Today is the feast of St. Benjamin, deacon. He reminds me a little of St. James the Dismembered, whose feast day we celebrated last Nov. 27th, because he also suffered at the hands of the Persian king. Those Iranians, I tell you -- they're fierce. They chopped off limb after limb of St. James and they shoved reeds under the finger- and toenails and in all the joints of St. Benjamin. Finally, when he refused to sacrifice to the pagan gods, they burned him at the stake.
Persia had been fearsomely persecuted under King Jezdigerd (same King St. James served in court under), and then experienced a relative lull during at least the early part of the reign of his son Varanes. But Benjamin was to suffer for the rash actions of his bishop, who burned a Persian temple to the ground, leading Varanes t renew the persecutions begun under his father. Benjamin had been in prison once (for evangelization) but had been released at the request of the Roman ambassador. Released, he was arrested again after his bishop's action ostensibly because he would not worship fire. To the king he said: "Do what you will with me, but I will not deny the Creator of heaven and earth, and worship perishable creatures. What do you think of a subject who gives to others the allegiance due to you?" Benjamin suffered about the year 422.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Friday, March 30, 2007
Today March 30
Today's saint is St. John Climacus, whom we love for his very name. While the erudite know his last name is Greek for "ladder," the more ribald among us know it really means "climax," which has another -- and more fun -- meaning. He may have even been given that surname as a reference to his work: The Ladder (Klimax) of Paradise. Neat. As if we had a C. S. Narnia or H. G. War of the Worlds.
He was a monk on Mount Sinai from the ripe old age of 16 and not until he was 70 was he elected abbot of the monastery, St. Catherine's. He served in that capacity for 4 years until he died.
He is also known as John Scholasticus for his great scholarship. He is a contemplative and ascetic, and is ideas of the unitive way can be seen in St. Teresa of Ávila.
Here are some samplings from his work:
"The fact is that no one can climb a ladder in a single stride . . . At the beginning of one's life as a monk one cannot suddenly become free of gluttony and vainglory."
"The offspring of virtue is perseverance. The fruit and offspring of perseverance is habit, and the child of habit is character."
"Faith furnishes prayer with wings, without which it cannot soar to Heaven."
"Ecclesiastes declares that there is a time for everything under heaven, and everything may be taken to refer to our spiritual life. If this is so, then we ought to examine the matter; and we should do everything in proper season."
He was a monk on Mount Sinai from the ripe old age of 16 and not until he was 70 was he elected abbot of the monastery, St. Catherine's. He served in that capacity for 4 years until he died.
He is also known as John Scholasticus for his great scholarship. He is a contemplative and ascetic, and is ideas of the unitive way can be seen in St. Teresa of Ávila.
Here are some samplings from his work:
"The fact is that no one can climb a ladder in a single stride . . . At the beginning of one's life as a monk one cannot suddenly become free of gluttony and vainglory."
"The offspring of virtue is perseverance. The fruit and offspring of perseverance is habit, and the child of habit is character."
"Faith furnishes prayer with wings, without which it cannot soar to Heaven."
"Ecclesiastes declares that there is a time for everything under heaven, and everything may be taken to refer to our spiritual life. If this is so, then we ought to examine the matter; and we should do everything in proper season."
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Today March 29
Today is the feast of St. Eustace. I was disappointed to learn this is NOT the fabulous St. Eustace, the Roman official converted while hunting,* whose feast day is instead Sept. 20th. No, this Eustace is a French monk, who died 625. He replaced the Irishman Columban as abbot of Luxeuil, and later of Bobbio (founded by Columban). Eustace was a born leader and fine administrator. The abbey grew to 600 souls, with outlying schools and auxiliary missions. Eustace himself was credited with restoring the sight of 2 blind girls (a Salaberga of Laon and a St. Fara). He was no one to mess with, however. When St. Columban was trashed in court and in the monastery itself, Eustace rose to defend him. To his chief critic he intoned: "If you persist in combating out institutions, I will not give you a year in which to answer for your conduct before God's tribunal." And so it happened. Within a year the critical monk had been hatcheted to death by a rebellious slave. Oh, my.
Eustace himself died, as noted, in 625, shortly after a trip to Bavaria, after having converted the Volsci tribe there.
Love,
Eustace himself died, as noted, in 625, shortly after a trip to Bavaria, after having converted the Volsci tribe there.
Love,
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Today March 27
Today is the feast of St. John of Egypt, Desert Father. Now, there are many Desert Fathers named John and they're ALL "of Egypt"! Now, St. John the Dwarf seems to have a significantly different date of death, so I will go with another.
In his youth Abba John questioned an old man, "How have you been able to carry out the work of God in peace? For we cannot do it, not even with labor." The old man said, "We were able to do it, because we considered the work of God to be primary, and bodily needs to be subsidiary; but you hold bodily necessities to be primary and the work of God to be secondary; that is why you labor, and that is why the Savior said to the disciples, 'Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well.' " (Matt 6:33)
A brother lived in a cenobium and he was a very vigorous ascetic. Some brothers who had heard about him in Scetis, came to see him. They entered the place where he was working. He greeted them, and turning round, went back to his work. When they saw what he was doing, the brethren said to him, "John, who clothed you in the habit? Who made you a monk? Have you not been taught to take the sheepskin from the brothers and to say to them, let us pray; or perhaps, sit down." He said the them, "John, the sinner, has no time to attend to that."
Abba John told us this story: "There was in Egypt a very rich and beautiful courtesan, to whom noble and powerful people came. Now one day she happened to be near the church and she wanted to go in. The sub-deacon, who was standing at the doors, would not allow her to enter saying, 'You are not worthy to enter the house of God, for you are impure.' The bishop heard the noise of their argument and came out. Then the courtesan said to him, 'He will not let me enter the church.' So the Bishop said to her, 'You are not allowed to enter it, for you are not pure.' She was filled with compunction and said to him, 'Henceforth I will not commit fornication any more.' The bishop said to her, 'If you bring your wealth here, I shall know that you will not commit fornication any more.' She brought her wealth and the bishop burnt it all in the fire. Then she went into the church, weeping and saying, 'If this has happened to me below, what would I not have suffered above? So she was converted and became a vessel of election."
It was said of Abba John that his obedience was very great. Now there were some tombs thereabouts where a hyena lived. The old man saw some dung in the place, and told John to go and fetch it. He said, "And what shall I do about the hyena, abba?" The old man said to him jokingly, "If she sets upon you, tie her up and bring her here." So in the evening, the brother went there. And lo, the hyena fell upon him. According to the old man's instruction, he rushed to catch her. But the hyena ran away. He pursued her saying, "My abba says I am to tie you up." He seized her and bound her. Now the old man was uneasy and sat waiting for him. When he returned, he brought the hyena on a rope. When the old man saw this he was filled with wonder, but he wanted to humiliate him, so he struck him, and said, "Fool, why have you brought a silly dog here?" Then the old man set her free at once and let her go.
It was said of young John that he spent twelve years serving Abba Ammoes when he was ill. He stayed sitting with him on his mat. But the old man did not pay much attention to him, so much so that though he worked very hard for him, never did he say to him, "Salvation be yours." But when he was at the point of death and the old men surrounded him, he took John's hand and said to him, "Salvation be yours, salvation be yours, salvation be yours." Then he entrusted him to the old men, saying, "He is an angel, not a man."
In his youth Abba John questioned an old man, "How have you been able to carry out the work of God in peace? For we cannot do it, not even with labor." The old man said, "We were able to do it, because we considered the work of God to be primary, and bodily needs to be subsidiary; but you hold bodily necessities to be primary and the work of God to be secondary; that is why you labor, and that is why the Savior said to the disciples, 'Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well.' " (Matt 6:33)
A brother lived in a cenobium and he was a very vigorous ascetic. Some brothers who had heard about him in Scetis, came to see him. They entered the place where he was working. He greeted them, and turning round, went back to his work. When they saw what he was doing, the brethren said to him, "John, who clothed you in the habit? Who made you a monk? Have you not been taught to take the sheepskin from the brothers and to say to them, let us pray; or perhaps, sit down." He said the them, "John, the sinner, has no time to attend to that."
Abba John told us this story: "There was in Egypt a very rich and beautiful courtesan, to whom noble and powerful people came. Now one day she happened to be near the church and she wanted to go in. The sub-deacon, who was standing at the doors, would not allow her to enter saying, 'You are not worthy to enter the house of God, for you are impure.' The bishop heard the noise of their argument and came out. Then the courtesan said to him, 'He will not let me enter the church.' So the Bishop said to her, 'You are not allowed to enter it, for you are not pure.' She was filled with compunction and said to him, 'Henceforth I will not commit fornication any more.' The bishop said to her, 'If you bring your wealth here, I shall know that you will not commit fornication any more.' She brought her wealth and the bishop burnt it all in the fire. Then she went into the church, weeping and saying, 'If this has happened to me below, what would I not have suffered above? So she was converted and became a vessel of election."
It was said of Abba John that his obedience was very great. Now there were some tombs thereabouts where a hyena lived. The old man saw some dung in the place, and told John to go and fetch it. He said, "And what shall I do about the hyena, abba?" The old man said to him jokingly, "If she sets upon you, tie her up and bring her here." So in the evening, the brother went there. And lo, the hyena fell upon him. According to the old man's instruction, he rushed to catch her. But the hyena ran away. He pursued her saying, "My abba says I am to tie you up." He seized her and bound her. Now the old man was uneasy and sat waiting for him. When he returned, he brought the hyena on a rope. When the old man saw this he was filled with wonder, but he wanted to humiliate him, so he struck him, and said, "Fool, why have you brought a silly dog here?" Then the old man set her free at once and let her go.
It was said of young John that he spent twelve years serving Abba Ammoes when he was ill. He stayed sitting with him on his mat. But the old man did not pay much attention to him, so much so that though he worked very hard for him, never did he say to him, "Salvation be yours." But when he was at the point of death and the old men surrounded him, he took John's hand and said to him, "Salvation be yours, salvation be yours, salvation be yours." Then he entrusted him to the old men, saying, "He is an angel, not a man."
Monday, March 26, 2007
Today March 26
Today is celebrated the glorious feast of the Annunciation of Our Lord. It is His immaculate conception, a conception unlike any other. All His DNA in the human line came from Mary (and there is good reason to believe she was also of the line of David) -- but NOT, as some have said, "all of His DNA" came from her -- else Jesus would have had to be female! Half came directly from the Holy Spirit, thus He had the "Y" chromosome and all such. How do I know? He is "a man like us in all things but sin" -- thus XY and 23 pairs of chromosomes.
I like the picture of the Annunciation by Henry Tanner, as well as the similar depiction in Franco Zeffirelli's film "Jesus of Nazareth," showing a beautiful and serious Jewish girl being addressed by an angel only she can see, though the observer has hints of it in a glorious, diffuse and attractive light.
And it is important to note the timing . . . first she was asked, then the angel (and by extension all creation) waited, then she said "yes." We Catholics have to keep this all-important pause in mind especially when we say the Angelus: "The angel declared unto Mary and she conceived by the Holy Spirit." Hail Mary. Then "I am the handmaid of the Lord, be it done unto me according to thy word." As if it happened all at once, or as if she is consenting to something that -- poof -- has already occurred. The pause is important because it points to Mary's honor, the great honor God paid to her and to her all-important free will. She could have said, "No," after all. She didn't, but she could have. It was a great honor to be the mother of the Messiah, but it was expensive and not everybody would have wanted to pay the price. Thanks be to God she did!
Mary, betrothed to Joseph and thus under Jewish law legally married to him, returned to her family home to prepare for the date when she would formally move in with Joseph, a year after the betrothal. She she was at home in Nazareth when Gabriel appeared to her with the joyous news. I don't know if it's true or not, but Nazareth means "flower," hence St. Bernard says that "the Flower willed to be conceived of a flower, in 'Flower.' in the season of flowers." St. Thérèse would be pleased.
I remember attending an ordination of a priest who said, were he to be made pope, he would make the Annunciation a Holy Day of Obligation. I'm with him; this high holy day deserves to be celebrated in joy, gratitude and fervor in our churches and in our hearts. Thank you, God, and thank you, Mary.
I like the picture of the Annunciation by Henry Tanner, as well as the similar depiction in Franco Zeffirelli's film "Jesus of Nazareth," showing a beautiful and serious Jewish girl being addressed by an angel only she can see, though the observer has hints of it in a glorious, diffuse and attractive light.
And it is important to note the timing . . . first she was asked, then the angel (and by extension all creation) waited, then she said "yes." We Catholics have to keep this all-important pause in mind especially when we say the Angelus: "The angel declared unto Mary and she conceived by the Holy Spirit." Hail Mary. Then "I am the handmaid of the Lord, be it done unto me according to thy word." As if it happened all at once, or as if she is consenting to something that -- poof -- has already occurred. The pause is important because it points to Mary's honor, the great honor God paid to her and to her all-important free will. She could have said, "No," after all. She didn't, but she could have. It was a great honor to be the mother of the Messiah, but it was expensive and not everybody would have wanted to pay the price. Thanks be to God she did!
Mary, betrothed to Joseph and thus under Jewish law legally married to him, returned to her family home to prepare for the date when she would formally move in with Joseph, a year after the betrothal. She she was at home in Nazareth when Gabriel appeared to her with the joyous news. I don't know if it's true or not, but Nazareth means "flower," hence St. Bernard says that "the Flower willed to be conceived of a flower, in 'Flower.' in the season of flowers." St. Thérèse would be pleased.
I remember attending an ordination of a priest who said, were he to be made pope, he would make the Annunciation a Holy Day of Obligation. I'm with him; this high holy day deserves to be celebrated in joy, gratitude and fervor in our churches and in our hearts. Thank you, God, and thank you, Mary.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Homily: Fifth Sunday of Lent: 2007
Today is the 5th Sunday of Lent, the last Sunday before Palm Sunday. And today we look at the Gospel encounter of Jesus, the woman caught in the act of adultery and her many (all male) accusers. And there is an intriguing little mystery in this passage. Because although we have no knowledge and certainly no documentation that Our Lord ever wrote anything -- and it's likely he never did -- we do know that he wrote something in the sand. "Jesus bent down and began to write on the ground with his finger." The great theologian Frank Sheed once said, "I'd give my eyeteeth to know what it was he wrote!" I wonder what it was. Some say it was a list of all the sins of those accusers, the one with the stones. Who knows? I guess we'll find out in heaven.
Anyway, I find it interesting that the men were at least astute and awake enough to know that Jesus wouldn't be very likely to stone the woman to death. They knew the law; they knew her sentence was death, and what a horrible death it would be! But then they could accuse Jesus of being "soft on crime," I guess. And in the off chance that he did join them, they could say that he was being reactionary; harsh and cruel to one of his own. I don't know. That's pretty coldly cynical. But Jesus, being eternal wisdom itself, doesn't play their game. He turns the tables on them and while not repudiating the Law ("Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her"), he certainly takes all the teeth out of it! I think it's interesting that the oldest dropped their stones and left first. Perhaps the sheer number and weight of their sins just compelled them! I think that in itself points to an old truth. We mourn the death of the very young, and rightly so. But as a friend of mine once said, as she was dying of cancer: "No one gets out of this world alive." God is going to come for each of us sooner or later. And those whom he gathers up in his arms in their youth have presumably not weighed down their hearts and souls with sin as much. And that's a great mercy. Those of us who are old should ponder that. Think of those sins weighing us down like rocks. Repent, before it is too late! You who have lived longer have surely been tempted more, been exposed to more, perhaps given in to more. It's not too late; it's never too late. Change your lives; confess your sins; go to the Sacrament of Confession -- offered here every Saturday (except Holy Saturday) 4:00 - 5:30 pm and tomorrow at 7:00 pm at G__ S___ in C____. That's a communal penance service, so there will be lots of priests there to hear your individual confessions. Lots of priests, and may I point out, some perhaps you've never seen before and may rarely -- if ever -- see again! But they all bring Christ to you . . . a chance to reform, clean up and get right with God. Many of you will wear something bright and new for Easter -- certainly something clean -- on your bodies. What about your souls? And may I point out, we are getting so close to Easter that this is the last communal penance service in the deanery. "Go and sin no more."
Let us now profess our faith.
Anyway, I find it interesting that the men were at least astute and awake enough to know that Jesus wouldn't be very likely to stone the woman to death. They knew the law; they knew her sentence was death, and what a horrible death it would be! But then they could accuse Jesus of being "soft on crime," I guess. And in the off chance that he did join them, they could say that he was being reactionary; harsh and cruel to one of his own. I don't know. That's pretty coldly cynical. But Jesus, being eternal wisdom itself, doesn't play their game. He turns the tables on them and while not repudiating the Law ("Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her"), he certainly takes all the teeth out of it! I think it's interesting that the oldest dropped their stones and left first. Perhaps the sheer number and weight of their sins just compelled them! I think that in itself points to an old truth. We mourn the death of the very young, and rightly so. But as a friend of mine once said, as she was dying of cancer: "No one gets out of this world alive." God is going to come for each of us sooner or later. And those whom he gathers up in his arms in their youth have presumably not weighed down their hearts and souls with sin as much. And that's a great mercy. Those of us who are old should ponder that. Think of those sins weighing us down like rocks. Repent, before it is too late! You who have lived longer have surely been tempted more, been exposed to more, perhaps given in to more. It's not too late; it's never too late. Change your lives; confess your sins; go to the Sacrament of Confession -- offered here every Saturday (except Holy Saturday) 4:00 - 5:30 pm and tomorrow at 7:00 pm at G__ S___ in C____. That's a communal penance service, so there will be lots of priests there to hear your individual confessions. Lots of priests, and may I point out, some perhaps you've never seen before and may rarely -- if ever -- see again! But they all bring Christ to you . . . a chance to reform, clean up and get right with God. Many of you will wear something bright and new for Easter -- certainly something clean -- on your bodies. What about your souls? And may I point out, we are getting so close to Easter that this is the last communal penance service in the deanery. "Go and sin no more."
Let us now profess our faith.
Today March 25
Today is usually the glorious feast of the Annunciation, but we celebrate it tomorrow, so today we can celebrate the feast of St. Margaret Clitherow, also spelled Clitheroe.
I feel very close to this secular saint, who could truly be the patron of housewives, although she is actually the patroness of businesswomen, converts and martyrs. And what a martyr she was! Imprisoned several times for sheltering priests and hearing Mass, this convert (formerly Anglican) was sentenced to be pressed to death. Eight hundred pounds of stones were piled bit by torturous bit on top of the heavy wooden door she was forced to lie under. To add to the torture, a small rock was placed under the small of her back. Eventually the weight would snap her spine. This diminutive woman, faithful wife, harmless housewife . . . tortured to death publicly, just because she chose to exercise her religion! How many of us would dare to keep practicing in the face of such odds . . . we, who barely practice!
She was the daughter of the sheriff of York, Thomas Middleton, and his wife Jane. She married the butcher John, who was raised and stayed Anglican, bravely paying the stiff penalties in the form of fines for his wife's determination to stay away from the Protestant services. She was the finest wife, he testified, and in which nothing more could be desired. She never displeased him, except that due to her crisis of conscience, she would not attend services with him. She ever spun and sewed, cooked and cleaned, raised their three children (two boys and a girl!), and kept her voice pleasant and her temper even. But beneath the calm exterior and the steady bustle of life breathed a fervent spiritual life. She took great chances harboring visiting priests and took her rare Communions with an outpouring of fervor bordering on ecstasy. The graces of the sacraments she received no doubt aided her in her many imprisonments and her final arrest and sentencing. She was brought to trial and would not plead, her only statement being, "Having made no offense, I need no trial." Even in the end, her only thoughts were for her children, desiring that they not be put through the torment of having to testify against her. A real mother. I KNOW this woman. I want to BE this woman! May her children rise to praise her at the city gates! And in fact, her children did live to praise her with the testimony of their lives: the two boys became priests and the girl became a nun. Her husband never converted to her faith, but he testified to her goodness and virtue, even in tears. All this due to the "laws" of a greedy and over-bearing state which appropriated to itself powers it did not have . . . power over the Church and the consciences of its people.
Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote a long lyrical poem of Margaret Clitheroe, and composed a verse illustrating the additional fact that though the authorities desired to "press her to death" naked, in service of modesty and justice:
"The last thing Margaret's fingers sew
Is a shroud for Margaret Clitheroe."
I feel very close to this secular saint, who could truly be the patron of housewives, although she is actually the patroness of businesswomen, converts and martyrs. And what a martyr she was! Imprisoned several times for sheltering priests and hearing Mass, this convert (formerly Anglican) was sentenced to be pressed to death. Eight hundred pounds of stones were piled bit by torturous bit on top of the heavy wooden door she was forced to lie under. To add to the torture, a small rock was placed under the small of her back. Eventually the weight would snap her spine. This diminutive woman, faithful wife, harmless housewife . . . tortured to death publicly, just because she chose to exercise her religion! How many of us would dare to keep practicing in the face of such odds . . . we, who barely practice!
She was the daughter of the sheriff of York, Thomas Middleton, and his wife Jane. She married the butcher John, who was raised and stayed Anglican, bravely paying the stiff penalties in the form of fines for his wife's determination to stay away from the Protestant services. She was the finest wife, he testified, and in which nothing more could be desired. She never displeased him, except that due to her crisis of conscience, she would not attend services with him. She ever spun and sewed, cooked and cleaned, raised their three children (two boys and a girl!), and kept her voice pleasant and her temper even. But beneath the calm exterior and the steady bustle of life breathed a fervent spiritual life. She took great chances harboring visiting priests and took her rare Communions with an outpouring of fervor bordering on ecstasy. The graces of the sacraments she received no doubt aided her in her many imprisonments and her final arrest and sentencing. She was brought to trial and would not plead, her only statement being, "Having made no offense, I need no trial." Even in the end, her only thoughts were for her children, desiring that they not be put through the torment of having to testify against her. A real mother. I KNOW this woman. I want to BE this woman! May her children rise to praise her at the city gates! And in fact, her children did live to praise her with the testimony of their lives: the two boys became priests and the girl became a nun. Her husband never converted to her faith, but he testified to her goodness and virtue, even in tears. All this due to the "laws" of a greedy and over-bearing state which appropriated to itself powers it did not have . . . power over the Church and the consciences of its people.
Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote a long lyrical poem of Margaret Clitheroe, and composed a verse illustrating the additional fact that though the authorities desired to "press her to death" naked, in service of modesty and justice:
"The last thing Margaret's fingers sew
Is a shroud for Margaret Clitheroe."
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Today March 24
Today is the feast of St. Catherine of Sweden, (1331-1381). Princess Catherine, also known as Karen, was the daughter of St. Bridget of Sweden. She married young, but she lived with her husband in a continent marriage. The poor man died a few years later. And no, I don't think those 2 facts are in any way connected!
Catherine followed her mother to live in Rome, making several pilgrimages including one to the Holy Land. Catherine rejected offers to remarry . . . and she had a lot of them. It figures, since she was rich, royal, and beautiful. But she stayed with her mother who was making every effort to get her new order, the Order of the Holy Savior, or Brigittines, going. Bridget died in Rome; Catherine took her body back to Vadstena, Sweden; and set about completing the task started by her mother.
She stayed in Sweden some years, then returned to Rome to try to get approval of the order and start her mother's process (of canonization). She spent 5 years in the Eternal City and returned to Sweden with the papal documents of approval (but before her mother's canonization). Catherine became the first superior of the convent of Brigittines. She died in that capacity in 1381.
It is recorded that Catherine brought not one, but two men back from the dead. One man had fallen from atop a coach and was run over by the horses. Bystanders asserted he was dead. Catherine, his employer, was called and after saying some prayers she merely touched his hand and he was restored to life. Even more dramatically, a workman fell from the roof of a house to the pavement, killing him instantly and mangling his body. Catherine came to him and touched him, and not only was he resuscitated, his broken bones were made whole. Remarkable.
Catherine followed her mother to live in Rome, making several pilgrimages including one to the Holy Land. Catherine rejected offers to remarry . . . and she had a lot of them. It figures, since she was rich, royal, and beautiful. But she stayed with her mother who was making every effort to get her new order, the Order of the Holy Savior, or Brigittines, going. Bridget died in Rome; Catherine took her body back to Vadstena, Sweden; and set about completing the task started by her mother.
She stayed in Sweden some years, then returned to Rome to try to get approval of the order and start her mother's process (of canonization). She spent 5 years in the Eternal City and returned to Sweden with the papal documents of approval (but before her mother's canonization). Catherine became the first superior of the convent of Brigittines. She died in that capacity in 1381.
It is recorded that Catherine brought not one, but two men back from the dead. One man had fallen from atop a coach and was run over by the horses. Bystanders asserted he was dead. Catherine, his employer, was called and after saying some prayers she merely touched his hand and he was restored to life. Even more dramatically, a workman fell from the roof of a house to the pavement, killing him instantly and mangling his body. Catherine came to him and touched him, and not only was he resuscitated, his broken bones were made whole. Remarkable.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Today March 23
Today is the feast of St. Toribio of Mogrovejo, Turibius in Latin, (1538-1606). He is the veritable model of bishops in the New World. I mentioned yesterday that I like laymen saints; Toribio very nearly was one. He was a good man, a holy man, but for all that a lawyer and a layman. King Philip II of Spain (widower of Mary I of England) knew a good thing when he saw one and made Toribio chief judge of the Inquisition in Spain.
Then a unique thing happened. The see of the archbishopric of Spain's colony of Lima in Peru became empty and the people declared they wanted him archbishop. The clergy, knowing his missionary zeal and consummate skill, agreed. Toribio tried to decline, but the royal council was against him. King, clergy and people all agreed; thus he was ordained, first to the priesthood, then to the episcopacy and off he went to his new assignment.
And what an assignment it was! Lima's diocesan boundaries extended over the entire (forbidding) country: 500 miles of Pacific coast and inland over "the spurs of the Andes." - Butler's Lives. Poor Toribio was to face horrible weather and transportation conditions in the administration of his episcopal duties. Worse still was the bad example of the Spaniards themselves: racist, greedy and immoral, they scandalized the natives -- and the Spanish clergy were among the worst offenders. "Without respect of persons," - Butler's Lives, Toribio attacked vice in all its forms, deposed bad priests, protected the poor, and eradicated abuse. He founded churches, monasteries, convents, and hospitals, all staffed with loyal and orthodox priests and nuns. He reached out to the natives, learning all their dialects so he could speak to them in their own language without translators. No "absent bishop," he visited all his flock even when he had insufficient food and no place to rest his head. He braved the weather, bad roads and the constant threat of bandits, saying, "Christ came from Heaven to save us and we ought not to fear danger for his glory." To those who criticized his strong stance against his own people who "had always done things this way," he quoted Tertullian: "Christ said, 'I am the Truth,' not 'I am the custom.' " We need a man like him today!
He died in the saddle, so to speak, visiting and performing his duties in Santa, far to the north of Lima. Sensing his end, he humorously promised a magnificent reward to the first who would tell him his case was hopeless. He had those about him sing the psalm Laetatus sum quae dicta sunt mihi: "I was glad when they said unto me, We will go into the house of the Lord." He died on this date in 1606. He was 68.
Then a unique thing happened. The see of the archbishopric of Spain's colony of Lima in Peru became empty and the people declared they wanted him archbishop. The clergy, knowing his missionary zeal and consummate skill, agreed. Toribio tried to decline, but the royal council was against him. King, clergy and people all agreed; thus he was ordained, first to the priesthood, then to the episcopacy and off he went to his new assignment.
And what an assignment it was! Lima's diocesan boundaries extended over the entire (forbidding) country: 500 miles of Pacific coast and inland over "the spurs of the Andes." - Butler's Lives. Poor Toribio was to face horrible weather and transportation conditions in the administration of his episcopal duties. Worse still was the bad example of the Spaniards themselves: racist, greedy and immoral, they scandalized the natives -- and the Spanish clergy were among the worst offenders. "Without respect of persons," - Butler's Lives, Toribio attacked vice in all its forms, deposed bad priests, protected the poor, and eradicated abuse. He founded churches, monasteries, convents, and hospitals, all staffed with loyal and orthodox priests and nuns. He reached out to the natives, learning all their dialects so he could speak to them in their own language without translators. No "absent bishop," he visited all his flock even when he had insufficient food and no place to rest his head. He braved the weather, bad roads and the constant threat of bandits, saying, "Christ came from Heaven to save us and we ought not to fear danger for his glory." To those who criticized his strong stance against his own people who "had always done things this way," he quoted Tertullian: "Christ said, 'I am the Truth,' not 'I am the custom.' " We need a man like him today!
He died in the saddle, so to speak, visiting and performing his duties in Santa, far to the north of Lima. Sensing his end, he humorously promised a magnificent reward to the first who would tell him his case was hopeless. He had those about him sing the psalm Laetatus sum quae dicta sunt mihi: "I was glad when they said unto me, We will go into the house of the Lord." He died on this date in 1606. He was 68.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Today March 22
Today is the feast of St. Nicholas of Flüe. I like him because I like secular saints (I am married, have 4 kids, and live in the world) and I like eccentrics -- and Nicholas was both! He was married, father of ten kids, a farmer, a member of the local parliament (as every adult male in Switzerland was at the time), en elected councilor and judge. He put in for his mandatory military service and rose to be commander. In the war against Tirol (Germany), he forbid his men to enter any convents. The nuns remained safe and unmolested. Further, he was ahead of his time (1417-1487) in condemning as immoral wars of aggression and the slaughter of non-combatants "inevitable in any major modern war" - Angelus Book of Saints.
But none of that is what made him a saint, at least in the eyes of his fellow Swiss. Something weird was true of him . . . he was one of the first known "inedics", that is, he took no food or drink. Really. It was not just a medical condition . . . it was rooted in his contemplative life and rigorous fasting. But he ate less and less until he ate nothing at all. It hurt him to eat (once, out of obedience to his bishop, he ate a piece of soaked bread . . . and it was agonizing for him) and yet he was no anorexic. He lived on and on, not as a skeleton but as a healthy man. The analytic Swiss had to test him themselves and, satisfied his fast was real, venerated him as a saint. He lived a continent marriage apart from his wife in a retreat in the mountains, not without her (heroic) consent. His kids had a hard time with it, calling him a "fanatic" and "irresponsible." My take on it is that his wife understood him better than they did, and, as the Angelus Book of the Saints says, "After all, she had never lost her husband completely."
The final chapter of his remarkable life was his role at the conference at Stans in which all the Swiss cantons met to discuss the hugely divisive issue of whether to admit the new cantons of Freiburg and Soleure (presumably won from Tirol after yet another war). The rural cantons were opposed and the urban ones, led by Zurich and Lucerne, were staunchly for it. They were at the point of civil war when the parish priest at Ranft (Nicholas' hermitage location) rushed to the conference to put forth the idea of the saint as arbiter. All agreed, such was their great veneration of and affection for him, to abide by his decision. Without leaving his retreat, but after a night of intense prayer, he suggested a compromise -- conditional admittance of Freiburg and Soleure -- and saved the confederacy.
He survived his achievement by six years, and died peacefully surrounded by his loving wife and children. It was the first illness he had ever had. Remarkable.
But none of that is what made him a saint, at least in the eyes of his fellow Swiss. Something weird was true of him . . . he was one of the first known "inedics", that is, he took no food or drink. Really. It was not just a medical condition . . . it was rooted in his contemplative life and rigorous fasting. But he ate less and less until he ate nothing at all. It hurt him to eat (once, out of obedience to his bishop, he ate a piece of soaked bread . . . and it was agonizing for him) and yet he was no anorexic. He lived on and on, not as a skeleton but as a healthy man. The analytic Swiss had to test him themselves and, satisfied his fast was real, venerated him as a saint. He lived a continent marriage apart from his wife in a retreat in the mountains, not without her (heroic) consent. His kids had a hard time with it, calling him a "fanatic" and "irresponsible." My take on it is that his wife understood him better than they did, and, as the Angelus Book of the Saints says, "After all, she had never lost her husband completely."
The final chapter of his remarkable life was his role at the conference at Stans in which all the Swiss cantons met to discuss the hugely divisive issue of whether to admit the new cantons of Freiburg and Soleure (presumably won from Tirol after yet another war). The rural cantons were opposed and the urban ones, led by Zurich and Lucerne, were staunchly for it. They were at the point of civil war when the parish priest at Ranft (Nicholas' hermitage location) rushed to the conference to put forth the idea of the saint as arbiter. All agreed, such was their great veneration of and affection for him, to abide by his decision. Without leaving his retreat, but after a night of intense prayer, he suggested a compromise -- conditional admittance of Freiburg and Soleure -- and saved the confederacy.
He survived his achievement by six years, and died peacefully surrounded by his loving wife and children. It was the first illness he had ever had. Remarkable.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Today March 21
Today is the feast of a wonderful but challenging saint, St. Serapion. He was a Desert Father who flourished in Egypt in the early 4th century. Challenging for a "book fanatic" or a "book addict" such as myself, for he said:
"What shall I say to you? You have taken the living of the widows and orphans and put it on your shelves." For he saw them full of books.
But courageous and unrespecting of persons he was. A story is told of how he told a prostitute to get ready. "Expect me this evening, for I would like to come and spend the night with you." She agreed and when Abba Serapion came he entered her house, saw the bed was made ready and said, "Wait a bit, for we have a rule of prayer and I must fulfill that first." So he prayed a psalter and at each psalm prayed for the conversion of the prostitute. She started trembling and began herself to pray. By the time he'd finished the very last psalm, she'd collapsed on the floor. When she came to, she realized he hadn't come to her house to commit sin but to save her eternal soul. "Abba, do me this kindness and take me where I can please God." He took her to a monastery of nuns and told them to treat her with kindness and do whatever she asked. She asked for no favors but to be allowed to fast and pray in solitude because as she said "I am a sinner." The amma allowed her this and the woman pleased God all the rest of her life.
This next story, especially the absolute parallel of the foot-washing, makes me think of Jesus remonstrating with St. Peter. A brother went to find Abba Serapion. According to his custom, the old man invited him to say a prayer. But the other, calling himself a sinner and unworthy of the monastic habit, did not obey. Next Abba Serapion wanted to wash his feet, but using the same words again, the visitor prevented him. Then Abba Serapion made him eat and he began to eat with him. Then he admonished him saying, "My son, if you want to make progress stay in your cell and pay attention to yourself and your manual work; going out is not so profitable for you as remaining at home." When he heard these words the visitor was offended and his expression changed so much that the old man could not but notice it. So he said to him, "Up to now you have called yourself a sinner and accused yourself of being unworthy to live, but when I admonished you lovingly, you were extremely put out. If you want to be humble, learn to bear generously what others unfairly inflict upon you and do not harbour empty words in your heart." Hearing this, the brother asked the old man's forgiveness and went away greatly edified.
And finally, he leaves us with a note of optimism and courage. Abba Serapion said, "When the soldiers of the emperor are standing at attention, they cannot look to the right or left; it is the same for the man who stands before God and looks towards him in fear at all times; he cannot then fear anything from the enemy."
"What shall I say to you? You have taken the living of the widows and orphans and put it on your shelves." For he saw them full of books.
But courageous and unrespecting of persons he was. A story is told of how he told a prostitute to get ready. "Expect me this evening, for I would like to come and spend the night with you." She agreed and when Abba Serapion came he entered her house, saw the bed was made ready and said, "Wait a bit, for we have a rule of prayer and I must fulfill that first." So he prayed a psalter and at each psalm prayed for the conversion of the prostitute. She started trembling and began herself to pray. By the time he'd finished the very last psalm, she'd collapsed on the floor. When she came to, she realized he hadn't come to her house to commit sin but to save her eternal soul. "Abba, do me this kindness and take me where I can please God." He took her to a monastery of nuns and told them to treat her with kindness and do whatever she asked. She asked for no favors but to be allowed to fast and pray in solitude because as she said "I am a sinner." The amma allowed her this and the woman pleased God all the rest of her life.
This next story, especially the absolute parallel of the foot-washing, makes me think of Jesus remonstrating with St. Peter. A brother went to find Abba Serapion. According to his custom, the old man invited him to say a prayer. But the other, calling himself a sinner and unworthy of the monastic habit, did not obey. Next Abba Serapion wanted to wash his feet, but using the same words again, the visitor prevented him. Then Abba Serapion made him eat and he began to eat with him. Then he admonished him saying, "My son, if you want to make progress stay in your cell and pay attention to yourself and your manual work; going out is not so profitable for you as remaining at home." When he heard these words the visitor was offended and his expression changed so much that the old man could not but notice it. So he said to him, "Up to now you have called yourself a sinner and accused yourself of being unworthy to live, but when I admonished you lovingly, you were extremely put out. If you want to be humble, learn to bear generously what others unfairly inflict upon you and do not harbour empty words in your heart." Hearing this, the brother asked the old man's forgiveness and went away greatly edified.
And finally, he leaves us with a note of optimism and courage. Abba Serapion said, "When the soldiers of the emperor are standing at attention, they cannot look to the right or left; it is the same for the man who stands before God and looks towards him in fear at all times; he cannot then fear anything from the enemy."
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Today March 20
Today is the (old) feast day of St. Joachim, father of Mary, husband of Ann. Don't think it positively hypocritical of me to accept the fact of his name from apocryphal writings, while rejecting nearly everything else. Why would I do this? For the same reason I maintain that St. Catherine of Alexandria existed, despite the lack of sound historical documentation and the legendary nature of her story. She was a real person. It doesn't make sense that a Church so under persecution would make up a person out of whole cloth and open themselves up to even more derision. It doesn't make sense that a historical Church so dependent on the truth of its history would just make up a pretend saint. We already know that a father to Mary existed. Tradition provides at least his name. The rest is conjecture. I believe he was a good man, and he may have had this daughter rather later in life, as it is said. And he may have been feeling hurt by the others and especially the priests who ridiculed his infertility. He supposedly laid low, not even returning home after his Temple visit. An angel appeared to him and told him to meet his wife at the Golden Gate. An angel appeared to Ann at the very same time. It could happen. There is a tradition that they met there, at Jerusalem's Golden Gate. They then went home and in the Golden Legend's innocent words, "patiently awaited the arrival of their child." Hey, wait, I think they skipped something! And so darling Mary was conceived . . . naturally, immaculately, wonderfully, fearfully. And born and raised and brought to maturity. No man "knew" her, but her father shepherded her into life, as all good fathers do. Praise him.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Today March 19
Today is the feast of St. Joseph. I can't decide if that fact makes this posting easy or hard. Hard because there's nothing to on on (except Matthew 1 and 2 and a little of Luke 1 and 2) and no words of his recorded anywhere. You can't argue from absence, so you can't really say he was a man of few words, but the implication is that he was "the patient instrument of God, who does what is required of him with unquestioning faith." Easy because Joseph seems so close to us, so familiar.
Joseph is very pointedly called "a just man." That speaks very clearly of his character. What is "just"? To give to each man his due. Thus we can infer that Joseph gave each customer a good day's work for a day's wage, his wife all his love and protection, his foster son his example and guidance, and God his faith and obedience.
I like to think of him finding the Holy Family a place to live, the basis of his patronage in real estate. Of all the items we sold in the Catholic book- and giftstore, the so-called St. Joseph Home Selling Kit sold the best. These little statues (complete with prayer card and instructions) just flew off the shelves. I don't doubt his patronage, but is it really necessary to bury his statue upside down in the front lawn with his head facing the street? I found I was able to invoke his intercession just as successfully by putting a beautiful statue in a prominent place in my home and praying to him in no uncertain words. Many folks wanted the house we desired (including a nun's mother!) but it worked out that we got it. We really needed a place; we and our 2 babies were being kicked out of our apartment and had no prospects. You can bet we prayed fervently in thanksgiving, too. (The nun's mother found a more suitable single-story apartment.)
I like to think of his holy death (never stated explicitly but implied in the Scriptures) surrounded by Mary and Jesus, thus his patronage of the dying. I like to think of his raising Jesus all those years, thus his patronage of fathers and stepfathers. "If his fatherhood was virginal it was not thereby something less than physical fatherhood; by its spiritual nature it was an earthly reflection of the paternity of God Himself."- Angelus Book of Saints.
I also like to think he wasn't above the normal age of 20 to 24 when he married Mary; there's no reason to think he wasn't. I know there is an old tradition that has him an old man, a widower even. But I think that's partially because people just can't imagine a young, virile man foregoing sex like that, especially in such close quarters with a beautiful wife like Mary. I don't think they give him enough credit! The legend is also partially to explain (or explain away) "the brothers and sisters of Jesus." But we know there are other (more probable) explanations for this term (which only means "kinsmen" in our language, anyway.)
There are many stories of his patronage. St. Teresa of Ávila was certainly devoted to him and prayed to him, she counseled her sisters to do the same. "Go to Joseph," she always said. Blessed André Bessette was another one who readily invoked him. Average joes have experienced his help, too. This story is my favorite. I read it in Catholic Digest years ago and I may get some of the facts wrong; it is certain I will get the style wrong.
A woman had recently given birth and fell ill. Her husband was working in another town in India and couldn't be reached except in person. The woman had a slightly older son and daughter. They took the baby and started off down the road. This being the monsoon season, they suffered in the downpour and the mud. Even trading off carrying the baby, they soon tired and prayed to St. Joseph, "Please don't let us drop the baby." Suddenly in the pouring rain a man appeared. He was tall, bearded and gentle and offered to carry the baby himself. He walked with them as far as their father's town, at which point he disappeared and they never saw him again. You can say he was just some random guy, but I say he was St. Joseph!
Joseph is very pointedly called "a just man." That speaks very clearly of his character. What is "just"? To give to each man his due. Thus we can infer that Joseph gave each customer a good day's work for a day's wage, his wife all his love and protection, his foster son his example and guidance, and God his faith and obedience.
I like to think of him finding the Holy Family a place to live, the basis of his patronage in real estate. Of all the items we sold in the Catholic book- and giftstore, the so-called St. Joseph Home Selling Kit sold the best. These little statues (complete with prayer card and instructions) just flew off the shelves. I don't doubt his patronage, but is it really necessary to bury his statue upside down in the front lawn with his head facing the street? I found I was able to invoke his intercession just as successfully by putting a beautiful statue in a prominent place in my home and praying to him in no uncertain words. Many folks wanted the house we desired (including a nun's mother!) but it worked out that we got it. We really needed a place; we and our 2 babies were being kicked out of our apartment and had no prospects. You can bet we prayed fervently in thanksgiving, too. (The nun's mother found a more suitable single-story apartment.)
I like to think of his holy death (never stated explicitly but implied in the Scriptures) surrounded by Mary and Jesus, thus his patronage of the dying. I like to think of his raising Jesus all those years, thus his patronage of fathers and stepfathers. "If his fatherhood was virginal it was not thereby something less than physical fatherhood; by its spiritual nature it was an earthly reflection of the paternity of God Himself."- Angelus Book of Saints.
I also like to think he wasn't above the normal age of 20 to 24 when he married Mary; there's no reason to think he wasn't. I know there is an old tradition that has him an old man, a widower even. But I think that's partially because people just can't imagine a young, virile man foregoing sex like that, especially in such close quarters with a beautiful wife like Mary. I don't think they give him enough credit! The legend is also partially to explain (or explain away) "the brothers and sisters of Jesus." But we know there are other (more probable) explanations for this term (which only means "kinsmen" in our language, anyway.)
There are many stories of his patronage. St. Teresa of Ávila was certainly devoted to him and prayed to him, she counseled her sisters to do the same. "Go to Joseph," she always said. Blessed André Bessette was another one who readily invoked him. Average joes have experienced his help, too. This story is my favorite. I read it in Catholic Digest years ago and I may get some of the facts wrong; it is certain I will get the style wrong.
A woman had recently given birth and fell ill. Her husband was working in another town in India and couldn't be reached except in person. The woman had a slightly older son and daughter. They took the baby and started off down the road. This being the monsoon season, they suffered in the downpour and the mud. Even trading off carrying the baby, they soon tired and prayed to St. Joseph, "Please don't let us drop the baby." Suddenly in the pouring rain a man appeared. He was tall, bearded and gentle and offered to carry the baby himself. He walked with them as far as their father's town, at which point he disappeared and they never saw him again. You can say he was just some random guy, but I say he was St. Joseph!
Friday, March 16, 2007
Today March 16
Today is the feast of St. Abraham, not the patriarch upon whom our faith grew, as well as that of the Jews and even the Muslims, but yet another one of the Desert Fathers. It was said of an old man that for 50 years he had neither eaten bread nor drunk wine readily. He even said, "I have destroyed fornication, avarice and vain-glory in myself." Learning that he had said this, Abba Abraham came and said to him, "Did you really say that?" He answered, "Yes." Then Abba Abraham said to him, "If you were to find a woman lying on your mat when you entered your cell would you think that it is not a woman?" "No," he replied, "But I should struggle against my thoughts so as not to touch her." Then Abba Abraham said, "Then you have not destroyed the passion, but it still lives in you although it is controlled. Again, if you are walking along and you see some gold amongst the stones and shells, can your spirit regard them all as of equal value?" "No," he replied, "But I would struggle against my thoughts, so as not to take the gold." The old man said to him, "See avarice still lives in you, though it is controlled." Abba Abraham continued, "Suppose you learn that of two brothers one loves you while the other hates you, and speaks evil of you; if they come to see you, will you receive them both with the same love?" "No," he replied, "But I should struggle against my thoughts so as to be as kind towards the one who hates me as towards the one who loves me." Abba Abraham said to him, "So then, the passions continue to live; it is simply that they are controlled by the saints."
Didn't you think of the old story of the two monks who came upon a woman who was standing by the river, wanting to get to the other side? Now, monks were not allowed to talk to women, much less touch them. But one of the monks took her up upon her shoulders and carried her across. The other walked along beside him in troubled silence. Finally he spoke up and said, "Father, why did you carry that woman across the river?" The old man said, "Son, I left her on the bank back there. Why are you still carrying her?"
I've always liked that story; it kind of shows how our attitudes can be controlled so that the Lord's words will truly be fulfilled: "It is not what goes into a man that defiles him; it is what comes out of him." And Abba Abraham cautions us against pride, even (maybe especially) spiritual pride. Even in the most advanced souls concupiscence lives. We never completely destroy it. We never completely destroy temptations. We just control them.
Didn't you think of the old story of the two monks who came upon a woman who was standing by the river, wanting to get to the other side? Now, monks were not allowed to talk to women, much less touch them. But one of the monks took her up upon her shoulders and carried her across. The other walked along beside him in troubled silence. Finally he spoke up and said, "Father, why did you carry that woman across the river?" The old man said, "Son, I left her on the bank back there. Why are you still carrying her?"
I've always liked that story; it kind of shows how our attitudes can be controlled so that the Lord's words will truly be fulfilled: "It is not what goes into a man that defiles him; it is what comes out of him." And Abba Abraham cautions us against pride, even (maybe especially) spiritual pride. Even in the most advanced souls concupiscence lives. We never completely destroy it. We never completely destroy temptations. We just control them.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Today March 12
Today is the feast of St. Seraphina. If you're wondering, "Where have I heard that name?" it's because you are thinking about "The Diary of a Country Priest." Remember the little girl in his catechism class, the one who did so well and seemed to have a vocation? She was just taken with his eyes! The other kids used to tease him for having a schoolgirl girlfriend. Sigh.
Our Seraphina today is nothing like that. If I had to find just two words to go with Seraphina, or "Fina" as she is called by the Tuscan peasants who revere her, I would have to say "patience" and "faith." She was a very pretty little girl who suffered her infantile paralysis with utter patience and no complaining. In the end she was reduced to living out her last days (she died young, at 15) on a simple wooden board, unable to move. She had faith in God and recourse to a beautiful carved crucifix, which she gazed at for hours on end. I love her, too, for having a deep devotion to the saints, something I wish (naturally) would catch fire today. She prayed and meditated a lot on St. Gregory the Great, her favorite saint, who also had troubles and with whom she could empathize. Well, as some favored souls sometimes do, she was graced with a visit from this saint. He comforted her and told her the good God was coming to take her home . . . on Gregory's own feast day! St. Gregory's day was celebrated on March 12th in those days (1253 A.D.). And so it happened. When her body was removed for burial, there were found tiny white violets growing in the board. And to this day, the people call the little flowers that grow on the hillsides near her hometown "St. Fina's flowers."
Our Seraphina today is nothing like that. If I had to find just two words to go with Seraphina, or "Fina" as she is called by the Tuscan peasants who revere her, I would have to say "patience" and "faith." She was a very pretty little girl who suffered her infantile paralysis with utter patience and no complaining. In the end she was reduced to living out her last days (she died young, at 15) on a simple wooden board, unable to move. She had faith in God and recourse to a beautiful carved crucifix, which she gazed at for hours on end. I love her, too, for having a deep devotion to the saints, something I wish (naturally) would catch fire today. She prayed and meditated a lot on St. Gregory the Great, her favorite saint, who also had troubles and with whom she could empathize. Well, as some favored souls sometimes do, she was graced with a visit from this saint. He comforted her and told her the good God was coming to take her home . . . on Gregory's own feast day! St. Gregory's day was celebrated on March 12th in those days (1253 A.D.). And so it happened. When her body was removed for burial, there were found tiny white violets growing in the board. And to this day, the people call the little flowers that grow on the hillsides near her hometown "St. Fina's flowers."
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Homily: Third Sunday of Lent: 2007
Dear brothers and sisters, today we hear the great name of God, the name Moses asked Him to give as a recognition, which is transliterated "Yahweh" or "I Am Who Am." And the single most important fact about God, the utterly transcendent God, is that He exists. He is the only Being who must exist. He is the reason there is something rather than nothing. Why? Because He wanted it. He willed it, which is a positive form of wanting. Anyway, "I Am Who Am" (the name that could never be said, according to Jewish thought) is the perfect answer. I heard in a homily once that if you knew the "real" meaning of the ancient Hebrew it would not be "I Am Who Am" but "I am what I will do for you." Implying, of course, that God is just, good, merciful, etc. And while those may be -- those ARE -- true attributes of God, that is not WHO He is. And while He is infinitely high above us, we can still make analogies with ourselves. I am who I am . . . and not just what I can do for you. I remember how put off I was when in the very first instance I met my roommate in college she said, "Chemistry? You're a chemistry major? Good, you can help me with my chemistry." Okay . . . I'm sure attractive girls feel the same when they are treated as objects, even if they are being complimented at the same time. No, we are much more than what we can do for you . . . we are who we are! And the same goes for God. His attributes are unity, truth, goodness and beauty . . . but the thing most important to predicate of God is existence. He is.
What else can these readings tell us? Well I remember being kind of taken aback when I was rebuked once: "The bible says don't complain." I wondered about that. Well, right here in today's second reading is one such passage: "Do not grumble." St. Paul is warning the Corinthians not to complain as the Jews did in the wilderness after they were freed from slavery in Egypt: "Do not grumble as some of them did, and suffered death by the destroyer." (1 Cor 10:10). I think it's entirely human to complain a little . . . I don't think we necessarily have to slap a smile on our faces, be Pollyannas, and only talk of "sweetness and light." No, but if we ever lose our sense of gratitude to God, we are lost. Our debt to God is so great we must constantly advert to it . . . praising Him, thanking Him, and, if necessary, asking Him for mercy and relief. So if they (the Jews) had only followed their statement "We are sick of this wretched food" with something like "but we thank thee, O Lord our God, King of the Universe, for bringing us out of the land of Egypt" they would have avoided sin. As a friend of mine said the other day, "We accept good things from the hand of God; must we not accept evil?" And by evil he meant things that seem bad, things that go against our will. I mean, we shouldn't act like we're entitled to anything . . . all is gift.
And finally we have the crowning rebuke to the so-called "Prosperity Gospel" by our Lord Himself. He mentioned a couple of horrible tragedies and then said, "Do you think that because these people suffered in this way they were greater sinners than [everybody else]? By no means!" Wake up, people. Bad things do not just happen to bad people; and money, health and prosperity do not just happen to you because you are good. By no means! It is not a tit for tat game. Be good, say your prayers, avoid sin and you will not suffer. No, the most eloquent refutation of that is the Cross itself. You will suffer, but if you unite yourself with Christ, you will triumph. Be a Christian and you will suffer. Look at Christ. As my wisest friend said, "He was the greatest Christian . . . and look what happened to Him!" Yes, but we know the rest of the story . . .
What else can these readings tell us? Well I remember being kind of taken aback when I was rebuked once: "The bible says don't complain." I wondered about that. Well, right here in today's second reading is one such passage: "Do not grumble." St. Paul is warning the Corinthians not to complain as the Jews did in the wilderness after they were freed from slavery in Egypt: "Do not grumble as some of them did, and suffered death by the destroyer." (1 Cor 10:10). I think it's entirely human to complain a little . . . I don't think we necessarily have to slap a smile on our faces, be Pollyannas, and only talk of "sweetness and light." No, but if we ever lose our sense of gratitude to God, we are lost. Our debt to God is so great we must constantly advert to it . . . praising Him, thanking Him, and, if necessary, asking Him for mercy and relief. So if they (the Jews) had only followed their statement "We are sick of this wretched food" with something like "but we thank thee, O Lord our God, King of the Universe, for bringing us out of the land of Egypt" they would have avoided sin. As a friend of mine said the other day, "We accept good things from the hand of God; must we not accept evil?" And by evil he meant things that seem bad, things that go against our will. I mean, we shouldn't act like we're entitled to anything . . . all is gift.
And finally we have the crowning rebuke to the so-called "Prosperity Gospel" by our Lord Himself. He mentioned a couple of horrible tragedies and then said, "Do you think that because these people suffered in this way they were greater sinners than [everybody else]? By no means!" Wake up, people. Bad things do not just happen to bad people; and money, health and prosperity do not just happen to you because you are good. By no means! It is not a tit for tat game. Be good, say your prayers, avoid sin and you will not suffer. No, the most eloquent refutation of that is the Cross itself. You will suffer, but if you unite yourself with Christ, you will triumph. Be a Christian and you will suffer. Look at Christ. As my wisest friend said, "He was the greatest Christian . . . and look what happened to Him!" Yes, but we know the rest of the story . . .
Today March 11
Today, were it not the third Sunday of Lent, would be the feast day of St. Sophronius of Jerusalem. He was known as Sophronius the Sophist, but not in the way we use that word today. He was not a specious reasoner, but a teacher of rhetoric. He got really het up about the Monothelite heresy and argued against it all over the East, but, poor guy, he wasn't very successful. That really doesn't matter when it comes to sainthood. As Mother Teresa said, "God doesn't call us to be successful, but to be faithful." And faithful he was.
He was very careful and very clear about the two operations (or wills) in Our Lord, "inseparable but unconfused", but care and clarity matter not at all when folks have already made up their minds. Shocking, ain't it? :) He was particularly adamant against those "lawless" preachers who would have it that Christ didn't know something, like who He was, that He was going to rise again, or even "the day of consummation and judgment" -- which they could argue with a little more strength than the lame "He didn't know who He was until . . ." or "He didn't know He was going to rise (thus showing His perfect trust)." Gosh, I hate that myself. What these folks don't accept is the hypostatic union. You see, no matter how pretty the words, there really isn't much hope nor faith in heaven. That sounds weird, doesn't it? But we will see just as we are seen, we will know just as we are known now, and there isn't any NEED for hope and faith and trust and all that. Of course, the power of love goes on forever, even in the Beatific Vision. And Christ, what they either don't understand or (more likely) accept, had the Beatific Vision from infancy. He was always "in heaven", in a manner of speaking. So He always, always, always knew He was rising after He was put to death. But I put to you that that in no way diminishes the value or the extent of His sacrifice, His perfect sacrifice. That which might ease or diminish OUR sacrifice in no way does His. See? The way *I* look at it, the fact that He didn't immediately annihilate all those deicides shows the perfection of His mercy and His sacrifice. But then I always seem to look at things differently, I guess. (I still think I'm right, though. :) )
Sophronius died in 638, his heart broken by the conquest of his see of Jerusalem by the Caliph Omar that same year.
He was very careful and very clear about the two operations (or wills) in Our Lord, "inseparable but unconfused", but care and clarity matter not at all when folks have already made up their minds. Shocking, ain't it? :) He was particularly adamant against those "lawless" preachers who would have it that Christ didn't know something, like who He was, that He was going to rise again, or even "the day of consummation and judgment" -- which they could argue with a little more strength than the lame "He didn't know who He was until . . ." or "He didn't know He was going to rise (thus showing His perfect trust)." Gosh, I hate that myself. What these folks don't accept is the hypostatic union. You see, no matter how pretty the words, there really isn't much hope nor faith in heaven. That sounds weird, doesn't it? But we will see just as we are seen, we will know just as we are known now, and there isn't any NEED for hope and faith and trust and all that. Of course, the power of love goes on forever, even in the Beatific Vision. And Christ, what they either don't understand or (more likely) accept, had the Beatific Vision from infancy. He was always "in heaven", in a manner of speaking. So He always, always, always knew He was rising after He was put to death. But I put to you that that in no way diminishes the value or the extent of His sacrifice, His perfect sacrifice. That which might ease or diminish OUR sacrifice in no way does His. See? The way *I* look at it, the fact that He didn't immediately annihilate all those deicides shows the perfection of His mercy and His sacrifice. But then I always seem to look at things differently, I guess. (I still think I'm right, though. :) )
Sophronius died in 638, his heart broken by the conquest of his see of Jerusalem by the Caliph Omar that same year.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Today March 10
Today is the glorious feast of St. Macarius the Great. I think it's kind of ironic that I am celebrating the feast of one of the greatest of the Desert Fathers in rain-soaked Seattle! :) In all the many years I lived here, I never once, never ONCE had to water my lawn. At the time I thought nothing of it . . . and then I moved to Texas! This great saint was, as John Cassian said of him "the first who found a way to inhabit the desert of Scetis." And WHY did he retreat to this terrible desert? Well, wouldn't you, after you were falsely accused of fathering a child, exonerated, and disgusted with the whole thing? He is a great Lenten figure, and there's no way I can relate all the wonderful stories of him. Let these few suffice and ask for his intercession for whatever it is you need and wish today.
Oh my gosh, there's more to the "accusation of fathering a child" story. He was already a monk, just not in the desert yet. He was drug out of his cell, hung with pots blackened with soot all around his neck, beaten and then approached by the distraught parents of the girl. "I gave them all the baskets I had, saying 'Sell them, and give my wife something to eat.' Then I said to myself, 'Macarius, you have found yourself a wife; you must work a little more in order to keep her.' So I worked night and day and sent my work to her." (Talk about patron saints for [ex]-husbands!) He was impoverished by [her] honor. And his exoneration came about in an unusual (and I think miraculous) way. The woman was in labor for so long she feared death. She bethought herself of her lie and said, "I know what it is, it is because I slandered the anchorite, and accused him unjustly; it is not he who is to blame, but such and such a young man." And she was safely delivered. Macarius' servant ran to tell him the good news, but he just rose and retreated into the desert. "That is the original reason why I came here," said he.
This one is my favorite:
When Abba Macarius was returning form the marsh to his cell one day carrying some palm-leaves, he met the devil on the road with a scythe. The latter struck at him as much as he pleased, but in vain, and he said to him, "What is your power, Macarius, that makes me powerless against you? All that you do, I do, too; you fast, so do I; you keep vigil, and I do not sleep at all; in one thing only do you beat me." Abba Macarius asked what that was. He said, "Your humility. Because of that I can do nothing against you."
What does this make you think of?
The same Abba Macarius while he was in Egypt discovered a man who owned a beast of burden engaged in plundering Macarius' goods. So he came up to the thief as if he were a stranger and he helped him to load the animal. He saw him off in great peace of soul, saying, "We have brought nothing into this world, and we cannot take anything out of the world." (1 Tim 6:7)
Abba Theodore of Pherme had three fine codices. And he came to the Abba Macarius and said to him, "I have three codices, and I profit by the reading of them. And the brethren also come seeking to read them, and they themselves profit. Tell me, therefore, what I ought to do?" And Macarius answering said, "These are good deeds: but better than all is to possess nothing." And hearing this, he went away and sold the aforenamed codices, and gave the price of them to the needy.
A brother came to see Abba Macarius the Egyptian, and said to him, "Abba, give me a word, that I may be saved." So the old man said, "Go to the cemetery and abuse the dead." The brother went there, abused them and threw stones at them; then he returned and told the old man about it. The latter said to him, "Didn't they say anything to you?" He replied, "No." The old man said, "Go back tomorrow and praise them." So the brother went away and praised them, calling them, "Apostles, saints and righteous men." He returned to the old man and said to him, "I have complimented them," And the old man said to him, "Did they not answer you?" The brother said no. The old man said to him, "You know how you insulted them and they did not reply, and how you praised them and they did not speak; so you too if you wish to be saved must do the same and become a dead man. Like the dead, take no account of either the scorn of men or their praises, and you can be saved."
They said of Abba Macarius the Great that he became, as it is written, a god upon earth, because, just as God protects the world, so Abba Macarius would cover the faults which he saw, as though he did not see them; and those which he heard, as though he did not hear them.
Abba Macarius was asked, "How should one pray?" The old man said, "There is no need at all to make long discourses; it is enough to stretch out one's hands and say, "Lord, as you will, and as you know, have mercy." And if the conflict grows fiercer say, "Lord, help!" He knows very well what we need and he shows us his mercy."
Can you see why I like him so much?
Oh my gosh, there's more to the "accusation of fathering a child" story. He was already a monk, just not in the desert yet. He was drug out of his cell, hung with pots blackened with soot all around his neck, beaten and then approached by the distraught parents of the girl. "I gave them all the baskets I had, saying 'Sell them, and give my wife something to eat.' Then I said to myself, 'Macarius, you have found yourself a wife; you must work a little more in order to keep her.' So I worked night and day and sent my work to her." (Talk about patron saints for [ex]-husbands!) He was impoverished by [her] honor. And his exoneration came about in an unusual (and I think miraculous) way. The woman was in labor for so long she feared death. She bethought herself of her lie and said, "I know what it is, it is because I slandered the anchorite, and accused him unjustly; it is not he who is to blame, but such and such a young man." And she was safely delivered. Macarius' servant ran to tell him the good news, but he just rose and retreated into the desert. "That is the original reason why I came here," said he.
This one is my favorite:
When Abba Macarius was returning form the marsh to his cell one day carrying some palm-leaves, he met the devil on the road with a scythe. The latter struck at him as much as he pleased, but in vain, and he said to him, "What is your power, Macarius, that makes me powerless against you? All that you do, I do, too; you fast, so do I; you keep vigil, and I do not sleep at all; in one thing only do you beat me." Abba Macarius asked what that was. He said, "Your humility. Because of that I can do nothing against you."
What does this make you think of?
The same Abba Macarius while he was in Egypt discovered a man who owned a beast of burden engaged in plundering Macarius' goods. So he came up to the thief as if he were a stranger and he helped him to load the animal. He saw him off in great peace of soul, saying, "We have brought nothing into this world, and we cannot take anything out of the world." (1 Tim 6:7)
Abba Theodore of Pherme had three fine codices. And he came to the Abba Macarius and said to him, "I have three codices, and I profit by the reading of them. And the brethren also come seeking to read them, and they themselves profit. Tell me, therefore, what I ought to do?" And Macarius answering said, "These are good deeds: but better than all is to possess nothing." And hearing this, he went away and sold the aforenamed codices, and gave the price of them to the needy.
A brother came to see Abba Macarius the Egyptian, and said to him, "Abba, give me a word, that I may be saved." So the old man said, "Go to the cemetery and abuse the dead." The brother went there, abused them and threw stones at them; then he returned and told the old man about it. The latter said to him, "Didn't they say anything to you?" He replied, "No." The old man said, "Go back tomorrow and praise them." So the brother went away and praised them, calling them, "Apostles, saints and righteous men." He returned to the old man and said to him, "I have complimented them," And the old man said to him, "Did they not answer you?" The brother said no. The old man said to him, "You know how you insulted them and they did not reply, and how you praised them and they did not speak; so you too if you wish to be saved must do the same and become a dead man. Like the dead, take no account of either the scorn of men or their praises, and you can be saved."
They said of Abba Macarius the Great that he became, as it is written, a god upon earth, because, just as God protects the world, so Abba Macarius would cover the faults which he saw, as though he did not see them; and those which he heard, as though he did not hear them.
Abba Macarius was asked, "How should one pray?" The old man said, "There is no need at all to make long discourses; it is enough to stretch out one's hands and say, "Lord, as you will, and as you know, have mercy." And if the conflict grows fiercer say, "Lord, help!" He knows very well what we need and he shows us his mercy."
Can you see why I like him so much?
Friday, March 9, 2007
Today March 9
Today is the feast day of the great St. Frances of Rome, patron of motorists. Since she died in 1440, it couldn't be because she actually WAS one! As near as I can figure it, she was given the drivers' patronage because she was blessed with being able to (constantly) see her guardian angel (an archangel, actually), who was her luminous guide up and down the streets of Rome. I am enchanted with this revelation, being rather devoted to my guardian angel and to angels in general. My mom thinks I am a little too carried away with my theory that they are "higher than we" are, but I guess there is more than a little of the professor in me and I don't lose my pet theories easily. :)
This wonderful saint was a layman, married, the mother of three children: two boys and a girl, in that order, in fact! They were Battista, Evangelist and Agnes. She suffered the early death of Evangelist and Agnes, and the abduction of her son Battista -- twice! She was cursed to live in very interesting times, you know. She and her (difficult) husband Lorenzo were supporters of the true pope and being somewhat prominent, at least comfortable and respected, members of the community, were targets of the troops of Ladislaus, supporter of the antipope. While Battista was released from his first abduction under circumstances that were considered to be miraculous, he suffered being taken hostage yet again at the same time as Lorenzo during a veritable revolution in Rome. The Ponzianos, for that was their last name, lost their fancy home and all their possessions, and farms and villages all around pillaged and burnt. Poor Frances huddled in a corner of her home that was still standing and sheltered her remaining child (Agnes was still alive then) and her devoted sister-in-law Vannozza and her children. When Lorenzo and Battista were finally released, Frances nursed them back to health.
I have a soft spot in my heart for Frances, since she suffered a critical mother-in-law and an indifferent father-in-law, both of whom lived with them! She ought to be canonized just for that! Far from killing them, she served them cheerfully and quietly. She is also truly a patron of housewives, because she ran that whole household (all the people, servants, animals, etc.), buying and preparing food, entertaining, cleaning, and refusing the use of nannies for her children. She raised those kids herself. More power to her! She was ahead of her time, was Frances.
And there is another progressive thing in her life. It's a delicate one. In the last years of her husband's life, she and he lived a continent marriage. I'm always amazed whenever I read this intimate fact in the lives of the saints, and it is not nearly as rare as you'd think. I knew about St. Frances of Rome, and I knew she was the foundress of the Oblates of the Tor de' Specchi, an active order of sisters, but I didn't know how her saintly husband "freed" her in this unusual way. I mean, he didn't have to, but he knew the desires of her heart. And I think we need to honor "Saint" Lorenzo today too!
This wonderful saint was a layman, married, the mother of three children: two boys and a girl, in that order, in fact! They were Battista, Evangelist and Agnes. She suffered the early death of Evangelist and Agnes, and the abduction of her son Battista -- twice! She was cursed to live in very interesting times, you know. She and her (difficult) husband Lorenzo were supporters of the true pope and being somewhat prominent, at least comfortable and respected, members of the community, were targets of the troops of Ladislaus, supporter of the antipope. While Battista was released from his first abduction under circumstances that were considered to be miraculous, he suffered being taken hostage yet again at the same time as Lorenzo during a veritable revolution in Rome. The Ponzianos, for that was their last name, lost their fancy home and all their possessions, and farms and villages all around pillaged and burnt. Poor Frances huddled in a corner of her home that was still standing and sheltered her remaining child (Agnes was still alive then) and her devoted sister-in-law Vannozza and her children. When Lorenzo and Battista were finally released, Frances nursed them back to health.
I have a soft spot in my heart for Frances, since she suffered a critical mother-in-law and an indifferent father-in-law, both of whom lived with them! She ought to be canonized just for that! Far from killing them, she served them cheerfully and quietly. She is also truly a patron of housewives, because she ran that whole household (all the people, servants, animals, etc.), buying and preparing food, entertaining, cleaning, and refusing the use of nannies for her children. She raised those kids herself. More power to her! She was ahead of her time, was Frances.
And there is another progressive thing in her life. It's a delicate one. In the last years of her husband's life, she and he lived a continent marriage. I'm always amazed whenever I read this intimate fact in the lives of the saints, and it is not nearly as rare as you'd think. I knew about St. Frances of Rome, and I knew she was the foundress of the Oblates of the Tor de' Specchi, an active order of sisters, but I didn't know how her saintly husband "freed" her in this unusual way. I mean, he didn't have to, but he knew the desires of her heart. And I think we need to honor "Saint" Lorenzo today too!
Thursday, March 8, 2007
Today March 8
Today is the feast of St. John of God. If you will permit me, I think St. John could be the patron of all the mentally ill. He was even locked up in an insane asylum. And why? For taking his faith seriously! I kid you not. He cared not for sartorial splendor, dressed any which way, rejected his former worldly ways, and would go up to people and ask for their mercy. He knew he was a sinner and he was just (dramatically) asking them, his brothers and sisters, to pray for him to the Lord our God. Is that really so radical? Apparently so, as it turned out. When he tried to offer himself as a martyr in Africa (to the Muslims), the good people of Grenada, Spain felt that he was just such a danger to himself and others that they locked him away in a mental institution. Another St. John, St. John of Ávila, rescued him and suggested to him the true path of repentance . . . helping the sick and poor of the city. And charity does cure the sin-sick soul. He opened a free hospital/hospice and was astoundingly successful, though he was already forty-some years old when he started! Ancient! He kept up his habit of begging, but not so wildly as when he was asking for mercy. He even had a pleasant jingle when he asked people for money for his hospital: "Do yourselves a good turn, ladies and gentlemen, do yourselves a good turn."
He died at the age of 55, get this, from the chill he contracted after jumping into the river to save a drowning man. I LOVE this guy.
He died at the age of 55, get this, from the chill he contracted after jumping into the river to save a drowning man. I LOVE this guy.
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Today March 7
St. Paul the Simple was a working man, a husbandman, very simple and guileless. One day, on discovering the infidelity of his wife, he set off to be a monk. He knocked at the door of St. Anthony's cell.
Anthony: "What do you want?"
Paul: "To be a monk."
Anthony: "It is quite impossible for you, a man of sixty. Be content with the life of a laborer, giving thanks to God."
Paul: "Whatsoever you teach me I will do."
Anthony: "If a monk you must be, go to a cenobium. I live here alone only eating once every five days."
With this St. Anthony shut the door. Paul remained outside the door for 3 days. On the fourth day, St. Anthony let him in. He set him to work weaving a rope out of palm leaves, made him undo what he had done, and do it again. When it was evening he asked Paul if he wanted to eat. "Just as you like," was the reply. St. Anthony produced 4 loaves, took one and gave the other 3 to Paul. They said their prayers and each ate one. Paul was told to eat another.
Paul: "If you do, I will; if you don't, I won't."
Anthony: "I am a monk, and one is enough for me."
Paul: "It is enough for me, for I am going to be a monk."
They prayed, slept, woke at midnight, and prayed some more. Finally Paul got what he wanted. After he had lived with Anthony several months, he was given a cell for himself a few miles down the road. In a year's time the grace of healing and casting out devils was given to Paul. He was even able to exorcise a fiend over whom even St. Anthony had no power. I don't know the story, but I wonder . . . if he was the monk to whom was brought one with an evil spirit that the monk may heal him. After much pleading, the old man said, "Go out from this the God has made." And the devil made answer, "I go but I ask thee one question, and do thou answer me: who be the goats, who the lambs?" The old man said, "The goats indeed be such as I: but who the lambs may be, God knows." Hearing it, the devil cried out with a great voice, "Behold, because of this humbleness of thine, I go." And he went out that same hour.
St. Anthony came to value Paul's judgment, simple though he was. And one day a summons came to him from the Emperor Constantius to go to Constantinople. "Should I go?" he asked Paul the Simple. "If you go, you will be called Anthony, but if you stay here, you will be called Abba Anthony." He stayed.
He used to say, "If a monk will have aught in his cell beyond those things without which he cannot live, he is often forced to go out from his cell, and is waylaid by the Demon." And Paul himself, through the whole of Lent, lived on a pint of lentils and one small vessel of water, and busied himself on a single mat, praying and plaiting and replaiting, that he might not have to go out of doors.
Paul the Simple, the disciple of Abba Anthony, told the Fathers that which follows: One day he went to a monastery to visit it and to make himself useful to the brethren. After the customary conference, the brothers entered the holy church of God to perform the synaxis there, as usual. Blessed Paul looked carefully at each of those who entered the church observing the spiritual disposition with which they went to the synaxis, for he had received the grace from the Lord of seeing the state of each one's soul, just as we see their faces. When all had entered with sparkling eyes and shining faces, with each one's angel rejoicing over him, he said, "I see one who is black and his whole body is dark; the demons are standing on each side of him, dominating him, drawing him to them, and leading him by the nose, and his angel, filled with grief, with head bowed, follows him at a distance." Then Paul, in tears, beat his breast and sat down in front of the church, weeping bitterly. Shortly after the end of the synaxis, as everyone was coming out, Paul scrutinized each one, wanting to know in what state they were coming away. He saw that man, previously black and gloomy, coming out of the church with a shining face and white body, the demons accompanying him only at a distance, while his holy angel was following close to him, rejoicing. Then Paul leaped for joy and began to cry out, "O the ineffable loving-kindness and goodness of God!" Everyone ran together in haste, wanting to hear what he was saying. When they were all assembled, Paul related what he had seen at the entrance to the church and what had happened afterwards and he asked that man to tell them the reason why God had suddenly bestowed such a change upon him. Then the man whom Paul pointed out said, "I am a sinful man; I have lived in fornication for a long time, right up to the present moment; when I went into the holy church of God, I heard the holy prophet Isaiah being read, 'Wash you, make you clean, take away the evil from your hearts, learn to do good before mine eyes. Even though your sins are as scarlet I will make them white as snow.' (Is 1:16-19) and I," he continued, "the fornicator, am filled with compunction in my heart because of this word of God. From now on, I give my word, I affirm and promise in my heart that I will not sin any more." At these words they all with one voice cried out praise to God.
Anthony: "What do you want?"
Paul: "To be a monk."
Anthony: "It is quite impossible for you, a man of sixty. Be content with the life of a laborer, giving thanks to God."
Paul: "Whatsoever you teach me I will do."
Anthony: "If a monk you must be, go to a cenobium. I live here alone only eating once every five days."
With this St. Anthony shut the door. Paul remained outside the door for 3 days. On the fourth day, St. Anthony let him in. He set him to work weaving a rope out of palm leaves, made him undo what he had done, and do it again. When it was evening he asked Paul if he wanted to eat. "Just as you like," was the reply. St. Anthony produced 4 loaves, took one and gave the other 3 to Paul. They said their prayers and each ate one. Paul was told to eat another.
Paul: "If you do, I will; if you don't, I won't."
Anthony: "I am a monk, and one is enough for me."
Paul: "It is enough for me, for I am going to be a monk."
They prayed, slept, woke at midnight, and prayed some more. Finally Paul got what he wanted. After he had lived with Anthony several months, he was given a cell for himself a few miles down the road. In a year's time the grace of healing and casting out devils was given to Paul. He was even able to exorcise a fiend over whom even St. Anthony had no power. I don't know the story, but I wonder . . . if he was the monk to whom was brought one with an evil spirit that the monk may heal him. After much pleading, the old man said, "Go out from this the God has made." And the devil made answer, "I go but I ask thee one question, and do thou answer me: who be the goats, who the lambs?" The old man said, "The goats indeed be such as I: but who the lambs may be, God knows." Hearing it, the devil cried out with a great voice, "Behold, because of this humbleness of thine, I go." And he went out that same hour.
St. Anthony came to value Paul's judgment, simple though he was. And one day a summons came to him from the Emperor Constantius to go to Constantinople. "Should I go?" he asked Paul the Simple. "If you go, you will be called Anthony, but if you stay here, you will be called Abba Anthony." He stayed.
He used to say, "If a monk will have aught in his cell beyond those things without which he cannot live, he is often forced to go out from his cell, and is waylaid by the Demon." And Paul himself, through the whole of Lent, lived on a pint of lentils and one small vessel of water, and busied himself on a single mat, praying and plaiting and replaiting, that he might not have to go out of doors.
Paul the Simple, the disciple of Abba Anthony, told the Fathers that which follows: One day he went to a monastery to visit it and to make himself useful to the brethren. After the customary conference, the brothers entered the holy church of God to perform the synaxis there, as usual. Blessed Paul looked carefully at each of those who entered the church observing the spiritual disposition with which they went to the synaxis, for he had received the grace from the Lord of seeing the state of each one's soul, just as we see their faces. When all had entered with sparkling eyes and shining faces, with each one's angel rejoicing over him, he said, "I see one who is black and his whole body is dark; the demons are standing on each side of him, dominating him, drawing him to them, and leading him by the nose, and his angel, filled with grief, with head bowed, follows him at a distance." Then Paul, in tears, beat his breast and sat down in front of the church, weeping bitterly. Shortly after the end of the synaxis, as everyone was coming out, Paul scrutinized each one, wanting to know in what state they were coming away. He saw that man, previously black and gloomy, coming out of the church with a shining face and white body, the demons accompanying him only at a distance, while his holy angel was following close to him, rejoicing. Then Paul leaped for joy and began to cry out, "O the ineffable loving-kindness and goodness of God!" Everyone ran together in haste, wanting to hear what he was saying. When they were all assembled, Paul related what he had seen at the entrance to the church and what had happened afterwards and he asked that man to tell them the reason why God had suddenly bestowed such a change upon him. Then the man whom Paul pointed out said, "I am a sinful man; I have lived in fornication for a long time, right up to the present moment; when I went into the holy church of God, I heard the holy prophet Isaiah being read, 'Wash you, make you clean, take away the evil from your hearts, learn to do good before mine eyes. Even though your sins are as scarlet I will make them white as snow.' (Is 1:16-19) and I," he continued, "the fornicator, am filled with compunction in my heart because of this word of God. From now on, I give my word, I affirm and promise in my heart that I will not sin any more." At these words they all with one voice cried out praise to God.
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Today March 6
Today is the feast of Saint Colette. Doesn't that make you think of the little girl in "Les Miserables"? Yeah, me too.
Colette was French right down to her core, you know. She was energetic, logical, formal and passionate, all at once. I wish *I* were French! I think we Americans have entirely the wrong opinion of the French. We look at them through the skewed lens of this very short period of history which shows them in merely a supporting role (especially in recent world wars), which misses the point. They are a very warlike people, but that's not all . . . as I said, they're passionate, intellectual, formal and energetic. Belloc said, "All their roads are straight." Now, I find that hard to believe, but St. Colette's road was very straight, at least once she joined the Poor Clares. She'd tried the Beguines, then the Benedictines and even the Poor Clares at Pont-Saint-Maxence . . . all too lax for her! She walled herself in at the church of Notre Dame de Corbie as a third-order Franciscan for 3 years. She had a vision of St. Francis and St. Clare, and she emerged to reform the Poor Clares. Which she did. She traveled all over France, Spain, Flanders and Savoy (then independent of France); performed miracles; endured many trials; and, with St. Vincent Ferrer fought schism. She died in Flanders, after establishing 17 new convents, reforming numerous old ones and even some friar's houses as well. Imagine! A woman reforming MEN'S practice. She accurately predicted her own death and is now buried in Poligny.
Colette was French right down to her core, you know. She was energetic, logical, formal and passionate, all at once. I wish *I* were French! I think we Americans have entirely the wrong opinion of the French. We look at them through the skewed lens of this very short period of history which shows them in merely a supporting role (especially in recent world wars), which misses the point. They are a very warlike people, but that's not all . . . as I said, they're passionate, intellectual, formal and energetic. Belloc said, "All their roads are straight." Now, I find that hard to believe, but St. Colette's road was very straight, at least once she joined the Poor Clares. She'd tried the Beguines, then the Benedictines and even the Poor Clares at Pont-Saint-Maxence . . . all too lax for her! She walled herself in at the church of Notre Dame de Corbie as a third-order Franciscan for 3 years. She had a vision of St. Francis and St. Clare, and she emerged to reform the Poor Clares. Which she did. She traveled all over France, Spain, Flanders and Savoy (then independent of France); performed miracles; endured many trials; and, with St. Vincent Ferrer fought schism. She died in Flanders, after establishing 17 new convents, reforming numerous old ones and even some friar's houses as well. Imagine! A woman reforming MEN'S practice. She accurately predicted her own death and is now buried in Poligny.
Monday, March 5, 2007
Today March 5
Today was the feast of some obscure St. Roger, but I wasn't able to find anything anywhere on him, even on the Internet. There are about 4 St. Rogers, none of whom are celebrated on March 5th. But it is the wonderful story of St. John Joseph of the Cross today.
He, like St. Peter Damian, decided to take the plunge right when 2 Franciscans came to his door as they were begging. They liked him so much, they entered him as a friar right at the age of 16! They made him novice master at 21 and ordained him at 23! He was one of whom a person may say ""He has done all things well." Oh, yeah, he was a great preacher, a psychically-gifted and insightful confessor, a gentle novice master, a master diplomat and a great healer. Can we get him at our parish? :) The diplomatic situation with which he had to deal was that the head of the (Alcantarine) Franciscans was required to (always) be a Spaniard and boy, were the Italians mad. But John Joseph stepped up to the plate and prevented a schism, which he avoided with wisdom and compromise. The Spanish Alcantarines became a separate province, of which they, naturally, could have their Spanish head.
He mystically knew his death date, even though he appeared to be in perfect health (he was in his 80's). He had, as any of us can, an apoplectic seizure and died. He was buried at Santa Lucia del Monte and his tomb became a place of pilgrimage and miracles. Wise from youth, he proved himself a good and faithful servant.
He, like St. Peter Damian, decided to take the plunge right when 2 Franciscans came to his door as they were begging. They liked him so much, they entered him as a friar right at the age of 16! They made him novice master at 21 and ordained him at 23! He was one of whom a person may say ""He has done all things well." Oh, yeah, he was a great preacher, a psychically-gifted and insightful confessor, a gentle novice master, a master diplomat and a great healer. Can we get him at our parish? :) The diplomatic situation with which he had to deal was that the head of the (Alcantarine) Franciscans was required to (always) be a Spaniard and boy, were the Italians mad. But John Joseph stepped up to the plate and prevented a schism, which he avoided with wisdom and compromise. The Spanish Alcantarines became a separate province, of which they, naturally, could have their Spanish head.
He mystically knew his death date, even though he appeared to be in perfect health (he was in his 80's). He had, as any of us can, an apoplectic seizure and died. He was buried at Santa Lucia del Monte and his tomb became a place of pilgrimage and miracles. Wise from youth, he proved himself a good and faithful servant.
Sunday, March 4, 2007
Homily: Second Sunday of Lent: 2007
Brothers and sisters, today we hear the story of the promise to Abraham (when he was still Abram) commanded by God to "[l]ook up at the sky and count the stars, . . .[j]ust so shall your descendants be." (Gen 15:5) How many is that? Countless, you could say. But an attempt HAS been made to count the stars. Those of you who have read my homilies these last few weeks (God help you) may know I am a fan of Father Benedict Groeschel. In his talk entitled "A Reason to Believe," he said this: "If you were to reduce the size of the stars to the size of a grain of sea sand, an eight-ounce glass would hold approximately 2.5 million of them. Do you know how big the box would have to be to hold all the stars, not even the planets, just the stars [we know about]? If all the stars, the suns, were reduced to the size of a grain of sand, the box would have to be a mile high, a mile wide and would stretch from New York City to Atlanta, Georgia." Congratulations, Abraham! Especially when you consider he was infertile for so long, had only one son and then God asked him to sacrifice him! I think, besides the fact that that request seemed to negate the promise (it didn't), people have problems with this episode in Scripture because they think it seems unjust of God. How could He, they think, ask for human sacrifice? Besides the fact that Abraham didn't have to carry it out, I think we need to wrap our minds around something here. God asking for human sacrifice is no more unjust than a potter squishing his unfired clay pot into a fresh lump and creating anew. He has a right to do this because the pot is his creation, he OWNS it. I think at some level we realize this. But we are often more or less stuck in a spiritual immaturity that sees ourselves as the center of the universe, the be-all and end-all of creation. And that is just not so. It is God's right to create and to call back, to afflict and to make well, to bring forth life and to release in death. Job knew it, Abraham knew it and somehow we know it. Not well, perhaps, not perfectly, but "darkly, as through a glass." I always puzzled about that, thinking he (St. Paul) meant through an actual pane of glass, smudged perhaps, or smoky. But no, he meant obliquely, in a mirror, then called a "looking glass." And for those of you who remember your high-school physics, the image reflected from a mirror is technically a "virtual image" -- close, perhaps, but no cigar. A "real image" is that which you see when you observe it with no intermediary, face to face as it were. And someday, if we are saved, we will see God that way.
Now every Lent I take a theme or a motto. And this Lent I took "You should be awake and praying not to be put to the test." That's why today's Gospel account of the Transfiguration fits so well. St. Luke gives us a more detailed account of the event than the other synoptics and says: "Peter and his companions had been overcome by sleep, but becoming fully awake, they saw His glory." (Lk 9:30) My brothers and sisters, we too are often overcome by sleep, even when our bodies are physically awake, we are not as the Gospel says "fully awake." We do not see and hear what is going on all around us. We do not see the beggar at our door, the homeless at our gate, the despised and victimized in our community, the injustice in our nation, the wars in our world. And what wakes us up? It is the Lord. How does Jesus do it? Well, He is unlimited, of course. Perhaps in one of His "incarnational resources," as my wisest friend refers to human beings. A human being who is more awake than you are, maybe a friend, a co-worker, a teacher, even a priest. Perhaps in His holy Word, the Scriptures. Perhaps in an approved spiritual text or reading. Perhaps even directly in a mystical experience, although those are rare. Turning to Father Groeschel again one last time:
"When speaking to a distinguished Scripture scholar a few years ago, I told him how one preacher had reduced this marvelous event [the Transfiguration] to the apostles seeing the glinting of the sun on the snow on Mount Tabor and merely thinking that Christ was transfigured. What nonsense! The scholar, who was deeply appalled when I told him of this preaching, said to me, 'Don't you know that's the most succinct and eloquent description of a mystical event in the literature of the world?' I said, 'Oh, yes, I know, but some of the people who are teaching the Bible right now don't seem to know it.'
"This marvelous incomprehensible mystery is unprovable at this stage by any means, and it was probably unprovable at the very time that it happened, except to the three witnesses. This Transfiguration shows us the mystery of faith and hope. We all hope to see the transfigured Christ at the end of our lives. We hope to go into eternal life with Him. Let us join Our Blessed Lady, who gave birth to the body that would be transfigured, to the face that would shine like the sun. Let us join her in adoration of the mysterious Messiah, who alone is our hope."
Let us profess our faith.
Now every Lent I take a theme or a motto. And this Lent I took "You should be awake and praying not to be put to the test." That's why today's Gospel account of the Transfiguration fits so well. St. Luke gives us a more detailed account of the event than the other synoptics and says: "Peter and his companions had been overcome by sleep, but becoming fully awake, they saw His glory." (Lk 9:30) My brothers and sisters, we too are often overcome by sleep, even when our bodies are physically awake, we are not as the Gospel says "fully awake." We do not see and hear what is going on all around us. We do not see the beggar at our door, the homeless at our gate, the despised and victimized in our community, the injustice in our nation, the wars in our world. And what wakes us up? It is the Lord. How does Jesus do it? Well, He is unlimited, of course. Perhaps in one of His "incarnational resources," as my wisest friend refers to human beings. A human being who is more awake than you are, maybe a friend, a co-worker, a teacher, even a priest. Perhaps in His holy Word, the Scriptures. Perhaps in an approved spiritual text or reading. Perhaps even directly in a mystical experience, although those are rare. Turning to Father Groeschel again one last time:
"When speaking to a distinguished Scripture scholar a few years ago, I told him how one preacher had reduced this marvelous event [the Transfiguration] to the apostles seeing the glinting of the sun on the snow on Mount Tabor and merely thinking that Christ was transfigured. What nonsense! The scholar, who was deeply appalled when I told him of this preaching, said to me, 'Don't you know that's the most succinct and eloquent description of a mystical event in the literature of the world?' I said, 'Oh, yes, I know, but some of the people who are teaching the Bible right now don't seem to know it.'
"This marvelous incomprehensible mystery is unprovable at this stage by any means, and it was probably unprovable at the very time that it happened, except to the three witnesses. This Transfiguration shows us the mystery of faith and hope. We all hope to see the transfigured Christ at the end of our lives. We hope to go into eternal life with Him. Let us join Our Blessed Lady, who gave birth to the body that would be transfigured, to the face that would shine like the sun. Let us join her in adoration of the mysterious Messiah, who alone is our hope."
Let us profess our faith.
Today March 4
Today, were it not the second Sunday of Lent, would be the feast of St. Casimir, prince of Poland. He was an interesting guy. A sickly dude, he refused marriage even though, get this, the court doctors told him a healthy marriage would cure what ailed him! I wonder what disease THAT was!
He was third of 13 children of Casimir IV and Elizabeth of Austria. He was the second son and though not destined to be king of Poland, he was directed by his father to take the throne of Hungary. The Hungarian nobles were dissatisfied with their king, Matthias Corvinus, and Casimir IV was ambitious. Casimir was loath to do so, but he obeyed his father . . . at first. When he arrived at the Hungarian border and saw Matthias and his armies entrenched against him, he decided to turn back. I think he was probably prudent; his father thought he was cowardly; in any case, he felt justified when he returned home and found an edict from Pope Sixtus IV advising Casimir IV not to start the war. Now I'm not saying that there is a ready parallel to today's war situation, but neither am I saying that there isn't!
He wasn't allowed to return home, though, and was exiled to the castle of Dobzki. He was so convinced of the injustice of war that he was never again persuaded to take up arms . . . for any cause. He was a patriot, however, and served his country as viceroy when his father was absent for a time. He returned to his studies and his prayers and died a peaceful death from a lung ailment which had plagued him all his life.
He was third of 13 children of Casimir IV and Elizabeth of Austria. He was the second son and though not destined to be king of Poland, he was directed by his father to take the throne of Hungary. The Hungarian nobles were dissatisfied with their king, Matthias Corvinus, and Casimir IV was ambitious. Casimir was loath to do so, but he obeyed his father . . . at first. When he arrived at the Hungarian border and saw Matthias and his armies entrenched against him, he decided to turn back. I think he was probably prudent; his father thought he was cowardly; in any case, he felt justified when he returned home and found an edict from Pope Sixtus IV advising Casimir IV not to start the war. Now I'm not saying that there is a ready parallel to today's war situation, but neither am I saying that there isn't!
He wasn't allowed to return home, though, and was exiled to the castle of Dobzki. He was so convinced of the injustice of war that he was never again persuaded to take up arms . . . for any cause. He was a patriot, however, and served his country as viceroy when his father was absent for a time. He returned to his studies and his prayers and died a peaceful death from a lung ailment which had plagued him all his life.
Saturday, March 3, 2007
Today March 3
Today is the feast of St. Katharine Drexel. She is special to me because I once lived in Philadelphia and she was a Philadelphia deb and heiress. But she always gave money to charity and was taught to practice compassion and discretion. That brings up one of my favorite pet peeves. While I like Bill Gates and I love today's classy saint, I DON'T believe in huge masses of wealth in only a few hands, even though those hands are full of charity. Private donations = private power, and not all charities are the same. One or two people with awesome wealth can drastically change things . . . and not necessarily for the better. What if those powerful philanthropists believed the main "problem" was overpopulation and decided generously -- over-generously -- to give to "reproductive health" and overwhelmingly fund contraception and abortion? They could skew the social landscape, not only in that example, but in many, many others. It's better to have charity in the hands of a religion -- or religious order -- or the republic -- or many individual small donors than one or two oligarchs. I'm just saying.
I used to think Drexel was heiress to a furniture fortune. But it was really a banking empire, run by Francis Drexel and split among Elizabeth, Katharine and Louisa Drexel, his three daughters. Katharine and Elizabeth were welcomed by their stepmother Emma as real children, which, of course, they were, but you know what I mean. While of course I praise Francis for the loving job of parenting he did, my sources give the credit all to the woman, Emma. Katharine's mom died when the child was two years old (and Elizabeth not much older) and the new family was formed in love and with a strong sense of duty. Emma even had the two older daughters teach CCD to the farm workers' children out on their second home in Torresdale.
Katharine grew up smart and beautiful, a millionaire's daughter, educated in Europe, brilliantly turned out into society, well-protected. (When she went on vacation to the seashore, her dad said: "I hope you are careful not to get into deep water either with the beaux or the surf.") She always had a social conscience, however. After touring the reservations of South Dakota, she became concerned with the fate of the native Americans. And she could certainly see with her own eyes the plight of the black man, even right there in Philadelphia. She and her two sisters tried to give a substantial amount of their combined fortune to aid both the blacks and the Indians. During her many trips to Europe she begged priests and nuns to come to America to man (and woman) the missions. Her spiritual adviser (Bishop James O'Connor of Omaha) suggested she go herself . . . and found a whole new order for the education and spiritual welfare of the Indians and blacks. He knew, of course, of her leaning towards the religious life -- he just encouraged her to go the extra mile. And she did, amid headlines screaming, "Miss Drexel Enters a Catholic Convent -- Gives Up 7 Million!" She looked like an angel bride in a gorgeous white gown and veil adorned with diamonds and jewels and followed by eight little girls similarly made up. After the Mass, she emerged in a black habit and veil, with white wimple and cape. Still lovely.
Heights near Philadelphia, but still lived to survive and pray. My mother used to say it was all part of God's plan: she only got her inheritance as long as she was alive, so God She founded and supported countless missions over the years. In 1912 she contracted typhoid fever and got worse and worse. When it looked as though the end were near, she smiled and said, "As this is certainly not according to my plans, it must be God's Will!" She didn't die, however. She lived on and on. In 1935 she suffered a heart attack and "retired" to Cornwellsarranged that she might live to be 97! The blacks and Indians are grateful. So are all the students, past and present, of Xavier University in New Orleans. By 1951 the Drexel girls had given away $11 million! Katharine died in 1955, at age 97, having given much more than her fortune . . . she had given her life! And what she said at the last really speaks to my heart: "He abides in my house -- the house of His publican ('Have mercy on me, O Lord, a sinner'). It is as if all glory were nothing to Him, and I alone were all His care. We speak together, I listen -- and thus a lifetime passes."
As someone who, in my mom's words, "can talk the ears off a brass monkey," I love, love, love those words, especially the last line!
I used to think Drexel was heiress to a furniture fortune. But it was really a banking empire, run by Francis Drexel and split among Elizabeth, Katharine and Louisa Drexel, his three daughters. Katharine and Elizabeth were welcomed by their stepmother Emma as real children, which, of course, they were, but you know what I mean. While of course I praise Francis for the loving job of parenting he did, my sources give the credit all to the woman, Emma. Katharine's mom died when the child was two years old (and Elizabeth not much older) and the new family was formed in love and with a strong sense of duty. Emma even had the two older daughters teach CCD to the farm workers' children out on their second home in Torresdale.
Katharine grew up smart and beautiful, a millionaire's daughter, educated in Europe, brilliantly turned out into society, well-protected. (When she went on vacation to the seashore, her dad said: "I hope you are careful not to get into deep water either with the beaux or the surf.") She always had a social conscience, however. After touring the reservations of South Dakota, she became concerned with the fate of the native Americans. And she could certainly see with her own eyes the plight of the black man, even right there in Philadelphia. She and her two sisters tried to give a substantial amount of their combined fortune to aid both the blacks and the Indians. During her many trips to Europe she begged priests and nuns to come to America to man (and woman) the missions. Her spiritual adviser (Bishop James O'Connor of Omaha) suggested she go herself . . . and found a whole new order for the education and spiritual welfare of the Indians and blacks. He knew, of course, of her leaning towards the religious life -- he just encouraged her to go the extra mile. And she did, amid headlines screaming, "Miss Drexel Enters a Catholic Convent -- Gives Up 7 Million!" She looked like an angel bride in a gorgeous white gown and veil adorned with diamonds and jewels and followed by eight little girls similarly made up. After the Mass, she emerged in a black habit and veil, with white wimple and cape. Still lovely.
Heights near Philadelphia, but still lived to survive and pray. My mother used to say it was all part of God's plan: she only got her inheritance as long as she was alive, so God She founded and supported countless missions over the years. In 1912 she contracted typhoid fever and got worse and worse. When it looked as though the end were near, she smiled and said, "As this is certainly not according to my plans, it must be God's Will!" She didn't die, however. She lived on and on. In 1935 she suffered a heart attack and "retired" to Cornwellsarranged that she might live to be 97! The blacks and Indians are grateful. So are all the students, past and present, of Xavier University in New Orleans. By 1951 the Drexel girls had given away $11 million! Katharine died in 1955, at age 97, having given much more than her fortune . . . she had given her life! And what she said at the last really speaks to my heart: "He abides in my house -- the house of His publican ('Have mercy on me, O Lord, a sinner'). It is as if all glory were nothing to Him, and I alone were all His care. We speak together, I listen -- and thus a lifetime passes."
As someone who, in my mom's words, "can talk the ears off a brass monkey," I love, love, love those words, especially the last line!
Friday, March 2, 2007
Today March 2
Today is the feast of the great German mystic Henry Suso. I have German blood in me, and I'm glad: they're passionate but controlled, dramatic but methodical, mystical but scientific, dark but clean. The French hate them and they SAY they hate them back, but they really don't. They admire and misunderstand the French. They've stolen a lot of words from them; and when they speak them, they sound so sophisticated!
Suso's real last name is "Seuse" so it's entirely appropriate that he has "vividly imaginative . . . writing." But dark, as I indicated above. God is experienced as "the Nothing" and "the deep abyss" and you can't get much darker than that! And like a real (German) psychiatrist, he calls the soul's return to God a "breakthrough." Oh, and I see our time is up!
I like him because he was sincere, conscientious and misunderstood. He was a follower of Meister (first name "John") Eckhart -- "disciple" is not too strong a word -- who was also misunderstood, to the point of being actually condemned (by the Church). Henry, no slouch, wrote a treatise to defend him, "The Little Book of Truth" (nice name, if unimaginative) which started his life of fame and authorship. He was a poor Dominican and shunned the spotlight, but he trusted and believed in his friend. He was also accused, in his turn, of heresy . . . but also of theft, sacrilege, adultery, and even murder by poisoning! He was exonerated of all these charges, but at the height of the controversy, his sister left the sisterhood and renounced her former way of life. He went after her, remonstrated with her and actually got her to return to the monastery.
His later -- and more famous work -- was entitled "The Little Book of Eternal Wisdom" (also known as "The Clock of Wisdom"). In it he talks about the importance of recognizing human nature itself. He criticized the so-called "Brethren of the Free Spirit" because they taught that 1) the truly spiritual person cannot sin; and 2) that one can actually become God. He always maintained an ontological distinction between the creature and the creator, even in the highest, or "unitive", way of prayer and mystical experience. And he maintained a healthy sense of sin. He was a great ascetic, but he criticized the overzealous ascetics who view Christ "only from without and not from within." The Brethren of the Free Spirit went too far one way, the ascetics too far the other: he challenged them both. It couldn't have won him many friends!
He actually had many platonic female friends, and one of them, Elizabet Stagel, wrote his autobiography. Think on that for awhile. He died in exile in Ulm, Germany, in 1366.
Suso's real last name is "Seuse" so it's entirely appropriate that he has "vividly imaginative . . . writing." But dark, as I indicated above. God is experienced as "the Nothing" and "the deep abyss" and you can't get much darker than that! And like a real (German) psychiatrist, he calls the soul's return to God a "breakthrough." Oh, and I see our time is up!
I like him because he was sincere, conscientious and misunderstood. He was a follower of Meister (first name "John") Eckhart -- "disciple" is not too strong a word -- who was also misunderstood, to the point of being actually condemned (by the Church). Henry, no slouch, wrote a treatise to defend him, "The Little Book of Truth" (nice name, if unimaginative) which started his life of fame and authorship. He was a poor Dominican and shunned the spotlight, but he trusted and believed in his friend. He was also accused, in his turn, of heresy . . . but also of theft, sacrilege, adultery, and even murder by poisoning! He was exonerated of all these charges, but at the height of the controversy, his sister left the sisterhood and renounced her former way of life. He went after her, remonstrated with her and actually got her to return to the monastery.
His later -- and more famous work -- was entitled "The Little Book of Eternal Wisdom" (also known as "The Clock of Wisdom"). In it he talks about the importance of recognizing human nature itself. He criticized the so-called "Brethren of the Free Spirit" because they taught that 1) the truly spiritual person cannot sin; and 2) that one can actually become God. He always maintained an ontological distinction between the creature and the creator, even in the highest, or "unitive", way of prayer and mystical experience. And he maintained a healthy sense of sin. He was a great ascetic, but he criticized the overzealous ascetics who view Christ "only from without and not from within." The Brethren of the Free Spirit went too far one way, the ascetics too far the other: he challenged them both. It couldn't have won him many friends!
He actually had many platonic female friends, and one of them, Elizabet Stagel, wrote his autobiography. Think on that for awhile. He died in exile in Ulm, Germany, in 1366.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Today March 1
I once lived in one of the only parishes in the United States (and certainly the only one in its diocese) that celebrated today's saint canonically: St. David, patron of Wales. St. David, or Dewi, as he was also known, was kind of a Welsh hero, even though he was of only minor monastical and zero political importance. I get the impression, though faint since it comes through such huge layers of time, that he was quite the steadfast and independent man, not unlike the men of his race. He was born on the coast of South Wales to father Sant and mother Non -- don't you love those names? He could say, "Yes, my father was a Sant and I am truly the son of Non." :) He was a monk after the mold of the Desert Fathers (esp. those in the Thebaid), and became bishop. He almost didn't accept the nomination -- he sure didn't want it -- but they accepted his condition that the Cambrian diocese headquarters be moved from Caerleon to Mynyw (Latin: Menevia), now known as "Saint David's". Maybe he thought they wouldn't do it. Silly him.
He worked hard, believed in silence and manual labor -- to the point of having the monks (including himself) pull the plow themselves -- and drank nothing but water (sometimes with a little milk mixed in -- for feast days, apparently). "Abstinence from any drink but water earned for David the name of 'Waterman' -- a quality that later commended him to nonconformist taste, which in other respects could scarcely find him a congenial patron." Don't the English have a marvelous sense of understatement? I love the way they write and the way they talk. But the reprehensible (to my eyes) sense of selective biography leads to "commend[ing] him (or her) to [different] taste", as we see in the Protestants adopting Francis, who in other ways would "scarcely find him . . . congenial", if you know what I mean. I mean, how much more a loyal son of the (Catholic) faith could you find than St. Francis? If those who propose to love and follow him were to really do so, they'd end up pledging their loyalty to the Pope and de facto becoming Catholics! And speaking of nonconformists and Protestants, several have tried to adopt our saint of today to show "independence from" Rome of the Welsh (also known as "Cambrian") church. BS! David was a loyal son of the Catholic Church! And he really DID have an impact on early Welsh monasticism, founding many houses and inculcating the contemplative life and religious fervor fostered by prayer. His last words were: "Be cheerful: keep the faith: observe exactly all the little things that you have learned of me." Good words.
He worked hard, believed in silence and manual labor -- to the point of having the monks (including himself) pull the plow themselves -- and drank nothing but water (sometimes with a little milk mixed in -- for feast days, apparently). "Abstinence from any drink but water earned for David the name of 'Waterman' -- a quality that later commended him to nonconformist taste, which in other respects could scarcely find him a congenial patron." Don't the English have a marvelous sense of understatement? I love the way they write and the way they talk. But the reprehensible (to my eyes) sense of selective biography leads to "commend[ing] him (or her) to [different] taste", as we see in the Protestants adopting Francis, who in other ways would "scarcely find him . . . congenial", if you know what I mean. I mean, how much more a loyal son of the (Catholic) faith could you find than St. Francis? If those who propose to love and follow him were to really do so, they'd end up pledging their loyalty to the Pope and de facto becoming Catholics! And speaking of nonconformists and Protestants, several have tried to adopt our saint of today to show "independence from" Rome of the Welsh (also known as "Cambrian") church. BS! David was a loyal son of the Catholic Church! And he really DID have an impact on early Welsh monasticism, founding many houses and inculcating the contemplative life and religious fervor fostered by prayer. His last words were: "Be cheerful: keep the faith: observe exactly all the little things that you have learned of me." Good words.
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