Brothers and sisters, "My child," Father Abraham says kindly but firmly, "remember that you received what was good during your lifetime while Lazarus likewise received what was bad; but now he is comforted here, whereas you are tormented." Lk 16: 25. Why should we be surprised when, in the next life, we find so many poor people in heaven? And rich people better watch out. If everything is going well for you financially -- well, there's your reward. Don't expect one in the next for that. Use your money wisely . . . open your heart . . . help the poor. And for all those trials you've had, all those times you suffered, when you hadn't enough to eat, or a place to stay, or health insurance -- well, you will be comforted. But the thing is, it's still not a sure thing. Even with all those trials and sufferings, you can lose your reward. I remember a priest listening to his adult sister complaining about something and he interrupted her. "Do you hear that?" he said. She said, "No." "Listen. Ptt. Ptt. Ptt. Hear that?" "No. What is it?" "It's the jewels falling out of your crown in heaven!"
So, let's smile and offer to Jesus, the magnanimous one, all our pains and losses and sufferings -- and reap the reward in heaven with Lazarus (whose name means "God helps," or "God will help") and all those like him.
I was kind of touched by the (nameless) rich man's request that Lazarus -- or someone -- be sent to his brothers even though he himself couldn't be saved. It wasn't possible, but you could feel the man's pain. I think it's wise that Father Abraham told him "they have the law and the prophets." And I think it's an important warning to us: remember that you can lose you salvation. (We know this, as opposed to some of our "once saved, always saved" Protestant brothers.) How your soul is at the moment of death determines your future. So try to always stay in a state of grace -- and don't just step over that beggar at your door.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Today September 29
So much we could celebrate today what with Gabriel AND Raphael joining great St. Michael on this his day, Michaelmas Day. But we are going to go with the incomparable Richard Rolle(1300 - 1349), mystic and "father of English literature"; the fact that he was not actually even canonized a minor one!
He was definitely an introvert -- some would say to a fault -- but he was in always "on fire" for the love of God. He was a Latin and English scholar, philosopher, Oxford student (but not a graduate), theologian (I like him already), and a practical man (he operated a small ferryboat and ran a small farm at various times). And he was a man with a plan, a theory, if you will. An entirely too down-to-earth theory for the likes of Walter Hilton and the author of Cloud of Unknowing. He felt that a soul really wrapped up in contemplation should be able to experience its psychosomatic effects -- right here and now, not just in heaven -- effects like heavenly music and bodily heat. Such things have happened and do happen to people caught up in prayer, as he sought to do continually, or at least often. And though he was kind of a solitary man, he was no recluse -- many could and did come to him for alms, conversation and advice.
He was definitely his own man. He didn't overemphasize penance, and for that I think he fell out of favor with future spiritual guides and writers as a "lightweight." But he wasn't. He knew how difficult it was to master the greedy and animal passions, but he did it and he thanked God for it. He avoided fornication -- he lived a chaste life -- and he was very anti-materialistic, though he was comfortable -- not well-off necessarily, but not poor either. He is venerated in England and miracles attended both his life and his gravesite. Richard Rolle, pray for us.
He was definitely an introvert -- some would say to a fault -- but he was in always "on fire" for the love of God. He was a Latin and English scholar, philosopher, Oxford student (but not a graduate), theologian (I like him already), and a practical man (he operated a small ferryboat and ran a small farm at various times). And he was a man with a plan, a theory, if you will. An entirely too down-to-earth theory for the likes of Walter Hilton and the author of Cloud of Unknowing. He felt that a soul really wrapped up in contemplation should be able to experience its psychosomatic effects -- right here and now, not just in heaven -- effects like heavenly music and bodily heat. Such things have happened and do happen to people caught up in prayer, as he sought to do continually, or at least often. And though he was kind of a solitary man, he was no recluse -- many could and did come to him for alms, conversation and advice.
He was definitely his own man. He didn't overemphasize penance, and for that I think he fell out of favor with future spiritual guides and writers as a "lightweight." But he wasn't. He knew how difficult it was to master the greedy and animal passions, but he did it and he thanked God for it. He avoided fornication -- he lived a chaste life -- and he was very anti-materialistic, though he was comfortable -- not well-off necessarily, but not poor either. He is venerated in England and miracles attended both his life and his gravesite. Richard Rolle, pray for us.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Today September 28
Today is the feast of St. Laurence Ruiz, layman and protomartyr of the Philippines, and Companions, (1600 - 1637). Laurence was a sympathetic character; a mixed-race guy, altar boy (I'm amazed at how many [male, of course] saints have been altar boys), sacristan, husband and father of three children (two boys and a girl). He was an artist (calligrapher) and a fugitive from justice. He ran away from the Spanish authorities in the Philippines who accused him of murder and he escaped with a bunch of Dominican priests on a boat. Any port in a storm, I guess. He didn't realize until it was too late that the boat was headed for Japan, a place of almost certain death for Christians. He could have gone on to Formosa (Taiwan) but he chose to stay with the Fathers.
In Japan they were soon all captured as Catholics and put to the torture. Laurence was subject to the so-called "water torture" (where he was force-fed large quantities of water and then pressed with a board, making the water forcibly spurt out of every orifice) and the classic -- and brutal -- bamboo shoots under the fingernails. He actually caved under torture and apostatized. But he repented and reaffirmed his faith bravely. He and four others were torturously killed (hung upside down in a pit until they expired). He went down in a blaze of glory and brought great honor to his home country. St. Lawrence Ruiz, pray for us.
In Japan they were soon all captured as Catholics and put to the torture. Laurence was subject to the so-called "water torture" (where he was force-fed large quantities of water and then pressed with a board, making the water forcibly spurt out of every orifice) and the classic -- and brutal -- bamboo shoots under the fingernails. He actually caved under torture and apostatized. But he repented and reaffirmed his faith bravely. He and four others were torturously killed (hung upside down in a pit until they expired). He went down in a blaze of glory and brought great honor to his home country. St. Lawrence Ruiz, pray for us.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Today September 27
Today is the feast of St. Vincent de Paul (1581 - 1660), apostle of the poor. What a life this guy had! A youthful shepherd, a stilt-walker, a college student in Toulouse (despite terrible poverty as a child), tutored by Franciscans, kidnapped by pirates, chaplain to the queen, apostle to the poor. Here's how it happened. As a young child, he was sent to the fields to shepherd (on stilts). Somehow he got a good education and was actually ordained at age 20. He was kidnapped by Corsairs while he was on a ship from Marseilles to Narbonne. Rescued, he became a chaplain in the royal house (Queen Margot), then of some aristocrats (the di Gondis). It was at their mansion and grounds that he saw the horrible plight of the peasants up close and began to do something about it. Maybe he heard a call within a call. Anyway, he fed and clothed the poor, started "charity confraternities" to help, began an order to help the poor and to train priests (the Congregation of the Mission, or Lazarists, after the abandoned priory of Saint-Lazare, now also the name of the famous railway station), founded an order of women to do the same (the Sisters of Charity, with the distinctive "Flying Nun"-like headgear), and worked for the redemption of galley slaves. He always loved those who were his friends in the world, including many platonic female friends, and he very faithfully and diligently read and answered all of his correspondence. He even died in his chair in 1660, answering some of those letters. St. Vincent de Paul, pray for us.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Today September 26
Although it's the feast day of Saints Cosmas and Damian, great merciful (and FREE) doctor brothers, let's do St. Therese Couderc (1805 - 1885) whose feast day today also is, because her life seemed such a failure -- plus she suffered from spiritual dryness -- but she also had a profound sense of God. Even at the end of her long, hard life she could say, "I would willingly begin my journey again: I have found God so completely." We have the advantage of living in a photographic age, and so in her photo we see a kind, wise soul, surrounded by rabbits! She was standing in front of the convent hutch.
How was she (considered) a failure, even in her own eyes? Well, though she founded both the teaching order of the Sisters of St. Regis and the retreat-giving order of the Sisters of the Cenacle, based in part on the Jesuits, she was shunted out as superior -- first ignored (under the next superior, who was wealthy and only a novice for one month, and who relaxed the rules, especially of poverty, much to Mother Therese's dismay) and then put to hard manual labor (under the third superior, a practical woman, but unfortunately given to believe the false rumors about Mother Therese's [bad] business ability and physical and even mental health!) Poor intelligent and thoughtful Therese was put to work in the garden and the cellar (rather than teaching or giving retreats) but she found God there anyway. "Great trials make great souls," she used to say. Also, "Have confidence in God. The tree of the Cross bears fruit in every season and every land." And, "God is sufficient for me."
She was always happy and helpful. She liked to tell jokes and laugh, and she never let a young sister carry firewood all by herself or work in the garden herself. She believed "slow and steady wins the race" and was much given to silence, as noted by Pope Paul VI in his canonization of her in 1970.
She suffered spiritual dryness and physical ailments the last 10 - 12 years of her life, but she also had some neat mystical experiences too. She saw all things as if they had the word "Goodness" stamped on them in gold. It reminded her to thank God for all things. And she actually saw the souls of some folks in Purgatory. They were all around her (in her final hours) singing the Te Deum over and over, with an ineffable "reverence of which nothing on earth can even give a suggestion." She died in peace and silence a little while later; it was this date in 1885.
How was she (considered) a failure, even in her own eyes? Well, though she founded both the teaching order of the Sisters of St. Regis and the retreat-giving order of the Sisters of the Cenacle, based in part on the Jesuits, she was shunted out as superior -- first ignored (under the next superior, who was wealthy and only a novice for one month, and who relaxed the rules, especially of poverty, much to Mother Therese's dismay) and then put to hard manual labor (under the third superior, a practical woman, but unfortunately given to believe the false rumors about Mother Therese's [bad] business ability and physical and even mental health!) Poor intelligent and thoughtful Therese was put to work in the garden and the cellar (rather than teaching or giving retreats) but she found God there anyway. "Great trials make great souls," she used to say. Also, "Have confidence in God. The tree of the Cross bears fruit in every season and every land." And, "God is sufficient for me."
She was always happy and helpful. She liked to tell jokes and laugh, and she never let a young sister carry firewood all by herself or work in the garden herself. She believed "slow and steady wins the race" and was much given to silence, as noted by Pope Paul VI in his canonization of her in 1970.
She suffered spiritual dryness and physical ailments the last 10 - 12 years of her life, but she also had some neat mystical experiences too. She saw all things as if they had the word "Goodness" stamped on them in gold. It reminded her to thank God for all things. And she actually saw the souls of some folks in Purgatory. They were all around her (in her final hours) singing the Te Deum over and over, with an ineffable "reverence of which nothing on earth can even give a suggestion." She died in peace and silence a little while later; it was this date in 1885.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Today September 25
Today is the feast of St. Vincent Strambi (1745 - 1824), Passionist. He was a fun-loving only child of a pharmacist. He liked football, drama and hitting targets with his slingshot. Those were the days when women carried their water in earthenware jars on their heads, and at least one local housewife of Civita Vecchia got drenched. But he also loved to "play priest" and rang a bell to call his buddies to "catechism" where he'd explain the lesson. He was overly generous -- once even giving away all his clothes to a beggar child. he got in trouble for that one.
He tried and failed to join the Capuchins and Vincentians, but did become rector of a seminary -- as a layman! But he was later ordained as a secular priest and though he was spurned twice as a Passionist, St. Paul of the Cross himself allowed him into the order. Vincent was really big on preaching, retreats, frequent Communion (in an age that didn't favor that), and stringent requirements of lay catechists. He was made bishop of Macerata/Tolentino against his will, but once he accepted, he was indefatigable. He was vigilant for the orthodoxy of seminarians and he built numerous churches, nursing homes and orphanages. When representatives of Napoleon's Army demanded he sign an oath of loyalty to the Emperor, he refused, saying, "I'll not be a traitor to my sacred duty . . . I won't sign." They said they'd confiscate all he had. "Do so," was his simple reply. "You'll be banished from your diocese." "I am ready," he said. And he was -- for 5 years. Not long after he returned in triumph, he asked to resign the episcopacy and it was granted. You don't hear much about high clerical officers resigning anymore. People act like it's unheard of -- but it's not.
I would say that not only was Vincent eloquent, but he even TAUGHT eloquence. Isn't that a great name for a subject? "Sacred Eloquence"? He also taught theology. And though he was a great man, bishop of a large diocese, friend of founders and popes -- and military generals -- alike, he never forgot the "little people." He showed great care to the sick and he had many female platonic friends, one of whom was named (Blessed) Anna Maria Taigi. This laywoman knew and loved him (to know him was to love him) and had a little insight concerning him at his end. When Vincent had heard of Pope Leo XII's fatal illness, he offered his life to God in exchange for the Pope's. A few days later Vincent was struck with a serious stroke. The Pope recovered and lived another 5 years. Meanwhile, Vincent had lost both his power of speech and of swallowing -- so he couldn't make his last confession nor take Viaticum. Blessed Anna Maria said that at dawn on December 30th he'd regain both powers and have a half hour for his thanksgiving. Sure enough, the little lady was right. He kissed the crucifix after the Mass and thanksgiving, lapsed into a coma and died. He was canonized in 1950.
He tried and failed to join the Capuchins and Vincentians, but did become rector of a seminary -- as a layman! But he was later ordained as a secular priest and though he was spurned twice as a Passionist, St. Paul of the Cross himself allowed him into the order. Vincent was really big on preaching, retreats, frequent Communion (in an age that didn't favor that), and stringent requirements of lay catechists. He was made bishop of Macerata/Tolentino against his will, but once he accepted, he was indefatigable. He was vigilant for the orthodoxy of seminarians and he built numerous churches, nursing homes and orphanages. When representatives of Napoleon's Army demanded he sign an oath of loyalty to the Emperor, he refused, saying, "I'll not be a traitor to my sacred duty . . . I won't sign." They said they'd confiscate all he had. "Do so," was his simple reply. "You'll be banished from your diocese." "I am ready," he said. And he was -- for 5 years. Not long after he returned in triumph, he asked to resign the episcopacy and it was granted. You don't hear much about high clerical officers resigning anymore. People act like it's unheard of -- but it's not.
I would say that not only was Vincent eloquent, but he even TAUGHT eloquence. Isn't that a great name for a subject? "Sacred Eloquence"? He also taught theology. And though he was a great man, bishop of a large diocese, friend of founders and popes -- and military generals -- alike, he never forgot the "little people." He showed great care to the sick and he had many female platonic friends, one of whom was named (Blessed) Anna Maria Taigi. This laywoman knew and loved him (to know him was to love him) and had a little insight concerning him at his end. When Vincent had heard of Pope Leo XII's fatal illness, he offered his life to God in exchange for the Pope's. A few days later Vincent was struck with a serious stroke. The Pope recovered and lived another 5 years. Meanwhile, Vincent had lost both his power of speech and of swallowing -- so he couldn't make his last confession nor take Viaticum. Blessed Anna Maria said that at dawn on December 30th he'd regain both powers and have a half hour for his thanksgiving. Sure enough, the little lady was right. He kissed the crucifix after the Mass and thanksgiving, lapsed into a coma and died. He was canonized in 1950.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Today September 24
Today is the feast day of one of the Desert Fathers. St. Paphnutius (fourth century), known as "the Buffalo," is one of the big ones. He was head of the four monasteries that were in the desert when St. John Cassian went to visit -- and wisely wrote everything down. Here are his stories:
Abba Paphnutius said, "When I was walking along the road, I happened to lose my way and found myself near a village and I saw some people who were talking about evil things. So I stood still, praying for my sins. Then behold an angel came, holding a sword and he said to me, "Paphnutius, all those who judge their brothers perish by his sword, but because you have not judged, but have humbled yourself before God, saying that you have sinned, your name is written in the book of the living!"
It was said of Abba Paphnutius that he did not readily drink wine. One day he found himself on the road facing a band of robbers who were drinking wine. The captain of the band was acquainted with him and knew that he did not drink wine. Seeing how weary he was, he filled him a cup of wine and holding his sword in his hand he said to him, "If you do not drink this, I will kill you." So the old man took the cup and drank it. Then the captain asked his forgiveness, saying, "Forgive me, abba, for I have made you unhappy." But the old man said, "I believe that, thanks to this cup, God will have mercy on you now and in the age to come." Then the robber captain said, "Have confidence in God that from now on I shall not harm anyone." So the old man converted the whole band by giving up his own will for the Lord's sake.
There was at Scetis with Paphnutius a brother who had to fight against fornication and he said, "Even if I take ten wives, I shall not satisfy my desire." The old man encouraged him, saying, "No, my child, this warfare comes from the demons." But he did not let himself be persuaded and he left for Egypt to take a wife. After a time it happened that the old man went up to Egypt and met him carrying baskets of shellfish. He did not recognize him at all, but the other said to him, "I am so-and-so, your disciple." And the old man, seeing him in such disgrace, wept and said, "How have you lost your dignity and come to such humiliation? No doubt you have taken ten wives?" And groaning, he said, "Truly I have only taken one, and I have a great deal of trouble satisfying her with food." The old man said, "Come back with us." He said, "Is it possible to repent, abba?" He said that it was. And leaving everything, the brother followed him and returned to Scetis, and thanks to this experience he became a good monk.
There was a brother who lived int he desert of the Thebaid and the thought crossed his mind, "Why do you live here in this useless way? Get up and go to the monastery and there you will make progress." So he went and found Abba Paphnutius and told him about this thought. The old man said to him, "Go and stay in your cell; make only one prayer in the morning and one in the evening and one at night. When you are hungry, eat, when you are thirsty, drink; when you are tired, sleep. But stay in the cell and take no notice of this thought." And he went away satisfied. He also became a good monk.
Abba Poemen said that Abba Paphnutius used to say, "Wherever you go, do not judge yourself and you will be at peace." St. Paphnutius, pray for us.
Abba Paphnutius said, "When I was walking along the road, I happened to lose my way and found myself near a village and I saw some people who were talking about evil things. So I stood still, praying for my sins. Then behold an angel came, holding a sword and he said to me, "Paphnutius, all those who judge their brothers perish by his sword, but because you have not judged, but have humbled yourself before God, saying that you have sinned, your name is written in the book of the living!"
It was said of Abba Paphnutius that he did not readily drink wine. One day he found himself on the road facing a band of robbers who were drinking wine. The captain of the band was acquainted with him and knew that he did not drink wine. Seeing how weary he was, he filled him a cup of wine and holding his sword in his hand he said to him, "If you do not drink this, I will kill you." So the old man took the cup and drank it. Then the captain asked his forgiveness, saying, "Forgive me, abba, for I have made you unhappy." But the old man said, "I believe that, thanks to this cup, God will have mercy on you now and in the age to come." Then the robber captain said, "Have confidence in God that from now on I shall not harm anyone." So the old man converted the whole band by giving up his own will for the Lord's sake.
There was at Scetis with Paphnutius a brother who had to fight against fornication and he said, "Even if I take ten wives, I shall not satisfy my desire." The old man encouraged him, saying, "No, my child, this warfare comes from the demons." But he did not let himself be persuaded and he left for Egypt to take a wife. After a time it happened that the old man went up to Egypt and met him carrying baskets of shellfish. He did not recognize him at all, but the other said to him, "I am so-and-so, your disciple." And the old man, seeing him in such disgrace, wept and said, "How have you lost your dignity and come to such humiliation? No doubt you have taken ten wives?" And groaning, he said, "Truly I have only taken one, and I have a great deal of trouble satisfying her with food." The old man said, "Come back with us." He said, "Is it possible to repent, abba?" He said that it was. And leaving everything, the brother followed him and returned to Scetis, and thanks to this experience he became a good monk.
There was a brother who lived int he desert of the Thebaid and the thought crossed his mind, "Why do you live here in this useless way? Get up and go to the monastery and there you will make progress." So he went and found Abba Paphnutius and told him about this thought. The old man said to him, "Go and stay in your cell; make only one prayer in the morning and one in the evening and one at night. When you are hungry, eat, when you are thirsty, drink; when you are tired, sleep. But stay in the cell and take no notice of this thought." And he went away satisfied. He also became a good monk.
Abba Poemen said that Abba Paphnutius used to say, "Wherever you go, do not judge yourself and you will be at peace." St. Paphnutius, pray for us.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Homily: Twenty-fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time: 2007
Brothers and sisters, "Make friends for yourself with unrighteous mammon." (Lk 16:9). I've always wondered about this line in the parable of God's mercy which is the story of the unjust steward. I mean, I've always gotten the irony of the cleverness of the "child of this world" concerning money -- his cleverness was praised even though his dishonesty was not. But right afterward, this proverb is given by Our Lord: "make friends for yourself with unrighteous mammon so that when it fails [and it will] they may receive you into the eternal habitations." So, you don't love money -- you love God -- you're not devoted to money -- you're supposed to despise it -- but you USE it. How? Well, that's where it gets to be fun. That is, assuming you have even a dollar left over after you pay the rent or mortgage, the food, the taxes, insurance and utilities. What can you do? Well, you can give to the poor with your money. They will be praying for you -- and thus you may achieve the "pray always" dictum of St. Paul. You can pay for your children's college. You don't have to. But how nice to give them the gift of education -- one they can never lose (or have stolen). It will have ripple effects far beyond your imaginings. You can help a friend with their business. And refrain from criticizing him when it fails. You can keep up the appearance of your house a little. For that makes good neighbors. You can keep up your own appearance a little, at least enough so you can be approachable. And you can welcome guests. In Africa they leave their doors unlocked all the time, "Or else what will happen if a friend comes by to visit?" And I know -- I've been there -- all these things cost money. But money fails, so you want to have used it wisely and well before it does. And you will be welcomed into the Father's House -- and THAT will never fail.
Let us now profess our faith.
Let us now profess our faith.
Today September 23
Today is the feast of St. Padre Pio (1887 - 1968). He was truly a great man, and a dedicated Franciscan and priest. And he had many of the favors of my little friend Miriam, Blessed Maria of Jesus Crucified, OCD, the Little Arab: bilocation, celestial perfume, miraculous cures, conversions and prophetic insight, plus one she didn't: the stigmata. And it's hard to dispute that one -- photos and medical records exist to prove it. Neat.
Francesco (Francis) Forgione was one of 8 children of a poor family -- the father was often gone, trying to make a living for the large family. He had a good education, a normal attraction for the good things of this world, and an early and strong call to the religious life. He was declared 4-F for the military, or whatever they call its equivalent in Italy (World War I). He had a remarkable religious experience in the chapel on September 20, 1918 -- his hands bled as if pierced, and they oozed all his life til his death on this date 50 years later.
His precarious health didn't keep him from fulfilling -- and going beyond -- his priestly duties. Not only did he never take a "priest's day off," he heard confessions every day, sometimes even 8 - 12 hours a day. He was, by his own admission, not a sympathetic guy, but he always prayed for those who asked him and his prayers were remarkably effective. He attracted many, and 100,000 people attended his funeral. Even after his death, his intercession resulted in many cures. St. Padre Pio, pray for us.
Francesco (Francis) Forgione was one of 8 children of a poor family -- the father was often gone, trying to make a living for the large family. He had a good education, a normal attraction for the good things of this world, and an early and strong call to the religious life. He was declared 4-F for the military, or whatever they call its equivalent in Italy (World War I). He had a remarkable religious experience in the chapel on September 20, 1918 -- his hands bled as if pierced, and they oozed all his life til his death on this date 50 years later.
His precarious health didn't keep him from fulfilling -- and going beyond -- his priestly duties. Not only did he never take a "priest's day off," he heard confessions every day, sometimes even 8 - 12 hours a day. He was, by his own admission, not a sympathetic guy, but he always prayed for those who asked him and his prayers were remarkably effective. He attracted many, and 100,000 people attended his funeral. Even after his death, his intercession resulted in many cures. St. Padre Pio, pray for us.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Today September 22
Today is the feast of St. Maurice and Companions (died c. 287). There are other (minor) saints today, but since I am a soldier's daughter and St. Maurice and his legionnaires were all soldiers, I am going to go with him. He is the patron of infantrymen, but I truly think he could be the patron of CO's (conscientious objectors) because he and members of his Theban Legion (he and his companions were all Egyptians) were slaughtered because they refused to obey orders. The orders in question being either a) sacrificing to the gods [the earliest sources say this]; or, b) slaughtering Christians. In either case they, being Christians, bravely refused. They were cut to pieces right there in Switzerland in a place then called Agaunum, but now known better as the very fashionable San Moritz. The mountainous fields ran red with their blood. They didn't even defend themselves, but died like lambs. Maurice answered the Emperor Maximian (actually his designate): "We are your soldiers, but we are also servants of the true God. . . . We readily oppose all your enemies, whoever they are; but we cannot dip our hands into the blood of innocent persons. We have taken an oath to God . . . We have arms in our hands, but we do not resist because we would rather die innocent than live by any sin." You go, Maurice! I'm sure he stirred up his men to great courage. How many there were is still in dispute, but there was at least a squad. And on that spot an abbey was built -- the first in the Western world to maintain the Divine Office round the clock. It's impressive, this abbey. Saint Maurice, pray for us.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Today September 21
Today is the glorious feast of St. Matthew (First century), patron of all those who work in the financial field (including IRS agents . . . naturally) and especially those who have financial problems, which includes most of us at one time or another. Turn to him, St. Matthew, who was good with money but who put it in its place -- both when he left it to follow Jesus and when he used it to put on a feast for "sinners" and for Jesus and His disciples. While the other gospels do put in his common title of "tax-gatherer," Matthew himself calls himself Matthew the publican. He knew how such men were despised. They supported themselves by overcharging on the hated Roman taxes (as they were not paid a salary) and there was no limit set on what they might charge. A man could easily become the victim of greed in such a position. But Matthew immediately got up, leaving behind all his coins and his accounts, and was honored to follow the One, whose miracles may have preceded this encounter, and whose "hidden divinity shone even in his human face, [and] could draw men to him the first time they saw him." - St. Jerome. All of which leads me to put forth my hypothesis (God forgive me) that Jesus in his human body more resembled the smoldering and masculine -- even almost severe -- appearance found in Eastern mosaics and paintings and less the soft, white and almost emasculated appearance found in Western portraiture. I think men spontaneously admired (or envied) Him, and women fell in love with Him. Of course, I could be wrong. I guess we'll all find out in the next life.
So, what of Matthew after Pentecost? One source puts him in Ethiopia, where he evangelized and served the Church there and where he was martyred in church right after Mass when he was making his thanksgiving.
Although we don't have any "originals" of any of the Gospels, presumably they once must have existed. I especially like this statement in The Golden Legend, "Matthew's gospel, written by his own hand, was discovered about AD 500 with the bones of St. Barnabas. St. Barnabas carried this gospel with him and placed it on sick persons, and it instantly cured the illness, as much by Barnabas's faith as by Matthew's merit." Take it for what it's worth. St. Matthew, pray for us.
So, what of Matthew after Pentecost? One source puts him in Ethiopia, where he evangelized and served the Church there and where he was martyred in church right after Mass when he was making his thanksgiving.
Although we don't have any "originals" of any of the Gospels, presumably they once must have existed. I especially like this statement in The Golden Legend, "Matthew's gospel, written by his own hand, was discovered about AD 500 with the bones of St. Barnabas. St. Barnabas carried this gospel with him and placed it on sick persons, and it instantly cured the illness, as much by Barnabas's faith as by Matthew's merit." Take it for what it's worth. St. Matthew, pray for us.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Today September 20
Today is the feast of St. Andrew Kim Taegon, Paul Chong Hasang and 101 companions (died 1839 - 1846 and 1862 - 1867). Let's talk about Korea, after the Philippines, the most Christian nation in Asia, and one where the Christian population is overwhelmingly Catholic. Korea is unusual in that it was converted by (native) laymen . . . laymen and scholars. Lee Sung-hoon, a trader with China, brought back Catholic books which various Korean scholars read and were convinced were true. They baptized and married and catechized each other! They went on like this for awhile, but the notion and the desire for a priest grew and grew. They begged Peking for a priest and they got one, Father Chu Mun-mo, in 1795 -- one priest for the whole of Korea! He was only there for 6 years before he was martyred, along with 300 of his converts. But he never took a day off. So many were killed, but the government didn't get all of 'em. In 1837, the pope himself sent two priests from the Paris Foreign Mission Society to them. That doubled the previous priest population! These two only had two years before they, too, were martyred. They offered themselves hoping to spare the faithful, but no. The government tortured and killed not only them but 130 of the Korean Christians as well: 70 were beheaded and 60 strangled or beaten to death. Many were converts. Protasius Chong was one of them. A simple ropemaker, he was baptized at age 30. He was arrested int he great persecution of 1839, gave in to the torture and was released. Later he returned and asked to retract his renunciation of faith. He was beaten to death. And the 17-year-old Agatha Yi was arrested along with her parents, whom she was falsely told had apostatized. "Whether or not my parents betrayed is their affair. As for me, I cannot betray the Lord of Heaven, whom I have always served." She and her parents were then executed.
Andrew Kim was ordained in 1843, a native Korean who gave his life as an act of God's providence. He was one of only 12 priests for 23,000 believers. And he never took a day off!
Though 10,000 Korean Christians were brutalized and martyred (tortured by fitting with long boards around their necks, like portable stocks; twisted with ropes until their joints popped out of their sockets; and/or brutally whipped), they could not be discouraged. French missionaries bravely kept coming, though it was like accepting certain death. But as the years went on, the horrid prejudice against Christians began to fall by the wayside; anti-Christian laws were left unenforced; foreign condemnation and pressure helped; and by 1886 persecution began to be a thing of the past. Now in South Korea there are over 1 1/2 million Catholics (and probably at least 100,000 in North Korea). The heroism of these "people of the morning calm" is a beacon to good people everywhere. St. Andrew and companions, pray for us.
Andrew Kim was ordained in 1843, a native Korean who gave his life as an act of God's providence. He was one of only 12 priests for 23,000 believers. And he never took a day off!
Though 10,000 Korean Christians were brutalized and martyred (tortured by fitting with long boards around their necks, like portable stocks; twisted with ropes until their joints popped out of their sockets; and/or brutally whipped), they could not be discouraged. French missionaries bravely kept coming, though it was like accepting certain death. But as the years went on, the horrid prejudice against Christians began to fall by the wayside; anti-Christian laws were left unenforced; foreign condemnation and pressure helped; and by 1886 persecution began to be a thing of the past. Now in South Korea there are over 1 1/2 million Catholics (and probably at least 100,000 in North Korea). The heroism of these "people of the morning calm" is a beacon to good people everywhere. St. Andrew and companions, pray for us.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Today September 19
Today is the feast of St. Januarius (died 305 AD), more famous for the miracle attributed to his blood than for his life itself! He was a bishop of Naples and though free, he chose to visit four Christians in prison and was thus arrested, interrogated, put to the torture, thrown to the lions (who inexplicably refused to devour him) and then beheaded. His relics, including his blood, were carefully collected and kept, first in Naples, then in Benevento, then in the abbey at Monte Vergine, and finally back in the church named San Gennaro (Januarius) in Naples. Each year when the normally black and solid mass of his blood (kept in a phial) is brought out and put near his head (in a silver reliquary by the altar), it liquefies. This can happen at any temperature -- as high as 86 degrees F or as low as 15 -- and in the presence of skeptics and believers alike. It has been measured and studied, poked and prodded, all to the unanimous determination that there is NO natural explanation for it. It is not held in hot hands, but placed upside down on the reliquary and on the feast days (there are three: today, the feast of the translation [Saturday before the first Sunday in May], and the anniversary of the saving from a volcano eruption [Dec. 16th]) -- and only on these days does the miracle happen. Or, shall we say, does the "unexplained event" happen. It is followed by devout and happy prayer, a singing of the Te Deum, and veneration. It has been a symbol of the omnipotence of God for thousands of Neapolitans all these many years. Who can say what is at work here? I think if we were talking respectfully about a primitive people, we would be charmed and delighted by their faith. Why it seems to rile some Westerners -- who look so critically on their own people -- I don't know. I think it's wonderful. The only miracles which are articles of faith are those in the Scriptures, the others since then, if miracles they be, are just gravy. St. Januarius, pray for us.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Today September 18
Today's saint, St. Joseph of Cupertino (1603 - 1663) is the patron of pilots. Because he could fly! Without benefit of aircraft! During his life as a Conventual Franciscan, there are over 70 recorded occasions of him levitating -- and not only "in place," as it were, but moving through the air as well, and always associated with religious meditation or even religious suggestion. He'd see a lamb in the convent's pasture and go into ecstasy thinking about the spotless Lamb of God; next thing you know, he'd be flying over to it, catching it up with him in the air. He did the same with a large crucifix in the convent garden.
These levitations (including one upon seeing a statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary, to whom he was much devoted) were witnessed by many, including the duke of Brunswick and Hanover, Urban VIII, and even Prosper Lambertini, who, as Devil's Advocate, did his best to discredit him -- yet afterwards testified to "eyewitnesses of unchallengeable authority who saw his upliftings from the ground and prolonged flights." These were substantiated and not parlor tricks nor simple weird phenomena -- they pointed to a "lifting of the heart and mind to God" and were always associated with prayer.
Besides, Joseph was a singularly bad choice for a hoaxster. He was dull, he was abused (by his mother, who rejected him), he never profited from his many spiritual gifts -- he was even imprisoned by the Inquisition for them! He was misunderstood and it was considered best for his humility that he take his meals alone and be shut away from the other monks. He wasn't even allowed to receive or write letters, which pained him greatly.
He was absent-minded and kind of dealt with family rejection by living in his own little world. I feel sorry for him; I'd love to take him in hand and hug him and tell him he is truly loved. He was made a priest, despite all the odds, and while he seldom preached, he was very moved by the words "Blessed is the womb that bore thee." It just so happened when he came up for examination for the transitional diaconate, that that was the Scripture passage chosen. He, unusual for him, was beautifully eloquent. And when he was ordained (to the priesthood), the first half of the class performed so well, the second half (in which he was) wasn't even examined at all!
He preached, as Franciscans do, and many accused him of hypocrisy and vainglory, since huge crowds followed him. But those who lived with him knew him as an innocent and humble man. He suffered from the accusations, and a vast spiritual dryness, and constant moving, to which he was subjected, as if the confused Franciscans sought to hide him. But still the people flocked to him, attracted by his miracles and his simplicity. He is, in fact, an attractive saint, even though he wore glasses!
His advice was straightforward. "I like neither scruples nor melancholy; let your intention be right and fear not." And perhaps hinting at the spiritual malady with which he himself suffered: "Pray, pray. If you are troubled by dryness or distractions just say an Our Father. Then you make both vocal and mental prayer."
He died in peace on this date in 1767, having had a premonition of his death five weeks earlier. St. Joseph of Cupertino, pray for us.
These levitations (including one upon seeing a statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary, to whom he was much devoted) were witnessed by many, including the duke of Brunswick and Hanover, Urban VIII, and even Prosper Lambertini, who, as Devil's Advocate, did his best to discredit him -- yet afterwards testified to "eyewitnesses of unchallengeable authority who saw his upliftings from the ground and prolonged flights." These were substantiated and not parlor tricks nor simple weird phenomena -- they pointed to a "lifting of the heart and mind to God" and were always associated with prayer.
Besides, Joseph was a singularly bad choice for a hoaxster. He was dull, he was abused (by his mother, who rejected him), he never profited from his many spiritual gifts -- he was even imprisoned by the Inquisition for them! He was misunderstood and it was considered best for his humility that he take his meals alone and be shut away from the other monks. He wasn't even allowed to receive or write letters, which pained him greatly.
He was absent-minded and kind of dealt with family rejection by living in his own little world. I feel sorry for him; I'd love to take him in hand and hug him and tell him he is truly loved. He was made a priest, despite all the odds, and while he seldom preached, he was very moved by the words "Blessed is the womb that bore thee." It just so happened when he came up for examination for the transitional diaconate, that that was the Scripture passage chosen. He, unusual for him, was beautifully eloquent. And when he was ordained (to the priesthood), the first half of the class performed so well, the second half (in which he was) wasn't even examined at all!
He preached, as Franciscans do, and many accused him of hypocrisy and vainglory, since huge crowds followed him. But those who lived with him knew him as an innocent and humble man. He suffered from the accusations, and a vast spiritual dryness, and constant moving, to which he was subjected, as if the confused Franciscans sought to hide him. But still the people flocked to him, attracted by his miracles and his simplicity. He is, in fact, an attractive saint, even though he wore glasses!
His advice was straightforward. "I like neither scruples nor melancholy; let your intention be right and fear not." And perhaps hinting at the spiritual malady with which he himself suffered: "Pray, pray. If you are troubled by dryness or distractions just say an Our Father. Then you make both vocal and mental prayer."
He died in peace on this date in 1767, having had a premonition of his death five weeks earlier. St. Joseph of Cupertino, pray for us.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Today September 17
Today we have the feast of the great Jesuit Robert Bellarmine, the delightful Franciscan feast of the Impression of the Stigmata upon St. Francis, but we are going to go with St. Hildegard of Bingen (1098 - 1179) because this woman is so modern, so misunderstood and so sympathetic.
She was modern because she was scientific (writing a series of works including one on medicine and natural history, which included a catalog of native plants, animals and minerals; the medical text anticipates the theory of circulation and repudiates the assignation of "evil spirits" for mere mental illness), unsentimental (her poetry, and she was a great poet, eschews the rampant sentimentality and syrupiness of contemporaries, especially women) and fearless. She was unafraid to speak out and correct everyone from her own religious sisters right up to princes, bishops and even popes. She corrected them with "unerring justice" - Butler's Lives. And in this she anticipated some future saints -- such as St. Catherine of Siena.
She was misunderstood because she was so astonishingly accomplished and bold that many thought her impious and unladylike. Her revelations and visions -- beautiful as they were -- were attributed to fraud, sorcery or the devil. And even her cause for canonization was rejected twice! (Although she is venerated in several German dioceses.) There were miracles in her life and plenty more at her tomb, but people whose vanity had been offended by her misunderstood her and still to this day folks twist her Scivias, her notable work, called such for Nosce vias [Domini] . . . "Know the Ways [of the Lord], even now used by New Age groups to justify their touchy-feely ways. Needless to say, such works, when they are quoted, are heavily edited because Hildegard was very much a woman of the Church.
And finally, she is sympathetic, I think, because she was plagued with suicidal thoughts all her life, suffered greatly with migraines and was both brilliant and artistic. She loved music and composed much of a sacred nature, and excoriated those (clerics, etc.) who disparaged all music. "[They] will not deserve to hear the glorious choir of angels that praises the Lord in Heaven." You tell 'em, sister!
Hildegard died peacefully on this day in 1179.
She was modern because she was scientific (writing a series of works including one on medicine and natural history, which included a catalog of native plants, animals and minerals; the medical text anticipates the theory of circulation and repudiates the assignation of "evil spirits" for mere mental illness), unsentimental (her poetry, and she was a great poet, eschews the rampant sentimentality and syrupiness of contemporaries, especially women) and fearless. She was unafraid to speak out and correct everyone from her own religious sisters right up to princes, bishops and even popes. She corrected them with "unerring justice" - Butler's Lives. And in this she anticipated some future saints -- such as St. Catherine of Siena.
She was misunderstood because she was so astonishingly accomplished and bold that many thought her impious and unladylike. Her revelations and visions -- beautiful as they were -- were attributed to fraud, sorcery or the devil. And even her cause for canonization was rejected twice! (Although she is venerated in several German dioceses.) There were miracles in her life and plenty more at her tomb, but people whose vanity had been offended by her misunderstood her and still to this day folks twist her Scivias, her notable work, called such for Nosce vias [Domini] . . . "Know the Ways [of the Lord], even now used by New Age groups to justify their touchy-feely ways. Needless to say, such works, when they are quoted, are heavily edited because Hildegard was very much a woman of the Church.
And finally, she is sympathetic, I think, because she was plagued with suicidal thoughts all her life, suffered greatly with migraines and was both brilliant and artistic. She loved music and composed much of a sacred nature, and excoriated those (clerics, etc.) who disparaged all music. "[They] will not deserve to hear the glorious choir of angels that praises the Lord in Heaven." You tell 'em, sister!
Hildegard died peacefully on this day in 1179.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Homily: Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time: 2007
Brothers and sisters, today we hear the story of the Prodigal Son. (I once heard a homilist say, smirking, that it was not the son who was "prodigal," but the father. Well, they BOTH were, depending on how you happen to be using the word, since it has at least two definitions, one meaning "spendthrift, profligate" and one meaning "generous, magnanimous." But this was the same Catholic instructor who asked us point blank if we saw someone who needed help, an old decrepit person who couldn't mow their lawn, say, whether we would help them or just pray for them. And I said, (Duh), "You can do both!" [He's now an Episcopalian.]) And let's do something Ignatian. St. Ignatius of Loyola used to say you should put yourself in the scene, even in the place of one of the characters in the Bible. I think he was specifically talking about historical people, but it works with the characters of the parables as well.
How many of us can put themselves in the place of the prodigal son? Headstrong, ambitious, selfish, blind to all but their own dreams? Hey, aren't we always told to follow our dreams? Aren't we always told to go for it? Aren't we always told, "You only go around once in this world; go for all the gusto you can"? I hate that commercial! (I'm dating myself. It advertised beer, back in the day.) But we are constantly pummeled with similar "can-do" sayings, and if we take them even half-seriously, we could end up like the spendthrift son, going through his inheritance on pleasure and ending up miserable. Yeah, sitting among the pigs, regretting his selfish decisions and repenting, wishing for nothing so much as being able to turn back the clock. "Oh, Lord, just let me turn back the clock and I won't do what I did!" But that is one thing that can't happen in this world down below . . . the clock only runs one way. What can we learn from the son? That he did the next best thing. He couldn't actually turn back the clock and undo his decisions -- his sins -- but he could repent and throw himself upon the mercy of the father. He could basically change his mind, agree to "sin no more and avoid the near occasions of sin," and live as a servant in his father's household. Good man.
Or put yourself in the place of the bitter older son. This is easy! Have you never been passive-aggressive? "I can't believe he's treating my brother better than me! I so much more deserve it." And then you just pout. You nurse your hurt, nurse it, nurse it, because it feels so good to feel so bad! But who has respect for the priggish, self-righteous, and whining older son? Don't BE that guy! Rejoice with the father and remember that all he has is yours.
Or, last but not least, put yourself in the place of the father. How easy is that, for those of us with grown children! How easy to mourn a wayward son! How easy to part with our money but not with our heart! We miss him. We worry about him. We long to see him back in the healthy bosom of the family, his soul clean and saved. But what can we learn from the eminently imitable father? Wait, wait, wait. Be patient and wait and your son will come back to you.
How many of us can put themselves in the place of the prodigal son? Headstrong, ambitious, selfish, blind to all but their own dreams? Hey, aren't we always told to follow our dreams? Aren't we always told to go for it? Aren't we always told, "You only go around once in this world; go for all the gusto you can"? I hate that commercial! (I'm dating myself. It advertised beer, back in the day.) But we are constantly pummeled with similar "can-do" sayings, and if we take them even half-seriously, we could end up like the spendthrift son, going through his inheritance on pleasure and ending up miserable. Yeah, sitting among the pigs, regretting his selfish decisions and repenting, wishing for nothing so much as being able to turn back the clock. "Oh, Lord, just let me turn back the clock and I won't do what I did!" But that is one thing that can't happen in this world down below . . . the clock only runs one way. What can we learn from the son? That he did the next best thing. He couldn't actually turn back the clock and undo his decisions -- his sins -- but he could repent and throw himself upon the mercy of the father. He could basically change his mind, agree to "sin no more and avoid the near occasions of sin," and live as a servant in his father's household. Good man.
Or put yourself in the place of the bitter older son. This is easy! Have you never been passive-aggressive? "I can't believe he's treating my brother better than me! I so much more deserve it." And then you just pout. You nurse your hurt, nurse it, nurse it, because it feels so good to feel so bad! But who has respect for the priggish, self-righteous, and whining older son? Don't BE that guy! Rejoice with the father and remember that all he has is yours.
Or, last but not least, put yourself in the place of the father. How easy is that, for those of us with grown children! How easy to mourn a wayward son! How easy to part with our money but not with our heart! We miss him. We worry about him. We long to see him back in the healthy bosom of the family, his soul clean and saved. But what can we learn from the eminently imitable father? Wait, wait, wait. Be patient and wait and your son will come back to you.
Today September 16
Today is the (old) feast of Cornelius and Cyprian (former died 253, latter 258 AD). They were good friends, though they didn't know each other before Cornelius was elected pope "by the judgment of God and of Christ, by the testimony of most of the clergy, and by the vote of the people" after a 12-month vacancy of the holy See during the bloody reign of Emperor Decius. Cyprian was bishop of Carthage in Africa. They share this their feast day (two days after the anniversary of Cyprian's martyrdom), and while they are not buried together (Cornelius is in the crypt of Lucina, near the old papal cemetery, and Cyprian is in Africa), Cyprian's picture is painted on the wall of Cornelius' crypt and they are mentioned together in the Roman Martyrology.
What brought them together was a heresy, a particularly nasty little heresy called Novatianism, after Novatian, the very able and self-righteous priest whose beliefs favored the permanent shunning of all lapsi, or apostates, who wanted to return to the Faith. He and his gang were so taken with these beliefs that they set up Novatian as an antipope and went on to deny absolution to not only apostates but murderers, adulterers, fornicators and those who, tsk, tsk, contracted second marriages, whatever the circumstances. Cornelius, supported by Cyprian, stood up against him and for the mercy of God. Absolution was always possible after the appropriate penance and confession. At a synod in Rome, the very well-qualified -- but very mistaken -- Novatian was condemned and excommunicated.
Cornelius was banished (by Decian) and died of his ill-treatment there; Cyprian, who lived on and even disagreed with the following pope, St. Stephen I in the matter of baptism by heretics and schismatics (which Cyprian condemned -- requiring re-baptism -- and Stephen upheld, condemning re-baptism), was later himself martyred by beheading. As St. Augustine ways, the excess of passion Cyprian displayed in the controversy with Stephen was atoned by his glorious martyrdom. Saints Cornelius and Cyprian, pray for us.
What brought them together was a heresy, a particularly nasty little heresy called Novatianism, after Novatian, the very able and self-righteous priest whose beliefs favored the permanent shunning of all lapsi, or apostates, who wanted to return to the Faith. He and his gang were so taken with these beliefs that they set up Novatian as an antipope and went on to deny absolution to not only apostates but murderers, adulterers, fornicators and those who, tsk, tsk, contracted second marriages, whatever the circumstances. Cornelius, supported by Cyprian, stood up against him and for the mercy of God. Absolution was always possible after the appropriate penance and confession. At a synod in Rome, the very well-qualified -- but very mistaken -- Novatian was condemned and excommunicated.
Cornelius was banished (by Decian) and died of his ill-treatment there; Cyprian, who lived on and even disagreed with the following pope, St. Stephen I in the matter of baptism by heretics and schismatics (which Cyprian condemned -- requiring re-baptism -- and Stephen upheld, condemning re-baptism), was later himself martyred by beheading. As St. Augustine ways, the excess of passion Cyprian displayed in the controversy with Stephen was atoned by his glorious martyrdom. Saints Cornelius and Cyprian, pray for us.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Today September 15
Today is the feast of St. Catherine of Genoa, laywoman (1447-1510). What an interesting and enlightening character. She had a normal marriage, and later, by agreement, these two (Catherine the Guelph and Julian the Ghibelline, "Montagues and Capulets of the Genoese nobility") lived together in perfect continence. They had no children together. Julian, however, had a child, a daughter, by an illicit liaison, and provided for her (named Thobia) in his will, Catherine magnanimously taking her in and caring for her after the reprobate Julian's holy death. "Monsieur Giuliano is gone," Catherine said, "and as you know well he was of a rather wayward nature, so that I suffered much interiorly. But my tender Love (she often called Jesus "Love," as in "O Love, if it be necessary I am ready to confess my sins in public!" and "O Love, who shall hinder me from loving thee? Though I were in a camp of soldiers I could not be hindered from loving thee") assured me of his salvation before he had yet passed from this life."
She was not in love with Julian, nor he with her, when she was forced into marriage at age 16. For five years she lived in depression, under a dark and unmoving cloud. Then for five more, she lived for pleasure, engaging her senses in any frivolity she could. But she was still unhappy. Then she had a dramatic, profound and complete conversion (though she was already a practicing Catholic) -- an interior conversion, such as we are all called to -- while she was kneeling for a blessing from a priest. In her heart she said with conviction: "No more world! No more sins!" And this she did, giving herself and her goods completely over to the service of the poor and the sick (this was the time of the Black Death, when over 4/5ths of Genoese citizens died -- and she herself contracted it, though she recovered) -- but as a laywoman, even though her husband joined a third order, which was a much bigger deal in those days than it is in ours.
She had many platonic male friends, including Hector Vernazza, a layman who gave himself over to charitable works and preserved many of her doings and sayings in document form, and Father Marabotto, her spiritual adviser.
She wrote a great deal, and her "Treatise on Purgatory which understands and explains Purgatory in light of its earthly counterpart -- the purgatory of consuming love -- is one of the two most illuminating views of Purgatory given to the Church." - Angelus Book of Saints. Saint Catherine, pray for us.
She was not in love with Julian, nor he with her, when she was forced into marriage at age 16. For five years she lived in depression, under a dark and unmoving cloud. Then for five more, she lived for pleasure, engaging her senses in any frivolity she could. But she was still unhappy. Then she had a dramatic, profound and complete conversion (though she was already a practicing Catholic) -- an interior conversion, such as we are all called to -- while she was kneeling for a blessing from a priest. In her heart she said with conviction: "No more world! No more sins!" And this she did, giving herself and her goods completely over to the service of the poor and the sick (this was the time of the Black Death, when over 4/5ths of Genoese citizens died -- and she herself contracted it, though she recovered) -- but as a laywoman, even though her husband joined a third order, which was a much bigger deal in those days than it is in ours.
She had many platonic male friends, including Hector Vernazza, a layman who gave himself over to charitable works and preserved many of her doings and sayings in document form, and Father Marabotto, her spiritual adviser.
She wrote a great deal, and her "Treatise on Purgatory which understands and explains Purgatory in light of its earthly counterpart -- the purgatory of consuming love -- is one of the two most illuminating views of Purgatory given to the Church." - Angelus Book of Saints. Saint Catherine, pray for us.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Today September 14
Today is the feast of the exaltation of the Holy Cross, commonly called "Holy Cross Day." This commemorates several events, depending on whether you are primarily Eastern or Western. In the East, we are told, it actually commemorates the finding of the Cross itself (traditionally by St. Helena), and the dedication (by Constantine) of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in the 2nd century. In the West, it commemorates the return of the Holy Cross from the Persians (who stole it) by Emperor Heraclius in 629. They (the pieces of the Cross) were still locked up tight in the (valuable) silver cross-shaped case. Heraclius unlocked them and tried to carry them back into Jerusalem and was surprisingly unable. His holy man, Zachary, said the pomp of his dress was hardly in keeping with Our Lord's original carrying of the Cross. So, the emperor stripped off his robes and his shoes, his crown and his jewelry, put on a simple peasant's outfit and carried the Cross barefoot to the church. The relics were then lifted up (exalted) for the people, who looked on them with devotion and thanksgiving, and many were cured.
We adore you O Christ and we bless you /
Because by your Holy Cross you have redeemed the world.
And just a note on the True Cross. Some wags have said that if all the pieces of the Cross that were merely claimed to be the True one were collected, it would be larger than the original! Not true. As Frank Sheed has documented, if all the slivers of the True Cross that we know about (and are claimed) were put together, we'd have a cube of wood no bigger than about 6 inches square. So, no, nowhere NEAR bigger than the original.
We adore you O Christ and we bless you /
Because by your Holy Cross you have redeemed the world.
And just a note on the True Cross. Some wags have said that if all the pieces of the Cross that were merely claimed to be the True one were collected, it would be larger than the original! Not true. As Frank Sheed has documented, if all the slivers of the True Cross that we know about (and are claimed) were put together, we'd have a cube of wood no bigger than about 6 inches square. So, no, nowhere NEAR bigger than the original.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Today September 13
Today is the (new) feast day of St. John Chrysostom (347 - 407 AD). His mother, Anthusa, was a very strong and able Christian woman, but she, wisely, didn't homeschool John -- she got the best teachers, though they may have been pagan. One of his teachers, Libanus, when asked who his successor should be, exclaimed: "John would have been my choice, had not the Christians stolen him from us!"
He went on a spiritual quest in the mountains just south of his native Antioch, four years under a spiritual director and two as a solitary. He ruined his (pulmonary) health and returned to the city -- for, lucky for us, he became first a deacon, then a priest and finally a bishop's deputy. He was always concerned -- in a hands-on, grassroots way -- with the care of the poor and I think it is notable that this priest never took a "priest's day off" but preached and said Mass every day, sometimes several times a day. Interesting. And he was not in great health either. You could dismiss him by saying, "Well, yeah, but he was a great saint and to expect our priests today to do the same is ridiculous." Yes, but at the time he was just an ordinary priest and what he did was not extraordinary. His enthusiasm and dedication to the job is not what brought tremendous attention (both negative and positive) upon him. He made powerful enemies, did John Chrysostom.
He had two strikes against him already when he was made bishop of Constantinople: Theophilus of Alexandria was disposed to dislike him from the start, since his own handpicked candidate for the job was rejected, and Empress Eudoxia found him to be entirely too rigid and righteous for her (decadent and self-indulgent) taste. So, even though he was fighting a losing battle, John bravely ruled his wide and important see -- preaching tirelessly once again, and fearlessly attacking immodesty in dress, attendance of the violent games and races (especially on high holy days, such as Good Friday and Holy Saturday), infrequent Communion, lax clerics (whom he disciplined and, when necessary, deposed and replaced), and, most politically incorrect of all, the vanity of the imperial court, of the Empress most of all. John was deposed at the (wholly illegal) "Synod of the Oak," and exiled, to the delight of the Empress, for the first time. But an earthquake occurred in Constantinople and the superstitious Eudoxia had him reinstated, thinking she had perhaps angered God. But the situation was not to last: he was banished again, after "with his usual freedom and courage spoke out loudly against" the silver statue of the Empress erected right in the square outside Santa Sophia (the cathedral church) and the accompanying festival games. He appealed to the Pope (St. Innocent I), who suggested a new council to fully instate and exonerate John, but Emperor Arcadius and his wife Eudoxia prevented any such assembly. He was exiled to Armenia, having suffered the long, humiliating and hot journey through Turkey, but was received with every kindness by the faithful people there. But the emperor (and the party of renegade bishop Theophilus, who jailed the pope's emissaries who came to the imperial city to further demand a council) resolved poor John should be exiled even farther -- to the nether side of the Black Sea. And so this old bishop was forced in the rain and in the heat to travel farther (one guard was decent to him, relatively speaking, and one was cruel). But when he got to Cappadocia, he had a vision of the martyr St. Basiliscus, who said to him, "Courage, brother! Tomorrow we shall be together." And so it was. The guards saw on the trail that he was dying, so they took him back to the chapel of St. Basiliscus, where he was clothed in the white garment, mercifully given the Last Rites, and died, saying, "Glory be to God for all things." Good St. John, pray for us.
He went on a spiritual quest in the mountains just south of his native Antioch, four years under a spiritual director and two as a solitary. He ruined his (pulmonary) health and returned to the city -- for, lucky for us, he became first a deacon, then a priest and finally a bishop's deputy. He was always concerned -- in a hands-on, grassroots way -- with the care of the poor and I think it is notable that this priest never took a "priest's day off" but preached and said Mass every day, sometimes several times a day. Interesting. And he was not in great health either. You could dismiss him by saying, "Well, yeah, but he was a great saint and to expect our priests today to do the same is ridiculous." Yes, but at the time he was just an ordinary priest and what he did was not extraordinary. His enthusiasm and dedication to the job is not what brought tremendous attention (both negative and positive) upon him. He made powerful enemies, did John Chrysostom.
He had two strikes against him already when he was made bishop of Constantinople: Theophilus of Alexandria was disposed to dislike him from the start, since his own handpicked candidate for the job was rejected, and Empress Eudoxia found him to be entirely too rigid and righteous for her (decadent and self-indulgent) taste. So, even though he was fighting a losing battle, John bravely ruled his wide and important see -- preaching tirelessly once again, and fearlessly attacking immodesty in dress, attendance of the violent games and races (especially on high holy days, such as Good Friday and Holy Saturday), infrequent Communion, lax clerics (whom he disciplined and, when necessary, deposed and replaced), and, most politically incorrect of all, the vanity of the imperial court, of the Empress most of all. John was deposed at the (wholly illegal) "Synod of the Oak," and exiled, to the delight of the Empress, for the first time. But an earthquake occurred in Constantinople and the superstitious Eudoxia had him reinstated, thinking she had perhaps angered God. But the situation was not to last: he was banished again, after "with his usual freedom and courage spoke out loudly against" the silver statue of the Empress erected right in the square outside Santa Sophia (the cathedral church) and the accompanying festival games. He appealed to the Pope (St. Innocent I), who suggested a new council to fully instate and exonerate John, but Emperor Arcadius and his wife Eudoxia prevented any such assembly. He was exiled to Armenia, having suffered the long, humiliating and hot journey through Turkey, but was received with every kindness by the faithful people there. But the emperor (and the party of renegade bishop Theophilus, who jailed the pope's emissaries who came to the imperial city to further demand a council) resolved poor John should be exiled even farther -- to the nether side of the Black Sea. And so this old bishop was forced in the rain and in the heat to travel farther (one guard was decent to him, relatively speaking, and one was cruel). But when he got to Cappadocia, he had a vision of the martyr St. Basiliscus, who said to him, "Courage, brother! Tomorrow we shall be together." And so it was. The guards saw on the trail that he was dying, so they took him back to the chapel of St. Basiliscus, where he was clothed in the white garment, mercifully given the Last Rites, and died, saying, "Glory be to God for all things." Good St. John, pray for us.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Today September 12
Today is the feast of the Most Holy Name of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Catholic girls everywhere love this holiday, since so many of them have at least some combination of "Mary" in their name: Mary Ann, Mary Beth, Mary Jane, Mary Jo, Mary Pat, Mary Catherine, etc. etc. Add to that all the "Maries" and "Marias," including in middle names and it's a large feast day indeed. And on a person's feast day, at least in our home, he or she receives a little gift, plus they are excused from all chores and their any little request must be acceded to. And I'm told Protestants just pick names based on how they sound!
Today we actually honor Mary as Mother of the Church and thank God for all the graces we have received through the mediation of Mary. I know I have. A mediator can also be an advocate, so we have reason to hope that in heaven we who loved Mary have an advocate in her.
And what about her name? While all the other "Marys" in the New Testament are given the rendering "Maria" in Greek, the best manuscripts give Our Lady the spelling "Mariam." "For her alone, the Old Testament form of the name is preferred." - Butler's Lives. It kind of distinguishes her in dignity. And while the actual meaning of the name, in whatever form, is disputed, most scholars feel it is something similar to "wished-for child" (appropriate, in Mary's case) and NOT "bitterness," "the sea" or "a star," as was long thought.
Happy Mary's Day!
Today we actually honor Mary as Mother of the Church and thank God for all the graces we have received through the mediation of Mary. I know I have. A mediator can also be an advocate, so we have reason to hope that in heaven we who loved Mary have an advocate in her.
And what about her name? While all the other "Marys" in the New Testament are given the rendering "Maria" in Greek, the best manuscripts give Our Lady the spelling "Mariam." "For her alone, the Old Testament form of the name is preferred." - Butler's Lives. It kind of distinguishes her in dignity. And while the actual meaning of the name, in whatever form, is disputed, most scholars feel it is something similar to "wished-for child" (appropriate, in Mary's case) and NOT "bitterness," "the sea" or "a star," as was long thought.
Happy Mary's Day!
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Today September 11
Today, my husband's birthday, I'm proud to honor Blessed Louis of Thuringia, married layman (1200-1227). There are precious few of these, so let's look at him in detail. First of all, he was married to a saint. For some of you, that's not hard to imagine! You may have experience of that right now. And it's not all bad. It's only a joke to say, "She's a saint . . . and her husband's a martyr" or, as the Irish say, "His wife's a saint, God help him."
But it was a good and beautiful thing in Louis' case. It was an arranged marriage, purely for political reasons, and thus no one could blame him if it had turned out to be an unhappy one. . . or be too awfully surprised if he had turned for friendship elsewhere. But no, Louis of Thuringia and Elizabeth of Hungary loved each other from the start and were faithful to each other to the end. Louis even put up with his wife's extravagant charity, saying, "Let her do good and give to God whatever she will, so long as she leaves me Wartburg and Neuenberg." Now, when she pushed even further, and had beggars of all sorts come to stay in their house, even to the point of having a leper sleeping in their BED, he was tempted to anger. But then suddenly the figure of the leper changed before his eyes and became the crucified Son of God. That shut him up! But it was, all in all, a great grace, and Louis didn't take the message lightly. He ordered a leprosy hospital to be built and opened in his beloved Wartburg.
Louis was no pushover or pantywaist, however. He was all man. Twice he led raiding parties across his borders to recover property stolen from innocent victims. And he led a crusade to the Holy Land, ordering dramatic passion plays to be performed for the populace, giving rousing speeches to young men, and humbly praying for success in the monasteries of his realm (Thuringia). He set out at the head of all his forces, and at Otranto, far short of the Holy Land, he contracted malaria and three days later died. His last words gave evidence of what he alone saw in his final moments: "I must fly away with these white doves." St. Elizabeth, on hearing the news of his death, exclaimed: "The world is dead to me, and all that was pleasant in it." Blessed Louis, pray for us.
But it was a good and beautiful thing in Louis' case. It was an arranged marriage, purely for political reasons, and thus no one could blame him if it had turned out to be an unhappy one. . . or be too awfully surprised if he had turned for friendship elsewhere. But no, Louis of Thuringia and Elizabeth of Hungary loved each other from the start and were faithful to each other to the end. Louis even put up with his wife's extravagant charity, saying, "Let her do good and give to God whatever she will, so long as she leaves me Wartburg and Neuenberg." Now, when she pushed even further, and had beggars of all sorts come to stay in their house, even to the point of having a leper sleeping in their BED, he was tempted to anger. But then suddenly the figure of the leper changed before his eyes and became the crucified Son of God. That shut him up! But it was, all in all, a great grace, and Louis didn't take the message lightly. He ordered a leprosy hospital to be built and opened in his beloved Wartburg.
Louis was no pushover or pantywaist, however. He was all man. Twice he led raiding parties across his borders to recover property stolen from innocent victims. And he led a crusade to the Holy Land, ordering dramatic passion plays to be performed for the populace, giving rousing speeches to young men, and humbly praying for success in the monasteries of his realm (Thuringia). He set out at the head of all his forces, and at Otranto, far short of the Holy Land, he contracted malaria and three days later died. His last words gave evidence of what he alone saw in his final moments: "I must fly away with these white doves." St. Elizabeth, on hearing the news of his death, exclaimed: "The world is dead to me, and all that was pleasant in it." Blessed Louis, pray for us.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Today September 10
Today is the feast of St. Nicholas of Tolentino (1245-1305). He is the patron saint of infants, probably from the manner of his coming to be. His parents were happily married but still infertile in their late middle age. They (especially Mom) prayed to St. Nicholas, patron of children, and conceived. As with so many other grateful mothers, she consigned him to God's service when the time came. He joined the Augustinians and became a notable preacher. He went to college and studied theology (this after he was professed at 18, but before he started preaching), was ordained at 25, was novice-master briefly, and alms giver at the gate -- for which he was criticized for being too generous! An easy touch, was St. Nicholas. He was sent around to many friaries to preach and in one of them -- a really nice one, not noisy and uncomfortable like his usual houses -- he was tempted to stay, but he heard an interior voice saying: "To Tolentino, to Tolentino. Persevere there." Such was the greatness of his heart that he went there immediately and stayed the last 30 years of his life.
He preached there -- in season and out of season -- performed miracles (often using the words "The good God will heal you" or loaves of bread marked with a cross -- to focus on something else other than himself), and upset people. One guy tried to disrupt his sermons with a sword fight. But "Nicholas refused to be intimidated, and his perseverance began to make an impression on his persecutor. Afterward he came and apologized to St. Nicholas and began to reform his ways." - Butler's Lives. Among his cures (mentioned in Butler's Lives) were the cure of a diseased child, a blind woman and even a dead man. Nicholas rescued him from the lake where he had been thrown a week before, revived the body, led the man back home to his family, heard his confession and anointed him. Then, before the eyes of all, the man again died, his flesh shriveling off his bones, but in peace now he had made a good end. The Bollandists, fairly early but also fairly skeptical hagiographers, include this story in their annals since it was well corroborated.
Nicholas suffered almost a year with his final illness and was bedridden towards the end of it. He expired peacefully. His last words were edifying: "My dearest brethren, my conscience does not reproach me with anything -- but I am not justified by that." St. Nicholas, pray for us.
He preached there -- in season and out of season -- performed miracles (often using the words "The good God will heal you" or loaves of bread marked with a cross -- to focus on something else other than himself), and upset people. One guy tried to disrupt his sermons with a sword fight. But "Nicholas refused to be intimidated, and his perseverance began to make an impression on his persecutor. Afterward he came and apologized to St. Nicholas and began to reform his ways." - Butler's Lives. Among his cures (mentioned in Butler's Lives) were the cure of a diseased child, a blind woman and even a dead man. Nicholas rescued him from the lake where he had been thrown a week before, revived the body, led the man back home to his family, heard his confession and anointed him. Then, before the eyes of all, the man again died, his flesh shriveling off his bones, but in peace now he had made a good end. The Bollandists, fairly early but also fairly skeptical hagiographers, include this story in their annals since it was well corroborated.
Nicholas suffered almost a year with his final illness and was bedridden towards the end of it. He expired peacefully. His last words were edifying: "My dearest brethren, my conscience does not reproach me with anything -- but I am not justified by that." St. Nicholas, pray for us.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Today September 9
Today we are going to cover dear Frederick Ozanam, layman (1813-1853). He was a professional lawyer, a philosopher and an activist. I know "activist" has come to have a bad connotation is certain circles, but Frederick was a social activist in the best sense of the word, because though this "revert" wrote many books, charmed many with his eloquence, edified many with his precision, and helped establish the Conferences of Notre Dame (a Catholic school initiative) in France, he is perhaps best known for founding the Society of St. Vincent de Paul. In the spirit of Mother Teresa who would later say: "Don't wait for leaders: do it alone, person to person," he directly helped the poor, not in massive "welfare" ways, but just simple, immediate, respectful and faithful ways. Frederick founded it "to insure my faith by works of charity." That about says it.
As far as his conversion goes, he lost his faith in college, as so many do -- maybe not "lost it" so much as "questioned it." But he himself writes how he got out of it -- simple, really -- the friendship of an intelligent man. It works wonders.
"God gave me the grace to be born in the Faith. Later the confusion of an unbelieving world surrounded me. I knew all the horror of the doubts that torment the soul. It was then that the instructions of a priest and philosopher (Abbe Noirot) saved me. I believed thenceforth with an assured faith, and touched by so rare a goodness, I promised God to devote my life to the services of the truth which had given me peace."
He died of a fever at the early age of 40, and when the priest came to anoint him, telling him not to fear, he said, "Oh why should I fear God, whom I love so much?" This great soul died on September 8, 1853. Frederick Ozanam, pray for us.
As far as his conversion goes, he lost his faith in college, as so many do -- maybe not "lost it" so much as "questioned it." But he himself writes how he got out of it -- simple, really -- the friendship of an intelligent man. It works wonders.
"God gave me the grace to be born in the Faith. Later the confusion of an unbelieving world surrounded me. I knew all the horror of the doubts that torment the soul. It was then that the instructions of a priest and philosopher (Abbe Noirot) saved me. I believed thenceforth with an assured faith, and touched by so rare a goodness, I promised God to devote my life to the services of the truth which had given me peace."
He died of a fever at the early age of 40, and when the priest came to anoint him, telling him not to fear, he said, "Oh why should I fear God, whom I love so much?" This great soul died on September 8, 1853. Frederick Ozanam, pray for us.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Homily: Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time: 2007
Brothers and sisters, I don't think Jesus was "inclusive," ("If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters . . . he cannot be my disciple" Luke 14:25), at least to the extent that He wasn't looking to embrace the maximum number of people in order that they feel welcomed and moved to become Catholics, good as that is. It's more like the rigors of science -- you study it and accept it because it's TRUE. And where science speaks the truth of the physical world, Catholicism speaks the truth of the spiritual world. If not . . . if it simply were not true . . . and uniquely so, as opposed to just being "one of many ways to God," why join? How else to make sense of Saint Mary Yi Yon-Hui's story? St. Mary was arrested in 1839 in Korea for the crime of being a Catholic. She could have recanted and returned to her life, but instead she held firm -- despite the fact that her husband was killed (also for being a Catholic) and her son arrested. "She never complained of the tortures and other sufferings to which she was subjected. Mary was made to listen to the screams of her twelve-year-old son being tortured in an adjacent cell. The guards would torment her anguished heart further by describing to her afterwards how they had tortured the child." - Magnificat, Sept. 4th. But still she held firm. And that, my friends, is loving Jesus even more than "father and mother, wife and children, brother and sister." And yes, even one's own life. St. Mary was beheaded three and a half months after she was arrested. Before he too was martyred, her husband had written her a letter inviting her to follow him to heaven. And she did. But I left out the fact that she had stood up to her tormentors, complained of their cruelty and protested the horribly unjust treatment of herself and her husband and son . . . at first. That's natural. That's even admirable. But her husband admonished her and showed her a better way. A Catholic should suffer with the meekness of a lamb, he said. And so thereafter she never complained.
And we do suffer, don't we? How ofter do we suffer in silence and heroism, like St. Mary? I don't know about you, but I've had financial problems. But one time while I was whining about my (perceived) lack of financial resources, my smartest friend said to me: "Now, concerning money, you know better than that!" True. While life has an absolute value, money and possessions (and money is a type of possession) have only a relative value. And I must (constantly) remind myself:
"In the same way,
anyone of you who does not renounce all his possessions
cannot be my disciple."
I think at the end of life, we see this all the more clearly. A dear friend of mine died this week and I know he can look back on his (long and varied) life with thankfulness and praise. He recently found out the (inoperable) cancer in his liver had spread to his heart and lungs and it was only a matter of time. He was in hospice and was managing his pain quite well. But I know he was a little distracted with the (pain and anxiety) medication and his struggle to breathe, so I know he was glad he had already prepared his soul. He always had this moment in mind, even as he prayed the Rosary every day " . . .and at the hour of our death." This great man, who'd traveled the world, who'd given of himself to the poor and the stranger in every land he'd lived in, who substitute taught, who tutored immigrants, who volunteered for the Native Americans, who worked for the sisters, and who befriended my family, always THOUGHT about what he prayed, and never just rattled off words, like the pagans do. And I believe he took to heart, as we all should, the words of the Psalmist:
" Teach us to number our days aright,
that we may gain wisdom of heart"
And that's what it's all about.
May we be prepared. For we will all see Him, whether soon or late.
Let us profess our faith.
And we do suffer, don't we? How ofter do we suffer in silence and heroism, like St. Mary? I don't know about you, but I've had financial problems. But one time while I was whining about my (perceived) lack of financial resources, my smartest friend said to me: "Now, concerning money, you know better than that!" True. While life has an absolute value, money and possessions (and money is a type of possession) have only a relative value. And I must (constantly) remind myself:
"In the same way,
anyone of you who does not renounce all his possessions
cannot be my disciple."
I think at the end of life, we see this all the more clearly. A dear friend of mine died this week and I know he can look back on his (long and varied) life with thankfulness and praise. He recently found out the (inoperable) cancer in his liver had spread to his heart and lungs and it was only a matter of time. He was in hospice and was managing his pain quite well. But I know he was a little distracted with the (pain and anxiety) medication and his struggle to breathe, so I know he was glad he had already prepared his soul. He always had this moment in mind, even as he prayed the Rosary every day " . . .and at the hour of our death." This great man, who'd traveled the world, who'd given of himself to the poor and the stranger in every land he'd lived in, who substitute taught, who tutored immigrants, who volunteered for the Native Americans, who worked for the sisters, and who befriended my family, always THOUGHT about what he prayed, and never just rattled off words, like the pagans do. And I believe he took to heart, as we all should, the words of the Psalmist:
" Teach us to number our days aright,
that we may gain wisdom of heart"
And that's what it's all about.
May we be prepared. For we will all see Him, whether soon or late.
Let us profess our faith.
Today September 8
Rejoice, today is the feast day of the birthday of the Blessed Virgin Mary, "a mother who loves without a shadow of selfishness." - Angelus Book of Saints. Conceived without sin, she was born without sin, "not deprived of sanctifying grace and prone to sin, but pure, holy, beautiful and glorious." - Butler's Lives. My grandmother read a book about Cleopatra, urging that she was the most beautiful woman in the world, but my mom countered "No, I don't think so. I think Mary was the most beautiful woman in the world." She is certainly one of the most heralded. Shortly after the story of the Fall in Genesis, we hear the prediction of her coming: a woman, whose seed would crush the serpent's head (Gen 3:15), sometimes called the Protoevangelium, or first gospel.
And her feast was kept from ancient Christian times in the East. It was celebrated in the West at least as early as the year 600 AD, when it was written down on the church calendar at Auxerre. It is also mentioned by St. Willibrord (in 704) and ordered to be kept by the whole church by Pope St. Sergius ( reigned 687-701 AD). So, pretty early.
And her honor (not worship, of course) is kept to this day. Prophesied by Mary herself: "From henceforth all generations will call me blessed." And so we do, every time we say a Hail Mary. "Blessed art thou among women . . ." Blessed Virgin Mary, pray for us.
And her feast was kept from ancient Christian times in the East. It was celebrated in the West at least as early as the year 600 AD, when it was written down on the church calendar at Auxerre. It is also mentioned by St. Willibrord (in 704) and ordered to be kept by the whole church by Pope St. Sergius ( reigned 687-701 AD). So, pretty early.
And her honor (not worship, of course) is kept to this day. Prophesied by Mary herself: "From henceforth all generations will call me blessed." And so we do, every time we say a Hail Mary. "Blessed art thou among women . . ." Blessed Virgin Mary, pray for us.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Today September 7
There are many minor saints today as well, but we are going to go with St. Clodoald, better known as Cloud. This poor boy. He had some sadness and some gladness in his life. First the gladness. He was raised in Paris by his grandmother, St. Clotilda, who had by her patient and holy example converted her husband Clovis, king of the pagan Franks. She taught the three orphaned sons of her son Clodomir (who died battling his cousin, Gondomar -- a name worthy of Tolkien, if you ask me) their catechism with great warmth and affection. Now the sadness: during the reign of the regent, Cloud's uncle Childebert, he and his brother Clotaire plotted to kill the three nephews, the true heirs to the crown. One they stabbed, one they nearly spared (he'd run to the arms of his Uncle Childebert, who melted, but then was dragged from his arms by Clotaire and stabbed in the throat), and one, the youngest, Cloud, escaped to a monastery in Provence. There he remained until he came of age, when he could rightfully have tried to assert his rights to the crown. But he chose to retire to a hermitage along the Seine, which is now called Saint-Cloud (and where Napoleon had his court, or one of them, I believe). He was never ordained, nor officially professed, so I guess we could call him a layman, though he lived the life of a monk. The rules of hermitage being different in those (early) days, he did venture out to teach the people their faith. And he is the patron of nail-makers. His name is a pun on the French word clou (nail), and thus the association. St. Cloud, pray for us.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Today September 6
There are many (minor) saints today, but we are going to go with St. Bega, also known as St. Bee. You might think the luminous Mother Teresa would be a hard act to follow (and she is), but Bee, intending to be (just) a faithful laywoman, ended up being the first nun in Northumbria in what is now England, and was a woman whom Mother Teresa would recognize and approve.
She was "devoted to the poor and oppressed" -- patron of those ground down between their lords and the marauding border Scots -- and she cooked, washed and mended for the poor, as well as for the laborers who built her monastery, to which other young women soon came. And when her successor, St. Hilda, died, Bee had a vision of her soul ascending to heaven.
She'd been persuaded, for her own protection from the marauders, to consecrate herself as a nun by St. Aidan -- since she loved to pray by herself in the wild country, the edge of which is still today called St. Bee's Head. St. Bee, pray for us.
She was "devoted to the poor and oppressed" -- patron of those ground down between their lords and the marauding border Scots -- and she cooked, washed and mended for the poor, as well as for the laborers who built her monastery, to which other young women soon came. And when her successor, St. Hilda, died, Bee had a vision of her soul ascending to heaven.
She'd been persuaded, for her own protection from the marauders, to consecrate herself as a nun by St. Aidan -- since she loved to pray by herself in the wild country, the edge of which is still today called St. Bee's Head. St. Bee, pray for us.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Today September 5
Today is the memorial of Blessed Teresa of Calcutta (1910 - 1997). Born Gonxha Bojaxhiu (Gonxha means "little flower" in Albanian) in Albania (a country famous now for being the poorest country in Europe. Even now post-Communism, the entire populace are the victims of an elaborate Ponzi scheme), but what is now the republic of Macedonia. Like St. Ignatius of old, she was fascinated and motivated by the lives of the saints. She joined the Loreto Sisters as a missionary and was sent to Ireland to learn English in preparation for work in India. She chose the name Teresa, both after "big" Teresa the mystic, reformer and founder, and after "the little flower" Therese, patron of missionaries. She taught school to relatively wealthy girls in Darjeeling, but when she moved to the school in Calcutta, she was "increasingly disturbed by the poverty surrounding her." -Wikipedia, "Mother Teresa". On her annual retreat back up to the mountains of Darjeeling on the train, she had what she called her "call within the call" to leave the convent and work with the poorest of the poor. It was an "order," not a suggestion. First she established a school in Motijhil, but that failed, and she just started to help the poor and dying. No money to her name, no sisters to join her (at first), no home, she experienced poverty like she'd never known it before. And all the while, the Tempter said in her ear: "You have only to say the word and all will be yours again." But she held fast and didn't take the easy road and go back to Loreto. She founded -- in an abandoned Hindu temple donated by the Indian government -- the Kalighat Home for the Dying, a free hospice for the poor. People of all faiths were welcomed and treated there according to their faith: Muslims were read the Quran, Hindus received the water of the Ganges, Catholics received the Last Rites. "A beautiful death is for people who lived like animals . . . to die like angels" she said, inspired by the comments of her first dying person -- a Hindu man -- who was in the gutter and covered in worms. She took him home, cleaned him up and cared for him. Just before he died, he looked in her eyes and said: "I have lived like an animal, but I die like an angel."
Shortly thereafter a leprosy hospital (and hospice) was opened and then an orphanage. She started the order with 13 sisters and now has 4000 sisters, 300 brothers and over a million lay volunteers in 610 missions in 123 countries. You might think such a beacon of strength, such a loved and loving woman, the subject of the profound documentary "Something Beautiful for God," winner of the Pacem in Terris award from the Catholic Church (1978), the Medal of Freedom from America (1985), numerous honorary degrees AND the Nobel Peace Prize (1979) (the $192,000 award for which, she gave entirely to the poor in India) would not be a figure of controversy, but you would be wrong. Not only did people misinterpret Archbishop D'Souza's decision to perform an exorcism on her after her first heart attack (because he felt she might be under attack by the devil, besides her physical malady), and not only did they misinterpret her writings in "Come Be My Light" as a "crisis of faith" (rather than an exposition of her personal spiritual dryness common in mature souls), but Christopher Hitchens profoundly misinterpreted her heartfelt -- and honest -- admission, "I'm not a social worker. I do it for this reason. I do it for Christ" as a failure to fight poverty and just a way to expand the number of Catholics. No. You see, in each ravaged face, Hindu, Muslim, or Christian, she saw her Lord -- and she put an absolute value on life -- this life, right here, right now. She did something for each one -- right now, just as she could. She couldn't alleviate all poverty . . .it would be foolish to think so . . . but she could help this one poor person, right here, right now. And unlike others, she did! She died in 1997 and was beatified in 2002. I predict we will all live to see her a (canonized) saint. I believe she is already a saint, in the sense that she is a citizen of heaven. Blessed Teresa of Calcutta, pray for us.
Shortly thereafter a leprosy hospital (and hospice) was opened and then an orphanage. She started the order with 13 sisters and now has 4000 sisters, 300 brothers and over a million lay volunteers in 610 missions in 123 countries. You might think such a beacon of strength, such a loved and loving woman, the subject of the profound documentary "Something Beautiful for God," winner of the Pacem in Terris award from the Catholic Church (1978), the Medal of Freedom from America (1985), numerous honorary degrees AND the Nobel Peace Prize (1979) (the $192,000 award for which, she gave entirely to the poor in India) would not be a figure of controversy, but you would be wrong. Not only did people misinterpret Archbishop D'Souza's decision to perform an exorcism on her after her first heart attack (because he felt she might be under attack by the devil, besides her physical malady), and not only did they misinterpret her writings in "Come Be My Light" as a "crisis of faith" (rather than an exposition of her personal spiritual dryness common in mature souls), but Christopher Hitchens profoundly misinterpreted her heartfelt -- and honest -- admission, "I'm not a social worker. I do it for this reason. I do it for Christ" as a failure to fight poverty and just a way to expand the number of Catholics. No. You see, in each ravaged face, Hindu, Muslim, or Christian, she saw her Lord -- and she put an absolute value on life -- this life, right here, right now. She did something for each one -- right now, just as she could. She couldn't alleviate all poverty . . .it would be foolish to think so . . . but she could help this one poor person, right here, right now. And unlike others, she did! She died in 1997 and was beatified in 2002. I predict we will all live to see her a (canonized) saint. I believe she is already a saint, in the sense that she is a citizen of heaven. Blessed Teresa of Calcutta, pray for us.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Today September 4
Today is the feast of St. Rose of Viterbo (1235-1252). I love this little saint, if only because I, too, in a manner "preach." A layman isn't supposed to give homilies (or sermons) . . . and especially not a female! But she did, and I do. I do anonymously, but she did bravely, walking up and down the streets of her little town of Viterbo . . . and not just on Sundays, either, but every day. And she was no queen, nor even a noblewoman. Just a peasant girl who saw a need and met it. Viterbo and environs were involved in an imperial war between Frederick II and the Pope. She told them the profoundly politically incorrect fact that they must not support the powerful Frederick II who had just taken over (and who had the law behind him). It's easy, she said: just overthrow the Ghibelline (imperial Hohenstaufen) fortress in town. Well, not easy, perhaps, but clear. And despite their "better interests," despite their pocketbooks, they started to open their hearts to this girl and listen. And, later, they did just what she said and predicted.
She could see as if from afar the imminent death of the Emperor -- and so it happened, on the 13th of September in Apulia, two weeks after she first predicted he would die. And with perhaps a tinge of the adolescent sentiment of "You'll be sorry when I'm gone!", she predicted that the convent, St. Mary of the Roses, which refused her entry for lack of a dowry: "You will not have me now, but you will when I am dead." And yes, she died shortly thereafter, at age 17 and sure enough, she was buried in the crypt of the convent of St. Mary of the Roses! When the convent later burned down, her incorrupt body was spared. It's still preserved in the Monasterio Clarisse Santa Rosa in Viterbo. Her heart was removed, it too, incorrupt, and is carried through the town on this her feast day.
She could see as if from afar the imminent death of the Emperor -- and so it happened, on the 13th of September in Apulia, two weeks after she first predicted he would die. And with perhaps a tinge of the adolescent sentiment of "You'll be sorry when I'm gone!", she predicted that the convent, St. Mary of the Roses, which refused her entry for lack of a dowry: "You will not have me now, but you will when I am dead." And yes, she died shortly thereafter, at age 17 and sure enough, she was buried in the crypt of the convent of St. Mary of the Roses! When the convent later burned down, her incorrupt body was spared. It's still preserved in the Monasterio Clarisse Santa Rosa in Viterbo. Her heart was removed, it too, incorrupt, and is carried through the town on this her feast day.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Today September 3
Today is the feast of Servant of God Teresa Pantellini (1878 - 1907). She was born a noblewoman, got a great education, traveled extensively throughout Europe and in North Africa as a child, and grew up headstrong and impudent. But she was also very devoted and religious. She felt not only a vocation to the religious life, but heard an interior voice directing her to a specific order: Don Bosco's Daughters of Mary, Help of Christians. Her family was surprised, thinking she'd at least go into the Ladies of the Sacred Heart, who had educated her. But this noble, intelligent, refined and introverted young woman actually had a rare gift with the sometimes rough girls they educated and housed. Her patience even in the face of insults and spitting eventually won them over. She worked hard to master her strong will and to live in a dorm room (not even a private cell), and to endure poor food and a difficult assignment. She was generous and liberal in her attitudes: when one sister was attacked by 5 rough girls and her veil pulled off, she refused to press charges, but worked to rehabilitate the girls. (She succeeded.) She did the most menial work (counting and sorting the dirty laundry) and adopted as her humble motto: "I resolve to pass unnoticed."
A word about the laundry. Father Bonanni in the Via Cappelle started it "to help keep girls off th streets teach them a trade, and help them earn an honest living." - Modern Saints. I suspect this was the motivation behind the sister-run Irish laundries, despite the calumny they endured from movies like "The Magdalene Sisters." I don't know much about the Irish ones, but I've read that, unlike in the movies, they were completely voluntary and the girls appreciated them as a shelter, albeit a hard-working one.
Sister Teresa was dying of tuberculosis when she had a vision, actually more of an apparition since Sister Lenci saw it too, of Don Bosco, then only a Servant of God himself. He approached her, smiling, and she directed him to the other sister who was also sick. "Don Bosco, it is not I who am asking for a cure -- it's Sister Lenci." That sister was cured and went on to labor for thirty more years in the field. Sister Teresa lingered for another month and a day. Her last words, uttered with a smile despite her pain, were: "Don't be upset, it doesn't matter, let it alone." Sweetly appropriate for this meek soul, comforting her other sisters. Sister Teresa Pantellini, pray for us
A word about the laundry. Father Bonanni in the Via Cappelle started it "to help keep girls off th streets teach them a trade, and help them earn an honest living." - Modern Saints. I suspect this was the motivation behind the sister-run Irish laundries, despite the calumny they endured from movies like "The Magdalene Sisters." I don't know much about the Irish ones, but I've read that, unlike in the movies, they were completely voluntary and the girls appreciated them as a shelter, albeit a hard-working one.
Sister Teresa was dying of tuberculosis when she had a vision, actually more of an apparition since Sister Lenci saw it too, of Don Bosco, then only a Servant of God himself. He approached her, smiling, and she directed him to the other sister who was also sick. "Don Bosco, it is not I who am asking for a cure -- it's Sister Lenci." That sister was cured and went on to labor for thirty more years in the field. Sister Teresa lingered for another month and a day. Her last words, uttered with a smile despite her pain, were: "Don't be upset, it doesn't matter, let it alone." Sweetly appropriate for this meek soul, comforting her other sisters. Sister Teresa Pantellini, pray for us
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Today September 2
Today is the bittersweet feast day of the Martyrs of September. Bittersweet because their death was so beautiful and yet so unjust; bittersweet like the very Revolution it signified: "liberty, equality and fraternity" is a noble and worthwhile goal; the bloodbath that followed was not.
Briefly, all the priests who didn't sign the oath to uphold the law that denied the pope any authority over French Catholicism. The oath, not only being forbidden by the highest ecclesial authorities -- the pope himself, was against the consciences of all loyal men, as it denied the universal authority of the popes. It truly violated the the spirit of independence of the Church.
All the "non-jurors," as priests who refused to sign were called, were arrested. Then the killings began. Most were summarily executed -- many by being led down a stairway, at the end of which they were macheted to death. Some were "tried" in a kangaroo court first. Some were then shot, others were stabbed. Among these latter was John du Lau, Archbishop of Arles. He was quietly praying in his chapel (where he could have hidden, then later escaped). When summoned, "The Archbishop of Arles!", he bravely called out, "I am he whom you seek." And the brave bishop of Beauvais dragged himself from the infirmary when he heard his name, saying, "I do not refuse to die with the others, but I cannot walk. I beg you to have the kindness to carry me where you wish me to go." That shut them up. For a minute, anyway. They murdered him, too.
191 priests were beatified for this feast day in 1926 by Pius XI.
Briefly, all the priests who didn't sign the oath to uphold the law that denied the pope any authority over French Catholicism. The oath, not only being forbidden by the highest ecclesial authorities -- the pope himself, was against the consciences of all loyal men, as it denied the universal authority of the popes. It truly violated the the spirit of independence of the Church.
All the "non-jurors," as priests who refused to sign were called, were arrested. Then the killings began. Most were summarily executed -- many by being led down a stairway, at the end of which they were macheted to death. Some were "tried" in a kangaroo court first. Some were then shot, others were stabbed. Among these latter was John du Lau, Archbishop of Arles. He was quietly praying in his chapel (where he could have hidden, then later escaped). When summoned, "The Archbishop of Arles!", he bravely called out, "I am he whom you seek." And the brave bishop of Beauvais dragged himself from the infirmary when he heard his name, saying, "I do not refuse to die with the others, but I cannot walk. I beg you to have the kindness to carry me where you wish me to go." That shut them up. For a minute, anyway. They murdered him, too.
191 priests were beatified for this feast day in 1926 by Pius XI.
Saturday, September 1, 2007
Today September 1
Today is the feast of St. Fiacre (died c. 670 AD). This Irish saint is more famous than people realize. Those garden statues people have, mistakenly thinking they are St. Francis statues, are usually really St. Fiacre (patron of gardens and gardeners). So he's been seen but not recognized.
This Irish monk traveled to France to the region of Meaux and was given a plot of land for his hermitage. St. Faro gave it him, as much as he could plow in a day, it is said. Instead of a plow, he used his walking stick to measure off the property. I'm not sure how much it was, but evidently it was enough for a little cell, a church dedicated to St. Mary, a hospice for travelers and a garden. He gained a reputation for wisdom and was sought out like wise men of old, but he was also known as a soft touch, so he was often sought out for alms as well. He took care of the sick and dying who came to the hospice, and even was known to cure a person or two just by laying hands on him. And I do mean "him"; no women were allowed in the hermitage, even in the church! Even Anne of Austria, Queen of France, had to wait outside the door when she came with the other pilgrims. My sources don't say, but I assume that was to ensure all propriety.
The healings went on even after his death and many swarmed to his little retreat with petitions and thanksgivings. The aforementioned Anne of Austria attributed to the prayers of St. Fiacre the recovery of her husband Louis XIII at Lyons, where he was deathly ill, and the healthy birth of her son, Louis XIV. Dear St. Fiacre's relics are resorted to in all kinds of ills, especially, for some reason, venereal diseases. (Which is kind of ironic, don't you think, since he never consorted with females?) He is patron of gardeners from his active work in the self-supporting garden, and, oddly enough, of French cab drivers. They really need it! Actually, it's not that odd. When the guild started up in the 17th century, the taxi drivers -- horse-drawn, of course -- started out in the Rue Saint-Martin near the hotel Saint-Fiacre, in Paris. Mystery solved.
Saint Fiacre, pray for us.
This Irish monk traveled to France to the region of Meaux and was given a plot of land for his hermitage. St. Faro gave it him, as much as he could plow in a day, it is said. Instead of a plow, he used his walking stick to measure off the property. I'm not sure how much it was, but evidently it was enough for a little cell, a church dedicated to St. Mary, a hospice for travelers and a garden. He gained a reputation for wisdom and was sought out like wise men of old, but he was also known as a soft touch, so he was often sought out for alms as well. He took care of the sick and dying who came to the hospice, and even was known to cure a person or two just by laying hands on him. And I do mean "him"; no women were allowed in the hermitage, even in the church! Even Anne of Austria, Queen of France, had to wait outside the door when she came with the other pilgrims. My sources don't say, but I assume that was to ensure all propriety.
The healings went on even after his death and many swarmed to his little retreat with petitions and thanksgivings. The aforementioned Anne of Austria attributed to the prayers of St. Fiacre the recovery of her husband Louis XIII at Lyons, where he was deathly ill, and the healthy birth of her son, Louis XIV. Dear St. Fiacre's relics are resorted to in all kinds of ills, especially, for some reason, venereal diseases. (Which is kind of ironic, don't you think, since he never consorted with females?) He is patron of gardeners from his active work in the self-supporting garden, and, oddly enough, of French cab drivers. They really need it! Actually, it's not that odd. When the guild started up in the 17th century, the taxi drivers -- horse-drawn, of course -- started out in the Rue Saint-Martin near the hotel Saint-Fiacre, in Paris. Mystery solved.
Saint Fiacre, pray for us.
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