Today May 31

One of my favorite theologians, Frank Sheed, had a really cool point about this feast day and I would like to be able to quote it at length because it really points to something in Mary's character. Well, I can't find it now, but he said that the thing Mary reacted to at the Annunciation wasn't what we might have focused on: the fact that her cousin was expecting. She hurriedly set out on the -- wow -- four-day trip there. She stayed the full three months to help Elizabeth with not only the pregnancy but with birthing the baby. That's why it always bothers me that some preachers, on the slimmest of arguments, insist that Mary left before the birth of St. John. I also have a problem with St. Francis de Sales' (God bless him) description of Our Lady (on this Visitation Day): "It was a rough road for this weak and delicate Virgin." Rough enough, yes, but I doubt she was all that weak and delicate. Imagine toting five gallons of water on your head to and from the well each day; baking your own bread; spinning and weaving your own heavy bolts of cloth; making your own clothes; hoeing, planting and reaping your own garden; carrying your own kid around till he's two . . . c'mon! Okay, okay, the ideal of beauty in 17th-century France may have been "weak and delicate" but it wasn't the reality in first-century Judea!

The thing I find over and over again in the Scriptures is the concept of "fittingness" or "righteousness" -- as in "Why should I baptize you? If anything, you should be baptizing me." - St. John the Baptist. "Enough. Let us do so for the sake of righteousness." - Christ. I've heard this expression used in connection with both the Immaculate Conception and the Assumption -- doubtless God need NOT have [created Mary without original sin or assumed her body and soul into heaven] but doubtless God DID . . . and it was fitting. Well, I think the same could be said for what is happening here. The Visitation, after all, is not just the meeting of the two women but the two (unborn) men. And according to St. John Chrysostom, it was the occasion of Our Lord's anointing of St. John the Baptist as prophet. Now, this was not absolutely necessary, but it was fitting. It was for the cause of righteousness. And St. John caused his mother to cry out (because, as the Scripture says, first he leaped in the womb and then:) "Why is this granted me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?" Testify, sister! Happy Visitation, everybody.

Today May 30

Today is the great feast of St. Joan of Arc, Jeanne la Pucelle (1412-1431). She was born in Domremy, the daughter of a peasant farmer. She was skilled in sewing and spinning but never learned to read or write. She certainly never learned any theology. Which makes it so remarkable that she stood up so well against theologians, both before the Dauphin would consent to take her on as general and later in her terrible trial by the English and Burgundian ecclesial kangaroo court which sentenced her. She was burned at the stake for heresy, witchcraft and the terrible crime of wearing men's clothing -- because the hypocritical English (and their French collaborators) could not just outright kill her for beating them in battle (at Orleans -- her first great battle: April 29, 1429; then Patay, Troyes, Compiegne -- almost. It was there that she was left outside the castle after the governor had the drawbridge lifted and she was captured). So they subjected her to a horribly protracted trial with threats of torture -- and worse -- and though she bested them and dazzled them with her phenomenal memory, seemingly infused knowledge, and great good sense, she did -- briefly -- retract what she said, faced with weakness and death in the graveyard at St. Ouen. But she took back her retraction and faced death with all the simplicity, courage, and innocence she had in all the challenges of her short life. She was 19. She died calling out "Jesus!" as she looked upon a cross held up by a Dominican friar. Afterward, John Tressart, one of King Henry V's secretaries, cried out, "We are lost: we have burned a saint!" . . . And so they had. Twenty-three years later, Joan's mother and brothers had the Vatican reopen the case . . . and she was exonerated. 450 years later she was canonized.

Poor Joan was subjected to misunderstanding even long after her death. This mere woman who listened to the voices from heaven (later identified as St. Michael, St. Catherine, St. Margaret and others) with -- eventually -- the great-hearted spirit of the Annunciation and did all for the love of God and his Church has been remade as "Joan the Protestant" by the likes of George Bernard Shaw. Not true. She's been made into the "Joan of the theater" -- a sentimental milkmaid who is both attractive and tiresome. She was not; she was practical, loyal, a brilliant militarist, wholly disinterested, and a girl with both feet on the ground. She was made into "Joan the Nationalist." A patriot she certainly was -- but she was in the service of Justice first and not a rampant nationalist. And she's been made into "Joan the feminist" -- possibly the least true of them all. She was no disaffected woman; she wasn't out to change the world, thumb her nose at men and reject all those things so dear to members of my sex: a husband, a home, children. No, she was quite simply: a saint.

She is, additionally, not honored as a martyr; she is a virgin. But she is also the patroness of rape victims. (This is no doubt owing to the treatment she received at the hands of the Burgundians and [later] the English [the French made no effort to free or ransom her]). Does that imply a contradiction? Not at all. With great good sense, the Church recognizes the virginity of the heart -- which is more important anyway -- regardless of how the body may be involuntarily ravaged. I wish the whole world would get that wisdom! Dear St. Joan of Arc, pray for us.

Today May 29

Today is the feast of yet ANOTHER namesake of the great St. Mary Magdalene -- Mary Magdalen dei Pazzi. I don't know what all she's patron of, but she could well be one for the mentally ill, especially those suffering from bi-polar disorder and depression. She herself, great mystic, was plunged in a deep depression for five whole years, during which she experienced "desolation and spiritual dryness", when she lacked energy and saw herself as a horrible failure. But on Pentecost in 1590 while at Mass in her convent (she was a Carmelite) she went into a rapture and emerged cured: "Rejoice with me," she said to the prioress and novice-mistress, "for my winter is at an end." And she then went on to higher highs and deeper lows, suffering tremendous temptations to gluttony and impurity (for which she scourged herself, poor thing) and enjoying hour-long ecstasies, levitation and frequent heavenly consolations. She suffered something of the Lord's passion and was favored with visions of people she had known in life in Purgatory. She could read souls and tell the future -- she knew who the next pope would be, and that his reign would be unseasonably short. She used to exclaim, like St. Francis before her, "Love is not loved!" and she seemed always to be united with God.

She suffered headaches in her final days -- really bad ones. Perhaps she could be invoked by headache sufferers as well. She had become somewhat of a recluse in her last days -- she literally couldn't bear being touched. When she died, surrounded by the Reverend Mother and her spiritual sisters she said, "I am about to leave you; and the last thing I ask of you is that you trust implicitly in Him." She remains incorrupt to this very day. You can see her remains in the church attached to her convent in Florence.

Today May 28

Today is the feast of St. Bernard -- not the famous one, but the one the dogs are named after: St. Bernard of Menthou, aka St. Bernard of Montjoux. He is the patron of mountain climbers (by decree of Pope Pius XI, in fact) and appropriately so, because this great Frenchman and vicar general in Hosta, Italy traveled much through Alpine country, going even as far as Geneva, bringing the faith and building and renovating hospices for travelers. Travelers (including many German and French pilgrims to Rome) were in grave danger of getting lost, caught in snowdrifts, mugged by bandits or kidnapped for for ransom. The hotels and hospices of St. Bernard (including two right on the passes and known as the Great and Little St. Bernard) saved many lives.

Homily: Pentecost Sunday: 2007

I remember hearing once about an Asian catechumen asking a priest one day: "I understand praying to Venerable Father and Venerable Son, but, please, I do not understand praying to Venerable Bird." :)

The Holy Spirit descended in only the form of a dove (at the Baptism in the Jordan), and only the form of a flame (on Pentecost). He is a spirit and so has no physical body. As the priest on EWTN said the other day (in a daily Mass homily), "The Father is over us, the Son is beside us, but the Holy Spirit is within us." Thus we say He guides us and inspires us. And from the beginning He has guided and inspired the Church, who is in some mystical way God the Son's body . . . in a similar way to that in which a man and a woman who marry become "one flesh." They are mystically united so that a slight of one is a slight of the other; a glory of one is a glory of the other.

We were privileged to have a Franciscan friar give us the homily this weekend at Mass. He came to our town for the wedding of his cousin to a Vietnamese Buddhist girl. He said there he was at the pre-wedding ceremony at the Buddhist temple, face-to-face with a Vietnamese monk in a grey robe, almost a mirror-image of his own grey habit! (It made me think forward to June 1st and the feast of another set of Japanese martyrs. Jesuits, Augustinians, and Franciscans evangelized Japan in the 17th century and a great untold footnote in this story is the number of Buddhist monks who embraced Catholicism, even at the cost of their own lives.) As Father told us, a thousand years before Christ the founder of Buddhism, Gautama Buddha, taught his followers to pray to the Spirit of God. This is the same God, although it is not, of course, from the church Christ founded.

He also asked us if we had ever experienced God being close to us . . . if we had ever had a real experience where we knew God was with us. I have had some in my own life, of course (usually related to a really trying time of suffering), but I thought of something an old priest had told me long ago. One time (also in a time of deep suffering for him) he was praying to the Holy Spirit, and he actually heard and felt a great rush of movement near his ear, like the rushing of a wind or the flight of a bird. He is reasonably sure it was a manifestation of the Holy Spirit, and yes, it did bring him peace and resolution.

Father asked us if any of us were charismatics and three brave souls raised their hands. He told us that if we really want to experience joy in our faith and in our liturgy, we should consider becoming charismatic Catholics. Many of us old people equate church services with something stately, staid and boring. Believe me, he said, charismatics are going to have a great time today on this feast of Pentecost!

And finally, Father asked us if we have anyone in our family we worry about; specifically, anyone who doesn't go to church, or who disappoints us, or who engages in questionable behavior. Then he changed the question and asked us if we don't have anyone like that in our family. We all laughed. Then he followed that right up with this advice: "Pray to the Holy Spirit for them."

I realize this is all his homily and not mine . . . but if you have something great already, why change it? Happy Pentecost, people.

Today May 27

Today, were it not great Pentecost Sunday, it would be the feast of St. Augustine of Canterbury . . . aka St. Austin (died c. 605). I always thought of "Austin" as an American name, even a Western American name, but it's actually been in use as a British contraction of Augustine for many years. One day in Rome Pope St. Gregory was walking through the slave market and he saw on the block three fair golden-haired boys. "What are they?" he asked. On being told they were Angles (as in Anglo-Saxons), he supposedly exclaimed, "Not Angles but Angels!" And thereafter set it upon himself to make sure they would be evangelized. To that purpose he sent out Augustine (today's saint), Mellitus, John and some other missionaries to England. They got as far as the English Channel and fear turned them back. Augustine returned to Rome and was remonstrated with by the pope; he sent him back in no uncertain terms. And indeed Augustine returned to France, rejoined his companions, sailed for England and met the king (Ethelbert of Kent) under an oak, where he gave him the land in Canterbury that became the old church of St. Martin . . . and eventually the prelature cathedral.

Now Augustine was a character, you know. Apparently, Christianity had come to Britain (and the Britons) before all this, but was driven out by the Anglo-Saxon invaders. Well, the remaining Christians were surviving in Wales and Cornwall. Cut off as they were, they'd fallen in to their own non-orthodox practices though their doctrine was sound. Augustine called them out at Augustine's Oak in Wessex (I guess oak trees were landmarks in those days) and urged them to comply with all Roman practices. The old conservatives refused and Augustine supposedly said in a fit of anger, "If they would not accept peace with their brethren, they should have war with their enemies." And some see this as prophetic of the battle of the Britons with King Ethelfrith of Northumbria ten years later, which routed the Britons and massacred their monks.

Augustine was a wise man, but he always made sure he had the full backing of the pope before he did anything. Alban Butler attributes it to his delicacy of conscience but one could see it as a reasonable defensiveness in an era of pagan pressure and criticism. I don't know.

Anyway, based on Gregory the Great's direct instructions, Augustine instituted a prudent policy of keeping as many pagan customs as possible and all their churches, only ""baptizing" them into Christian festivals and houses of worship. Future generations might criticize him for that, but it was psychologically sound since "He who would climb to a lofty height must go by steps, not leaps." - Gregory the Great.

Augustine died peacefully in 605 after seven years of converting, baptizing and confirming, as well as setting up bishoprics in London and Rochester.

Today May 26

Today is the feast of St. Philip Neri (1515-1595) . . .and with this great saint I feel absolutely sure both that I would like to be his friend and he mine. Why? Well, for my part, I am immensely attracted to the Congregation of the Oratory and its league of merry Christians (open to laymen, it "united service of God's people with a cheerful, engaging outlook on life" - Saintly Solutions) and on his, I'm sure he'd be my friend because he was everybody's friend. "Good little Phil," "Pippo buono," would stand on his loggia in Rome, accepting visitors one and all, "and to each person he gave advice suited to his special needs" - Butler's Lives.

My mom loves this guy. A practical joker who valued humility, he would do things like put out his hand to bless a pompous rich woman and gently end up totally messing her elaborate hair-do. He gave one penitent an enormously important task, he said . . . and it ended up being taking care of St. Philip's cat! He gave a rich merchant's penance as sweeping the Oratory's stairs where all could see him. He tweaked those who elaborately praised his holiness by shaving off half his beard and pretending to be drunk.

Yet he was immensely gentle. Where others might rail and rant at offenders -- and who could fault them in the terrible moral atmosphere of 16th-century Rome? -- St. Philip had another way. He would first engage a person in conversation, and many responded because he had an engaging sense of humor. He would then put in "a word in season." - Butler's Lives - and a question about the state of their immortal souls. Wow. His favorite question was: "Well, brothers, when shall we begin to do good?" He never directly criticized, saying "If we wish to keep peace with our neighbor, we should never remind anyone of his natural defects."

Good advice. And finally, he, like the reformed Grinch in the old book and cartoon, had a heart that grew two sizes one day, even breaking two ribs. His heart actually grew from love of God. He was often in ecstasy, especially during Mass and even had a premonition of his own death. He looked better that day than he had in 10 years, but he said before going to bed: "Last of all, we must die." It's the last thing he ever said. His brothers came around him when he had an attack about midnight, May 25th, 1595 and asked him for a final word. He was beyond speaking, but he raised his hand in a blessing and died.

Today May 25

Today is the feast of many (and varied) people, but we are going to focus on St. Madeleine Sophie Barat ( 1779-1865). She was a dynamic woman, and in almost every respect ahead of her time. A simple Burgundian girl, she was instructed in all subjects that at that time were restricted only to men: Latin, Greek, history, physics and mathematics. This curious state of affairs was due to the inspiration of her brother, a priest and her godfather. He could see something in her and wanted to nurture it. He couldn't have foreseen the exact nature of the need his country would have of her: someone to reverse the complete shutdown of Catholic education after the Revolution and Reign of Terror. For men's education there were loyal priests still (for one: the brother in question, Louis Barat, who had been arrested shortly after the execution of the king and held prisoner for two years for refusing to sign the civil constitution of the clergy), but for women there was hardly a qualified nun left to turn things around. But Madeleine (a pretty girl who was planning on marrying) was brought to Paris (when the heat had died down), further taught in Scripture, theology and patristics and introduced to Father Varin who was dedicated to bringing back the Jesuits, who'd been suppressed by Clement XIV 30 years previously. He saw in Madeleine just the girl he needed and she became the foundress of his actual brainchild: the Society of the Sacred Heart. Of those days Madeleine was later to say: "I knew nothing: I foresaw nothing: I accepted all that was given me."

What began as a little day-school in the previously closed Catholic school in Amiens grew into a convent and boarding school there, then also in Grenoble and the derelict Visitation convent, then at Poitiers in an ancient Cistercian monastery, and ultimately to 105 houses in 12 countries on two continents at the time of her death. She wrote to all and visited most (she wasn't actually able to visit her deputy St. Rose Philippine Duchesne who took the Sacred Heart order, with its convents and schools for girls, to the United States), and said wistfully, "I am always on the road." She didn't care for travel. But she worked till nearly the end when she was struck with paralysis and died four days later on this date in 1865, which happened to be Ascension Thursday. One of her biographies is entitled "Heaven on Thursday."

Today May 24

Today is the feast of St. Vincent of Lérins (died c. 445). His fame rests almost entirely upon one book ( his Commonitorium) and interestingly, upon one sentence in that one book: that the way to test a dogma as true or not is that it was "quod ubique, quod semper, quod ab omnibus creditum est" -- which means "held as true everywhere, always, and by all." He did not look upon Scripture as the sole rule of faith because even in those days the heretics and unorthodox quoted Scripture to their advantage. St. Vincent, ex soldier, now monk and priest on the island of Lérins off the coast of Cannes (must be nice), wrote down his Commonitorium mostly as an aid to his own poor memory to help him distinguish truth from heresy. He did further explain that the development of doctrine must be recognizable from even the earliest times, as an oak from an acorn (as opposed to something entirely different) or a man from a child. The triple test of "universality, antiquity and consent" implies the authority of all or nearly all bishops and doctors, but also, notably: "If the error is one which had its counterpart in primitive times, then the final court of appeal would be the faith of the majority." - Butler's Lives. But that does not mean he denied the authority -- the ultimate, behind-it-all authority -- of the Holy See.

A lot of ink has been spilled over his doctrine, and many have seen therein a refutation of predestination as Augustine saw it. Maybe so, maybe not. His test stands as a viable one today. And his orthodoxy is not in question, wherever he weighed in on the eternal free will versus grace controversy. Not controversy, then; free will versus grace continuum. Perhaps it's a mystery. Anyway, St. Vincent is no Pelagian and he even used many exact words from the Athanasian Creed. His clear mind is helpful to us still today.

Today May 23

Today is the feast of St. John Baptist Rossi (1698-1764). This man was the eldest of 4 children of respectable middle-class Catholic parents. He distinguished himself in college -- the Roman College, one of the best in his particular country -- and he came to the notice of noblemen and prelates. He'd always been pious, and with his aptitude and their support, it was natural that he enter the priesthood. He undertook hospice work, something that had interested him since his student days, even opening new hospices on borrowed money, since he was a poor man. Although very intelligent and classically educated, he unhesitantly went among the cattle-drivers and teamsters who came every day to the Forum (and some to the hospice), befriended them, talked to them and eventually, once winning their trust, prepared them for and administered to them the sacraments. He then did the same among the many impoverished women and girls. He had many female platonic friends. It was for them that he opened a separate house behind his hospice of St. Galla in the city and named it for St. Aloysius Gonzaga, one of his special patrons.

He was a parish priest, and good one, but he wasn't so sure of himself in the area of confession -- to the point where he hadn't offered to do it. (And in those days there were so many priests assigned to a parish, not every one of them had to hear confessions.) That is, until a friend who visited him in the hospital where he was recovering from an illness convinced him to do it. Wise man, he was not too proud not to heed the advice of friends, and so it was that he became the most famous confessor in Castellana, Italy, then Cosmedin, then Rome. Folks so flocked to him when he was in the confessional that 2 successive popes excused him form his other duties so he could hear them all. He it was who said: "I used often to wonder what was the shortest road to heaven. It lies in guiding others thither through the confessional . . . What a power for good that can be!"

I think it's neat that when he got a substantial salary increase (in the form of a canonry), he gave it all up for a new organ -- and organist -- for his church! Which of our modern-day priests would do that? Well, John Baptist Rossi was a man of simple tastes: he lived in a tiny garret, and he wore the simplest, plainest clothes -- though he was always neat and clean. He was appointed to prison work, which he undertook joyfully, and he never refused a request to preach missions and in religious houses. This poor, simple, but great man had a huge funeral (though paid for by others), including a whole host of bishops, priests, nuns and devoted laymen. St. John Baptist Rossi, pray for us.

Today May 22

Today is the feast of dear and misunderstood St. Rita of Cascia. She is the patron, but not necessarily the model, of all those in bad marriages. Yes, pray to her for protection if you have an abusive husband (as did she) but that doesn't mean you should stay with him! After all, the Church provides for this situation:

Yet there are some situations in which living together becomes practically impossible for a variety of reasons. In such cases the Church permits the physical separation of the couple and their living apart. The spouses do not cease to be husband and wife before God and so are not free to contract a new union. In this difficult situation, the best solution would be, if possible, reconciliation. The Christian community is called to help these persons live out their situation in a Christian manner and in fidelity to their marriage bond which remains indissoluble. (CCC 1649)

It may be that there is cause to examine the situation as the marriage may never have existed (declaration of nullity). A saint's help in this difficult time of trial is always welcome. However, we must realize every situation is unique and not necessarily model ourselves on a saint's life without proper thought and direction. For example, this great saint also prayed that her sons die rather than fulfill their promise to enter into a bloody vendetta to avenge the murder of their father. Like Dominic Savio's motto: "Death, but not sin," we can admire our saint's fortitude without actually heedlessly praying for a (potential) sinner's death. As it happened, both her boys were struck ill before they could carry out their sinful plan and were reconciled to both their mother and God. So all's well there. (Her brutal husband also was reconciled to her and to God before he was murdered.) She was then free to enter an Augustinian convent (which had been her wish all along).

She was devoted to the Passion of Christ and was given the grace of a modified sort of stigmata -- a wound in her forehead like one from the crown of thorns. It was a particularly nasty wound which suppurated and smelled bad, so she lived as a sort of recluse in the convent itself until the end of her days, with one brief exception. The wound healed for a time so she could go with the other sisters on a pilgrimage to Rome. She died of a cancer-like disease on this day in 1457, 550 years ago, with roses miraculously blooming outside, which on her direction a sister cut and brought to her bedside (her symbol is roses). St. Rita, pray for us.

Today May 21

Today (and also, in some calendars, on May 25) we celebrate the feast of St. Christopher Magallanes and 21 companions. These saints are so new there's nothing about them in any of my usual sources; the only source is the Internet and there's precious little on there. But we do know that they all suffered martyrdom (and some, torture before martyrdom) at the hands of the anti-clerical regions in Mexico in the late 1920's and 30's. They weren't all priests (although Christopher Magallanes and his relative Mateo Correa Magallanes -- who gave St. Miguel Pro his First Holy Communion -- were), the three laymen in the group were all members of Catholic Action. And all 25 of the martyrs were members of the resistance movement Cristeros. Christopher started a clandestine seminary and secretly spread the Gospel and administered the sacraments. His last words were overheard shouted from his jail cell: "I am innocent and I die innocent. I forgive with all my heart those responsible for my death, and I ask God that the shedding of my blood serve the peace of our divided Mexico." He was shot to death in 1927. Now our brothers to the south have shaken off the yoke of their persecution; it is no longer a crime to receive baptism or say Mass, and in fact they have witnessed a great upswelling of the faith and orthodoxy.

Homily: Seventh Sunday of Easter: 2007

Brothers and sisters, today we hear Our Lord say: "I pray . . . that they all be one" (John 17:20) -- and He makes it clear He's not just talking about the Eleven, but all Christians: "those who will believe in me through their word." (Ibid.) And it's hard not to draw the concept of ecumenism from His words "that all may be one." The Protestants accuse us of wanting "all to be one" in the Catholic Church . . . and what is so surprising or unjust in that? Like a parent who wishes to see his estranged son or daughter, does he not want him or her to come home and be with the family? To put aside his or her differences and to embrace the family name and values? To gather around the family table and break bread together? Of course! But you can understand the reluctance of the child who broke away. He doesn't want to give up his new cherished beliefs, his comfort zone, his convenience. It seems too dear and too hard-won for him. Picture all the Baptists, Church-of-Christs, Presbyterians, Episcopalians, Lutherans, etc. that you know and imagine what it would take for them to break down the barriers (that separate us) and walk into this Church, accepting and believing all she teaches. Pretty hard, eh? Well-nigh impossible. But what is impossible for man is possible for God. Let us always remember that -- and always be ready to invite and welcome them when they do come, maybe sweeten the deal by taking them out to eat afterwards. Maybe to discuss the Mass with them and to answer their questions, respond graciously to their comments, and always to "speak the truth in love."

Let us now profess our faith . . .

Today May 20

Today, were it not the 7th Sunday of Easter, would be the feast of San Bernardino and because I've been there, it's hard to get the image of the town and the Valley out of my head today. Let's call him "St. Bernardine of Siena," the Anglicized form of his name instead. St. Bernardine was in many ways Italian to the core: passionate, expressive, lively: I'll bet he even talked with his hands. A Franciscan priest, he would preach for hours; he toured Lombardy, Rome, Tuscany and the Marches of Ancona and in 1425 preached every day for 7 weeks. Although he is the patron saint of advertisers (for promoting the sign "IHS"), I think he should be the patron saint of preachers! He got folks so riled up after a homily, they'd throw their playing cards and jewelry on what were tellingly called "bonfires of the vanities" (make a good title for a book, don't you think?). He was against gambling, usury and superstition. I think it would be cool if present-day preachers gave us practical advice and criticism like that, instead of just a palatable rehashing of the Gospel like we get Sunday after Sunday.

He was a strict guy -- he even beat up a woman who accosted him -- but he still was hauled before the Inquisition -- well, before the pope, anyway -- for superstition himself. The real story is that a Dominican -- supposedly a man of God himself, Manfred of Vercelli, was jealous of him and accused him of violating the First Commandment by kissing the picture of the Holy Name (IHS, for the first three letters of Jesus' name in Greek: Jesous) and offering it up for others to venerate. Bernardine was totally exonerated, of course. In fact, it caught on so well that a playing-card manufacturer who complained to St. Bernardine that he'd lost his livelihood was told by him to make IHS signs instead, which the guy did, and made even more money than he had before! I think Bernardine could be the patron of Catholic gift stores as well!

Today May 19

Today is the feast of St. Dunstan (910-988). I love Dunstan because I am a great fan of Hilaire Belloc, who was loyal to this Sussex saint. Well, since he became the archbishop of Canterbury, he was saint of all (Anglo-Saxon) England. He was a political guy, but also the subject of legend. He had a calm argument with the devil, who came closer and closer to the anvil where the saint was doing some smithy work. Finally, Dunstan turned quickly and caught the Devil by the nose with the red-hot pincers he was holding! But folks remember that and forget he helped to reform England, enforcing clerical celibacy (and lay chastity) -- removing offending priests and replacing them with monks. He didn't mind whom he offended and he won for himself the enmity of the reactionary West Saxon nobles. He told off King Edwy, who left his own coronation reception to keep company with a girl named Elgiva -- and he suffered for his courage. His goods were confiscated and he was exiled, but he came back as right-hand man for the King's brother Edgar who won the throne in a revolt. Dunstan (along with Ethelwold and Oswald) re-established all the monasteries which had been destroyed in the Danish raids. He continued to advise the short-lived next king, Edward the Martyr. Dunstan was pretty broken up by his death and retired from public life to his see at Canterbury. He loved to sing, play the harp, illuminate books and make metal objects such as bells, chalices and patens. We need more men like Dunstan.

Today May 18

Today is the feast of Pope St. John I. He really led with his life the prophecy to his forerunner Peter . . . "but I tell you you will stretch out your hands and another will tie you fast and carry you off where you would not go." (His feast previously was celebrated on May 27, but he actually died -- in prison, in Ravenna -- on this date in 526 and now is celebrated on May 18.) He is important historically -- and, I think ironically -- because he was sent by an Arian emperor (he, the Catholic and orthodox pope) as head of a commission to a Catholic emperor to convince him to stop persecuting the Arians! Now, this Arian of the Western Roman Empire, Theodoric, was friendly to and tolerant of the Catholics, it should be noted, and this Catholic emperor of the Eastern Empire, Justin I, was extremely severe towards the Arians. Still, John did not want to go, but go he did and, and . . . met with stunning success, only not in the way Theodoric expected. John I was feted by the people and himself brought about a closer relationship of the Latin and Greek churches than had obtained in a long time. Theodoric was jealous and when John I returned to Rome, he had him summarily dumped in prison, where he shortly died of ill treatment. This odious Theodoric had just killed the philosopher Boethius. Sigh. But there is a higher justice.

Today Ascension Thursday

Today is the feast of the Ascension of Jesus Christ, whether we celebrate it today or not. And today we think about our Lord's entrance into heaven. And what is heaven? Let's think with Monsignor Ronald Knox:
"Try as we will, the idea of heaven eludes us. Are we to think of it as a place, from which every element of unhappiness is excluded? But we know how much our love of places is conditioned by moods and sentiments, by the desire for change, by associations and by history! Or are we to think of it as a state? But then, how are we to think of a state except in terms of selfish enjoyment? Or should we look forward to being reunited with those we have loved? But how frail they are, these earthly bonds; how time impairs them! No, when we have tried everything, we shall find no better window on eternity than St. Paul's formula, 'to depart and be with Christ.' If he has left us, and gone to heaven, it is so that we may no longer be disconcerted by the barrier of cloud that stands between us and it. We are not concerned to 'go' here or there, to be in this or that state of existence. We want to find him"
That's it; that's it! "To depart and be with Christ." That's the only thing that makes sense. And keeping in mind the poetic words of yesterday's great saint, we may fear that the way be dark, that we will go it alone, that it be an unknown region, that there be the presence of the King and that there be the judgment of the Judge. We may reasonably fear these things. But we have a great high priest who is not incapable of feeling for us in our humiliations; he has been through every trial, fashioned as we are, only sinless. (Heb. 4:15, Knox version). So we need not fear death, remembering His humanness in His Ascension; and our own trials may seem less bitter to us because He once shared them and we know that He remembers.

Today May 16

Today is the feast of another brave Irish saint: St. Brendan. Back in '92 there was a book by Richard Shenkman entitled "I Love Paul Revere, Whether He Rode Or Not." Well, today I could say: I love St. Brendan, whether he sailed or not. Undoubtedly he did sail, but whether he actually discovered America (which is unlikely), or even the Canary Islands, and whether he was gone for 7 years, and whether he took 60 monks with him or not . . . well, it doesn't matter: he's still a saint. Of course, being of Irish extraction, I WANT to believe an Irishman discovered America (or at least Greenland) in a coracle (kind of a skin boat) back in the 6th century! There is a good chance Brendan went to one of the Argylls, anyway; but that is in the wrong direction. Perhaps he did go west, as is chronicled in the Navigatio Brendani.

In any case, he founded a monastery in Clonfert in 559 (among other places in Ireland); set down a rule (now lost), supposedly dictated by an angel; and was a complete vegetarian (along with all of his monks -- 3000 by the time he died). He fasted every day until 3 pm. (Wow.) He was educated by St. Ita, baptized and later ordained by Bishop Erc, and had a sister (also a nun) named Brig. At the end of his long life, he told his sister he was dying and she asked him: "What do you fear?" He replied: "I fear if I go alone, if the journey be dark, the unknown region, the presence of the King, and the sentence of the Judge." Let's hope it all went well for him. He is buried at Clonfert and his feast is celebrated throughout Ireland.

Today May 15

Today is the feast of dear St. Dymphna. Her dad was an Irish chieftain who kind of went off his rocker when his wife died. No woman was as fair as his dead wife . . . except her daughter. He burned with an unnatural lust for her, but she escaped with her priest friend Gerebernus across the Channel to what is now Gheel in Belgium. The chieftain and his warriors followed the money, so to speak. He followed reports of two folks using foreign coins like his own til they came to the farmhouse where they were in hiding. First the chief tried to convince and cajole his daughter into incest; then, when that failed, ordered them both killed. The warriors ran Gerebernus through with a sword but they wouldn't kill the princess. The chief had to do it himself. The bodies, left on the ground, were later buried in the area. The town that grew up around there, Gheel, is now home to sanatoriums and halfway houses for the mentally disturbed and the retarded who live among the people well cared-for and unmolested. She is a patroness for the mentally ill. And I think should also be for their relatives and those who love and care for them.

Today May 14

Today we can celebrate many saints, but we're going to go with Edel Quinn, servant of God (1907-1944), emissary of the Legion of Mary to East Africa. Cardinal Suenens of Belgium wrote a biography of her, and her cause is moving forward. I think I'd like this plucky and refined Irishwoman. Unselfish and full of life, she loved music, dancing and tennis. She moved around a lot due to her father's job and took it in stride. She'd listen to anyone, talk to anyone, make a joke often, but she had a serious side to her. She was a daily communicant and burned with the love of God. She wanted to be a nun but family circumstances and poor health prevented it. She had to go to work to put her four siblings through school. She had a few male platonic friends. One of them wrote after her death: "More than 20 years have passed away. In all that time the memory of Edel Quinn has not left me. I know that she prayed much for me and her petitions were heard. I owe her innumerable graces for myself and my family."

She found out about the Legion of Mary while she was working as a secretary in Dublin. She joined at 19 and became president of her praesidium (that's the name of each of their local groups) at 22. Some people objected because she was so young (and looked even younger), and the work (they do visitations, mostly) was rough: in those days it consisted mostly of helping street people, especially prostitutes. She was thought unfit for the job. The bishop waved away the protests, wisely, as it turned out. The two legion groups he was involved with expanded rapidly and made great progress.

She then volunteered for work with the Legion in Britain. At first her pastor didn't want to let her, but then a desperate plea came for Legion workers in Africa and she was offered the job. She immediately accepted, despite the hardship involved. She even knew she wasn't coming home -- "I shall spend 9 years in Africa and die there." (It was a prophetic statement.) She said goodbye to the Old Sod and landed in Mombasa, Kenya in '36. She traveled over an area extending three-fourths of a million square miles, starting the Legion of Mary wherever she went. People thought that Africans would never respond to the strict regimentation of the apostolate -- but they were wrong. People told her whites, Indians and Africans would never come together for a religious purpose -- but they were wrong. "Amor vincit omnia" ("Love conquers all") was her motto, and it was true.

She traveled in a rattletrap Ford driven by a Moslem man over remote reaches of Kenya, Uganda, Nyasaland and Tanganyika. She suffered an attack of malaria in '38 that brought her very low but she kept going. She saw parts of Africa no white woman had ever seen before. "We can never love too much;" she said, "let us give utterly and not count the cost." She lost a lot of weight and was down to 75 lbs. at one point. But she kept going. She sailed to Mauritius to found the Legion there. She made one last foray into Nyasaland and then sort of retired to a little room in a convent run by the Sisters of the Precious Blood in Nairobi, where she died of a heart attack in '44, with the name of Jesus on her lips.

"If I cannot work, then I can suffer." - Edel Quinn.

Homily: Sixth Sunday of Easter: 2007

Brothers and sisters, today we hear our Lord say two very interesting things which I'd like to focus on: "Whoever loves me will keep my word" and "We will come to him and make our dwelling with him." Taking the second part first, we may restate this as: "You are temples of the Holy Spirit." (Although Jesus is speaking of Himself and the Father when He uses the pronoun "we", it is clear He is sending the Holy Spirit -- which the Father [in Jesus' name] will cause to dwell in them, viz., those who love Him.) Now, I don't know about you, but that little piece of the catechism -- and the Scriptures -- was rather ruined for me by the satiric story "A Temple of the Holy Ghost" by Flannery O'Connor in her brilliantly titled "A Good Man Is Hard to Find." So I went back and re-read it yesterday and while it does make fun of the empty-headed Catholic schoolgirls who call themselves "Temple 1" and "Temple 2", their even more ignorant Church of God escorts and the voyeuristic crowd at the freak show at the traveling fair, it doesn't actually attack the idea that we ARE temples of the Holy Spirit. Despite our hypocrisy and our wickedness, the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, does come to us. He comes to teach us, to guide us, even to commune with us in a special way when we consume the Eucharist. But shouldn't a temple be clean? Shouldn't it be presentable? Shouldn't it be uncluttered? Now, you all clean and dress your bodies before you come here, but what about your souls? And what is the dirt in and the damage of the soul? Well, in the novel it was idleness, ignorance and thinly-disguised malice. These things must be swept out before we can receive the Holy Spirit. How to do that? Well, listen to the Word. hear it. Do it. Wash clean your evil thoughts, your cutthroat ambition, and your greed. Grab the broom of prayer, penance and almsgiving. For God's sake, go to confession. Sorry if I sound like a broken record, but the truth must be told. The stakes are very high: your immortal soul.

And the other thing was: "Whoever loves me will keep my word." I like this particular construction as given to us in the NAB: "keep my word." I think it's interesting because in English to keep one's word means to be faithful and to not break a promise. God does that -- and so should we. How hard is that! Especially, perhaps, that "til death do us part" one -- or even "til death" for priests. The grass always seems greener on the other side of the fence. We tell ourselves we have been grievously wounded -- outraged, in fact -- and thus our promises need have no more hold over us. We excuse ourselves from keeping our word. But perhaps we should -- without in the least belittling the crimes and annoyances our spouses have committed against us, without discounting the heavy burdens of celibacy and obedience for priest and religious, without excusing the bitter things we have suffered at the hands of others. Granted. But God will judge; God will avenge -- have no fear. But if you promised something -- at least try to be faithful to it. It's one little thing you can hold on to; one little corner of the world which is yours. And once you break it, it's very hard to get it back.

Let us now profess our faith.

Today May 13

Oh, oh, oh, how I love the woman of today's feast day: Dame Julian of Norwich. I bought her book at a library sale once and saw it was prefaced by a Protestant and published by a Protestant house. How nice that they've discovered her too. What's not to love? And is not love the operative word in this long-lived anchoress' life? She saw many visions (mostly of the Lord's passion, but also of the world and all that is in it). This is from her manuscript, "Revelations of Divine Love":

Wouldst thou learn thy Lord's meaning?
Learn it well: love was His meaning.
Who shewed it thee? Love.
What shewed He thee? Love.
Wherefore shewed it He? For love.
Hold thee therein and thou shalt learn and know more in the same.

And her most famous words of consolation:

The Lord said, "I can make all things well: I will make all things well: I shall make all things well: and thou shalt see thyself that all manner of things shall be well.

Julian lived well into her 70's. Although a recluse, she had two maidens to assist her in her declining years, and she greeted and expounded her message of love to those many who came to her window. She died in 1423.

Today May 12

Today there are numerous saints but we are going to go with St. Dominic of the Causeway. He built part of the road and all of one of the bridges used by pilgrims going to Compostela. He longed to be a priest but was never accepted, due to his appearance and his ignorance. But he was a holy man and in some mystical way, he WAS a priest. He brought the people to God. Of course, it wasn't in the way he expected. But still, "Then was unsealed again something of that ancient secret which had so strangely described the priest as the builder of bridges." - G. K. Chesterton. And is not one of the titles of our Holy Father the Pope "Pontifex Maximus" -- chief builder of bridges?

Dominic despaired of getting accepted either as a priest or a monk, so he settled himself as a solitary out in the wilderness of Bureba, in northwestern Spain. He built himself a little cabin and a chapel and dug out a garden. Sensing a need, he cleared a path through the treacherous forest, banked the road, and constructed a bridge. He even built a hospice for the weary travelers. And when he died in 1109, they laid him in a grave he had made himself. I think St. Dominic de la Calzada should be a patron of civil engineers!

Today May 11

Today's saints have been absorbed into the "Forty Martyrs of England and Wales" celebrated on October 26. But their story is so good it's nice to celebrate it today. In many ways it was the same old temptation: cooperate with the devil in order to get along. In other ways it must have seemed confusingly new. Here they were, these 18 men, 18 among 37, living a quiet -- even silent -- life outside the world, bothering no one, just supporting themselves in their life of prayer. What could be more harmless? Less threatening? But evil, even as it is lived in our incarnate selves, is ever the enemy of the good, and King Henry VIII and his minions wanted the good Carthusians on their side. So they made them sign the Act of Succession (after 8 months of non-molestation). One of them, the prior John Houghton, innocently said he really didn't see why Henry's long-standing and properly solemnized marriage with Catherine could suddenly become invalid. On the basis of this statement, he and his aide Humphrey Middlemore were thrown into the Tower. Two weeks later they were released. The monks really had no beef concerning whoever succeeded Henry to the throne and so they signed it. But the prior saw in a dream that he would be imprisoned again within a year's time and so he was.

The momentous occasion for that was the much more egregious Act of Supremacy, stating that Henry was the supreme head of the Church in England. Even then the monks didn't summarily reject it. Much less did the prior force rejection down their throats. Instead, he called for three days of prayer and on the third day a gentle breeze was miraculously experienced by all, and they peacefully and unanimously rejected the Act of Supremacy. John, Robert Lawrence, Augustine Webster, the Brigittine monk Richard Reynolds (who looked like an angel, we're told) and the secular priest John Haile were summarily tried and sentenced to death (reluctantly by the jury, spurred on by Cromwell). The trial was held April 29th; they were hung and disemboweled on May 4th, and their hearts ripped out while they were still alive.

Their successors at the Carthusian monastery were not spared either. Humphrey Middlemore, William Exmew and Sebastian Newdigate were all arrested and chained neck and feet to posts such that they could neither sit nor lie down -- for two whole weeks! Newdigate, too, was tormented further by having to endure the King himself, in disguise, coming to his prison (Marshalsea) and trying to convince him to sign. Why did the King need his approval? Why this insecurity? Perhaps in his heart of hearts Henry knew he had no case and needed the support of good and holy men to justify himself. Well, in any case, he didn't get it. All three men were executed June 19. That brings the total to 8.

Meanwhile, back at the monastery, all was not well. The monks, being now leaderless, were subjected to the humiliating priorship of a monk from Sheen, who had signed the Act of Supremacy. By May 18, 1537, they were so broken in spirit, 19 monks signed it. But 10 held out, and these were made a horrible example of. They were imprisoned and starved to death in a bunker in Marshalsea. One, William Horn, survived and was removed to the Tower for three years, then executed there in 1540. He is the last in this roll of honor.

Today May 10

Today is the feast of Blessed John of Ávila, died 1569. He was a friend of St. Ignatius of Loyola and always wanted to join the Society of Jesus but never did. His rejection was attributed to the bad attitude of the provincial, Father Bustamante. But with real knowledge (he was a graduate of the University of Alcalà, one the best in his country, a philosophy and theology major), wisdom (which he attributed entirely to his love of God), and zeal (he preached all over), he preached as a priest in Spain, though his real desire was to be a missionary in Mexico. His bishop told him his own Spain would be his mission, and John was obedient. He became the spiritual adviser of St. Teresa of Ávila, and a friend of St. John of God, St. Francis Borgia and Venerable Louis of Grenada, his biographer. (I suppose it's a really good idea to befriend your biographer, eh?) He was inspirational in his homilies, often causing even hardcases to break down and go to confession, turning their lives around. He wasn't afraid of speaking the truth to power, as they say, and was even arrested by the Spanish Inquisition, which couldn't have been any fun. The charge was one of "rigorism and teaching the exclusion of the rich from the Kingdom of Heaven." He was exonerated of heresy but had won for himself some bitter enemies. The people, however, loved him and he preached missions to them, corresponded regularly to all who wrote him, and died peacefully shortly after his 59th year. He is buried in the Jesuit church in Montilla and is featured in the Jesuit calendar almost as if he were one of their own.

Today May 9

Today is the feast of St. Pachomius, Desert Father. We know a bit about him because he wrote the so-called Pachomian Koinonia (or, in St. Jerome's translation, Pachomiana latina). He was born of pagan parents in 292 in Egypt, was conscripted into the emperor's army, was dragged down the Nile in a service boat, and the only kindness shown him was by Christians. This disinterested kindness so impressed him, as soon as he was discharged he presented himself as a catechumen. After baptism he attached himself to a monk Palaemon, learned the way of the desert -- hard, cold and hungry as it was -- until he could do it himself and Palaemon went back to being a hermit. Pachomius went it alone for awhile until he had an angelic vision of founding a monastery, which he did in the Thebaid (desert) where he lived. He lived to see 3000 monks join him in the strict order. He grouped them by trade, had a list of 24 personality types (by letter of the Greek alphabet), enjoined silence on them most of the time and during communal meals, had each a cell and had them come together for worship every Saturday and Sunday. He died in 348 in the plague which hit the Thebaid hard. Here are some of his sayings.

As for you, my son, shun the satisfactions of this age, so as to be happy in the age to come.

Vanity is the devil's own weapon. This was how Eve was fooled; he told her, "Eat the fruit of the tree; your eyes will open and you will be like gods." (Gen 3:5) She listened, thinking it was the truth. She ran after the glory of divinity and her very humanity was taken away.

Become guileless and be like the guileless sheep whose wool is sheared off without their saying a word. Do not go from one place to another saying, "I will find God here or there." God has said, "I fill the earth, I fill the heavens."

And many, many others.

Today May 8

Today, finally, is the feast day of the wonderful Sister Miriam Teresa, surname Demjanovich. Her parents were immigrants from Slovakia and she was born in the great state of New Jersey. She was very bright and from a young age had two favorite pastimes: baseball and reading. She also was a joyful member of the glee club. She started school at age 4, high school at 12 and graduated at 15. She took 2 years off to nurse her sick mother, then went to the College of St. Elizabeth and was graduated in 1923 with a bachelor's degree in literature summa cum laude. She taught for a year in Jersey City, then made a novena to ask God what she should do with her life and where she should go. She became convinced she should be a Sister of Charity (even though she'd entertained thoughts of Carmel before this). She entered in 1925, followed the rule to the letter in the novitiate, was allowed to take her final vows in 1926 (after her older brother intervened) and died in 1927 after a minor bout with tonsillitis and appendicitis. She hardly made a ripple in the community . . . until it was discovered (after her death) that the fabulous conferences that had been given by Father Benedict were all the writings of the dear little Miriam Teresa, she of the humble, prompt, legalistic obedience; she the only one who had teaching experience and had been asked to teach -- which she did happily though she hated it; she who suffered (invisibly) the crown of thorns; she who her confessor swore "never offended God by a deliberate venial sin." Her great insight into the spiritual life was simply this: Union with God is possible for anyone -- anyone -- who chooses to always say "yes" to God. "If all would only make use of the ordinary duties and trials of their state in the way God intended, they would all become saints." Amen, sister.

Today May 7

Today is the feast of St. Stanislaus of Cracow. Stanislaus Szczepanowski was well-educated in Poland and France, was ordained a priest in Cracow and inspired the many penitents in his parish. He became bishop by acclaim after Bishop Lampert died. He was an inspired preacher, strict in discipline and indefatigable in visitation. His house looked like Dorothy Day's in "Entertaining Angels," crowded with the poor from door to door.

Stanislaus got into trouble by speaking truth to power, especially in the case of King Boleslaus II's rampant cruelty and adultery. When he kidnapped one of his noble's wives as a concubine, Stanislaus stood up and denounced him, threatening him with excommunication. This action -- denying the king Communion -- is a simple, if brave, solution to this problem of disobedience. One could rightly say Boleslaus excommunicated himself as a consequence of his own actions and Stanislaus was only pointing out this fact. Thus, before receiving Communion again, the king must absent himself, ponder his action and before presenting himself again, repent, go to confession, renounce the sin and make restitution if possible. But he did not. Instead, he went on the offensive and accused Stanislaus of not paying for land he had purchased for the church from a man named Peter, now deceased. The dead man's nephews were persuaded to sue Stanislaus in court. Supposedly he worked an actual miracle in which Peter himself appeared from the dead, still partially wrapped in his shroud and averring that the bishop had paid him fair and square. He then returned to the grave.

But even this did not "catch the conscience of the king," and he ordered his guards to kill him. The men came back, saying they could not do so because he was surrounded by the so-called "shekinah," or heavenly light. (Some people have experienced this down through the ages, beginning with Moses). So, Boleslaus himself mounted the steps of the cathedral, entered and slew Stanislaus in front of the very altar of sacrifice. The guards followed, hacked up the body and scattered it, but it was preserved from beasts of prey somehow and three days later the faithful gathered it up and buried it by the door of the cathedral.

While it is not true (as is sometimes said) that the people immediately rose in revolt against Boleslaus and overthrew him, it did hasten his downfall. Thus ever to tyrants.

Homily: Fifth Sunday of Easter: 2007

Brothers and sisters, I want to focus today on something in the Second Reading: "I saw the holy city, a new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband."(Rev. 21:2) I'd like to think about the "new Jerusalem" as a bride, and I'd like to think about her as Church. We do sometimes call the (Catholic) Church "the Bride of Christ," and I'm thinking of that old song "The Church's One Foundation":
"She is his holy bride/ With his own blood he bought her/ And for her life he died."
And like in a true marriage, they became "one flesh," so much so that when St. Paul was persecuting the Church, Jesus could say: "Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting ME?" (Acts 9:4 emphasis added).

And we are products of this new life, so that we can even call her "Mother Church" -- our true mother by adoption and by baptism. Okay, so what practical thing can we take from this? Well, who among us is so clinical a person that they can calmly discuss their mother's faults with others without a word of passion in her defense? Or their wife, for that matter? And there we are only talking about ordinary human beings who really ARE flawed and sinful. But we would roundly defend these women against any and all attackers. Good. We are loyal sons and husbands. But how much more must we defend our beloved Mother Church from criticism and hatred, she who is in fact a spotless bride? Yes, yes, we all know that there are sinful people who belong to the Church. As Cardinal Journet wisely said: "The Church is free from sin but not from sinners." We can acknowledge this even as we advocate and defend her spotless origination in the mind of Christ -- bought with his own blood -- engendered in perfection and brought to maturity through these years, step by step since the days of the apostles. As I told an Orthodox friend of mine once who accused the Catholic Church of rank politicking, "Ah, but Christ promised that the Holy Spirit would never leave her and so he never has."

And the other thing I'd like to point out -- and it follows necessarily that all of us are sons and daughters of the Church and Christ -- a family properly so-called and not just a community. A community after all can be just a group of like-minded individuals who join together for a worthy cause: a neighborhood watch group, for instance; or the Lions' Club; or a trade union. All very laudable -- but not a family. A family are all those folks who are even distantly related to us -- whether we like them or not, whether we agree with them or not, whether we are even in the same socio-economic class as they or not. And we must accept them, we must love them and we must, you know, forgive them. That's what families do. Perhaps that's why Jesus said: "This is how all will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."

. . . Let us pray.

Today May 6

Today, besides being the 5th Sunday of Easter, is the feast of St. Dominic Savio. I think I would have liked to have him for a son -- but not for a friend. Reading his life I find he really comes across as a goody two-shoes. He was so sugary sweet and so very, very critical of anyone who even occasionally -- even, God forbid, ONCE -- said a swear word or forgot to say grace or went skinnydipping. Come to think of it, St. Dominic Savio wouldn't want ME for a friend either! Okay, okay, at 5 years old sans mom and dad (though he was not an orphan), we are to believe he knelt on the church stairs in the snow and rain, waiting for the priest or assistant to unlock the doors. Even by 15, when he died, he was trying to commit all kinds of violent mortifications on himself (wow!) and St. John Bosco had to restrain him (Dominic Savio was in his Oratory in Turin): "The penance God wants is obedience. . . . Religion must be around us like the air we breathe; boys must not be wearied by too many devotions and observances." All of which goes to show why I'd be much better friends with St. John Bosco than with TODAY'S saint! Okay, okay, I need to focus on what I LIKE about today's saint. I said before, and I meant it, that I would like Dominic Savio as a son . . . he never gave his folks any trouble, he mystically knew when they were unwell, he loved them and he died in their arms (his dad's, anyway -- his mom couldn't take it and left the room). He loved to read -- I like that about him. He had great organizational skills (he started the Company of the Immaculate Conception -- to do menial tasks around the Oratory and to visit the boys most in need of help), he loved the Virgin Mary with a real affective love, and his motto was a good one worthy of a martyr: "Death, but not sin." Amen, brother. He wouldn't get defensive and he even took the punishment for others in an effort to save them. He died of a mysterious illness (though he'd had frequent ecstatic "spells" in which he'd seize, and he had developed a persistent cough -- though not tuberculosis), and his last words were: "Oh, what a beautiful thing I see." So, all in all, a good saint. Forgive me, St. Dominic, lest I have offended you, my child. Happy feast day.

Today May 5

Happy Cinco de Mayo. It is the feast day of Pius de Cinco, or at least it used to be. St. Pius V was a poor shepherd but a wealthy neighbor paid for his schooling, bless him. And thus he set in motion a great event: the first reforming pope in a long time! He became a Dominican, and as such, Anthony Ghisleri took the name Michael, taught theology and philosophy, became an Inquisitor, became bishop of Sutri and Nepi (against his wishes) by Paul IV, the former Cardinal Caraffa. Caraffa had been impressed with Michael when he was still with the Inquisition. He'd adequately defending the burning of heretical books in Milan. Michael became cardinal and as the pope's confidant often had to calm and cajole him. The next pope, Pius IV (a Medici), was so worldly Michael retired to his see. But when Pius IV died, Michael was elected pope, largely due to the influence of St. Charles Borromeo.

Pius V did not disappoint. He instituted the reforms of the recent Council of Trent, he lived simply; he stamped out nepotism and simony; he had the Vulgate, breviary and missal revised; he imposed penalties on bullfights; and he TRIED to stamp out prostitution in Rome, but it so would have ruined the economy he was forced to give up the fight! He greatly reduced the terrible practice of the auto-da-fé (the public burning of heretics). His political actions were less successful, with one shining exception. He was too harsh on the Huguenots, he didn't handle the unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots well, and his excommunication of Queen Elizabeth wasn't executed with much foresight. But he never really let politics get in his way . . . he was trying to save souls. He was remarkably successful in stopping the Turkish navy at Lepanto following an alliance of Spain and Venice against them. He died a couple months after receiving news (mystically) of the great Christian victory.

Today May 4

Today is the feast of mighty St. Florian and if you know any firemen, salute them today, since Florian is their patron. When I worked in the Catholic bookstore, we sure sold a lot of Florian medals to firefighters. The story is this: he was a Roman officer in Austria who suffered martyrdom in the days of Diocletian. He was twice scourged, half-flayed alive and thrown into the River Enns. A Christian woman named Valeria recovered his body, which was enshrined at the Augustinian abbey at Linz, with parts of it divvied up between King Casimir of Poland and the Archbishop of Cracow. He is invoked against damage from fire or water.

The fire connection seems to come from the threat of his being burned alive by Aquilinus, governor of the province. Florian bravely replied: "If you burn me I will climb to heaven in flames." He is paired with lovely St. Barbara, who is also traditionally invoked for protection against fire.

Today May 3

Today is the double feast of Saints Philip and James. Now, you wouldn't think this feast day would be too controversial, but it kind of is. For today's James is James the Less (as in "St. James the Less Anglican Church" -- it's just not quite as C of E as the next church, I suppose!) -- less because either shorter or younger or both than St. James the Greater -- and today's James is the so-called "brother of the Lord." (Remember that flap about his alleged ossuary last year? Or a couple years ago?) This is not the place to discuss the intricacies of the meaning of "brother of the Lord," however. Suffice it to say that he was probably a first cousin. He is generally assumed to have been James, the son of Alphaeus, although he is sometimes conflated with James, son of Mary and brother of Joseph. And James of today is generally thought of as the author of the beautiful -- and eminently practical -- letter of James. "What does it profit, my brethren, if a man says he has faith but not works? Can his faith save him? . . . Faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead." Amen, brother. He was a defender of the poor -- the really poor, the materially poor, not just the "poor in spirit." Thank you, brother.

What I love about St. James is that he was just -- he gave to each man his due -- and "Oblias," that is, "bulwark of the people." Power to the people, man. :) The people. Okay, and best of all, "his knees became hard like a camel's, for he was continually bending the knee in worship to God and asking forgiveness for the people" -- Eusebius. I think he would called a saint for the hippies, too, for he never cut his hair, nor anointed himself with oil, nor bathed. Wow. I guess he and Benedict Joseph Labre could be friends as well.

He was first bishop of Jerusalem, renowned by all, and martyred for the faith -- by stoning. He may or may not have been thrown from the Temple tower first (Josephus says "no", Hegesippus says "yes.") But he died proclaiming the name of his savior, "Jesus", and graciously forgiving his enemies.

Of Philip we have nothing at all in the synoptics except for his name as one of the Twelve, but John mentions him several times. He it is who called Nathanael (aka Bartholomew), saying, "We have found him of whom Moses, in the law and the prophets did write" and after hearing Nathanael's dismissal "Can anything good come from Nazareth?" simply replied, "Come and see."

He also, in the feeding of the 5000, answered Jesus' query "Whence shall we buy bread that these may eat?" soberly: "Two hundred day's wages of bread is not sufficient for them that every one may take but a little." But Jesus went on to work a miracle with very little.

The Greeks who came to him (saying, "Sir, we would see Jesus") he brought to Jesus after consulting Andrew. All of which shows a straightforward and amiable guy.

But I always think of the old song when I hear Philip (at the Last Super) saying, "Show us the Father" and Jesus, sighing probably, replying "Have I been so long a time with you; and have you not known me?" the song that goes: "If you don't know me by now . . . "

Still, Philip was there to see the mighty resurrected Jesus, His Ascension and His sending of the Paraclete at Pentecost. He is thought to have preached in Phrygia and died in Hierapolis (by the most reliable sources), but whether he died a natural death (according to Heracleon) or a martyr's (according to Clement of Alexandria) is unclear. He had two daughters who followed the faith and lived out their days in virginity. Bishop Papias knew them personally. Saints Philip and James, pray for us.

Today May 2

Today is the feast of St. Athanasius. Now, I love him because I once attended a church the altar stone of which contained one of his relics. And I've never even been to Alexandria in Egypt! But somehow one of his first-class relics made it to our little parish church. St. Athanasius was born in 295 AD in Alexandria, became a deacon and followed his bishop (Alexander) to the Council of Nicaea in 325. He succeeded him to the bishopric and defended the Nicene doctrine all his life at great personal cost. He was exiled 5 times. He finally regained his seat in 366 and lived in peace until his death in 373.

He lived and died a foe of Arianism, which held that Christ was not divine but created by the Father to fulfill the divine plan. Athanasius prevailed at Nicaea to define Christ's nature as homoousios (instead of the similar word "homoiousios", "of like substance") "of the same substance." That little letter "i" made all the difference. Arianism, though condemned (at the Council AND at a previous synod), continued to grow and gain favor, leading to Athanasius' numerous exiles and sufferings. They were defeated for good and all at the Council of Constantinople in 381, although the heresy resuscitated among the Arian Vandals and the Goths. Conversion of the pagan Franks to orthodox Catholicism coincided with their final death knell in the 6th century. But for a long time it threatened to take over Christianity at the world.

Athanasius had to be clever as a snake while innocent as a dove while running form his Arian persecutors. Once, he was being pursued downriver by enemies who didn't know him by sight. "Have you seen Athanasius the bishop?" they asked him. He responded truthfully: "It's only a short time since he passed this very spot, going up the river."!

Athanasius is a true "ecclesial Christian" - R. J. Neuhaus, for he it was who famously said (367), after years of wrangling over what should and should not be included in the canon: "Here is the New Testament!" listing for the first time the list of books (later ratified by the bishops in council). Praise be to God!

Today May 1

Today is a new day, May Day, beloved of our Communist brothers and sisters, as well as their fellow travelers. And it is, of course, also the feast day of St. Joseph the Workman. As Dorothy Day said of Peter Maurin: "He felt very strongly that man had lost his philosophy of work; and that he was only thinking in terms of wages and hours. He felt that men should be thinking more in terms of the common good, and that they should think of work, not as something monotonous and to be put up with for the sake of attaining a salary, but something which made them share in God's plan." I think that we need to take a cold, hard look at ourselves in this regard. I am proud to say my husband is working in manufacturing -- and I think it's important to have a least SOME domestic manufacturing, else the countries that make all our durable goods can suddenly set terms for us that we will be compelled to accept, not having the ability to make anything for ourselves. So I think that's important.

And I have to look at myself. As a housewife, I sure don't produce anything -- except kids. And while the more hardlined economy-minded among us see them only as consumers, or even as burdens, I see them as assets, even solutions, to society and its problems. Who knows but that one (or more) of my four kids might not come up with a helpful invention or cure or theory? One that will convenience or treat or even cure someone -- possibly many someones -- in the future. Perhaps they will serve their fellowmen in humble or great and varied ways. I have no doubt they will ADD to and not subtract from the good of the world. And I am here to support both them and my husband. Somebody's got to. Why not me, who loves them more than anyone else on earth? Who pours love and not just time into their cooking, cleaning, mending, washing, transportation and education -- both religious and secular? But I admit I'm more of a "homework helper" than their full-time teacher. I value my authority in determining their education, but I'm also realistic. I as one person can never replace 7 others or so: math, science, reading, history teacher, music director, artist, coach, etc. And I know for a fact they can listen and absorb more from someone who is NOT their mother; there's just too much baggage there. I'm not really sure why this is so; I just know it is. So, no, I wouldn't homeschool on a bet. But I do advocate Catholic schools and when it was available I made great sacrifices to make sure they got in.

Which is a long way from St. Joseph, model and guide. Perhaps, (we don't know) he was a man of few words: the strong, silent type. In any case, he was strong; of that there can be no doubt. Have you ever done carpentry entirely by hand, with no power tools of any kind? (My grandfather did. He built his entire house from the ground up with no power tools at all. He made beautiful cabinets, too.) You have to be strong. And in Joseph's particular situation he had to be morally strong as well. I mean, c'mon, being married to the sweetest, most beautiful woman on earth and you're not allowed to touch her? That's real strength! Dear St. Joseph, the wise and the strong, pray for us -- and all laborers -- this day. Amen.