One of the most beautiful things about the Catholic Church is tradition.
Not just Tradition with a capital T—the doctrines passed down from the Apostles—but also the lived traditions. The rhythms and rituals that Christians have practiced for thousands of years.
It’s wild when you really think about it: we are part of something ancient, something that has unfolded over centuries—through wars, empires, plagues, renaissances, and revolutions—and yet, here we are. Still gathering. Still praying. Still remembering.
Take the Mass, for example. It might feel familiar, even routine. But it is anything but ordinary. It’s a living connection to the Last Supper and Christ’s Crucifixion. Every time we celebrate the Eucharist, we’re stepping into that upper room with Jesus and His disciples. We’re standing on Calvary.
“Do this in remembrance of me.”
He said it once, but it's been echoed millions of times since.
Out of curiosity, I looked it up: roughly 1,956,000 days (give or take) have passed since the Last Supper. That’s almost two million days of celebrating this tradition. Two million days of grace poured out for an unbroken line of believers.
In a world obsessed with billions of dollars and trillions in debt, that number might not seem flashy. But to me, it’s staggering.
Because it means that today—this day—you and I get to partake in that continuous chain. We get to enter into something so much bigger than ourselves.
Tradition, at its heart, is memory wrapped in love. It’s the Church saying: We haven’t forgotten. We still believe. We still belong.
And that’s something worth passing on.