“How to deal with intrusive thoughts” by Fr. Michael Rennier.

 You can read the original text here.

 

 

 

 published on 03/15/26

 

Here are four simple points for how to react when weird, horrible, unwanted thoughts come into our minds. And why we shouldn't be surprised.

Once, while standing on top of the white cliffs of Dover, I had a sudden, very strong mental picture of what it would be like to throw myself off. Now, to be very clear, I am not suicidal and never have been. That’s why the unwanted thought of doing so was so startling. It really bothered me. I wondered what had gone wrong in my brain. Why had the impulse come on so suddenly? Was something secretly wrong with me? I think, if I were scrupulous, I would have been additionally anxious to know if the impulse was sinful, perhaps even a mortal sin.

Intrusive thoughts are not sinful, but the thought that made its way into my brain that day without my consent played all sorts of mental havoc. I’ve since learned that the cliff-jumping phenomenon is widespread. L’appel du vide, or “the call of the void” is common and harmless. An estimated half of the population has experienced it, so it wasn’t a sign that something was deeply wrong with me but, still, the haunting feeling was hard to shake.

Intrusive thoughts seem to arrive at the worst possible times -- on top of a cliff, during prayer, on spiritual retreat, during Holy Mass. I’ve had the strangest thoughts during distribution of Communion at church. My mind has wandered to my grocery list while praying a psalm. It’s embarrassing to admit to much of what flits through my mind. It makes me wonder if my love for God is defective. Why can’t I just focus and pay attention? Why do evil, strange ideas have free reign in my mind?

Highly disturbing but quite common - Again, these unbidden thoughts are highly disturbing but are quite common. People often come to me seeking advice for this exact problem. They cannot get away from intrusive thoughts, which can range from simple distraction to absolutely horrible, gut-wrenching mental images and temptations. They can be so bad that people worry something is wrong, as if their thoughts spring up from a secret reservoir of evil within. For some, intrusive thoughts derail them entirely, convincing them they have a mental illness or deep-rooted sinfulness impossible to overcome. The thoughts keep coming and they are powerless to stop them.

The good news is that intrusive thoughts affect all of us and they aren’t a sign of entrenched evil. For instance, many of the saints complain about this exact battle. St. Thérèse of Lisieux and St. Ignatius of Loyola described it as a life-long struggle. St. Ambrose wrote a prayer to use before Holy Mass in which he asks God to protect the priest from “unguarded thoughts,” indicating that priests (and I can confirm this from personal experience) are often tempted in the middle of Holy Mass. There’s no escaping these experiences, no matter how far we remove ourselves from exterior temptations. St. Anthony of the Desert experienced them while in prayer after he’d been a hermit for many years. This tells me that we should always be prepared to battle unbidden thoughts.

St. Alphonsus Liguori speaks about this issue at great length, teaching that it’s an error to label each and every thought as sinful. The only sin we commit is if we consent to the thought and dwell on it with what he calls “the malice of the sin.” St. Augustine agrees, writing that where there is no consent there can be no sin. St. Bernard says the same, writing, “Ubi non est consensus.”

Based on the fact the saints experience intense, unbidden thoughts, I think we can even theorize that mental temptations actually increase when we’re in a state of grace. The reason is because, if a person is already in mortal sin, already lukewarm, or fallen away, Satan has no reason to increase the temptations. We’re already exactly where he wants us. It’s only when our faith is strong and our spiritual disciplines are consistent that he gets desperate and tries to get us off track. Knowing this, we should expect temptations to increase when we’re doing well. St. Ignatius teaches this principle in his Exercises and St. Alphonsus concurs, writing, “The devil labors harder to make the saints fall than to make the wicked sin.”

Intrusive thoughts are always going to be with us, so how do we handle them?

 

4 Points for how to react

1 Acknowledge but don’t over-react - Immediately acknowledge an intrusive thought, emphasizing clarity on the “intrusive” part. Note that Satan is tempting you, remind yourself you aren’t sinning, and move on.

2 Stop fighting the thought - Focusing on the thought and trying to battle it directly is a losing proposition. Doing this only makes the thought stronger and more distracting, which is exactly what Satan wants. Instead, rededicate yourself to what positive endeavor it was you were focusing on.

3 Re-frame the thought rationally - If the thought is a lie or a rehash of a past hurt and it’s prompting an emotional reaction, be sure to dismiss it with rationality. Sin is irrational and emotionalized, so when we remind ourselves of the truth it helps us move on.

4 Don’t dwell on the evil - Even if we know the thought comes from Satan and we dismiss it, a secondary temptation is to then focus on fighting against Satan directly. We don’t need to do that. Satan is already defeated, so we ought not fixate on him. He has no influence unless we allow it. Move on quickly from intrusive thoughts by turning to positive thoughts – the love of Christ, beauty, truth, virtue, and hope.

 

Above all be patient and prepared. If we know that intrusive thoughts are simply part of life, they won’t throw us so far off kilter. The bad news is that the thoughts are always with us. The good news is they have no power over us and, if we lift our minds to heaven, the victory is already within reach.

“Can each washed dish save a soul?” By Sarah Robsdottir

 You can read the original text here.

 

published on 03/14/26

Of course, only Jesus can save souls. But there are many ways to pray ...

I was recently moved by a passage in Fr. Jacques Philippe's powerful book Thirsting for Prayer in which he likens an excerpt of the early 20th-century Polish mystic and nun St. Faustina Kowalska's spiritual diary to Moses' "holy haggling" in the Bible (Exodus 32: 11-14), where Moses approaches God confidently and persistently, begging him to have mercy on the Israelites.

The passage caught my eye because St. Faustina was chatting with Jesus while crocheting a sweater. And while crocheting is a talent I've tried but failed countless times to master, the spiritual angle of the sentiment has a broader application to any menial task. I keep thinking about it especially as I wash dishes, fold laundry, and take out the trash. The excerpt is from St. Faustina's diary Divine Mercy in My Soul and is copied in its entirety below:

 

    This morning after completing my spiritual exercises, I began at once to crochet. I sensed a stillness in my heart; I sensed that Jesus was resting in it. That deep and sweet consciousness of God's presence prompted me to say to the Lord …

    "O Most Holy Trinity dwelling in my heart, I beg You: grant the grace of conversion to as many souls as the number of stitches that I will make today with this crochet hook."

    Then I heard these words in my soul: "My daughter, too great are your demands."

    "Jesus, you know that for You it is easier to grant much rather than little."

    That is so, [Jesus replied] it is less difficult for Me to grant a soul much rather than a little, but every conversion of a sinful soul demands sacrifice.

    "Well, Jesus, I offer You this whole-hearted work of mine; this offering does not seem to me to be too small for such a large number of souls; You know, Jesus, that for thirty years You were saving souls by just this kind of work. And since holy obedience forbids me to perform great penances and mortifications, therefore I ask You, Lord: accept these mere nothings, stamped with the seal of obedience, as great things."

    Then I heard a voice in my soul: "My dear daughter, I comply with your request."

 

St. Faustina Kowalska is best known for her vision of Jesus in which two large rays -- one red, symbolizing blood, and the other white, symbolizing water -- are flowing from Jesus' side. She spread this vision and image of "Divine Mercy," its inscription and message: Jesus, I trust in you.

I often play a recording of the Divine Mercy Chaplet, singing and praying along when I cook and clean. Lately, it's been a joy to place each washed dish, fork, and spoon on my drying rack. I'll set down a damp bowl and lift up a cousin in prayer. I'll scrub a frying pan and ask that this tiny sacrifice merit graces for a nephew's ongoing conversion. With each fork and spoon, I'll picture the faces of strangers I chatted with at the grocery store that morning and imagine Jesus' mercies flowing into their souls; it's a habit that's certainly given new meaning to housework!

Not only do I seek St. Faustina's intercession while offering up each washed dish for the salvation of a specific soul, but I also ask a few other saints to pray with me. St. Martin de Porres, a 16th-century Dominican lay brother well known for his devotion to the poor, once famously said: “Everything, even sweeping, scraping vegetables, weeding a garden, and waiting on the sick, could be a prayer, if it were offered to God.”

Centuries later, St. Josemaria Escriva, the founder of Opus Dei, echoed the sentiment: "Add a supernatural motive to your ordinary professional work and you will have sanctified it" (The Way #359, Scepter Press).

In the Bible's Book of James, we clearly see there are many things we do not have simply because we haven't asked for them: "You have not because you ask not" (James 4:2). And in the Gospel of St. Mark, verse 9:29, Jesus makes it clear that there are certain things done with the power that comes when we "fast and pray."

It's a relief to know that as a busy parent, prayer doesn't have to always look like it does in the movies -- kneeling alone in a silent church with folded hands. Rather, a busy life provides countless opportunities to offer up in my flesh "what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body" (cf Colossians 1:24).

 

-- St. Faustina Kowalska, pray for us!

-- St. Martin de Porres, pray for us!

-- St. Josemaria Escriva, pray for us!

“Think you have nothing to confess? Think again” by Fr. Michael Rennier.

 You can read the original source here.

published on 03/08/26

 For some, scrupulosity is a huge problem, but I’d guess that, for the majority of us, laxity is more tempting. I know people who haven’t gone to confession in well over a year and still cannot think of a single sin they need to confess.

Pope St. John Paul II, back in 1984, was already concerned about a cultural shift that was causing a loss of our sense of sin. Modern man, he posited, suffers from a “deformation of conscience” caused by widespread secularism.

The deformation has only accelerated in the decades since he wrote those words. We’re so afraid these days of making moral judgments that the very idea of wrong-doing as transgressing against an objective standard has disappeared. We’re assured over and over again that if we just follow our consciences, we can do no wrong.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t exactly need this sort of “encouragement” to justify my actions. I pretty much always think I’m right. I’m never the “bad guy.” If you think about it, none of us in our own minds is ever “the bad guy.” We always have a justification. We’re always the hero. I can easily convince myself I’m following my conscience no matter how anyone else perceives my actions. This means that I am more than capable of dismissing guilt over having sinned. I’m what you might call a person with a lax conscience.

John Paul II identifies this deadening of the conscience as a huge problem. “When the conscience is weakened,” he writes, “the sense of God is also obscured.” He then points out that his predecessor Pope Pius XI once said, “the sin of the century is the loss of the sense of sin.”

Drifting into apathy - For some, scrupulosity is a huge problem, but I’d guess that, for the majority of us, laxity is more tempting. I know people who haven’t gone to confession in well over a year and still cannot think of a single sin they need to confess. They cannot think of anything they’ve done wrong. Now, I have a lax conscience but, even I, as hard-hearted and arrogant as I am, recognize that I fall short of the ideal on a daily basis. I have plenty of things to confess. We all do.

Of course, everything in our pop-culture preaches the opposite, insisting that sin isn’t real and the only moral boundary is the vague intention to not harm other people, even insisting it’s okay if you do harm someone else just as long as that wasn’t your intention.

Everyone is a saint these days, which to my mind, means no one is a saint.

It sounds nice to practice non-judgmental, follow-your-heart type ethics but really it’s nothing more than surrender to mediocrity. Lack of self-knowledge and responsibility isn’t good for anyone, particularly us sinners who need a moral standard to which we can aspire. With no goals, we drift into apathy. Without acknowledgment of wrong-doing, we lack hope.

Getting nowhere - We cannot maintain a thriving spiritual life while avoiding the confessional. Some think that, because they pray a Rosary every day, volunteer at the fish fry, and have a Mary statue in the yard, they’re all set. St. Maximus the Confessor begs to to differ, teaching, “as long as we're in sin, that is, transgressing against Christ's divine commandments, we can be as pious as we like, read all the prayers of the saints ... it will get us nowhere.” We can pretend all we like, but in the end, if we cannot admit our flaws and allow Our Lord to judge and forgive us, we will never have a real relationship with him and we’ll never authentically know our selves.

This is why laxity indicates a serious spiritual sickness. It’s a symptom of living in denial. The original Latin word for lax is related to being slack or overly-wide, a definition which brings to mind Our Lord’s teaching that the way is wide that leads to destruction. If we want to know ourselves, we must focus and push through the narrow gate, take responsibility, set aside pride and fear, practice accountability. It’s a challenging path to travel but is the way of hope and happiness. This is how we heal old wounds and open ourselves up for growth.

That said, it can be difficult to fully understand our actions and motivations. Where can we improve? What are the ways we sin in small ways every single day? In short, how can we think of a complete list of sins to confess?

 

Here are a few practical tips.

Use an examen - Examinations of conscience are abundant. They can be found online, in hand-missals, and prayer books. Based on the 10 Commandments, a good examen offers memory aids and specific practical ways in which we might be sinning in our daily lives. I find that using an examen prompts my memory and unveils sins of which I had previously been unaware.

Ask God to teach you more about yourself - A prayer to the Holy Spirit to ask him for insight is a simple but necessary step to preparing for confession. God knows us better than we know ourselves, and his light illumines our darkened consciences.

Read the catechism and the saints - We cannot root out sin if we don’t know what it is. We have a duty to form our consciences with good information.

Dig down into hidden motives - Over time, the goal is to leave behind the big obvious sins. What to confess after these disappear, though? Reflect on less obvious sins, hidden motives, unbecoming thoughts, and disordered attachments. The goal isn’t scrupulosity but, rather, sensitivity. The more we love God, the more we will desire to give our entire selves to him and even small sins bother us.

Practice honesty - We cannot be honest in the confessional if we aren’t willing to be honest with ourselves. It hurts to recall our sins. They’re embarrassing. They rip open old wounds. But we cannot grow and develop until we’re willing to face them.

Imagine you’re on your deathbed - The sins we think aren’t such a big deal might take on a different importance if we think about them from a different perspective. We might be willing to live with a sin, but are we willing to die with it? Knowing we’re about to face our Creator, is it an impurity we feel comfortable bringing into his presence?

I offer this advice not because I sit in judgment of anyone else or think I’m perfect. The advice is for me as much as anyone else, and I want to re-emphasize that the whole point of going to confession is not because God is judgmental and angry. The point is that God loves us and wants to forgive us. He desires that we face our flaws honestly so that we can be set free from them. This is our path not only to happiness in the next life, but also authentic self-fulfillment in this life.

"The Path of Happiness and the Flame of Hope" by Fr. Paulo Ricardo.

 You can reand or listen the original source (in Portuguese) here.

1 February 2026

Far from being a mere display of Jesus’ eloquence, the Beatitudes constitute a true itinerary that leads us to Heaven. This is because the complete happiness we constantly seek is found in nothing of this world, but solely in God.

 

Helen Thomas Robson - My Friend.

The Gospel of Our Lord Jesus Christ according to Saint Matthew (Mt 5:1–12a)

At that time, when Jesus saw the crowds, He went up the mountain and sat down. His disciples came to Him, and He began to teach them, saying:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.

Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.

Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.

Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.

Blessed are you when people insult you and persecute you, and utter every kind of evil against you falsely on My account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in Heaven.”

 

This Sunday, the Church proclaims the Gospel of Saint Matthew, chapter 5, verses 1 to 12. This passage is the Sermon on the Mount—the first of the five great discourses narrated by Saint Matthew—in which Our Lord proclaims the Beatitudes that we shall live fully in Heaven.

It is striking to observe that Jesus’ very first word here is “blessed,” that is, “happy.” It seems that Christ begins with the end, for He opens by speaking of the ultimate goal of our lives—happiness—and shows that He Himself is the path that leads to it. We all desire to be happy, yet we tragically do not know the way to happiness. This drama belongs to the human condition. Cows, monkeys, and small animals do not suffer from the anguish of seeking fulfillment in life; they do not become anxious, worried, or desperate. With us, however, the situation is different: we are anguished because there is always the possibility that our life might simply not turn out well.

Here, Jesus immediately touches the wound, showing us that we seek happiness where it cannot be found. Because He desires our happiness, Christ shows us the way. The hard truth is that we can indeed fail in this life, and this is precisely the evil Jesus wishes to heal. Happiness exists in Heaven, with God; yet we do not know how to reach it. Our Lord not only wants us to be happy, but also tells us what we must do in order to attain happiness. This is the very heart of the Gospel of the Beatitudes.

In short, we will not find perfect happiness in this world. Every form of happiness presented by Jesus is a reward of Heaven. And to reach it, we must do one thing: imitate Our Lord. With the help of grace, we must form our hearts according to the Heart of Jesus, for the Beatitudes are nothing other than a reflection of the very Person of Christ. As He Himself said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me” (Jn 14:6).

The Gospel presents us with eight Beatitudes, divided into two parts: in the first, Jesus tells us what we must do; in the second, He reveals the reward awaiting us in Heaven. It is important to emphasize that everything Jesus promises belongs to Heaven. Indeed, He begins by saying, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.” He goes on to speak of comfort for those who mourn, inheritance for the meek, satisfaction for the hungry and thirsty, mercy, and finally divine filiation. All of this stands in stark contrast to this valley of tears in which we live—the fallen world.

In the Beatitudes, Jesus speaks to us of Heaven, where we shall be called “children of God.” Saint John writes: “Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we shall be has not yet been revealed” (1 Jn 3:2). This is the hope of Heaven. Finally, Jesus speaks of those who are persecuted for love of Him: “Blessed are you when people insult you and persecute you, and utter every kind of evil against you falsely on My account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in Heaven” (Mt 5:11–12). Everything points toward Paradise.

Christ wishes to free us from the foolish notions of happiness we cultivate in this world. He says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit.” Jesus Himself was the first and greatest of the poor in spirit, for He humbled Himself completely on the Cross, shattering by His example our attachments to worldly things. It is noteworthy that He says “blessed are the poor,” even though common sense often claims the opposite. Our country is economically unstable; we are constantly facing crises. As a result, it is common for us to chase after money and financial security. It almost seems as though happiness will only arrive once our name disappears from the list of debtors or when we finally purchase the latest smartphone. Yet one does not even need faith to recognize the illusion behind this attachment to money—a truth already acknowledged by ancient philosophers.

Once, I met an elderly man who had lived a dignified and honest life, working for decades to provide the best for his family. At the end of his life, however, he realized that all the money he had accumulated could not buy his health back. Material goods do not bring happiness. But must one really live to be eighty to discover a truth that could already be understood at twenty? It makes no sense to distress ourselves over things that will pass away. Christ invites us to imitate Him in poverty, for it is in this way that we shall be happy.

Does this mean, then, that we will experience no happiness at all in this life? Certainly not. The Beatitudes themselves make this clear. When we hear about true happiness in Heaven and what we must do to attain it, hope is born in our hearts—and hope itself is already the beginning of happiness. When someone who is gravely ill is told that there exists a medicine capable of saving his life, simply hearing this good news already brings joy. The illness remains, but the face is illuminated by hope. Such is the logic of the Beatitudes proclaimed by Jesus. We shall live them fully only in Heaven, but even now we possess the joy of hope, because we believe in the Word of God.

We must obey the Lord, following the path to happiness that He has shown us. To help us, we have the grace of God. We are like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, walking in the company of Jesus: “Were not our hearts burning within us while He spoke to us on the way?” (Lk 24:32). They had not yet seen the risen Christ, yet their hearts were already aflame. Such is the condition of Christians.

Let us look to the lives of the saints. They are rightly called “blessed,” for they are in Heaven, though they lived troubled lives on earth. Indeed, if we wish to understand suffering, we need only look at the saints. Yet even amid suffering, they nourished the flame of hope in their hearts, and this was already a source of great joy—even in this world. We are called to suffer not as the despairing, but with the flame of hope burning within our souls.

So far, we have seen our goal—Heaven. But how do we reach it? The path that leads to Paradise begins with poverty of spirit, that is, the wise resolve never to place our hope in earthly goods: “Blessed are the poor in spirit.”

Second: “Blessed are those who mourn.” Our society flees from any form of suffering or affliction and believes that happiness lies in sensual pleasure. For many, happiness is found in sex, food, comfort, and the like. This is a grave illusion. Jesus is clear: happiness does not lie in what appeals to disordered desire.

The third Beatitude of Our Lord is: “Blessed are the meek.” How many wars, conflicts, and disputes would be avoided if we simply followed this exhortation of the Lord.

According to Saint Thomas Aquinas, these Beatitudes are proper to beginners—those taking their first steps on the path of purification. Even at this early stage, we already begin to lose much of our attachment to the things of this world.

Therefore, let us take courage! Our Lord begins the Sermon on the Mount with the end, showing us that true happiness does exist. Hearts lifted high, then! How many priests and members of the Church live discouraged lives! How many people surrender to a worldly outlook because they no longer see a solution to the problems afflicting the Church! Sadly, in the face of worldly pressures, many prefer to capitulate, wishing the Church to adapt itself to the spirit of the age. Yet here Christ feeds us with hope. He shows us the path of grace, by which—if we break with worldly illusions—we shall receive our reward in Heaven.

Let us, then, have true hope. Yes, we live the drama of the human condition, but authentic happiness does exist. A light has shone upon a people who walked in darkness. Our true happiness is in Heaven. To reach it, let us ask for the grace to imitate Christ in the Beatitudes, thus breaking free from the illusions of this world. In this way, we may one day attain the eternal reward. Therefore, let us listen to Our Lord, who says: “Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in Heaven” (Mt 5:12a).

The Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy.

 

We are the hands of Christ.

The Corporal Works of Mercy

Feed the hungry

Give Drink to the thirsty

Shelter the homeless

Visit the sick

Visit the prisoners

Bury the dead

Give Alms to the poor

 

The Spiritual Works of Mercy

Counseling the doubtful

Instructing the ignorant

Admonishing the sinner

Comforting the sorrowful

Forgiving injuries

Bearing wrongs patiently

Praying for the living and the dead