The Catholic Sun Magazine

Life is often filled with uncertainty, challenges and moments that test our faith. Yet, in the midst of it all, we hold to the promise of our Catholic faith: Jesus is the Way. He is the One Who walks with us in every season — whether joyful or difficult — reminding us that we are never alone. I experienced this truth profoundly in 2001, when I traveled to Peru. At the time, I was still carrying the weight of my own son’s life-threatening health scare. The fear, the sleepless nights and the prayers for his healing had left a lasting imprint on my heart. And then, in Peru, I encountered families who walked for days — sometimes hundreds of miles — just to receive basic medical care for their children. 

Bishop John Dolan sat down with Fr. John Muir, vicar general and vice-moderator of the Curia, to share his heart on year two of TILMA, the bishop’s seven-year pastoral plan on evangelization. Below are some highlights from the interview, edited for length and clarity.

Just a few blocks from St. Agnes Catholic Church and School in Phoenix, there’s a small building others may not even know exists. For those inside, it’s sweet relief from the heat and misery they’ve left behind.  Desert Terrace Healthcare houses and cares for mostly elderly patients in poor health who come from difficult circumstances. Traffic whizzes down the busy street in front of the facility as men and women experiencing homelessness push battered grocery carts and beg for money under the shade of a nearby freeway overpass. 

“It was 125 degrees in my house. It was living hell.” These are the words of Edward Littell, a long-time resident of Mesa, Ariz., who has lived in his mobile home for 29 years. He is also just one of thousands of people who AllThrive 365, a local nonprofit providing services that uphold the dignity of those who are aging, has helped. When his AC unit broke down, Littell’s home became “unbearable.”

My grandmother’s name was Josephine, though she was affectionately called “Jo” by her friends and “Gramma” by us grandkids. When I was growing up, she lived at home with us. Gramma was quiet and helpful in the house. I still remember her holding me in her lap, reading to me in my earlier years and how she loved to watch the Padres on television, keeping score and stats on each of the players during the game. As she aged, my parents made the difficult, yet important decision for her to move into an assisted living facility. As you can imagine, there were a lot of ups and downs, as well as struggles and reliefs that came with this decision.

A pilgrimage is more than a journey — it’s a sacred venture in which the pilgrim opens their heart to be changed by an experience of God. Pilgrimage is an integral part of the Jubilee Year. It is an invitation both to a personal journey of the heart, as well as physically visiting places of grace, like the six holy sites around our diocese that Bishop John has designated. More than 1,000 folks have visited these sites and what a blessing it has been not just for them, but for their families and for our entire diocesan community. But today, I invite us to consider a different kind of pilgrimage: the pilgrimage of life. In every moment, whether filled with grief or joy, boredom or blessing, we are offered an opportunity to seek the face of God. Personally, I find it easier to reach for God in times of sorrow or elation. Yet, God calls us to seek Him even in — indeed, especially in — the ordinary and mundane. In every single step, God is present and active, longing to walk with us, just as He did with the disciples on the road to Emmaus. (Lk 24:13-35)

How do we teach our children to face challenges — and where is God in it all?  Somehow, I ended up on the Struggle Bus, a season of hardship, this year. As the days melted into months, I kept looking for my stop — my chance to hop off and step into a season free of stress or conflict. But that stop never came. So, I settled in for the long ride and wondered how to bring my family along.  Years ago, during a time of grief, I asked a priest how to shield my children from the pain my husband and I were facing. His answer was one word: “Don’t.” I’ve thought about that advice a lot this past year. If we hide life’s hard parts from our kids, we do them a disservice. Just as we model love and kindness, we also have the opportunity — and the responsibility — to model fortitude, courage, perseverance and surrender. If we shield them from struggle, we give them an incomplete picture of adulthood. 

When Jeannie Buggle walks through the door, it’s the highlight of Marilyn Grimaldi’s week. Marilyn, 89, is bedridden and unable to attend Mass at Our Lady of Mount Carmel (OLMC) in Tempe, Ariz., where she’s been a faithful parishioner since the early 1960s. She watches the weekly TV Mass broadcast from Ss. Simon and Jude Cathedral on CW 7, but it’s just not the same as being at her beloved parish. That’s where a soft-spoken, cheerful Buggle comes in. She’s been leading the Ministry of Care at OLMC for the last two years, bringing the Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist to hospital patients and the homebound every week. People like Marilyn.  

I’ll never forget the day I yelled at God. I was in seminary, and I had recently lost my sister, Therese, and my brother-in-law, Joe, to death by suicide on the same day. This came years after my brother, Tom, had died by suicide when I was in eighth grade. I was hurting, I was angry and I had no idea why God let all of this suffering take place. At the time, I was studying at the University of San Diego. I went for a walk in my unrest and found myself at a large, empty field that overlooks Mission Bay.

I had the opportunity recently to attend a very powerful ceremony: the consecration of the new altar in the chapel of St. Mary’s House, located next door to St. Mary’s Basilica in downtown Phoenix — one of the four houses that make up Nazareth Seminary here in the Diocese of Phoenix. It was an intimate and moving experience.   During his homily, Bishop John reminded us that while altars and chapels are important, they are not the Church. We are. The living, breathing Body of Christ, the communion of saints and our loved ones who have gone before us. It’s a reminder of why we are here on this earth, and that the life we live doesn’t just touch the lives of those in our immediate vicinity, but the Church as a whole.