Today June 30

Today is (or at least I am going to celebrate) the feast of the magnificent St. Paul, (first century). We know more about Paul than about almost any other figure in New Testament history. And if you include apocryphal documents, we know even more! We know he was short, bald, bowlegged and had a unibrow. Doesn't sound too handsome, does he? And yet, the full effect wasn't bad. He was considered "well-formed" -- maybe there was a different standard of manly beauty in those days. But I think it speaks to a certain overall quality of character which shone forth from him and made him an attractive person indeed. What I'm thinking about now is this statement in Butler's Lives: "No one perhaps has written of St. Paul with truer intuition than Cardinal Newman, who was specially fitted to appreciate the secret of the apostle's appeal, his gift of Christian sympathy." - vol. 2, p. 672.

And I thought about that. First of all, who wouldn't love to read about St. Paul from the illustrious hand of Cardinal John Henry Newman! But more than that; I thought "What does 'Christian sympathy' mean in this case?" Immediately I thought of things in Paul's life that engender sympathy: his blindness, his prejudicial treatment at the hands of the Jews and the Christians alike, his stoning in Lystra, his scourging in Philippi and Jerusalem, his years-long chains in Caesarea, his shipwreck at Malta, his beheading in Rome. (He was probably acquitted after his first trial in Rome; then following a fourth missionary journey, again arrested and imprisoned in Rome, where he was finally beheaded along the Ostian Way at a place now known as Tres Fontane and honored with the church St. Paul Outside the Walls.) But I don't think that's what the author means. I don't think he means St. Paul invokes sympathy, but that he has it. That would be a tough sell to some of our modern feminists, wouldn't it? They seem to equate him with Torquemada somehow. But he was, in fact, a sympathetic man. He could have escaped prison during the (miraculous) earthquake but called out to the jailer not to commit suicide, "Wait! We are all still here!" In Lystra, he could have accepted the accolades of being proclaimed a god (in Greek Hermes or in Latin Mercury "because he was the chief speaker") but he tore his clothes and said, "We are men like you yourselves." (Retranslated these days as "We are human beings," which just doesn't have the same punch, somehow. :) ) In Philippi he could have let the slave girl keep validating him with her divining spirit -- after all, she proclaimed "These men are servants of the most high God," but he had sympathy for and compassion on her and drove out her demon -- to his own peril.

He was a dynamic, over-the-top, take-no-prisoners type of preacher and missionary, THE Apostle, but he was, for all that, just a man, and a sympathetic man at that. St. Paul, pray for us.

Today June 29

Today is the feast of Saints Peter and Paul (first century), but to make it easier on myself, I am going to take a page from the pre-reformation of the Calendar book and cover St. Peter on this, his original feast day and St. Paul on his, tomorrow. (I wonder if St. Paul minds that he always gets second billing when the two of them are mentioned? Probably not. I think that Peter's impetuosity is always -- and justly -- emphasized, but his natural leadership ability isn't, at least not anymore. But I believe he was the type of man who galvanizes a room just by walking into it.)

Simon Bar-Jonah (Simon Johnson to use an Anglicized patronymic) was called "Peter" by Our Lord. I read somewhere in an exegesis of the central passage in Matthew 16:18 "Amen, amen, I say to you: Thou art Peter and on this rock I will build my church -- (one of only two places in the New Testament the word church [Greek, ecclesia] occurs, the other being Matthew 18:17)" that "Peter" would be the equivalent of "Rocky," and that fits Peter's character somehow, I think.

Peter was a fisherman, married (and probably a widower), the head of the apostles and the mouthpiece of the Twelve as is evidenced in many places in Scripture. Since he is given the "keys of the kingdom of heaven" (and by that we don't mean Heaven itself, which a great man once proved to me by pointing out that Our Lord telling the scribe "You are not far from the kingdom of heaven" did NOT mean "You are about to die"!), by analogy with the text of Isaiah 22:10-22, he is effectively the viceroy -- or vicar -- of the eternal King in his reign on earth. He is also called a shepherd (John 21:15-17) . . . a shepherd of one flock, for it is in the tenth chapter of the same Gospel we see an emphasis on the one flock. Local pastors are called shepherds too (cf Acts 20: 28 and 1 Peter 5: 2), but "one flock" requires "one shepherd" and in that we see Peter as the one after Jesus' visible presence is gone. Also in Luke 22: 32 we see Peter as the support or stability of his brethren. Tradition sees this as hearkening back to the whole image of Peter as Rock, the rock upon which the Church is built by Christ.

The fact that he visited Rome is hardly disputed, nor the fact of his martyrdom there. Recent excavations under the Vatican Basilica reveal an aedicula or small shrine that contains bones dating back to the first century (from carbon dating and stamps in the bricks used to build the shrine itself). Evidence suggests rich and noble mausoleums were destroyed by Constantine in order to build Old St. Peter's atop this shrine and inscriptions prove it was a place of Christian pilgrimage since the early fourth century. As far as it being Peter, well, it's always been considered to be, and no other city claimed to have his bones. The familiar stories we hear about Peter in Rome are not to be given a whole lot more credit than legends. However, we are not basing our argument on those alone.

The eminently reasonable Eusebius records the second-century priest Gaius as having the trophies of Peter and Paul there in Rome. Dionysius of Corinth says Peter and Paul both preached and were martyred in Rome, in a letter to the Romans dated 170 AD. St. Ignatius of Antioch describes Peter and Paul commanding the Church there in Rome in his letter to the Romans dated in the early second century. The fact is that the First Epistle of Peter is said to be from "Babylon" which was contemporary slang for Rome. And the claim is made by Clement of Rome that Peter and Paul were the pre-eminent recent martyrs there. All of which convinces me.

While some of our Protestant brothers and sisters maintain that the early Church was so focused on and convinced of the near proximity of the end times that they would not have made provision for Peter's successor, that leaves out one all-important figure. Christ, being holy Wisdom itself, could not fail to know, in fact, that the End was NOT imminent, and thus would have made sure that provision was made for leadership to be passed on, since the Church would continue on past Peter's death. And the gates of hell (the powers of mortality or evil) would not prevail against it. Neat how that works. Viva il Papa!

Today June 28

Today at last we can rejoice in a true hero both in writing and in person: St. Irenaeus, (second century). He was bishop of Lyons, that town of such great martyrs. On June 2, we celebrated the feast of St. Pothinus, the martyred bishop Irenaeus succeeded. Irenaeus was from Asia Minor and a disciple of St. Polycarp, who was taught by none other than St. John the Evangelist himself. He settled the dispute between East and West on the date of Easter and died a martyr (according to St. Gregory of Tours, anyway). That's about all we know about him personally, but his writings are such that they proclaim the man. They show him as idealistic, and non-dualistic (as opposed to the gnostics, who were his chief opponents). He had both feet firmly on the ground, he was a poet, he was eucharistic. he was famous for relating creation -- and specifically the production of bread and wine from their respective elements -- with the Eucharist, uniting it to the fact of our own death and resurrection. "What Irenaeus is saying is that in the Eucharist we see the world as God sees it, and that this vision involves, as we have seen, a reverence for the elements even in their natural state, since this is their potentiality to become the divine mysteries." - Angelus Book of the Saints. Irenaeus, the serene, would be a good saint for us in these dark days and could teach us respect for all life, including and especially life at its most vulnerable. St. Irenaeus, pray for us.

Today June 27

Today is the feast of St. Cyril of Alexandria (? - 444). Wow -- this guy. It's paradoxical to read the thumbnail sketch of him, which is nearly universally negative:
he condemned St. John Chrysostom at the Synod of the Oak in 403;
he was prejudiced, brutal, and ruthless;
he was less kind and considerate than even his arch-rival, the heretic Nestorius;
he favored the expulsion and confiscation of property of the Jews, Novatianists, and heretics;
he was implicated in the murder of Hypatia (of which he was no doubt innocent).
And then to read his writing, which is beautiful, graceful and wholly orthodox! We know that individuals are not canonized just because of their writings. How is this guy even a saint?

Well, let's look at the life of this bishop. He was wholly reconciled with Chrysostom in 417. He was only following his uncle in prejudice, his uncle who was patriarch of Alexandria before him. His position was the last remaining hope of his beaten-back people and he was "something of the pharaoh" because of it. - Angelus Book of Saints. He was so orthodox he could brook no compromise with Nestorius, no matter how refined the latter was. The truth of our faith is not a personality contest, thank God. Many Buddhists I know are entirely more attractive in disposition than Christians but that does not make true the doctrine of nirvana, or any other doctrine of the Buddha!

It is true that were Cyril of a more temperate nature, the whole controversy with Nestorius might have died out and not become a heresy and a schism. Also, were he more moderate toward the Jews and pagans, the horrid crime of the dragging, stripping naked, and hacking to death with a roofing tile of the lovely pagan philosophy teacher Hypatia on the steps of a church in Alexandria might not have happened (William A. Jurgens asserts that it "would not have happened" The Faith of the Early Fathers, vol. 3, p. 206, my emphasis). So though he is a saint, doubtless he could have been even more of one.

Today June 26

Today is the feast of St. Josemaria Escriva, or at least it should be. He died on this date in 1975. Quite a modern saint! I don't know a lot about him (my two books give only a thumbnail sketch each -- the same one, in fact) other than that he had a doctorate in both law and theology, taught canon law, and most famously, founded Opus Dei, a "personal prelature" for lay and clerical people committed to serving God through "the richness of ordinary life." Opus Dei has now more than 60,000 members in 80 countries over 5 continents. None of this says so, but knowing he lived in Spain during a critical time, my guess is he supported the Nationalists in the Spanish Civil War and was opposed to the Republic. It couldn't have hurt him in conservative and even most clerical circles, but, gee, c'mon, Franco? Way to kill your credibility. However, he loved God, focused on religion and not on politics, and truly followed his maxim that "God knows best."

Today June 18

Today is the feast of St. Elizabeth of Schonau (1129-1164 AD). Wow, she was an interesting character. An uncritical hagiographer would not only tell the story of her pious life but put forth her many visions, though that is NOT why she is honored, and certainly not why she was beatified and canonized -- actually, she was never beatified nor canonized! I for one would also like to know what a psychiatrist would have to say about her visions.

She was a friend of St. Hildegard of Bingen; she was a mystic; and, she suffered an overbearing but pious brother, Egbert. Sigh. She entered the Benedictine convent at age 12 (there is a Cistercian convent by the name of Schonau, too, leading some to believe she was a member, but she was never a Cistercian) and was professed at 18. She immediately started having visions, but she also started fasting, wearing hair shirts and practicing other severe austerities. Does one have something to do with the other? Probably. Native Americans starved themselves on their vision quests and saw visions. Perhaps that explains the angel she supposedly saw who told her to pronounce dire judgments on certain people unless they did penance; she delayed obeying him -- no doubt because it seemed uncharitable -- and he -- the angel -- supposedly whipped her so severely she was black and blue for 3 days. C'mon. Does that sound like what we know about angels? Do they beat people -- holy people -- before the Judgment? Do they even after the Judgment? For that matter, do they desire to tear up the tares while the wheat is still growing? Isn't there something in the Bible about that?

Forgive me, St. Elizabeth. I've gone this far, I might as well go further. Her Book of the Ways of God, published by her brother, bears a disturbingly striking resemblance to her more famous friend Hildegard's Scivas. Besides that, it is chock-full of specific attacks against named persons -- people accused of many and various sins -- and supports Egbert's champion, the antipope Victor IV. Boo. It is clear his hand is in it, both in its theology and in its style. And her most famous work, her vision of St. Ursula and Companions, is quite honestly a crock. Butler's Lives is too polite to put it that way, but even he admits:
"Under strong pressure from her brother, as it would appear, she evolved an elaboration of the already fantastic story of St. Ursula, into which she introduced a Pope Cyriacus, who never existed, and all the newly discovered 'martyrs.' That this extravagant romance, entirely at variance with easily verifiable historical facts, should have gained immediate and widespread acceptance throws a rather sinister light upon the credulity of the age; though on the other hand, it is proof of the esteem in which Elizabeth was held."

Let's try to be positive. She may not have been canonized, but she has been esteemed as a saint for years and was a wise woman and superior of her community the last seven years of her life. She understood people, had an artistic and poetic nature, and was deeply sincere. She was honored not because of her writings but in spite of them!

Homily: Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time: 2007

Brothers and sisters, am I ever glad our First Reading came up today because it illustrates a perpetual question that arises among good, religious people! And there's a trap there, a danger, in reading too much into it or interpreting it in a certain way. As you all know, David, stricken with lust for Bathsheba, Uriah's wife, committed adultery with her, which resulted in a pregnancy David could not disguise as caused by her husband. To cover his sin and to get his rival out of the way (even though King David already had other wives), he murdered Uriah -- or at least caused his death -- by having him sent to the front lines in the war and then having the troops pull back, exposing and killing him. Now, the things that happened next: the taking of Bathsheba in marriage; King David's repentance -- in light of Nathan's prophecy, his proclaiming of God's word (which is what "prophecy" means), his shining of the light of truth on David's sin; and the subsequent death of the child (a son, but NOT Solomon -- he came later, from those same parents), are the subject of my question. Was my friend, my good-hearted friend right when she said the death of the child thus conceived -- and for whom David grieved -- a direct result of his (and Bathsheba's) sin? She said it was, and related it to our own lives, in which we are forgiven (as was David) but are severely punished. And I think it's a crucial question. I actually think she's wrong, and I'll tell you why. If so, then you could reasonably expect every child of rape would die, and we clearly see that that is not so. Every murderer's child would die. Every fornicator's or adulterer's child would die. And it just doesn't follow. Besides, who would kill the innocent because of the guilty? (We are not talking about a voluntary laying down of a life here, such as might obtain for a good purpose.) No. It's entirely an unfair assumption . . . and I mean "unfair" in every sense of the word.

We cannot determine precisely cause and effect in other's lives as far as sin and its punishment goes. We cannot even tell in our own lives! All we can say is, in general, sickness and death is a result of man's sin . . . since it did not obtain in the Garden of Eden before the Fall. We cannot say that this particular sickness, this particular death is the result of a sin that occurred before it. After all, Jesus Himself said, in answer to the question, "Who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?", "It was not that this man sinned, or his parents". (John 9:2) So the death of the child of David cannot be construed as a result of the sin, much as we might like to draw that conclusion. Yes, God it is who grants life and deals death, but we neither know why nor how. All we know is that He does what He does from love. I would even go so far as to say it is probably better that we don't know why and how. Why do some die young and some live to a ripe old age? Why are some so physically and financially blessed and others not? Well, listen to the very "Book of Job"-like response to St. Anthony of the Desert, who thought about the depths of the judgments of God and asked, "Lord, how is it that some die when they are young, while others drag on to extreme old age? Why are there those who are poor and those who are rich? Why do wicked men prosper and why are the just in need?" He heard a voice answering him, "Anthony, keep your attention on yourself; these things are according to the judgments of God, and it is not to your advantage to know anything about them." (Sayings of the Desert Fathers.) So you don't know. You don't even know in your own life. What do you know? You know you have sinned and fallen short of the grace of God. For God's sake, repent -- now -- and throw yourself on His mercy. Go to Confession; here at our church it is available every Saturday from 4:00 pm - 5:30 pm and anytime by appointment. Go, throw yourself on His infinite mercy, and it will be said of you, too: "The Lord has forgiven your sin; you shall not die." (2 Samuel 12:13)

. . .

Let us now profess our faith . . .

Today June 17

Today is the feast of St. Bessarion, 4th-century Desert Father. He actually met and studied under St. Anthony the Great and St. Macarius. And when I say "studied under," I don't mean as in college, but quietly, as a novice does a guru. Bessarion was uniquely non-materialistic, not worried about what he was to eat, or what he was to wear, or where he was to live. He had no possessions and (hardest of all, in my opinion), he read no books. A brother came to him and asked, "What should I do?" Abba Bessarion replied, "Keep silence and do not compare yourself with others."

Bessarion was a miracle worker besides. One day he was walking by the sea with Abba Doulas, his young disciple. "Father, I am very thirsty," said the young man. Abba Bessarion said a prayer and then said, "Drink some of the sea water." And by Doulas' own testimony, the water was sweet and fresh. The young man then poured some in a leather skin and the old man asked him why. "Forgive me, Father, it is for fear of being thirsty later on." And the old man told him there was no need to do that because, as he said: "God is here, God is everywhere."

And one day he had to cross the river Chrysoroas. He said a prayer and crossed over on the top of the river, not exactly dry-shod, but miraculously. When asked, he replied, "I felt the water just to my heels, but the rest was dry."

Also one day when he and his disciple were traveling and it was getting late, Bessarion prayed: "I pray you, Lord, that the sun may stand still till we reach your servant," and that's exactly what happened.

He was very deep and compassionate. A brother who had sinned was turned out of the church by the priest; Abba Bessarion got up and went with him, saying, "I, too, am a sinner."

Today June 16

Today is the feast of St. Lutgardis (1182-1246). We often hear of criticisms of former years where men and women of no apparent vocation were placed in monasteries . . .oh my, how awful, we smugly say. But we should pause, lest we be criticizing a saint, like today's Lutgardis (aka Lutgard. I suspect the "is" on the end is not unlike the "us" sometimes added to the end of Roman names). She was put into a convent for no other reason than that her wedding dowry had been gambled away by her father! When she first went in, she made the most of her situation, coming and going as she liked and entertaining both male and female friends in the convent itself. She was pretty and had enjoyed dressing up and going to simple amusements when she had been in the world. Then one day, even as she was chatting with a friend, she had a vision of Our Lord, in which he showed her His wounds and asked her to love only Him. Her pure heart was instantly converted and she pledged herself to Him and to live her state in life as a nun. The other sisters noted her new-found enthusiasm and as much as looked at each other, shook their heads and said, "I give it 6 months." :) But they were wrong!

She was blessed to behold Our Lord and speak to Him each day, "as one man talks with another." She had to work, too, because as anyone who's ever been to a convent can testify, nuns are never idle. She'd simply say to Him: "Wait here, Lord Jesus, and I will come back as soon as I have finished this task." Isn't that neat?

She was very empathetic and almost astonishingly knowledgeable: she had an intuitive understanding of Scripture. She endured a type of stigmata, in the sense that she'd manifest drops of blood in a circlet around her head, like a crown of thorns.

She was obedient, too, to what she believed God was telling her; viz., to leave St. Catherine's (her convent) and go to the Cistercian one at Aywieres. She would have much preferred a German-speaking place, but she accepted this new convent where they only spoke French. She struggled with French (she'd sympathize with Shakespeare's Henry V, who said the mastery of the French language -- which he never obtained -- was harder than all his military campaigns!) and so avoided having any position of authority there. But she gave great spiritual consolation and was very effective in prayers for penitents and souls in Purgatory.

Her last 11 years were spent in blindness, which she embraced as a way to be even less materialistic. Her last vision of Christ was one that foretold her death and encouraged her to do three things to prepare for it:
1) Give thanks to God for all he had done for her in her life;
2) Pray for the conversion of sinners; and,
3) Trust only in Him.
Which she did. She left this world peacefully on June 16th of 1246.

Today June 15

Today is the feast of St. Germaine Cousin (1579-1601). Sweet little farmer's daughter, Germaine had a loving mother she lost while she was still a toddler. Her father's new wife actively favored her own children and treated Germaine like a servant . . . or even as if she didn't exist. She slept in the stable, ate scraps, and was sent out as a shepherdess in their fields as soon as it was possible.

But God delighted in her. As she worked cheerfully in the pastures, God showed her directly all she needed to know. She was preoccupied with God to a great degree, and lived always in His presence.

She was a daily Mass goer and took Communion as often as she was able. She was not social, but I take her more as an introvert than specifically shy, although I don't know. She certainly did her work alone, so some of it might be environmentally determined, but I think some of it was just her personality. She had no fear of teaching young children their catechism and leading them to God. She would leave her little flock in the care of her guardian angel, plant her little crook in the ground, and walk to church. She never lost a single sheep, even though there were wolves in the neighboring forest of Boucone. One day the stream she had to ford was swollen with rain and everyone feared she wouldn't make it; but two villagers testified they saw the waters part like the Red Sea as for Moses and she walked through easily.

Other miracles attended her; notably the multiplication of loaves, for she always shared her meager meals with beggars, even though it seemed there was not nearly enough for all. Once her evil stepmother chased her with a stick, claiming she'd stolen the food in her apron . . . but when she dramatically ran to the villagers and in their presence turned to face her pursuer, summer wildflowers fell out instead of the bread that had been there just moments before. Her family then had a change of heart and welcomed her back to their bosom, but she preferred to be on her own.

Her last attending miracle happened 43 years after her death, or at least that's when it was first noticed. A distant relative named Edualde had died and wished to be buried beside her. The flagstone was removed from over her tomb, and there she was: a perfectly preserved 22-year-old girl, who even bled when the startled gravedigger dropped his shovel on her nose! Her body was positively identified by townspeople who had known her in life by her uniquely withered right arm and a scar on her neck. She was moved to the village church and her cause presented. Unfortunately, her body was almost totally destroyed (on purpose) during the French Revolution, but two bones were rescued and are honored in her church. She was raised to the altars in 1867.

Today June 14

Today is the (old) feast of St. Basil the Great, and so we are going to honor this doctor of the Church (329-379 AD). He was bishop of Caesarea, but when he was still just a priest there he aroused the jealousy of the archbishop, St. Eusebius. Imagine that: two good people -- nay, saints -- who couldn't get along! Basil decided to retreat rather than fight and he went to live on his own in Pontus in Asia Minor for awhile. His friend, St. Gregory Nazianzen, went to his retreat and brought him back. Basil was uncompromising toward the heretics, but was all in all a charitable man. During the drought and subsequent famine, Basil distributed the fortune he'd inherited and even put on an apron and doled out food in the soup kitchens. Not long after that he was tapped to be archbishop. He, a monk at heart, advocated penance for all, rejected materialism in all its forms, and was profoundly realistic. He said if a man does not keep the commandments, he does not love God, no matter what he says. He realistically stated that a true Christian sometimes does cause pain, even to one he loves, because he cannot tolerate sin. Amen, brother!

He also stressed that we can't rely on our own understanding but we must trust in God and His Word. It is more reliable than the words of any man.

Emperor Valens, an Arian, sent the prefect Modestus to induce Basil to relent or at least to compromise. He would not. "Nothing short of violence can avail against such a man," said Modestus. Three times the pen the emperor was going to use to sign the edict of exile against Basil broke, and Valens, at heart a weak and superstitious man, decided to leave him in peace.

Well, that problem solved, he now lost his best friend when his diocese was split in two and he assigned the "miserable town" of Sasima to St. Gregory of Nazianzen, a small diocese on the border of the two Cappadocias (Caesarea's see). I get the impression that Basil did that in order to keep order and an eye out on both halves of his former see (which he was distraught at losing), and Gregory understandably didn't take too kindly to it.

I can sympathize with him because he fell into a deep depression, no doubt because after the death of St. Athanasius, he was the last orthodox bishop left in the East. Even the orthodox Catholic Church was rent by schisms. "He was . . . misunderstood, misrepresented, and accused of ambition and of heresy." In a fit of despair he cried out "For my sins I seem to be unsuccessful in everything!"

But he was actually able to hold it all together and just before he died he got the great good news of the fall of Arianism with the death of the Emperor Valens and the ascent of his (Catholic) nephew Gratian. His funeral was attended by the entirety of his diocese, including pagans, Jews and strangers, all paying respect to "the great Basil, the minister of grace who has expounded the truth to the whole earth."

Today June 13

Today is the major feast of St. Anthony of Padua (1195-1231). He is called "the Wonder Worker" for miracles supposedly worked through his intercession either during or after his lifetime. A Portuguese of Portuguese nobility, he was educated in the cathedral school at Lisbon, where it was noted that he had a gift for learning Scripture and for a phenomenal memory, what we today would call "total recall." It came in handy when he was preaching throughout Italy and "read[ing] sacred theology to the friars" - St. Francis of Assisi. He believed that like the dogs with Lazarus, he and other preachers lick with "the milk and honey of kindness and gentleness" the wounds of society. Isn't that clever? But this sickly young man, unprepossessing in appearance, had the brain of a theologian and the soul of a poet. Though the "doctor optime" - (Gregory IX) of the Franciscans, he started religious life as an Augustinian. On his own initiative at age 15 he joined the canons regular in Coimbra. One day two Franciscans came by to get donations and Anthony (at the time named Ferdinand) was fired up to join them. He did and volunteered for the equivalent of a suicide mission to North Africa to evangelize the Moors. The minute he got there, he got sick and had to go home.

His ship got blown off course -- instead of Portugal, they landed in Sicily and there he became a simple Franciscan friar. He attended the last general chapter of the Franciscans (general meaning attended by all members of the order) where he met Saint Francis himself. He later attended a joint ordination of Dominicans and Franciscans at Forli in Italy and when no Dominicans were prepared to give the homily, Anthony was tapped to do so. His learned, inspired and intense homily blew them all away. He was allowed to devote himself to preaching "provided that such study does not quench the spirit of holy prayer and devotion according to our rule" - St. Francis. He was released from the duties of his office to preach . . . but I take that as not being released from "the saying of the office" because one of the incidents that led to the tradition of him being invoked to find lost objects was when he lost his psalter (another word for office -- or a type of office, or brieviary) he prayed to find it and voila, the thief (a novice in the monastery) had a sudden change of heart and returned it. Wow. Amazing he invokes God to let things be found. Here's how I learned it:
Tony, Tony,
Turn around
Something's lost
And can't be found.
(It really works.)

Tony was a giant among men even though he was short and stout. He amazed people by having prisoners confess and repent, lukewarm souls get fired up, heretics convert (he was known as the "Hammer of Heretics"), thieves return stolen goods -- or their equivalent -- at his feet, and feuders reconcile . . . right in front of him. He started dying after preaching a grueling course of sermons and was taken back on a litter to Padua where he died. He was 36 years old. His remains are buried there and are considered that town's most precious possession.

Today June 12

Today is the feast of St. Onuphrius, Desert Father, died circa 400 AD. We don't have any great aphorisms by him (as we do most of the Desert Fathers), but we do have his story. St. Paphnutius found him when he was wandering in the desert -- an aged man covered with hair and wearing shorts made of leaves tied together. He called out to Paphnutius that he was indeed a man and a servant of God. He had lived as a solitary for 70 years and suffered extremes of temperature, the deprivation of hunger and thirst, and violent temptations as well. But he was a man of prayer, in love with God, and they spent the evening praying together in his little cave by the date palm. In the morning, Paphnutius could see that Onuphrius was near death, but the latter said, "Fear not, brother, for the Lord in His infinite mercy has sent you here to bury me." And so he did, just before the cave collapsed and the palm-tree withered, seemingly to prevent Paphnutius from engaging his secret thoughts to take over the hermitage when Onuphrius was gone.

Today June 11

Today is the feast of St. Paula Frassinetti, (1809-1882), incorruptible. This shy, middle-class girl from Genoa in Italy was fashioned by God in love to be just the right person at just the right time, it seems. When she was growing up at her mother's knee, absorbing all she could about cooking and cleaning, sewing and embroidery -- it all having to be learned by her and her alone, being the only daughter among 5 children -- who knew she would lose her mother so soon and need those skills to raise the family and meet its needs . . . at the tender age of 9? But she did. Now I have one girl in a family of 4 children and while some may say, as did my source for this saint, that that means she'd be somewhat spoiled or at least indulged, don't you believe it! She may have been protected, but if she's anything like my daughter, she was tough, tough, tough! And I think that's true. All four of her brothers became priests and when her health began to fail at a young age, she went to live with one of them at Quinto, a city on the coast. She immediately began to help out in the parish, especially teaching catechism. The fresh air and good climate helped her and she was soon well. She began to think of her future and told her dad it was teaching youth there in Quinto. He was not very pleased, but agreed to let her go. She started a school for girls where she taught them all the domestic skills she'd learned from her mother, but more importantly (to her), the love of God and all manner of spiritual things. She was way ahead of her time by forbidding corporal punishment -- she didn't even use verbal punishment. She believed "that children must love and be loved; she felt that love would form children as nothing else would." - Modern Saints. She had remarkable success; once when a spoiled brat of a girl made a terrible scene, she called her to her and took her on a long errand. The girl knew she was in for a scolding. But Mother Paula only talked of the goodness of God and spiritual things. By the end, the girl was truly repentant.

Paula's example and radiant love drew many young women to her. Though there were plenty of contemplative orders of nuns available, Paula wanted to start her own order, one where the girls would not be cloistered and one where they wouldn't have to pay a dowry. Most of the postulants were poor and couldn't afford any of the other orders anyway. Paula called her order the Congregation of St. Dorothy or Dorotheans. They were dedicated to educating girls, because as go the women, so goes society.

She lived through turbulent, anti-clerical times in her country. Ordered to close her schools down (she had several, including in Portugal and Brazil), she refused. Ordered to put off the habit and wear secular clothes, she wouldn't. She spent many a sleepless night guarding her nuns and students from armies and rioting mobs. "Mother Paula feared no man." - Modern Saints. That kind of reminds me of the mother superior in Victor Hugo's Les Miserables.

She came through the revolution (1850-59) and continued to expand and visit her many houses and schools. She suffered a paralyzing stroke in 1882 (after two previous ones) and Don Bosco was called. The nuns thought his presence might effect a cure, but he only said, "My children, your mother's crown of merits is completed." She died shortly after that on June 11, 1882. When she was dug up in 1906 when her cause was opened (for beatification), she was found to be perfectly preserved. Her body was transferred to a silver and crystal reliquary under the main altar in the Motherhouse in Rome, where you can see it today. She was beatified in 1930 and canonized in 1983.

Homily: Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ: 2007

Dear brothers and sisters, while I am skeptical of polls, and especially those that are parroted over and over throughout the years -- and so, no, I don't necessarily believe the poll that says 70% of churchgoing Catholics do not believe what the Church teaches about the Real Presence of Christ in the Blessed Sacrament -- I do realize that there is a real crisis of catechesis in this country, a crisis of belief, and that includes the belief in the Eucharist.

Father Benedict Groeschel says: "Nothing would restore Catholic life more strongly and pointedly than a return to true veneration and custody of the Holy Eucharist and the deeply reverent celebration of Mass. If you think I am exaggerating, ask yourself: How many who receive Holy Communion hardly know what they are doing?"

And I realize that familiarity can breed indifference; you do something over and over and over again and it can -- doesn't mean it will, of course -- become routine. Which is why I myself do little things to try to increase my reverence at Communion. I take It on the tongue, for instance, because it helps me to pause and reflect (be repentant and be grateful) that this is not like ordinary food; I am not waiting in a bread line to receive a ration or even a receiving line to pay my respects, but I am there to commune with my God. How often does someone put something directly in your mouth? Not often. So I have trouble with the words of the otherwise beautiful and melodic song we sometimes sing at Communion, "Make Of Our Hands a Throne" which goes something like:
Make of our hands a throne
To hold the bread of heaven,
Make of our hearts a home
To hold the very Lord of Life."
And I don't think they're the best lyrics because not all of us DO "make of our hands a throne" -- even if 90% of us do -- and we are completely within our rights not to do so.

And I like what Father Groeschel (in his book "The Rosary" -- published on the occasion of the publication of the Apostolic Letter "Rosarium Virginis Mariae" ["The Rosary of the Virgin Mary"] by John Paul II, which promulgated the saying of the rosary and the addition of the luminous mysteries which include the Institution of the Holy Eucharist) said about "true veneration and custody," the custody part meaning reservation of the Body of Christ and implying adoration. Parishes that start and those that continue exposition of the Eucharist, with opportunities for people to adore It, have been blessed in many other, seemingly unrelated ways. They gain a school, in one case, or find enough money to pay off bills -- and even expand, or see a renewal in faith in the pews, fervor in youth, etc., etc. Some of these facts are presented in the video "In the Presence of the Lord." All of which points to the fact that this Sacrament is the source and summit of Christian life. And one great analogy would go, It is like a fountain -- a source -- set in a high and prominent place -- a summit -- and from It flows the gifts and graces that every parish needs . . . including ours.

And finally, let us consider the miracle that Tradition says prefigured the Eucharist, the miracle in our Gospel reading this day (Luke 9:11-17). We can imagine ourselves gazing from the middle distance, puzzled and awed by the fact that Jesus just keeps handing out the bread and fish and He keeps breaking it in pieces, but they are not successively smaller pieces: that basket just never seems to empty. It's not a loud, strident miracle, as if bells and whistles are going off as if to say, "Look here! Look! Look!" but a quiet miracle that makes you go, "Now wait a minute. Surely there is not enough to feed us all. I'm not going crazy, am I?" No, you're not going crazy. Because this is the One, the God, the Holy One of Israel and there is always enough to feed us all.

Let us now profess our faith . . .

Today June 10

Today is the feast of Corpus Christi. Msgr. Ronald Knox calls the Eucharist "the window in the wall" -- which I think is very evocative, not only of the shedding of light from without -- from heaven -- into our prison world (gilded though it may be), but as a direct reference to the Bridegroom in the Song of Songs:

"And now he is standing on the other side of this very wall; now he is looking through each window in turn, peering through every chink. I can hear my true love calling to me, Rise up, rise up quickly, dear heart, so gentle, so beautiful, rise up and come with me." (Songs 2:9)

Knox goes on to say that there is definitely a veil -- or what could even be termed a veritable wall -- between our world of the senses and the other world, the supernatural one. Too easily we think, looking at our very material world, "that's all there is" -- what a depressing thought! But Christ has broken through -- and light has shone in the breach. There is another world, dear friends: a world of fields and farms, clean air and running water, and not just this stuffy and gilded cage we live in now, one that has a faint whiff of wickedness (and sometimes not so faint). Jesus may have passed into the world beyond -- He may have ascended into heaven and a cloud taken Him from our sight -- but He is really and truly here. It is His face on the other side of that window in the wall, and I put to you that He is here in the most perfect way in the Blessed Sacrament . . . in His Body and Blood.

It has been said "Christ is equally present in the Eucharist, the Word, the priest, and the people." And what I think is meant by that is simply that He is present in each of those ways, much like I would say, "It is equally true that we are Catholics and that it is June 10th." Yeah, but the fact of what we are is fundamentally more important than what day it is! Or . . . it is equally true that I am a woman and that I am wearing a blue dress . . . both true at the same time: one very important and fundamental and one not. And so it true at one and the same time that Jesus is present in His Body and Blood and in the Word being read and in the celebrant and in the congregation -- but it is not true in the same way. Okay, that's fair enough. Here's an analogy. If I have a picture of my husband, or if I have him on the phone, or if he is standing right beside me, I still have him, but not in the same way. "Is that him?" someone asks, pointing to his picture. "Yes, indeed, that is he," I say, and smile and am comforted by it. Or they overhear me talking on the phone and listening to his actual words. "Is that him?" they say. And I nod excitedly -- "Yes, it is he!" Or they see him next to me, my hand touching his, communing with him, if you will, and they say, "Is that him?" And I say, with force and conviction, "Yes, it is he!" Now all those are my husband, but in different ways. And the Blessed Sacrament is akin to this last way. Be comforted. As Matt Talbot used to say: "How can anyone be lonely, with Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament?"

Today June 9

Today is the feast of St. Ephraim, also spelled Ephrem (especially in French), and Ephraem, (306-373 AD). He was born in what is now Iraq (his native town was called Nisibis) but he was Syrian by extraction and that is the language he wrote in exclusively, although it was at a very early time translated into Greek, Latin and Armenian (among several other languages). He was a theology and philosophy major and taught theology in Edessa after he was made a deacon by St. James of Nisibis in Nisibis. He was ordained a priest but he refused all further honors -- to the point of even pretending he was crazy so they wouldn't ordain him bishop! He was know for his saintliness, his voluntary poverty and his mental clarity. He was a Bible scholar, a fearless hammer of the heretics, a chivalrous defender of the Virgin Mary (and virginity itself) and, as declared by Benedict XV, a doctor of the Church. And this man was a poet. He wrote everything he wrote (over a thousand works, according to the historian Sozomen) in verse! He was known as "the harp (or the lyre) of the Holy Spirit" and he inspired Dante by his poetical descriptions of heaven and hell.

Today June 8

Today is the feast of Blessed Maria Droste zu Vischering -- now that's a mouthful! (1863-1899). I like Blessed Maria. She was very strong-willed ("a will of iron" it is said of her), hot-tempered, but also with "a sensitive and generous heart." You just know if she were your friend you could ask her for anything and she'd give it to you.

The daughter of a count and countess, she grew up in a castle (Darfield Castle in Munster, Germany), attended a fine school run by the Sisters of the Sacred Heart, and after her Confirmation returned home, sure of her vocation, despite her poor health. She was accepted by the Good Shepherd Sisters and humbly embraced the stark simplicity of her new room and life. Their primary mission was with developmentally and emotionally disabled people, some of them real hardcases and all societal misfits. She had a real way with the girls, due to her spirit of kindness and happiness. She took all in stride, from her much-disliked assignment as superior of the convent in Oporto, Portugal to the degenerative spinal disease that eventually killed her. She had a great devotion to the Sacred Heart and died right after she received the encyclical consecrating the world to the Sacred Heart, for which she had personally petitioned Leo XIII. (You know, I don't remember him, but the more I hear about Leo XIII, the more I like and admire him.) Her body was found incorrupt in 1944 (after her cause was started in 1921) and she was made Venerable in '64 and beatified in '75.

Today June 7

Today is the feast of the great Matt Talbot (1851-1925). What's not to love about this great venerati? He didn't have such a great start in life, being the second of 12 children of an alcoholic day laborer. But his mother was a good woman: hard-working, full-time housewife and mother, part-time charwoman. They hadn't money for schooling for the kids and there was no mandatory education in Ireland at the time. Matt (also called Barney) got about a year a schooling altogether and a pretty solid catechism from the Christian Brothers, but that's all. When he went to work at a wine bottling plant (at age 12!) he got drunk regularly and became what we would call an alcoholic. (A beating from his father -- for being drunk! -- didn't make any difference.) Pretty soon he was coming home drunk every night and scrounging up cash to stay that way. At the time there was an evil practice of paying workers at the pubs; the proprietor expected a substantial purchase in exchange for handing over the wages and checks. It kept the people down.

One day, penniless, three of the Talbot brothers including Matt were standing outside the pub, hoping that the pals they had so generously stood to a drink (or a loan) would do the same for them -- and they were ignored. stung, Matt went right to a church and took the pledge, which means he swore off alcohol altogether for a period of time; this time, for three months. Tortured by DT's and racked with thirst, he wandered around until he collapsed on the steps of the Jesuit church, where worshipers had to step over him. He had sunk as low as he was ever going to sink. God heard his prayer -- and his mother's -- and he never took another drop of alcohol again in his life. He was sober for 41 years! How did he accomplish it? Well, he would attribute it all to God, and as he is a saint, well, glory to God! But let's look at saintly Matt's life. First, he became a daily communicant, after having been away from the sacraments for years (though he always attended Sunday Mass). He began a rigorous discipline of penance and fasting: he wore chains around his waist, arm and leg; he never ate a full meal; he ate only bread, tea and cocoa and sometimes fish during Lent; he fated for a week before every feast day. He gave generously to the poor; whatever was left over from his salary after food and rent went to charity -- every salary increase meant more money for charities. He never swore; he tipped his hat whenever anyone used the Lord's name in vain. But he was no prig -- he talked sports and other worldly topics with the other men, he laughed and made jokes. By his own admission he was shy. He didn't go in for parties and refused the offer of an old folks' home by the Little Sisters of the Poor. "I'd rather be by myself," he said. He was strong, a good worker (he was a bricklayer and a lumberman), a union man (my grandfather would love him), and "unafraid of any man." - Modern Saints. He told it like it was, old Matt, even to his bosses. He gave it to you straight. He paid back all his debts, including every old bar tab, and tried to find the man he and his buddies had stolen a fiddle from. Unable to find him to make restitution, he offered many Masses for him. Generous to a fault was old Matt; a priest once hesitated to accept a donation from him, knowing it was all he had.

He loved books, delighted in St. Catherine of Siena, understood concepts an uneducated man would never be expected to, and enjoyed remarkable clarity of morals and thought. I love him.

He collapsed on the street in front of church just before the 10 am Mass. A Dominican priest ( who didn't know him) gave him the last rites. He was buried in a Franciscan Third Order habit (since he'd belonged to one) and his whole funeral cost a grand total of 10 pounds! Matt Talbot, pray for us.

Today June 6

Today is the feast day of St. Norbert (1081-1134). This poor guy. He was so misunderstood. He was just your average guy, living for the moment, hedonistic, ambitious, worldly, superficially religious (like most people). He got thrown from his horse and was unconscious for an hour. When he awoke, he said, "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?" And a heavenly voice replied, "Turn from evil and do good: seek after peace and pursue it." So he became the peace apostle. Originally from Cleves in the Netherlands, he obtained a papal leave to preach the Gospel wherever he chose -- and he went all over Europe. He was a bit eccentric, it is said, and he was profoundly misunderstood. He was denounced as "a hypocrite and an innovator" and nearly arrested for "preaching without a license." He showed his papal document and proved his sincerity by almost totally divesting himself of wealth (he was a priest), keeping only 40 marks, a donkey, a missal, vestments, a chalice and a paten. He walked barefoot and wore a lambskin tied with a rope. No wonder they called him eccentric!

He tried to reform the local canons in Laon, but they bridled at his reforms. Leaving them, he was given an abandoned monastery in Premontre in France, where he started his own (strict) order, the Premonstratensians. (They were modeled on the Augustinians and adopted a white habit. They are sometimes called the White Canons or the Norbertines.) He took in so many men, he soon had 8 abbeys. But he didn't take everybody. He rejected Count Theobald because he discerned his lack of vocation; he gently advised him to marry. When he did, he took St. Norbert with him. They passed through Speyer on their way to Germany and the wedding and while there, Norbert was shaghaied into being the bishop of Magdeberg. Not really shaghaied, but blindsided by the deputation from Magdeberg who importuned the emperor (Lothair) who was visiting Speyer. And the emperor installed him.

He was true blue, though. He didn't care who the priest was -- if he was guilty of neglect or immorality, he was remonstrated with and if he didn't listen to reason he was punished or replaced, sometimes by Norbert's own Premonstratensians. As you can imagine, it didn't win him many friends. Among the laity, too, he was hated, especially by those laymen who acquired church property for personal use. He took action against them.

He was on the side of right always. When a schism broke out, he ascertained the true pope (Innocent II) who was then in France and he opposed the antipope, "Anacletus II", the favorite of Rome -- but not legally elected by the majority of cardinals. Norbert and Lothair traveled to Rome with Innocent to help instate him. Norbert died almost as soon as he returned from the grueling trip. Because as I have said, travel can be murder.

Today June 5

Today is a special feast for our pope and all folks of German extraction. Today is the feat of bonny St. Boniface, patron of Germany (680-754). This man of action, bishop of Mainz (primatial see of all the Germanies -- including Alemannia, Australasia and Thuringia, among others) was above all a man who loved books. In his several extant letters, he is always writing about them: "I pray Almighty God . . . repay you . . . for the solace of the books with which you have relieved my distress." (Letter XXVI) and "We have received with joyful and grateful heart the gifts and books you sent us. . ." (Letter LXXV). He was martyred on the plain of Dokkum, east of Utrecht; the only treasure he left behind were books (which the pagan tribes who killed him left behind in disgust -- they were looking for "real wealth") and, get this, he died holding his book high above his head so it would not be destroyed by the sword when he was. Now that's a book lover.

He was, as I have said, a man of action. Appointed by the pope as missionary in a general sense to all the heathen, he started from England (he was from Devonshire) to Friesland, where he worked with the great St. Willibrord among the people there. As they became more and more evangelized, he moved on to Hesse, where he cleverly combated pagan superstitions. In a well-publicized display, he chopped down Thor's sacred oak (atop Mount Gudenberg) and bravely taunted the false god to punish him. Of course he wasn't and many pagans were converted. Boniface built a church there to commemorate the event.

He stood up to Charles Martel, king of the Franks, and made great inroads with his successor, the devout Carloman, and even crowned his successor, Pepin the Short. You may remember him as the father of Charlemagne. He stood up to immoral and removed heretical priests in his far-flung diocese, but he maintained a moderate, sensible course. "When in the multitude of priests, I find one who has fallen into that same sin [sexual immorality] and with penitence has been reinstated in his former rank, so that the whole body of priests and people have confidence in his good character, if I should now degrade him, his secret sin would be revealed, the mass of the people would be shocked, many souls would be lost through the scandal and there would be great hatred of priests and distrust of the ministers of the Church. Therefore we have boldly ventured to bear with this man and allow him to remain in the sacred ministry." (Letter LXXV) And to think . . . this was back in the mid-700's! We need more bishops like Boniface today.

"Our duty is not to abandon ship but to keep her on course." - St. Boniface.

Today June 4

Today is the feast of St. Optatus, African bishop and champion of orthodoxy. He was cited by Augustine and honored as a saint by Fulgentius. He labored against the Donatists, a rigorous sect that argued against any and all sacraments administered by heretics or any not in a state of grace. To this, Optatus propounded the Catholic doctrine of the inherent holiness of the sacraments whose operation is not dependent on the character of their administrators. Besides, the Donatist heresy is impractical -- you'd tear your hair out wondering whether the priest was in a state of grace or not every time he gave you Holy Communion, for instance.

His writings are a window into those early times (Fourth century. We don't know the year of his birth or death, but he was living as of 384 AD). He referred to the Mass as a sacrifice, mentioned exorcisms and anointing during baptisms, and strongly defended the catholicity of the Church (comparing it to the tiny strongholds of Donatism only in Latin Africa, with the exception of one neighborhood in Rome). He was also somewhat of a humorist and I quote: "Since the Eucharist only touches the sacred linen, why do you break up and burn the altars where we have celebrated Mass? For, if it exists, our impurity passes through wood if it does the linen! Then dig out the ground, search for a pure place to offer the sacrifice; but take care to dig as deep as hell, where you will find your true master." Testify, Optatus!

Homily: Most Holy Trinity: 2007

Dear brothers and sisters, "we even boast of our afflictions, knowing that affliction produces endurance, and endurance, proven character, and proven character, hope, and hope does not disappoint." (Rom 5:2), or, in the RSV version: "we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope." We rejoice in our sufferings. Wow. That's profound. But our religion, our wise religion, baptizes suffering, so to speak -- elevates it to its proper place where it can have value. Most other religions seek to avoid suffering or even deny it altogether. But that doesn't work very long. That doesn't satisfy. We know we have grown through our sufferings -- whether caused by our own free will (which makes us capable of love and nobility -- and separates us from animals and robots) or caused by external forces over which we have no control. We can grow, we can empathize, we can gain profound knowledge. As my Dad used to always say: "That's how you learn." As C. S. Lewis said in "The Problem of Pain": "What would really satisfy us would be a God who said of anything we happened to like doing, 'What does it matter so long as they are contented?' We want, in fact, not so much a Father in Heaven as a grandfather in heaven -- a senile benevolence who, as they say, 'liked to see young people enjoying themselves' and whose plan for the universe was simply that it might be truly said at the end of each day, 'A good time was had by all.' " But that's not what we really need.

And, in our first reading, we know that the Spirit of God was poured forth "from of old" -- and that this Spirit is Wisdom. And what of us? An eminent scientist has two Scripture verses painted in various colors by his daughter and placed in a prominent place to remind him of these truths. "If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives to all men generously and without reproach, and it will be given him." (James 1:5) That should tell us something! Let us, right now, ask it of Him. And what of this wisdom? What is it like? How will we know it? Here is the doctor's second verse: "The wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, without uncertainty or insincerity." (James 3:17) ("Insincerity" is also rendered as "hypocrisy.") Earthly wisdom is disorderly, unspiritual and selfish. The wisdom of God, which we already established we can ask for and we can recognize . . . will first of all be pure. It will be single-minded, in other words, oriented toward God and toward spiritual things. It will be peaceful, gentle, logical, merciful and fruitful. And speaking of fruits, we in our family this last Sunday (Pentecost), each wrote a fruit of the Holy Spirit on a cutout of a flame, turned them over, shuffled them up, said a prayer to the Holy Spirit and drew the fruit that would be ours in a special way for all this next year. My husband got joy, my oldest son faith, number-2 son modesty, my daughter peace, my youngest son charity . . . and *I* got continency! Continency! I got shafted! No, just kidding. If you knew me, you would know how perfect that gift is for me. I need self-control more than anything. Without temperance I would head off into hedonism very easily . . .

And what of the Psalm? The wonderful, the great, the hallelujah-so-magnificent Psalm 8? It's the one that goes:
"What is man that you should be mindful of him,
or the son of man that you should care for him?
You have made him little less than the angels,
and crowned him with glory and honor."
Hey, this psalm teaches us a little theology and we would be wise to be mindful of it. There are folks out there -- mostly, but not all, of the "angels as delightful little cherubs" variety -- who dismiss the angels as little less than US! But I put to you they are greater than we: more wise, more facile, more powerful and we dismiss them at our peril. They may not have bodies (though they have been known to assume them on occasion), but they have wider and deeper spiritual gifts than we do. We do well to call on them -- the good ones, and our guardian in particular -- and we do well to heed the power though never fear the bad ones, the demons. They work their way into our lives if we let them. But good news: the good are more numerous and more powerful, thank God, than the bad. And we, we chimeras made of flesh and spirit, body and soul, have one foot in their world and one foot in ours. We who will be crowned, will be crowned with glory and honor. And who is crowned? Well, let's turn to James one last time: "Blessed is the man who endures trial, for when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life which God has promised to those who love him." (James 1:12)

Let us pray . . .

Today June 3

Today, were it not the feast of the Most Holy Trinity, would be the feast of St. Charles Lwanga and Companions. They were killed when they resisted King Mwanga's lustful homosexual advances. These 19th-century martyrs for purity were pages in the court of the King of Uganda. Mwanga started out good, even recalling the White Fathers (a missionary order devoted to serving in Africa) back after a three-year period in which they (and all priests) had been expelled from the country. These were delighted to find that in the interim the faith had been passed on "in the catacombs," so to speak; the Christians and the catechumens met to pray, read and teach daily. Although only laymen, they were able to continue to baptize and marry each other, though they hungered for the Eucharist -- even more so in this violent, polygamistic and slaveholding society. In time Mwanga grew to have absolute power and he became corrupt. Besides burning with unnatural lust for his boy pages, he feared and mistrusted the Christians because they did not fear him. He worried lest his whole country become Christian and he lose the grip of power over them.

The proto-martyr was Joseph Mukasa, the king's major domo, leader of the Christian community and shepherd of pages. Whenever Mwanga would call for them, Joseph would hide them. This so enraged the king he had Joseph arrested on a trumped-up poisoning charge (for giving him a legal opium pill when he was sick) and had him beheaded. He walked to his execution unbound. "Why should you bind me?" he said. "From whom should I escape? From God?"

Charles Lwanga took his place in court and followed his brave example in every way, down to hiding the pages and refusing to escape even though the pages who were pagans advised him to. He met his gruesome death bravely -- he and about 30 others, Catholic and Anglican both (only the Catholics were canonized, for the Pope has only authority to canonize his co-religionists), were forced on a grim death march in which a prisoner was speared to death at every crossroads as an example to the natives. First to go was Pontian Ngondwe, who argued "I have told you I am a Christian so kill me here. I do not want to carry death about the roads." Next was Gonzaga Gonza who died bravely without a whimper. Athanasius Bazzekuketta was next and Matthias Mulumba, at 50 the oldest, was next. His death was the worst, since he had joked with the prime minister who had accused him of doing things unworthy of his position as tribal chief, viz., cooking his own food. "Am I on trial for my thinness or my religion?" His limbs were hacked off and roasted in front of him. To prolong his agony, his veins and arteries were tied off and he was left to bake in the hot sun. He lived at least two more days, because some slaves heard him crying out for water at that time but they were afraid to assist him.

Next to die was Noah Mawaggail who when speared declared "I know there is another life and so I am not afraid of losing this one."

All that were left were tied up in mats and thrown on a slow fire to roast and die in agony. The executioner's son and two Anglicans were first hit on the head with a club as a gesture of mercy before the torturous death. Charles saluted them all, saying, "My friends, goodbye. We'll meet in heaven." To his executioner he said, "How happy I should be if you, too, were to embrace my religion." And so it was.

From 500 Christians in 1887, they grew to 2000 a year later and to 2 million in 1964 when these servants of God were canonized.

Today June 2

Today is the feast of some of my favorite martyrs. We really don't know that much about them, but what we DO know is inspiring. There's just something so neat about a little slave girl leading the pack of big, noble martyrs that is appealing, somehow. Today is the feast of the martyrs of Lyons (and its sister city across the Rhone, Vienne). The persecution started out subtly and then gained great speed until it ended in horrible excess and maliciousness. First the Christians were forbidden to go to the public baths, then to the common marketplace, then to public school. They were ostracized first; thus began a concerted persecution. Christians were then set upon by the mob, who in an outburst of fury, broke into their homes, stealing or breaking their possessions, insulting them and finally setting upon them, hitting them, kicking them, stoning them, "and everything that an infuriated crowd loves to do to those it hates." - quoted from a second-century letter in the annals of Eusebius of Caesarea. Christians were then rounded up, thrown into prison, tortured and sentenced to death.

Not all among them remained steadfast. Many repudiated their faith under torture and some, fearing to be burned or whipped like their co-religionists, accused them of cannibalism -- stealing pagan babies and eating them in their Masses, committing incest and other enormities -- on and on, each accusation more unbelievable than the last. But it got them off the hook and also turned even former supporters against them. I guess Hitler was right: people WILL believe the big lie. Many suffered public and private humiliations and tortures before their very public deaths in the amphitheater, but several have been singled out. Of note include Pothinus, their 90-year-old bishop, who was dragged before the tribunal and when asked who was the God of the Christians, replied, "If you are worthy, you shall know." Whereupon he was struck, kicked and pelted with debris until he lost consciousness and two days later died of his wounds in prison. Also Sanctus, a deacon from Vienne, who while having red-hot plates applied to the tenderest parts of his body would only reply: "I am a Christian!" He later was made to run the gauntlet of whips and finally roasted to death on the iron chair. Also mentioned by name was Maturus, a newly baptized; Attalus, a deacon of Pergamos, who endured the exposure to wild beasts. Ponticus, a boy of 15, is mentioned; a woman named Biblias, who, even during torture pointed out with eminent logic: "How can those eat children who are forbidden to taste the blood even of brute beasts?" and Alexander, the medical doctor, who had stood on the sidelines, encouraging all and who when asked, point-blank answered, "I am a Christian." Last of all came the Christian slave girl Blandina, who made "her confession boldly, endued with so much power that even those who in relays tortured her from morning till evening grew faint and weary." - Eusebius. Her confession, repeated over and over, was this: "I am a Christian, and nothing vile is done amongst us." She was scourged, burned with boiling-hot eggs shoved into her armpits (where the flesh is very tender), exposed to wild beasts, roasted in a frying pan and lastly tied up in a net and thrown to a wild bull who finally killed her. All the bodies of these saints were thrown into the Rhone to deny the Christians even the comfort of their relics, but their stories live on in the hearts and minds of men 1800 years later.

Today June 1

Today is the feast of some more Japanese martyrs -- not Paul Miki and companions, but 200 martyrs, prominent among whom are Alphonsus Navarette, O.P. and Ferdinand Ayala, Augustinian. They are called "The Martyrs of Japan II" because they perished in the second great persecution in Japan (1617-1632). This persecution was both religiously and politically motivated. Religiously because the object was to destroy Christianity, not Christians. Thus every effort was made to get the victims to apostatize before their deaths, using many horrible ingenious tortures. Some were made to stand for three hours at a time in freezing water and others sprinkled with sulfuric acid and rolled over a type of cactus. Some of the many so abused broke down under the repeated treatments, but others, many more, in fact: priests, laymen, men, women, adolescents and even small children held fast and refused to deny our Lord. The political motivation was a calculated effort by the shogun Ieyasu to destroy the rising power of the daimyos, some of whom were Christians. One of them, Date Masamune, even sent a delegation to Spain, Mexico, and Rome to Pope Gregory XV. These Japanese, who were keen on Catholicism, made a great impression. Later, however, Date himself apostatized, as did the entire embassy. But the shogun held great -- nigh on to absolute -- power. It was often the little guy, the humble Franciscan, the altar server, the native lay Jesuit, the housewives, grandmothers and peasants who maintained their faith even while the nobles repudiated theirs. The intrepid missionaries already mentioned (Spaniards who traveled to Japan via the Philippines) were beheaded. Others, 5 priests and 4 seminarians, were burned to death by slow fires. Two more, priests from Spain and the Azores, would each say Mass each day in prison (one would say one, while the other kept watch out for the guards; then they'd switch), and walked to the headsman's block singing the litany of saints. They embraced each other before laying their necks on the block. Leonard Kimura was able to baptize 96 folks even while he was in prison for 2 1/2 years and walked to his death at the stake bravely and joyfully. Jerome de Angelis, S.J. and Francis Galvez, O.F.M. and 50 others were burnt alive in slow fires on a hill near Tokyo. This last, Galvez, was successful in sneaking into the increasingly more dangerous Japan by disguising himself as a black man! One of his fellow martyrs, Simon Yempo, was a native Japanese who had been a Buddhist monk. You never hear about these guys. There were numerous Buddhist monks who converted during this period. Diego Carvalho and a band of fugitive Christians were tracked through the snow and followed by means of their footprints. They were marched to a hill (two of their party were hacked to death where they fell), stripped naked and told to renounce their faith, tortured and then left to die in the cold. Many more were burned (slowly) to death: Franciscans, Jesuits, and lay catechists -- these last all natives. The Franciscans, Louis Sotelo and Antony Tuy, "were tireless workers and gained many souls for God. They worked night and day hearing confessions, baptizing, catechizing, raising those who had fallen through fear." - Butler's Lives. These two planted seeds for 2000 souls, many lost through martyrdom, but others kept the faith alive "in the catacombs" until the faith was allowed again.