The older I get, the more I realize that everything I am is either completely from my mom or completely from my dad. There doesn’t seem to be much in the way of a mixture of the two when it comes to my characteristics and traits. I look quite a bit like my mom (just one of the reasons I keep
this very masculine beard; for differentiation purposes) but my facial expressions and mannerisms are very much my dad’s.

One of the ways in which I am completely like my mom is the calculations I do when preparing food for groups of people. If we are cooking for ten people, the Collins tendency is to make sure there’s enough to feed sixty-eight. You know, just to play it safe. In these matters, I would argue that this approach is much more in line with what we see in the Gospels. Whether it’s the twelve
baskets of bread and fish left over after feeding the 5,000 or the massive haul of fish that St. Peter brings in at the command of Our Lord, abundance is an important theme in the life of Christ.
 
Today’s lesson from the Gospel of John establishes this theme from the very beginning of Jesus’ ministry. In His very first public miracle, Our Lord doesn’t just provide barely enough wine to get by, and he doesn’t supply wine that is
merely good enough. We hear that the huge ceremonial jars are filled “to the brim,” and that the headwaiter tells the bride and groom that it is better than the wine they had been serving in the first place.

Some people use this moment from Jesus’ life to demonstrate the point that God grants our wishes in abundance. I don’t dispute that such is the case. But one of the issues with prayer in our modern age is the difficulty we have making sufficient quiet time to really hear and experience God’s presence in our lives. If we fail to work on our interior life, then we miss out on seeing the graces which God wants to grant us in abundance. Contemporary spiritual authors have often said that in order to properly quiet ourselves so as to truly feel God’s presence, we must dwell in silence for at least half an hour. Half of that time is usually spent solely in blocking out the constant chatter in our heart and placing ourselves in the presence of God.
 
As we settle into the new year, I challenge all of us, myself included, to make more time for silent prayer. The point is not to just be quiet, but is in fact to be quiet long enough to sense how God is moving in our lives and the ways in which He wants us to grow. I know I harp on the virtues of the Rosary quite a bit, and rightly so. But if we as a region can add to a deep Marian devotion a dedication to quietly spending time in God’s presence, it will transform our hearts, our lives, and our parishes. Sit in front of the tabernacle, place yourself in God’s presence, and relate to Him all the thoughts, prayers, struggles, worries, and blessings that come to the forefront of our minds. It will lead us towards Heaven.
 
Prayers always,
Fr. McCullough