he a cosmic kill joy? While people will usually agree with them in general, they will excuse themselves from following them asserting that reality is more complex, that at times you have to lie, or steal, etc. Or how about this one: it’s ok to not keep holy the Sabbath day holy (going to Sunday mass) so long as it’s to attend children’s sporting events. In the Gospel, Jesus reminds us: “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets. I have come not to abolish but to fulfill.”

What is the purpose of the law, specifically the moral law? In the first reading from Sirach, we hear: “If you choose you can keep the Commandments, they will save you; if you trust in God, you too shall live… Before man are life and death, good and evil, whichever he chooses shall be given him.” The life that the Commandments offer is a life of true love. It is not about what we feel, as feelings constantly change, but agape, which is the Koine Greek word for “love” that Jesus uses.

Agape is to do good to/for another for that person’s sake, without expecting repayment. You truly can categorize each of the commandments under the banner of Love of God, or Love of Neighbor.

Anytime we break a commandment, we do evil to God, our neighbor, and ourselves. As Jesus reminds us, even looking lustfully at another person is a choice, reducing that person to that status of an object for one’s own pleasure in the mind. Of course, usually, the actual action of adultery begins in one’s thought process. That is why we seek holiness, to truly love as Jesus loves, to do and will the good of God and neighbor at all times.