Lucia Silecchia

I appreciate her reply because I know from happy experience that good, homemade ravioli can be a source of joy! Pope Francis used this recollection to encourage the youthful crowd to look to grandparents for guidance, wisdom and memories — and surprise.

While this charming anecdote was widely reported, most of Pope Francis’s remarks to the youth gathered that day focused more seriously on the Holy Father’s non-gastronomical secret to joy: seeking the peace of God in all things. In his discourse, Pope Francis spoke of the peace of God as the deepest source of his joy, in good times and in bad. He focused on three important aspects of the peace of God:

First, he taught that the deepest, most profound peace is one that only God can give. He asked youth to pray for the grace to discern the peace of God as distinct from other sources of temporary, fleeting peace that do not have divine origin. While these lesser sources of peace may look good and beautiful and bring a temporary sense of happiness, Pope Francis taught that it is only the genuine peace of God that lasts. Indeed, he warned that deceptive or “false” peace often abounds as a temptation, and he urged honest, prayerful discernment as the only way to find the true peace of God.

Second, and unexpectedly, he taught that sometimes the search for the peace of God leads to the cross. This is, indeed, a paradox, but a teaching of great comfort to all who suffer in so many ways. Certainly, the logic of the world would say that peace should be synonymous with freedom from suffering and grief. Yet, Pope Francis warned his audience that this is not always the case. Anyone who has ever done what is right but not easy, just but not popular, honest but not appreciated, loving but heartbreaking, or selfless but unnoticed will understand that there is deep peace in such sacrifices faithfully made. Pope Francis confirmed what they already know: Even in these times of trial and suffering, Christ can and does offer his peace — a genuine, lasting peace.

Third, Pope Francis promised that the peace of God bears the fruit of joy. Not a giddy happiness, or a superficial joie di vivre that depends on fragile emotion or fickle feelings to survive. But, instead, a gioia profonda — a deep, profound, and peaceful joy.

The great value of peace and a proper understanding of it should come as no surprise. During the celebration of Mass, consider how many times “peace” is invoked — “peace to people of good will” in the Gloria; “Be pleased to grant her [the Church] peace” and “advance the peace and salvation of all the world” in the eucharistic prayers; “Peace I leave you, my peace I give you” along with “The peace of the Lord be with you always” and “Let us offer each other the sign of peace” at the Sign of Peace; “grant us peace” during the Agnus Dei; and “go in peace” as we leave. Consider that peace is one of the fruits of the Holy Spirit. Consider that the words of absolution beg not only for God’s pardon, but also for His peace. Consider how the angelic welcome at the birth of Christ heralded “peace to men on whom His favor rests.” Consider how many times during His life, Christ greeted His loved ones with “Peace be with you” or bid them farewell with “Go in peace.” Christ warned that the peace He promises is not “as the world gives” — not a superficial “feel good” peace that is easily won, but the only one that leads to deep joy.

Pope Francis’s words linking peace and joy struck a familiar note for me. Last month, I found a prayer card that moved me so much that I framed it and have it at my desk as a daily reminder about joy and peace. The card bears the words of a prayer from another Francis, Saint Francis De Sales:

Do not look forward to what may happen tomorrow; the same Everlasting Father who cares for you today will take care of you tomorrow, and every day. Either He will shield you from suffering, or He will give you unfailing strength to bear it.   Be at peace then, and put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations. Amen.

I liked this beautiful prayer because it is a call to peace, but not a promise of a blithe and carefree life. In that, it is a realistic, hope-filled call to peace — hard to find, perhaps, but priceless when found.

So “be at peace” … and if you can find good homemade ravioli, enjoy!

— Lucia Silecchia is a professor of law at The Catholic University of America Columbus School of Law. She also is director of the International Human Rights Summer Law Program in Rome.

Lucia Silecchia

Siblings are on my mind as we have recently celebrated the feast day of St. Martha — one of my favorites! St. Martha is certainly the unofficial patron of the busy and the worried, but she is also among the New Testament’s most famous siblings. She squabbled with her sister, mourned her brother, and with them offered Christ friendship and the “many details of hospitality” for which she is so well known. We know little more about this trio except that they were sisters and brother to each other, and beloved friends of Christ.

Pope Francis has spoken often about the relationships between siblings. He himself was the oldest of five children, with two sisters and two brothers. Only one now survives, his youngest sister Maria Elena. When Jorge Bergoglio was elected Pope, a reporter asked Maria Elena whether she felt as though she had lost a brother. She replied, “To tell the truth, it’s more like I’ve gained millions of new brothers and sisters, and I’m trying to figure out how to share my brother with all these new members of the family.”

Last August, Pope Francis shared with the world the news of a tragedy that had befallen his brother’s family: An automobile accident had injured his brother’s son, and killed this nephew’s wife and two sons, one an infant and one a young toddler. As he offered his thanks for prayers and condolences, Pope Francis reminded us, “The Pope has a family too.”

More recently, in his discourses on family life woven through his general audiences this year, Pope Francis devoted an entire audience to the relationships among siblings. He said, “ ‘Brother’ and ‘sister’ are words that Christianity really loves” — and indeed this is true. How many times in liturgical celebrations, in sacred songs, and in religious discourse do we describe bonds of love and affection in these terms?

Pope Francis mourned the account of Cain and Abel’s fratricidal conflict and the ways in which, “when the fraternal relationship is destroyed, when the relationship between siblings is destroyed, the road is open to painful experiences of conflict, of betrayal, of hate.” And yet, he also pointed to the beauty of sibling relationships happily lived, calling these relationships “the great school of freedom and peace,” and observing that “among siblings, human coexistence is learned, how one must live in society.”

In a particular way, he praised the importance of caring for siblings who are weak, noting that “[f]amilial fraternity shines in a special way when we see the care, the patience, the affection that envelop the weakest little brother or sister, sick or physically challenged. There are countless brothers and sisters who do this, throughout the world. … This work of helping among siblings is beautiful.”

And, indeed, it is. The relationship among brothers and sisters is unique. Unlike other relationships, there are few, if any, legal rights and responsibilities that run between siblings. These relationships are not freely chosen and they often involve those who find themselves living vastly different lives far away from each other. Yet, for many, the relationships between sisters and brothers are the longest relationships of their lives. Siblings are those who share our pasts. Our own history is entrusted to our siblings in a way it is entrusted to no one else, as our sisters and brothers share our childhoods, our parents, the homes of our youth, and our memories. If we are lucky, they also share our futures and grow old with us. As my own sister and brother walk life’s path with me, I know that together we hold each other’s past, share each other’s present, and hope for each other’s future.

So, it should be no surprise that when Pope Francis speaks of the bonds among the people of God, he speaks of it as the relationship among siblings. He says, “Having a brother, a sister, who loves you is a deep, precious, irreplaceable experience. Christian fraternity happens in the same way.” This is no mere analogy, but Pope Francis’s prayer and hope that as children who share the same Father, we see each other as sister and brother “because the word and the example of the Lord tell us that we are all brothers and sisters.”

—     Lucia Silecchia is a professor of law at The Catholic University of America Columbus School of Law. She also is director of the International Human Rights Summer Law Program in Rome.

Chad Pecknold

There is a kind of freedom which might have “whatever” as its motto. This “freedom of indifference” can sometimes be heard in those kinds of sarcasm meant to insulate us from every morally serious claim put to us. This is actually only the appearance of freedom, or a kind of fake freedom that enslaves us to our enthroned desires. This kind of freedom sets up a series of buffers around ourselves, so that nothing can make any real claim upon us. If we think we are free in this way, we will scoff at the wisdom of tradition, we’ll dismiss rational claims that contradicts our desires, we’ll pretend our actions do not arise out of a past and we’ll pretend they don’t have future consequences. Even in this “social media age,” such freedom isolates us.

Pope Francis says this false freedom affects all of us: “The world tends to withdraw into itself and shut that door through which God comes into the world and the world comes to him. Hence the hand, which is the Church, must never be surprised if it is rejected, crushed and wounded. God’s people, then, need this interior renewal, lest we become indifferent and withdraw into ourselves.”

This kind of freedom pretends to make love supreme, but in the end it just makes our desires king. Our liberty will be nothing other than stated expressions of our whims, which means that liberty can only be secured by force, power, and coercion since it is detached from beauty, truth, and goodness.

The freedom of indifference makes our desires mysteriously rootless, detached from any proper sense of who we are as rational creatures. The Holy Father might suggest it is only the devil who would tell us that indifference is freedom, since it is through indifference to truth that we become slaves of infinite desire. Instead of a freedom which flows from the unity of intellect and will ordered to our Final Good, indifference makes us slaves of our own capricious will.

And this indifference is most likely a cipher for who we think God is too.

Yet God is not a distant, capricious commander. Pope Francis reminds us that, “He is not aloof from us. Each one of us has a place in his heart. He knows us by name, he cares for us and he seeks us out whenever we turn away from him. He is interested in each of us; his love does not allow him to be indifferent to what happens to us.” God tells us we are “no longer slaves.” God wants true freedom for his children, the freedom to live in accordance with truth, beauty, and goodness. God wants us to become his friends.

Again, Pope Francis: “The love of God breaks through that fatal withdrawal into ourselves which is indifference. The Church offers us this love of God by her teaching and especially by her witness….This happens whenever we hear the word of God and receive the sacraments, especially the Eucharist. There we become what we receive: the Body of Christ. In this body there is no room for the indifference which so often seems to possess our hearts.”

There is no room for indifference with respect to the cries of the human person, in the womb, or on the border, and there is no room for indifference with respect to God, and the cross of Calvary. When God’s love breaks into our hearts, through all our sarcastic buffers, through the “whatevers,” through the guardsmen of our capricious desires, we become truly free for the one friendship that will make us happy. When our will is joined to God’s will, when our minds are renewed and conformed  to Christ our head, the midnight shackles of indifference crack open, and the freedom for truth and goodness dawns. Our hearts are made for eternal peace, which is to say the eternal happiness of friendship with God. Indifference makes this impossible. Indifference is not our friend.

— Chad Pecknold is an associate professor of systematic theology at The Catholic University of America School of Theology and Religious Studies.

Linda Plitt Donaldson

This explains much of the resonance of Pope Francis with social workers. People who are called to social work often have eyes, ears, and hearts that are already open, to some degree, to people who are poor, marginalized, and suffering. And, if social workers allow themselves to be vulnerable in these encounters (and not to hide behind a particular expertise or position of privilege), their hearts can be further broadened, and they can be transformed by these experiences.

Pope Francis speaks about the mutuality in our relationship with people who are poor. “In a very real way, the poor are our teachers. They show us that people’s value is not measured by their possession or how much money they have in the bank.”

“In their difficulties, [the poor] know the suffering Christ. We need to let ourselves be evangelized by them. . . . We are called to find Christ in them, to lend our voices to their causes. . . .” (Evangelii Gaudium, 198).  Social work students will attest that the best teachers in their programs were the people they served in their field placements.

If we open ourselves to be transformed by these encounters, we can move to a place of true solidarity, where we feel in our hearts that our brokenness is bound with the brokenness of those we encounter. And we may gain the courage to take the challenge that Pope Francis and the gospel so plainly set before us — that is, “working to eliminate the structural causes of poverty and to promote the integral development of the poor” (EG, 188). Then we can honestly examine, for ourselves and for our country, the richest country in the world:

·         What are we doing to address the structural causes of poverty for the 45 million people and 20% of children who live in poverty, and the additional 14.7 million people who live in near poverty or between 100 and 125% of the federal poverty level.

·         What are we doing about the growing income inequality and stagnant wages that keep families mired in poverty? Today, 1.7 million more children live in low-income working families than during the Great Recession.

·         What are we doing about the racism in society where families of color disproportionately live in poverty; where black children are four times more likely than white children to live in poverty; where people of color are over-represented in our prison system; and where communities of color experience years of neglect, disinvestment, oppression, and cycles of hopelessness that can create conditions for violence (and peace), as exemplified by the social unrest in Baltimore only two months ago?

·         What are we doing about the cost of housing that is causing a larger share of American families to pay more than half of their paycheck on rent and utilities, and that is making it more difficult for low-income families and people who are homeless to find a place to live?

These are just some of the structural causes of human suffering (poverty, inequality, stagnant wages, racism, housing costs) that make manifest some of the daily struggles social workers encounter here in the United States, such as homelessness, addiction, depression, child abuse and neglect, and violence. Pope Francis invites us to touch these wounds so that we may be transformed by them and strengthened to stand with our brothers and sisters who are poor, to seek structural change, and to cultivate “habits of solidarity” that ultimately “restore to the poor what belongs to them” (EG, 189).

—    Linda Plitt Donaldson is an associate professor in The Catholic University of America National Catholic School of Social Service.

Lucia Silecchia

When I first read Laudato Si’, a line that caught my attention was one unlikely to be much noted because it expresses an idea so universal, yet so simple.  Pope Francis wrote:

“The history of our friendship with God is always linked to particular places which take on an intensely personal meaning; we all remember places, and revisiting those memories does us much good. … [G]oing back to those places is a chance to recover something of [our] true selves.”

This line touched my heart for a deeply personal reason. Laudato Si’ was released the same morning as my Dad’s funeral. I first read it when I returned home from that sacred farewell, and I knew exactly what Pope Francis meant by linking “ [t]he history of our friendship with God” to particular places.

To be with my family, I spent most of this past year in New York. While there, I prayed at the parish church that generations of my family called home — and that my heart still calls home too. My parents married there, I was baptized there, and it has been the scene of my life’s most joyous and sorrowful moments.  It is where I still see my first grade teacher, where people have told me until fairly recently that I have gotten taller (?!), and where neighbors who knew my grandparents come to worship. Within this past year alone, the Pascal candle burned to celebrate our family’s joy at my baby nephew’s baptism, and it burned again to call us to joyful hope of a different kind at my Dad’s funeral. It was at that church that my “history of friendship with God” was born, nourished, and celebrated.

I lived much of this year in the house I grew up in — discussing life and death, knowing joy and sorrow, and saying my last farewell to Dad in the same place I lost my first tooth, built grammar school science fair projects, celebrated dozens of birthdays, typed articles for a high school newspaper (on a real typewriter!), poured over college catalogs, studied for the bar exam, graded students’ papers, and lived the decades of friendships and adventures that make up life. It was in that home that my “history of friendship with God” was lived.

I spent time in other important places back home too, those “particular places which take on an intensely personal meaning” every time they are revisited.

How, you may ask, does this relate to our preparations for a papal Mass here on our campus? In the “history of friendship with God,” special places have always played important roles. While faith tells us that our true home is not of this world, God’s presence is often seen and known in particular places. The Garden of Eden, Mount Sinai, Nazareth, Bethlehem, Galilee, Cana,  the Jordan River, Mount Tabor, Gethsemane, Calvary, Golgotha, and the road to Emmaus — to name but a few — all call to mind important moments in the “history of friendship with God.” For centuries, pilgrims to Jerusalem, Rome, Assisi, Lourdes, Fatima, and Czestochowa have sought out sacred places inextricably intertwined with that history and that friendship.

I hope that for many, this campus is a special place in their “history of friendship with God.” Whether through our sacramental life, academic life, or community life, I hope that for all of us there is a moment — or many — that took place here and that is a landmark in the history of that friendship. On Sept. 23, in the heart of our campus, the successor of St. Peter will be among us. The successor of the fisherman from Galilee who marveled at Mount Tabor, slept at Gethsemane, ran from Calvary, and died a martyr’s death in Rome will celebrate Mass and the very first canonization in America right here in our home. Many wait a lifetime to journey to Rome or plan a pilgrimage hoping to travel to a celebration like the one that we will be privileged to witness. Many never dream of it.

Years from now, when the papal Mass is long over, I hope it will remain for many an important moment in our “history of friendship with God.” I also hope that it is a moment that will be forever linked to this place.

—   Lucia Silecchia is a professor of law at The Catholic University of America Columbus School of Law. She also is director of the International Human Rights Summer Law Program in Rome.

I’ve never told anyone this before, but going to confession as a family heightens my sense that there’s a kind of thrill in it, like diving into the deep end for the first time. We sometimes joke that it is like “spiritual bath time” in which we confess the filth we’ve brought upon ourselves, and Christ washes us with his Word. The kids get the point, but that metaphor doesn’t fully capture either the dread or the thrill of confession.

Chad Pecknold

Last February, Pope Francis asked us all to ask ourselves: “‘When was the last time I went to confession?’ And if it has been a long time, don’t lose another day! Go, the priest will be good. And Jesus will be there, and Jesus is better than the priests — Jesus receives you. He will receive you with so much love! Be courageous, and go to confession.” Pope Francis understands the dread and the very thrill of it because he understands that Jesus is there in the sacrament of confession.

When Pope Francis says “Be courageous, and go to confession!” he captures the way in which it is a sacrament of conversion, “a radical reorientation of our whole life, a conversion to God with all our heart, an end of sin, a turning away from evil, with repugnance toward the evil actions we have committed.” (Catechism, 1431) It is a journey out of a dangerous place, which has been set up in our souls, through what we have done and what we have failed to do. And it feels precarious.

To switch analogies, the sacrament of confession is like a heart transplant. As the Catechism also states, “The human heart is heavy and hardened. God must give man a new heart.” Just to examine our consciences, to tell the truth about ourselves can quake our hearts. In the recent revelations about Planned Parenthood, we have all been horrified at the callousness of the human heart towards America’s secret Holocaust. Every heart should be shaken, every person moved by the horror and weight of this terrible sin upon us. As we watch the videos, many of us might not be aware of how personally this affects millions of women, millions of mothers whose own souls have been “war torn” by the scourge of abortion. But for them, as for all of us, there is hope. “The human heart is converted by looking upon him whom our sins have pierced.” (Catechism 1432)

Abortionists call the baby’s head a “calvarium,” or skull in Latin. In this way, every aborted baby points us to Christ our head, crowned with thorns. As Pope Francis says, “Every child not allowed to be born, but unjustly condemned to be aborted, has the face of Jesus Christ.” It’s understandable that people would want to look away from the horror and weight of this terrible sin of abortion. But looking away only seizes up our hearts further, drags us deeper into a heart of darkness. Rather, to those whose hearts ache from the sin of abortion, Pope Francis will also say to our sisters in pain, “Be courageous, go to confession!” There is hope after the sin of abortion, just as there is hope for all of us whose hearts have been scourged by sin. To be a Christian is to confess, “I am a sinner.”

And confession is simply telling the truth about ourselves before God. What’s both dreadful and thrilling about confession is that we become our own prosecutors, and God hears our case. Weighed down by our sins, aware of the damage they do, our hearts are contrite, and we suddenly hear something amazing breaking through the screen. Through a priest of Jesus Christ we hear words flowing from Calvary: Holy words of forgiveness, divine grace, and mercy flow into our souls so that our contrite hearts can be raised to new life for friendship with God and our neighbor.

Pope Francis tells us not to grow weary of going to confession. Whatever we have done, whatever we have failed to do, something radical happens in confession: “God always forgives us [there]. He never tires of this. It’s we who get tired of asking for forgiveness. But He does not tire of pardoning us.”

Don’t be surprised if the Holy Father brings with him a sense of danger and adventure. And don’t be surprised if he tells you to “Be courageous!  Go to confession.”

—    Chad Pecknold is an associate professor of systematic theology at The Catholic University of America School of Theology and Religious Studies.

Father Eric de la Pena

One of the greatest challenges for the Church today is to prove Her credibility once again to a world where truth is often compromised. Our people’s awareness of clergy abuse not long ago has certainly made preaching more challenging for those who work in the pulpit. Speaking in the name of God no longer brings de facto allegiance of the listeners to the speaker. There are more than words of preaching that must be done if the Word is to become flesh (Jn 1:14). The history of the popes is a testament to everyone that God does not abandon the Church, even when some of Her shepherds have betrayed the sheep multiple times. In Ez 34:15 we hear of God’s promise: “I myself will pasture my sheep.” Thus even when the ship of Peter appears lopsided and seemingly ready to sink, this earthen vessel continues to sail along miraculously above the waters because of the treasury of grace it contains.

Grace, however, is not magic nor is it automatic, and if God’s grace is to take its effect, it will require a genuine cooperation from us. For this reason, our present Pope strains hard to call everyone back to a deeper conversion, repentance, and practice of humility. He calls us to be merciful and to demonstrate our faith in God not just with words but by the fruit of our actions. This is why at Campus Ministry we strive to combine the word of preaching with works of faith. While we do our best to instill faith in what we say, we also want to see that faith expressed in the loving service of others. Anyone who comes to our office can see that there are tons of available opportunities for students to serve and make a difference in the lives of others through volunteer work and faith development. This is what Pope Francis calls the New Evangelization — it is that credible preaching once again as witnessed by word and deed.

— Rev. Eric de la Pena, O.F.M. Conv., is an associate chaplain for faith development at The Catholic University of America.

John Garvey

These are the Kodak Moments of the papal visits (today, I suppose they would be Instagrammed). As we prepare to welcome Pope Francis to campus on September 23, these are the sorts of moments we imagine and look forward to.

But there are also many practical preparations that are inevitable parts of such an event. The Facilities Maintenance and Operations staff at the University are busy preparing the grounds for the papal visit. Folding chairs must be rented. Audio and video systems will have to be set up for recording and broadcasting the papal Mass. These sorts of preparations are less exciting than the actual visit. Such practical matters can seem like distractions from more spiritual things. And they can be. It reminds me of the story of Martha and Mary in the Gospel of Luke. Martha is so busy preparing things and serving Jesus that she misses out on his visit, while her sister Mary sits at the Lord’s feet.

But there is another story in the gospels that also comes to my mind as we prepare our campus to welcome Pope Francis. Before he celebrated the Last Supper, Jesus sent his disciples to make arrangements for securing the upper room to celebrate the Passover. They went into the city, they scouted out the space, and they made a reservation. These utterly practical matters were part of the preparation for the institution of the Eucharist.

Christ established a visible Church, a Church that has faces and takes up space and occasionally sits in folding chairs. And as the Second Vatican Council observed in Lumen Gentium, the dogmatic constitution on the Church, the visible and spiritual elements of the Church are not two separate realities, “They form one complex reality which coalesces from a divine and a human element.” One of the most remarkable things about our faith is that we believe that God works through these human elements to accomplish his plan for the world.

Seen in this light, the practical preparations for Pope Francis’s visit seem anything but mundane.

— John Garvey is President of The Catholic University of America.

Father Eric de la Pena

Our present Pope Francis is no less thoughtful in living up to Christ’s word. At 78 and with only one functioning lung, the first Latino pope has already made nine pastoral visitations around the globe. His visit to CUA in September will be the 11th apostolic journey in the short span of his tenure since he was elected on March 13, 2013. Pope Francis, much like his predecessor St. Peter, does not hesitate to meet the people where they are — even in dangerous conditions. The Pope understands quite well the real hunger that is out there for people to hear the Gospel, which is the living word of Christ — the bread “falling from the mouth of God” (Mt 4:4).

At Campus Ministry, we are already buoyed up at the prospect of encountering the Holy Father in our midst. We are certainly privileged as a pontifical university to receive papal visitations — both in the past and now in the present — but hopefully we also recognize that with such great privilege also comes responsibility. The proud name we carry as The Catholic University of America challenges us to mirror in ourselves the very identity and mission of the name we bear. The papal visit in September indubitably prompts everyone to ponder once again the significance of identifying ourselves as Catholics — in the truest sense.

As Jesus gave Peter the task of strengthening his brothers, we too share in that task along with Pope Francis. We have already heard the Holy Father enjoin us many times: You must care for your brothers and sisters, especially those who are most in need, those who cry out in pain, those who go astray, and truly, those whom God has placed within your reach. This is part of our identity as Catholics — not only to see the Pope as our leader but to find ourselves working alongside him.

— Father Eric de la Pena, O.F.M. Conv., is an associate chaplain for faith development at The Catholic University of America.

Melissa Moschella

The story of Carol Riddell and John Partilla, featured in the Vows section of The New York Times in December 2010, is a case in point. Carol and John, both with spouses and children of their own, met at their children’s school, and eventually fell in love. After much painful deliberation, they decided to divorce their current spouses and marry each other. The Times describes their dilemma: “Their options were either to act on their feelings and break up their marriages or to deny their feelings and live dishonestly.”

Carol and John, like many in our culture, had bought into the lie that love is primarily a feeling, and that following your feelings is the only way to be authentic and free, regardless of how many other people are hurt in the process — think of the spouses and children Carol and John left behind. They are poster children of the false freedom the Holy Father warns us against.

The antidote to this destructive attitude is to recognize that marital love is not only or even primarily about feelings, but rather that it is a commitment, a commitment to stick by the other person, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, till death do us part, to remain faithful through the inevitable emotional ups and downs of life. Love is a choice, not just a feeling, and keeping love alive in marriage means making many choices each day to think and act in ways that will strengthen that love, and to avoid thoughts and actions that will weaken it.

We strengthen love by choosing to dwell on and foster gratitude for a spouse’s good qualities, rather than to nurse resentments and grudges. We strengthen love by overcoming tiredness or a bad mood to smile, by offering a warm greeting when the person comes home, by resisting the temptation to criticize, by really listening to what the other person is saying, by taking a genuine interest in what the other person cares about, by making time to be together one-on-one, and so on. These choices may seem small, but they make all the difference. A daily effort in these little things will, together with God’s grace, take us a long way in attaining that freedom of heart, which Pope Francis exhorts us to seek, and which is essential for a happy marriage.

— Melissa Moschella is an assistant professor at The Catholic University of America School of Philosophy.