Today October 31

Today is the feast of St. Quentin (date unknown), martyr. It is also Halloween. The unusual first name is also the name of a dear friend of one of my kids. He's a kid my son's age who always dresses in black: black shoes, black pants, black shirt, black vest; he talks in a monotone; walks with his head down and without swinging his arms; and he never smiles. If a kid can be said to be depressed, he sure looks like he is! I think Quentin would like Halloween, a dark, dreary, but also a sweet and exciting holiday. Also, a most OPTIONAL holiday. You CAN do whatever you want, but you don't have to. You can wear whatever you want, say whatever you want, and eat all the candy you can hold. What's not to like? :)

Anyway, the story of Saint Quentin is an ancient and possibly embellished one -- but he is most definitely a saint and an early martyr of France, specifically Amiens. We have the knowledge and approbation of both St. Gregory of Tours and the Venerable Bede behind him, as well as the standard Acta Sanctorum. Here's the story. He was a Roman who came to preach the faith in Gaul. This was at the time illegal, and the prefect Rictiovarus had him thrown in prison. First the prefect made promises to him and then he made threats, all to no avail. So he had him scourged and thrown in a dungeon. He was tortured, first on the rack, then with iron wire, then with boiling oil and pitch poured on his flesh til it bubbled. He escaped from prison but was caught in the public market and remanded to the town then called Augusta but now honored with the name Saint-Quentin. The prefect, finding his pride somewhat wounded by this saint, had him beheaded. And when he was, some saw what looked like a white dove escaping from his neck and flying to heaven. The body was flung into the River Somme, but brave Christians fished it out and buried it near the town. Saint Quentin, pray for us.

Today October 30

Today is the feast of St. Alphonsus Rodriguez (1533 - 1617), SJ. He was a lay brother, or "temporal coadjutor" (because everything Jesuit has to sound both erudite and military), which is not really identical with what we think of as a "layman" -- we think of it as living and working in the world -- since he lived a strict life as a porter in the Jesuit house on Majorca for a full 45 years! Up early every morning; taking care of those boys (it was a boarding school and college); greeting nobles, clergy and beggars alike; dispensing advice promptly when asked (since, as he told Father Santander, SJ, his spiritual director, when he entered the order: "I will never again follow my own will"); and, he spent every single spare minute in prayer. And this despite great spiritual dryness!

But he'd not always been that way. He'd been a businessman, a husband, father, and very much a man of the world. It's true his later life was a misery: his business failed, his wife and daughter died, he and his surviving son were left living with his two dour maiden sisters. But amidst this depression and stress, grace began to arrive. He learned the fundamentals of mental prayer (including meditation and the rosary), he had a mystical vision of heaven, he discerned a vocation to the Jesuits. Of course he was refused: he hadn't nearly the intellectual gifts nor education required for that illustrious bunch. But there he was, over forty, in so-so health, abandoning his pride and putting himself in school with little boys -- starting from scratch, as it were. In doing so, he was following in the footsteps of the great founder himself, St. Ignatius of Loyola, and Fr. Santander could see his great drive and piety. He fought to have him accepted (after he'd scored at least a general education) and although he never saw Alphonsus a priest (his fervent wish), he had no reason ever to be ashamed of today's great saint.

He died after a protracted battle with evil spirits in October of 1617 and was given the final grace of an unbroken ecstasy until the final agony. He relaxed, finally, and died peacefully with the name of Jesus on his lips. Great St. Alphonsus Rodriguez, pray for us.

Today October 29

Today is the feast of Blessed Michael Rua, (1837 - 1910), second superior of the Salesians after the long-lived founder, Don Bosco. A poor fatherless boy, Michael was one of the boys in the Boys' Town (called a "youth club"). The youth clubs ran into the same trouble that good ideas for the poor always do: fine, but "not in MY back yard (NIMBY)." So they were always having to move. Even at a young age, Michael felt a special closeness to the Master. When he was only 10 years old, he reached out for a gift from Don Bosco and Don opened his empty right hand and made a cutting motion across it with his left, symbolizing that they two would share everything. Michael was the only one who could decipher Don Bosco's handwriting, and spent many hours transcribing it. He was given the cassock by Don Bosco himself. He was a natural leader, but very different from the founder . . . he was much more conservative and ascetic. He was even something of a stickler, for the kids said, "Better a 'no' from Don Bosco than a 'yes' from Don Rua."

But I think that's okay. It was Don Bosco's policy to "hire from within;" to pick natural teachers and leaders from among those very boys themselves, and a natural risk inherent in that is that you may get damaged individuals. Michael suffered both from the death of his father and from the neglect of his mother (who went immediately to work to feed her 9 children -- of whom Michael was the last -- and would come home completely exhausted). He developed a hard edge that didn't mellow til he was much older. When he was actually superior -- in 1885, only three years before Don Bosco's death, but during his severe decline in health -- Michael learned to smile and let go a little.

But if he lacked the founder's innate charm and affability, he had other gifts. Endowed with a prodigious memory, he was a fine student of philosophy and theology, a great teacher, a diligent secretary, a well-ordered priest and disciple, and a hard-working friend. He had positively liberal ideas (for the times) on the great good and usefulness of music, theater and sports for the boys. And he was greatly devout. He said frequent Communion and constant devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary were the pillars on which the whole world rested. His last words were: "To save one's soul is everything, everything!" He died in peace after a long illness at 9:30 am on April 6, 1910 and was beatified on today's date in 1972 by Pope Paul VI. Blessed Michael Rua, pray for us.

Homily: Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time: 2007

Brothers and sisters, today we heard this:
"The LORD is a God of justice,
who knows no favorites.
Though not unduly partial toward the weak,
yet he hears the cry of the oppressed." (Sir 35:12)
And I think we need to take a cold, hard look at it. We need to "know no favorites," and that includes not automatically favoring the poor, the minority member, and the marginalized. And yet it DOES mean educating ourselves and opening our eyes, our minds, our hearts and our pocketbooks TO the poor, the minorities, the marginalized who need it. Because we need to "hear the cry of the oppressed" (or, as the case may be, MAKE that cry). Because it is not up to US to level people -- God can do that -- or to decide against someone in court just because he is rich, or shun someone just because he is rich, or despise and envy someone just because he is rich. Mother Teresa said not to hold it against the rich, because they may have worked very hard for what they have. And if anyone had a case for being partial to the poor, SHE did!

And even though I say that, I won't say that Jesus was only blessing the poor in spirit and not the materially poor, or that the BEST way is not to go, sell all you have, and follow Him. It's not doable for most of us . . . we must honor our obligations, our "duty in our state in life" as it used to be called . . . and besides, if you're married, it's not all your money anyway!

But the rich, just because they ARE rich, doesn't mean they are wrong or unjust or need to be punished or put down a peg or leveled or taught a lesson. I remember a woman who was in a breadline in Communist Ukraine, starving and waiting, and when she finally got to the front of the line she was turned away. "You were rich," they said, and sent her away hungry. She never got over it. Only the proletariat deserved to eat. One can rebuke and disagree with the Communists without turning one's back on the poor and the workers. Give to EACH man his due; that is the definition of justice.

But what about the "Woe to you rich . . ."? Well, "those to whom much is given, much will be expected." And your material wealth is a gift from God much like any other. A man gifted with athletic ability may use it or abuse it, as countless examples show. A person gifted with a fine voice or writing ability or artistic talent may do the same. He is called to use it for the glory of God and the enjoyment and benefit of his brothers and sisters. So the materially rich are called to do the same. As (Saint) Dorothy Day says, "We are all our brothers' and sisters' keepers."

[pause]

Let us now profess our faith . . .

Today October 28

Today is the double feast of Saints Simon and Jude, (First century). These two are apostles, always linked together, even if only tenuously in the Eastern tradition (they are strongly linked in the Western). We know Simon was chosen among the apostles, and while the surnames given to him imply he was born in Cana, it is also true that he was very zealous in his faith even as a Jew (and not necessarily that he belonged to the particular party of the Zealots.) Of Jude we know a bit more: he is one of the so-called "brothers of the Lord" -- a kinsman, likely a brother of St. James the Less. After the Last Supper, he asked the immortal question -- why didn't Christ manifest Himself to the rest of the world. And Jesus reassured him that He and the Father would visit all those who love Him. I think this effectively counters the so-called "scandal of particularity," which so afflicts modern man and plays into a New-Agey desire to make Jesus some kind of diffuse and esoteric wisdom or force that manifests itself to every people and culture . . . and not just a person in a particular place during a particular (and brief) period of history.

Jude wrote (or has attributed to him) one of the letters of the New Testament (a so-called "catholic epistle" because it wasn't directed to any church or person in particular). It's a good epistle for modern times; warning as it does against false teachers, "ungodly men, turning the grace of our Lord God into riotousness, . . .and flattering people to gain advantage."

In Eastern tradition, both men died in peace in Edessa (or possibly Beirut, in St. Jude's case), but in Western tradition they were both martyred in Persia. They also supposedly sent Abdias as missionary to (what is now) Iraq. They themselves traveled through there, gently evangelizing, until they arrived in Persia and gave their ultimate witness.

Tradition holds that many years later, Emperor Domitian hauled St. Jude's two grandsons, Zoker and James, before him, worried that being of the royal house of David, they might be threat to him. But seeing them as humble, impoverished tradesmen, he let them go.

Saints Simon and Jude, patron of "desperate cases," pray for us.

Today October 27

Today is the feast of Contardo Ferrini (1858 - 1902). I think this learned layman would make an excellent dinner guest. He spoke 12 languages, including ancient Hebrew, Coptic and Sanskrit. He could read and write in those languages, too. He enjoyed reading Scripture and classic texts in the original languages. He loved the law and was somewhat of an expert in Roman law. Of course, he was a professor -- at the University of Messina in Italy. But he was also a poet and a rockclimber, a celibate and a third-order Franciscan. He was quite the catch, evidently, and all those little old Italian ladies couldn't stop themselves from matchmaking. One said of a certain young lady, "When her father dies she will have so much. When her mother dies, so much. And when her uncle dies . . . " "Oh dear," interrupted Contardo, "What a lot of corpses!"

He used to tell his students he was married to his work. And he had, from a young age, thrown himself into his studies. He'd had all the normal attractions, the hormonal Sturm und Drang of adolescence, but he weathered the storm. He got a hold of himself and after much soul-searching, pledged himself to the single life for good. He was a layman all his life, dedicated to teaching law and law history. But he was un-flamboyantly devout, self-effacing and rigorous in following the precepts of the Church . . . even when he personally disagreed with them! Up til the Holy See said Catholics could not engage the new Piedmontese regime, Contardo was in favor of engagement. but as soon as the pope spoke, he complied, even though, as he said, "our abstention from the legislative assembly leaves our legislation unprotected from the most deplorable influences."

Later on, he allowed himself to be drafted for the city council in Milan (which WAS then allowed), and discharged his duty with all diligence. He tried his best to combat the evils of materialism, introduction of civil divorce, and attacks on religion in general.

He really HAD a place "on the lake" and when he said he was going to "the lake" on the weekend, he meant his father's small cabin on Lake Maggiore. He went there one time feeling weak, and deciding to climb the mountain nearby, which he thought would relax him, he only got worse. He died of typhus on October 17, with his father holding his hand. He was only 43! Pius XII said of him: He was a man who "gave an emphatic 'Yes' to the possibility of holiness in these days." Amen. Blessed Contardo Ferrini, pray for us.

Today October 26

Today we have the feast of St. Cedd (died 664). He was one of four brothers, whose parents all gave them the same first initial. He was the bishop of the East Saxons (and thus was sent basically as a missionary to Essex), friend of kings and bishops, princes and prelates, founder of monasteries, and died a total failure! Well, not really, of course. He is a saint and thus a friend of God in heaven; and anyone who is a saint can be said to be, in the truest sense of the word, a winner.

But in the eyes of the world, he died a failure. All three of his monasteries, including the celebrated Lastingham, which he carved out of the wild and swampy fens of Yorkshire, "an inaccessible spot" - Butler's Lives, were entirely destroyed by Vikings. He died a broken man. He was carried off by the plague, as were all of his (religious) brothers. Only one escaped to tell the tale: an unbaptized boy, who later got baptized and grew to be a priest and missionary. He followed Cedd's simple Rule "as far as these rough people were capable of receiving it" - Venerable Bede. St. Cedd, pray for us.

Today October 25

Today is the fun feast of Saints Crispin and Crispinian, martyrs (date unknown). Though they were shoemakers (and patrons of same), brothers, laymen, preachers, and martyrs in Soissons, France, during the reign of Maximian, they are best known in England as the subjects of a stirring speech by Henry V in Shakespeare's play of the the same name:

act iv, scene 3:

This day is called the feast of Crispian
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian,
He that shall see this day, and live old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors,
And say, "These wounds I had on Crispin's day."
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words,
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered.
The story shall the good man teach his son:
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world.
. . .

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers:
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother: be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition.
And gentlemen in England, now a-bed,
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here;
And hold their manhoods cheap, whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon St. Crispin's day.


Wow. Amen. They don't write speeches like THAT anymore!

These noble brothers preached in Gaul. They preached all day, then cobbled all night, taking as their model the apostle Paul. They converted many to the Faith, both by word and by example. A complaint was lodged against them; they were taken before the magistrate Rictiovarus, who sentenced them to be boiled in oil. They, like the three men in the fiery furnace of old, were unharmed. Rictiovarus, it is said, took his own life in despair.

The Emperor himself ordered them beheaded. They were buried there in Soissons. Later their relics were taken to Rome and reside in the church of St. Lawrence.
The citizens of county Kent in England honor them, especially in the port town of Faversham. There is an altar there in their memory. . . . And the Bard honors it too: "We few, we happy few, we band of brothers . . ." Saints Crispin and Crispinian, pray for us.

Today October 24

Today is the feast of St. Anthony Mary Claret (1807 - 1870 AD). Though he was a founder of the missionary order known as the "Claretians" and patron of Cuba (and staunch advocate of native civil rights, which put him in grave danger of his life), he was a man afflicted with great spiritual dryness (it looks like depression, but it's not) to the point that at times ALL he could pray was verbal prayer! But he hung in there, and he was rewarded . . . perhaps the people around him even more than he! He effected many miraculous cures, gently prophesied the future for people, and helped many penitents and priests.

He wanted to be a Carthusian (but that didn't work out); he got a good Jesuit education; and, he loved books! I love him for starting a library and devoting himself to spreading good literature throughout his native country, Spain. He even started a science lab, a music school and a museum of natural history! Meanwhile, he never forgot to pray. He felt God was near, even when he had no emotional or spiritual consolation from Him.

He was ahead of his time in condemning the atrocious behavior of Spanish adventurers in the New World, specifically Cuba, to which he was assigned and which he observed firsthand -- but got nowhere with his complaints to the authorities in Spain. (I tend to think the stealing, oppression and rape must have been pretty bad, with so very many and different saints all going against their own in denouncing it.)

But he gave up the battle and retired from the bishopric, instead devoting himself to preaching and publishing in his native Spain. He preached over 10,000 sermons and published 200 books! You go, Anthony Mary! He died while traveling to Rome. St. Anthony Mary, pray for us.

Today October 23

Today is the (new) feast of St. John of Capistrano (1386-1456 AD), which is really too bad, because the swallows come home to Capistrano on his OLD feast day, not in late October!

I think I already wrote about him in March (March 28th is his old feast day), but since I haven't posted it to my blog yet (having posted March 27th and March 29th, but for some reason not March 28), we are going to go with him. He was a lawyer, layman, married, and yet somehow he became one of the bright lights of the Franciscan order --- and not as a tertiary, but as a brother and then as a priest. No doubt he secured the consent of his wife before he left his well-to-do and comfortable life for one of humility and poverty. And I DO mean humility: he rode backwards on an ass with all his sins written out (by him) on a dunce cap. And I DO mean poverty: one rough brown habit, no money, no shoes. And he traveled about, preaching; many heard him -- they were positively DRAWN to him: up to 150,000 of them at a time, according to some estimates. People -- even the elders, priests and princes -- came out to hear him. Often they'd come in procession, carrying sacred relics. (We Catholics do processions well.) And he really gave it to them. Although he was a tender-hearted and merciful man (and well ahead of his time in advocating mercy to accused witches and disavowing torture), he didn't sugar-coat the truth, but called a spade a spade and lambasted the lax and popular culture.

He also worked to continue the mighty unifying effort of St. Bernadino of Siena -- preventing the total breakdown between the Observants (known as the Spirituals) and the Conventuals (the majority; referred to -- derogatorily -- by the Spirituals as "the Relaxed") -- but unable to prevent the split off from the Observants of a group that became the radical (and heretical) Fraticelli.

He did engender peace talks between Milan and Burgundy, and between Greece and Armenia. He evangelized in Hungary and Poland, Italy, Bavaria, and Saxony. He preached severely against the heretical (and patriotic) Hussites, who died out but who foreshadowed the Reformation. It does appear that their leader, Jan Hus, was promised safe passage (by the Dominicans) and then betrayed. He was arrested, condemned and burned at the stake. St. John had nothing to do with this, but the Bohemians WERE sore at him for a long time.

He put his money where his mouth was by not only proclaiming a crusade against the invading Turks, but leading men into battle at Belgrade. He was not killed in the fighting itself, but he was a casualty of that war: he contracted plague from the dead bodies on the hill. He died on this day in 1456 (probably why his feast was returned to this date) and was canonized 268 years later, there being no less than 2,507 miracles attributed to him! St. John Capistrano, pray for us.

Today October 22

Today is the feast of St. Philip of Heraclea (died 304). He and several of his companions were martyred during the reign of Diocletian.

The emperor's first edicts against Christianity caused some to tell Philip to run away, but he refused to leave his cathedral (he was bishop there.) The Roman authorities came and locked up the church. Philip said to them, "Do you imagine that God dwells within walls, and not rather in the hearts of men?" and simply held Mass outside. When the Romans came to take the gold and precious chalices, Philip said, "It is not by precious metal but by charity that God is honored" and gave them up. But when the Romans came for the books, he refused, saying, "The sacred books it becomes neither you to demand nor me to surrender." So he was dragged off in chains. He was scourged and then brought back to the marketplace to watch the huge book-burning of all the Bibles and sacred texts. Philip, meanwhile, assured all the people present of the justice of God and reminded the pagans that even their own temples had once been burned.

Next he was ordered by the governor Bassus to sacrifice to the emperor (on an altar that had been prepared there at the market). Philip refused and Bassus ordered him to a prison near the theater. There was a secret door to the prison from the public theater, and thus many of Philip's Christian subjects came to see him.

Then Justin succeeded Bassus, which was unfortunate, since Bassus had been a man who could listen to reason. Justin ordered Philip to sacrifice to the gods, the emperor and the fortune of the city, as the law (technically) required. Philip replied, "I am a Christian, and cannot do what you require. You can punish our refusal, but you cannot force our compliance." And so, this violent man, Justin, had the old man Philip tied by his feet and dragged through the streets of Heraclea. He was thrown back in prison for 7 months and then remanded to Adrianople, where he and his companions were burned at the stake. (Well, not really at a stake. They were buried in earth to their knees, with their hands tied behind them. Then wood was piled around them and set alight.) They (Philip, his priest Severus and his deacon Hermes) died singing a psalm of thanksgiving to God. St. Philip, pray for us.

Homily: Twenty-ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time: 2007

Brothers and sisters, today's readings all show the need for persistent prayer. "As long as Moses kept his hands raised up, Israel had the better of the fight, but when he let his hands rest, Amalek had the better of the fight." Ex. 17:11. In this evocative portrayal of intercessory prayer, Moses' hands lifted in prayer directly helped the Hebrews in their bitter battle: as long as he kept them raised, Israel was winning. But he couldn't continually do so. It is illustrative that he was allowed to have help: the comfort of the rock to rest on and the aid of his friends who stood at his side and held his arms up in supplication to God. I love this Biblical passage. We lean on our believing friends, and truly, they help us pray and help our prayers to be effective. We can sometimes relax a little and sit down -- we don't always have to kneel, for instance -- and we can turn to others and accept their help. And we can assist them, too. I put to you Aaron and Hur were just as responsible for Israel's victory. They held up Moses' hands -- they were praying for him and with him -- and most importantly, God accepted their offering and heard their prayer and answered it with a big, fat "Yes."

And just as important is the dynamic of persistency, of so-called "constant prayer" -- in season and out of season, as it were: "Be persistent whether it is convenient or inconvenient." 2 Tim 4:2. In other words, don't give up. Of course, a corollary to all this is: don't have immature or erroneous expectations. Don't think, oh, I prayed for it once -- and briefly -- and now it should be mine. It doesn't work that way. For one thing, God is outside of time -- time to Him is very different than it is to us. Perhaps your "persistent prayer" seems long to you, but it isn't to God. You'll understand some day. But it's important for us to keep trying, and when our prayers ARE answered, to be grateful. I remember a woman I worked with in the Legion of Mary. She had prayed for 12 years to be released from the fibromyalgia that painfully afflicted her hands. Twelve years! And one day she was healed. She thanked God without a trace of bitterness or impatience. That was many years ago, but I still remember it. And I honor her example. So . . . if you've been praying for something and it hasn't happened yet, ask yourself: have you been praying for twelve years yet? Don't give up. Remember the example of the widow and the unjust judge in today's Gospel. If you want something badly enough and you pester God long and faithfully enough, you will get your just decision. This is a great and hopeful sign. If even you who are evil are able to be generous, how much more so will be the All-Holy One?

[pause]

Let us now profess our faith . . .

Today October 21

Today is the feast of St. Ursula and her eleven (thousand) companions in Cologne -- probably a misreading of the Latin inscription XI M. V. ("undecim martyres virgines") into eleven THOUSAND (M) -- who existed, but we know little about them; so we are going to go with St. Agathon, Desert Father. We know quite a bit about him: he was trained by Abba Poemen, lived with Abbas Alexander and Zoilus in Scetis, and moved to the Nile with his disciple Abraham. Here are some of his sayings and stories which survive.

I like this one. On his way to town to sell his baskets, he met a cripple by the roadside. Abba Agathon greeted him and the cripple said, "Do me the favor of carrying me there." So he hiked him up upon his back and carried him to town. After Agathon sold a basket, the cripple asked him how much he made. He told the truth, and the cripple said, "Good. You can buy me a cake." He continued to take advantage of him after each sale. "Buy me this," he said, or "Buy me that." Finally, Agathon had sold all his wares and was going to go home. "Do me the favor of carrying me back to the place where you found me," said the cripple. Agathon did so, and when he finally, wearily, set him down, heard: "Blessed are you, Agathon, in heaven and on earth." And looking up, he saw no one, for it had been an angel, coming to test him.

Abba Agathon used to say: "No passion is worse than an uncontrolled tongue, because it is the mother of all the passions."

"Under no circumstances should the monk let his conscience accuse him of anything."

He was goaded by some monks to try to make his angry: "Aren't you that Agathon who is said to be a fornicator and a proud man?" "Yes, it is very true," he answered. They resumed, "Aren't you that Agathon who is always talking nonsense?" "I am." Again they said, "Aren't you Agathon the heretic?" But at that he replied, "I am not a heretic." So they asked him, "Tell us why you accepted everything we cast you, but repudiated this last insult." He relied, "The first accusations I take to myself, for that is good for my soul. But heresy is separation from God. Now I have no wish to be separated from God." At this saying they were astonished at his discernment and returned, edified.

It was said of Abba Agathon he spent a long time building a cell with his disciples. At last when it was finished, they came to live there. Seeing something during the first week which seemed to him harmful, he said to his disciples, "Get up, let us leave this place." But they were dismayed and replied, "If you had already decided to move, why have we taken so much trouble building the cell? People will be scandalized at us, and will say, 'Look at them, moving again; what unstable people!' " He saw they were held back by timidity and so he said to them, "If some are scandalized, others, on the contrary, will be much edified and will say, 'How blessed are they who go away for God's sake, having no other care.' However, let him who wants to come, come; as for me, I am going." Then they prostrated themselves to the ground and besought him to allow them to go with him.

"In other forms of labor a man gets some rest, but for the man who prays, it is a battle til the very last breath."

He battled well, for when the monks around him asked him for a final word he said, "Show me some charity and don't talk to me any longer, for I am busy now." And he died with joy, as if greeting old friends. Abba Agathon, pray for us.

Today October 20

Although today is the feast of St. Paul of the Cross, founder of the Passionists, we are going to go with an obscure saint, Andrew of Crete (died 766 AD). Poor guy. There are TWO Andrews of Crete, and this one (the one from the town with the super name of Krisis ) isn't even the most famous! This one isn't the poet and hymnologist. So, you might say, why go with him? Because there is more to art than just poetry . . . and this man, this great man, gave his very LIFE for art; notably, art in the form of icons -- sacred paintings and other representations. In the art world, people will respect you for "not compromising your artistic principles" or even "sacrificing all for your art" -- but often not for having the same sentiment toward religion itself. But what if people were not even allowed to use sacred beings -- God, angels, saints -- as subjects? Well, Andrew of Crete believed we had that right . . . and he died defending it.

He even went to the heart of the struggle: Constantinople. He cried out in protest, and the iconoclastic emperor Constantine V heard him. He accused Andrew of worshiping idols (in the form of icons), and Andrew told the emperor he was in frank heresy. We worship only God, but we USE images properly in devotion. As Andrew was actually dragged away, he said: "See how powerless you are against faith?"

The next day he was scourged and dragged through the streets, and a fanatical iconoclast stepped out of the crowd and stabbed him with a fishing spear. Andrew staggered to the Place of the Ox, where he fell down dead. The authorities threw his body in the open sewer, but some Christians fished it out and buried it nearby. There is now the monastery of St. Andrew over it. St. Andrew, pray for us.

Today October 19

We have today, among many illustrious saints -- in particular, St. Isaac Jogues and the other martyrs of North America who gave their lives under truly horrific conditions -- also the heroic layman, Blessed Philip Howard (1557 - 1595). He was neither a founder nor a member of a religious order, not even a third order, but a married man and, despite the restrictive conditions of his later life (he was locked up in the notorious Tower of London for 10 years), a father. Bloody Queen Elizabeth never let him see his son, born after his imprisonment, nor his faithful wife Anne who stood by him through it all: his early unfaithfulness and neglect (while he was at court and trying to make a good impression), his conversion to Catholicism (which he knew would cost him dearly, but he said: "[I am at the point] in which I must consent either to the certain destruction of my body or the manifest endangering of my soul"), and his long, bitter imprisonment.

He was thrown into prison for converting (with his wife) to Catholicism, and had the great misfortune of being still in prison -- and still a Catholic -- during the invasion of the Spanish Armada. He was tried on trumped-up charges and "evidence" extracted during torture, but still the treason charge did not stick. "The Catholic Roman faith which I hold is the only cause why either I have been thus long imprisoned or why I am now ready to be executed." But he never was executed; he died of his bad treatment on this day in 1595 in prison. To the end, he refused to attend Protestant services -- he just didn't believe in what was SAID in them -- and thus languished in that dank cell.

He was earl of Arundel (where his relics now lie) and wanted nothing more than to live his life in peace -- with his faithful hound (pictured with him in his stained-glass window in his parish church), but he didn't want it enough to turn his back on his new-found faith. Blessed Philip Howard, pray for us.

Today October 18

Today is the feast day of St. Luke, evangelist (First century). Almost all we know of him comes directly from the New Testament. He was a Gentile, he was from Antioch, he was a physician, he was almost certainly a Greek. He was with Paul a lot, definitely in not only his first but also his second imprisonment in Rome. He wrote very good Greek and that very eloquently, and he tried diligently to be accurate, going back to the sources. Harnack "very solidly demonstrated that Luke the physician was the author both of the third gospel and the whole of the Acts of the Apostles" - Butler's Lives, despite attempts to dispute this.

He was almost certainly not one of the 72, although some still cling to that old idea. He came to the faith after the Resurrection and was a disciple of the apostles and not of the Lord.

I found it interesting that "many had written accounts of the things that had happened . . . from the beginning" - Butler's Lives. And that implies more than just the other two synoptics. But of all the "many", only Matthew, Mark and Luke, and later John, were chosen as canonical. There evidently was something special about these. I believe that something was holy inspiration.

His Greek was very good; he was well-educated; he has a good grasp of geography, history and medical matters. His text filled an important niche: more literary than Mark's memoirs, and less directly addressed to the Jews than Matthew's, Luke's gospel reached the many educated pagans interested in the life of Christ. And Luke put it -- as well as an account of the trials and travels of the early Christians, especially Paul -- all together into a cohesive whole. And through it all he stresses our Lord's mercy. To him alone we owe the stories of the good Samaritan, the repentant thief and the prodigal son. And of course, all five of the joyful mysteries of the Rosary: the Annunciation, the Visitation, the Birth of Jesus (also covered in Matthew), the Presentation and the Finding in the Temple. Did he actually talk to Our Lady? He doesn't say, but it's possible. She was in the care of St. John, and Luke and John met. Luke was baptized in the early forties and Our Lady would have been no more than 70. There's no real reason he couldn't have interviewed her. We'll never know, before we get to heaven. But we have cause to be grateful to him for writing as he did. St. Luke, pray for us.

Today October 17

Okay, we could go with the (old) feast of St. Margaret Mary Alacoque, she of the great devotion to the Sacred Heart, or the great -- and famous -- St. Ignatius of Antioch, but when we have the rare chance to do a Desert Father, and when we have the even rarer chance to do a dwarf, well, how can we refuse? Today is the feast of St. John the Dwarf (Fifth Century). We've covered him before because there was another St. John and I used stories from the venerable dwarf. These all truly belong to our guy today, though.

It was said of Abba John the Dwarf that he withdrew and lived in the desert at Scetis with an old man of Thebes. His abba, taking a stick, stuck it in the sand and said to him, "Water it every day with a bottle of water, until it bears fruit." Now the water was so far away that he had to leave in the evening and return the following morning. At the end of three years (THREE YEARS!) the wood came to life and bore fruit. Then the old man took some of the fruit and carried it to the church saying to the brethren, "Take and eat the fruit of obedience."

It was said of Abba John the Dwarf, that one day he said to his elder brother, "I should like to be free of all care, like the angels, who do not work, but ceaselessly offer worship to God." So he took off his cloak and went away into the desert. After a week he came back to his brother. When he knocked on the door, he heard his brother say, before he opened it, "Who are you?" He said, "I am John, your brother." He replied, "But John has become an angel, and he is no longer among men." Then the other begged him saying, "It is I." However, his brother did not let him in, but left him there until morning. Then, opening the door, he said to him, "You are a man and you must once again work in order to eat." Then John made a prostration before him, saying, "Forgive me."

Some old men were entertaining themselves at Scetis by having a meal together; amongst them was Abba John. A venerable priest got up to offer drink, but nobody accepted any from him, except John the Dwarf. They were surprised and said to him, "How is it that you, the youngest, dared to let yourself be served by the priest?" Then he said to them, "When I get up to offer a drink, I am glad when someone accepts it, that is the reason, then, that I accepted it, so that he also might be glad by seeing that someone would accept something from him." When they heard this, they were all filled with wonder and edification at his discretion.

He was so absent-minded in the love of God, that it was said of him that one day he was weaving rope for two baskets, but he made it into one without noticing, until it had reached the wall.

Abba John said, "I am like a man sitting under a great tree, who sees wild beasts and snakes coming against him in great numbers. When he cannot withstand them any longer, he runs to climb the tree and is saved. it is just the same with me; I sit in my cell and I am aware of evil thoughts coming against me, and when I have no more strength against them, I take refuge in God by prayer and I am saved from the enemy."

One day when Abba John was going up to Scetis with some other brothers, their guide lost his way for it was nighttime. So the brothers said to Abba John, "What shall we do, abba, in order not to die wandering about, for the brother has lost the way?" The old man said to them, "If we speak to him, he will be filled with grief and shame. But look here, I will pretend to be ill and say I cannot walk any more; then we can stay here till the dawn." This he did. The others said, "We will not go on either, but we will stay with you." They sat there until the dawn, and in this way they did not upset the brother.

One day Abba John was sitting down in Scetis, and the brethren came to him to ask him about their thoughts. One of the elders said, "John, you are like a courtesan who shows her beauty to increase the number of her lovers." Abba John kissed him and said, "You are quite right, Father." One of his disciples said to him, "Do you not mind that in your heart?" But he said, "No, I am the same inside as I am outside."

A fitting tribute to the man: the same inside as outside. St. John, pray for us.

Today October 16

Today is the feast of St. Hedwig, laywoman, (1174 - 1243). She was a strong woman, buffeted by the trials of life, a laywoman by choice (she could have become a Cistercian nun after the death of her husband -- after all, she lived there in the Cistercian convent) but because she wanted to manage her own life and her own finances to the benefit of the poor, she stayed in the lay state. The Poles, who call her Jadwiga (which sounds sweeter than Hedwig, anyway; it's pronounced Yahd - vee - ga) dearly love her. A little princess at 12, she was married to 18-year-old Henry the Bearded, duke of Silesia (in Poland). She was a Bavarian, like our current pope. Both spouses were Germanic and spread Germanic culture throughout Poland.

Hedwig, no shrinking violet, directed Henry immediately upon his ascendancy, to build a monastery for nuns at Trzebnica. Prisoners were ordered to work on it. Later she had him build a hospital in Breslau, and a sanatorium for women lepers in Neumarkt. But she was not able to rein him in on matters of war, to which she was in principle opposed. He fought the Pomeranians (also Poles) under the leadership of a man with the unlikely name of Swatopluk. Swatopluk used guerrilla warfare and surprised Henry in his bath, nearly killing him. Later Henry fought his previous ally Ladislaus and emerged victorious, occupying Cracow. He died off the battlefield, in peace in 1238.

Hedwig was devastated, but more tragedy was to come. Her two sons Conrad and Henry II fought each other for their father's lands, despite her missions of diplomacy for peace between them. She failed in this, and then when Henry II fought the Mongols who raided Poland from Asia, he was killed by their chemical warfare, poison gas from long-range blowguns. Interesting. . . . the year was only 1240!

"I have lost my son," she cried. "He has gone from me like a bird in flight and I shall never see him again in this life." But she bounced back, living in voluntary poverty (she was "shoeless" before "discalced" was even added to any order's names), and administering her fortune wisely. She was even blessed to be able to be the instrument of God's cure of a blind woman, over whom Hedwig made the sign of the cross.

She died on Oct 15th in 1243 and was buried in Trzebnica in Lower Silesia in Poland. Her feast day was moved to this day since the 15th was already occupied by another strong Catholic woman, St. Teresa of Avila.

Today October 15

Today, rejoice, -- it is the feast day of St. Teresa of Jesus (aka St. Teresa of Avila), (1515 - 1582). Much has been made of the fact that her paternal grandfather Juan Sanchez was Jewish; old hagiographers to play it down, new ones to play it up. In truth it was a common thing in Castile at that time, home of so many so-called conversos, or Jewish converts, and not a huge factor -- for pride or shame -- in Teresa's young life.

Teresa Sanchez de Ceseda y Ahumada was born to an upper middle class family and it was AS an upper middle class girl she entered the Carmelite convent at 21. There she retained her property(!), was waited on by lower-class nuns, and went in and out of the convent at will, especially for meals -- at home. She received visitors often, and the constant traffic, the huge number of nuns (130), and the many lady boarders resulted in much confusion. Perhaps that's why her prayer life stayed pretty much at the adolescent stage for 15 years. But in 1556 she had a conversion, began to hear voices (she was a great mystic -- "although not attaching undue importance to visions and so forth, she gave much space to them and discussed them more than St. John of the Cross" - Angelus Book of Saints) and began the seeds of the total reform of the Carmelites -- to the point of actually starting a whole new order: the Discalced, or Shoeless, Carmelites.

She started by throwing out class distinctions and embracing true poverty. She then truly cloistered the nuns: no ingress and egress. She also honed down the numbers, believing, accurately, that a smaller group of more fervent and orthodox Christians was more effective than a large group of more lukewarm and lax ones. But above all, she stressed mental prayer. Living as she did in more modern -- and documented -- times (even though she died 425 years ago), and being as prolific a writer as she was, we have the great good fortune of following her thought on this matter. In her Autobiography she recounts the early stages of mental prayer, in the Interior Castle, she defines the full 7 stages. She delves rather deeply -- and accurately -- into psychology. Her style is, in her own words, very "dense" -- she packs a lot in, and she goes off on elaborate and blissful tangents. But her work is weighty, humorous, and charming -- and taken all together, completely disarming. She is above all, humble -- recounting her many faults fearlessly and without excuse. No wonder she was such a good psychologist!

One thing all can agree on is she was a profound feminist, in the best sense of the word. She was a powerful figure, a staunch leader, a platonic friend of many men, a passionate Hispanic, and an admirable role model. She knew the difference between men and women and embraced it, never losing sight of that fact in the rules she made for her sisters. Her influence is felt all over the world -- and from the farthest Carmelite convent to the nearest home, where any simple layman can read and profit by the gift of her heartfelt words. For this, we thank you, great St. Teresa of Avila.

Today October 14

Today is the feast of St. Callistus I (or Callixtus), (? - 222 AD), pope and martyr. Well, we call him a martyr, but we're not entirely sure. He was murdered during a riot, that's for sure, and his body probably shoved down a well, but we haven't direct information that it was because of his faith he was killed. All knew he was pope, so it's a good bet, but by no means a certain one.

Callistus' life didn't have an auspicious beginning. He was a slave -- born a slave, "the whole cruel lot of slaves" as the Bible eloquently says. He was no fieldhand, though, but given the care of running a Christian bank opened by Carpophorus, his master. Callistus lost all the money, through a combination of bad investments, petty theft and simple misplacement. (I am reminded of the characters of Uncle Billy in "It's a Wonderful Life" or Walter Longer in "Raisin in the Sun.") He ran away, was caught, and was sentenced to hard labor. Depositors at the bank asked he be released, hoping he'd lead them to at least SOME of the money, but he was re-arrested for brawling in a synagogue (think of the story of the unjust servant in Matthew 18: 24-35), and thrown into the salt mines in Sardinia, from which there was seemingly no escape.

But Marcia, mistress of Emperor Commodus, pardoned him and later he became free. His first job was as caretaker of the underground graves which still bear his name, but in which he himself is not buried, but rather a cemetery plot on the Via Aurelia. He was an archdeacon in Rome of Pope St. Zephyrinus, whom he succeeded. He was a very able pope, despite his humble origins. He it was who organized the titles of the original parish churches of Rome, condemned the heretic Sabellius (who was a Unitarian and whom he had once followed), and welcomed even mortal sinners -- fornicators, adulterers, murderers, etc. -- back into the fold after proper penance. St. Hippolytus, antipope, condemned him, both for his embezzling past and (probably more) for his forgiving ways. He even wrote a vicious book about him. (Hippolytus was reconciled to the Church during the reign of Pope St. Pontian, who was an inmate with him in the notorious Sardinian mines later.) But Callistus remained serene and firm. Pope St. Callistus, pray for us.

Today October 13

Today is the feast of Magdalen Panattieri (? - 1503). There's a popular and pretty actress with our saint's same -- and fairly unusual -- last name. I can't stand her for some reason. Wooden and unnaturally sweet, she emotes through movies that seem not much better than after-school specials, so all her fame seems unwarranted to me.

Blessed Magdalen was a third order Dominican so I'm tempted to call her a laywoman, but as I've pointed out before in this column, joining a third order was a much bigger deal in those days than it is in ours. For one thing, you wore the full habit (of the third order, but a habit nonetheless). You took vows of celibacy and basically lived as an uncloistered nun. You were more free to move about the populace, as it were, which Magdalen did -- notably, teaching children, aiding the poor, and giving homilies! I'm sorry: reflections. Not at Mass, of course; not even in the church, but in the little adjoining chapel there in Trino. It is written as notable that even MEN came to hear her talk! Imagine that.

She is remarkable among saints in that she seemed to have met little opposition: she not only tightened up practice among the Dominicans, but cleaned up the town as well. She brought many souls to repentance and became quite a force in Trino. That being said, she was friend to some Dominican friars who were involved in a lawsuit and the Milanese opponent slapped her across the face. (So I think that should qualify as "some" opposition.) She immediately turned her other cheek to him. If *I* were writing this story, that would have melted the guy and ended the feud and averted his ensuing excommunication. No such luck. The act of meekness only made him madder. Within a year he was dead of a violent end and his partner of disease not much later. Sigh.

But she came to a happy end. She promised to intercede for her tertiary sisters in eternity and died saying, "I could not be happy in heaven if you were not there too." Dear Blessed Magdalen Panattieri, pray for us.

Today October 12

Today is the feast of Ethelburga (died c. 678), of Barking. I wonder if she ever got any "dog" jokes. Just kidding. She was born in Stallington (a little south of Manchester), but her brother Erconwald with whom she was "bound together by a common love, one in heart and one in soul" -Butler's Lives, was bishop of London. He founded two monasteries, one for himself and one for his sister. They both kept monastic discipline, although neither had a written rule. Hers was in Barking in the kingdom of the East Saxons.

Miracles attended the bittersweet life of the female monastery. One involved the decision of where to bury the anticipated plague victims from among them. No one knew or wanted to say, so one day right after matins (morning prayer) they were struck by a brilliant light. This light, brighter than noonday, moved as if in a sheet over to the west of the oratory and remained there for some time. It became their new cemetery.

And another "sign or miracle" was when the little three-year-old ward of the convent was struck with the plague and died calling out for one of the nuns: "Edith! Edith! Edith!" Sister Edith, in another place, died that very day and joined him in eternity.

And finally (at least before her death), a nun was dying and she repeatedly requested the candle be put out. No one obeyed her. She finally explained, in exasperation, that the (supernatural) light in her room was so bright, the candle actually appeared as darkness! She died at dawn, as she had predicted.

At Ethelburga's death -- well, a couple days before -- a nun saw a vision of a human body wrapped in white, being lifted to heaven on golden cords. She interpreted it, correctly, as a sign that one of their number was to die. It turned out to be Ethelburga.

She later appeared to that same nun on her deathbed, spoke to her, and apparently accompanied the grateful soul to the other world. St. Ethelburga, pray for us.

Today October 11

Today is the feast of St. Maria Soledad Torres Acosta, SM (1826 - 1887), of the Servants of Mary, home health care nurses, a noble cause that she put under the patronage of Mary, Health of the Sick.

In Madrid the hospital was run by the Daughters of St. Vincent de Paul, but they never sent their sisters to the homes of those who for whatever reason could not come to -- or afford -- the hospital. So, Father Michael, a pastor in the poorest section of the city, recruited women he thought could do it. He had his doubts about Vibiana (later named Sister Soledad) because of her poor health, but he took her anyway. (Truth be told, he only took her, the little dairymaid, because he was devoted to the Seven Sorrows of Mary, and he needed another girl to make seven. Who knew that of all the seven, only little Vibiana would last?)

She was an ordinary girl, quiet but also given to practical jokes, but warm-hearted and devout. She was ultimately rejected by the Dominicans, which she tried to join, but propitiously heard of Father Michael and interviewed successfully with him. She learned nursing and took her vows August 15, 1851. Immediately she began the home health care of all, rich and poor, regardless of ability to pay. She was squeamish, surprisingly, but I've heard (from another nun) that the squeamish ones ultimately make excellent nurses.

Boy, did she have to overcome obstacles. First, there was NO money -- sometimes even no food. Then, worse yet, the mother superior quit and tried to dissolve the congregation. Then, the governor required them to lose the habits and to wear secular dress. This would have profoundly hurt the fledgling order. But the governor himself contracted cholera and the great good care he received from the Servants of Mary caused him to change his mind.

Things began to change. A new spiritual director was chosen. Mother Soledad was chosen superior. A rule was written, and approved by the pope in 1876. Some sisters went to Cuba and started a house there. At. Mother's peaceful death from pneumonia on this date in 1887, the little order was well on its way. Her last words were directed to her sisters: "Children, live together in peace and unity." St. Soledad, pray for us.

Today October 10

Today is the (old) feast of St. Francis Borgia (1510 - 1572). The canonization of this guy proves there's hope for every family. The Borgias were a clan of fornicators, manipulators, extortioners and murderers . . . and look, one of their scions is a saint!

He was a layman, married with 8 kids, busy with the onerous affairs of being the duke of Gandia. He'd had a good, solid, liberal education and been tested as viceroy of Catalonia -- which, in retrospect, he said trained him to be the strong, diplomatic and unerring third superior general of the Jesuits much later on.

At 18, he saw St. Ignatius Loyola led off in chains by the Inquisition -- an event that, little did he know, would have huge effects on him later. The sight haunted him for years, and after the sudden death of his wife 18 years later, he asked to be accepted into the order. Blessed Peter Favre hand-delivered the request to the now free superior general St. Ignatius of Loyola. He wrote back that Francis needed to stay home with his kids for awhile. The needed him; the youngest one was only 8. But once he got his affairs in order and his kids set up and established, Ignatius would have no objections. So Francis, frustrated, set about humbly obeying, and did in fact usefully continue supporting the state of Gandia, the Dominican convent, the hospital and the university he'd founded. Three years later he was ready, though the world sure wasn't. It was as if Princess Grace resigned Monaco and became a Discalced Carmelite! The shockwaves of a duke leaving his castle for the Jesuits, who accept no worldly honors, were felt all over the world. And he paid. He had to work as a dishwasher, water and wood carrier, kitchen sweep and waiter. But he was ordained a priest and immediately became an open-air CCD teacher. He was still in Spain at this time. He worked his way into Portugal, then back to Spain, where he "was practically the founder of the Society in Spain." - Butler's Lives, so many houses did he open and keep going by his three-fold commitment to: a) prayer; b) anti-materialism; and, c) obedience.

He became superior general upon the death of Father Laynez in 1565 and brought the Society to the utmost reaches of the earth -- to its great benefit. The Jesuits, you know, were exceedingly tactful and progressive, painstakingly learning the languages and cultures of all the people they evangelized, and as far as possible, keeping all the traditions of the native peoples. This made him no friend of the Inquisition, nor he of them. He never was arrested, though.

He did not neglect Europe even in his push to the Far East and the Americas and he expanded the Society to Poland. (The Poles are truly grateful.) He helped the poor and starving in Rome (where he was now stationed, as general), becoming truly a "Second Joseph." He died immediately after returning from a papal-ordered visit to Spain. St. Francis Borgia, pray for us.

Today October 9

Today there is a veritable plethora of feasts, the great St. John Leonardi, who worked in a pharmacy and founded an order, and the great St. Denis, martyr, bishop and patron of Paris. But we are going to go with the great St. Louis Bertrand, O.P. (1526 - 1581). Although he started in Spain, this great Dominican is known for his work in the New World. It's sobering to realize that a full hundred years before Plymouth Rock there were Europeans living and working in the New World.

St. Louis went to Cartegena in Colombia and from there all over Panama (which was then, and for a very long time -- until it interfered with American political needs -- part of Colombia), the mountains of Santa Marta, and the Caribbeans. He went to the Windward Islands, the Virgin Islands (beautiful. I had a friend who lived and worked there) and the notoriously difficult (for a foreign missionary) Leeward Islands. Alban Butler, who was in a position to know, said the Caribs of the Leewards were "the most brutal, barbarous, and unteachable people of the human race." And yet St. Louis made inroads there, as well as in the whole of Colombia. In the course of his 6 glorious years there, he learned the languages, cured the sick, prophesied the future, and baptized no less than 15,00 people! It's just a guess, but I don't think he ever took a "priest's day off"!

He was called back to Spain, where he (unsuccessfully) sought redress against the violent, villainous, and greedy Spanish adventurers in the part of the New World where he'd been. He ended up doing simple parish work and devoting himself to prayer, "for words without works never have power to touch or change hearts," he said. He was struck with paralysis the last year of his life (he'd been painfully ill -- but mobile -- a whole year before that) and died on this date in 1581. He was canonized 90 years later and is the patron of Colombia. St. Louis Bertrand, pray for us.

Today October 8

Although he died on October 6th, we celebrate Brother Isidore of St. Joseph (1881 - 1916), Passionist, today. He could technically be called a layman -- and his life has lessons for all us "lays" -- but he was above all a religious and totally dedicated to God, though he was humble and obscure. He started out as an altar boy (always a good proving ground for vocations), attended daily Mass and worked hard on his family farm. He became a CCD teacher (great unsung heroes, they), and then a volunteer at neighboring farms. He looked after his aging parents, too. He was no dour saint, but always ready with a laugh or a joke. His folks certainly didn't WANT him to enter the Passionist monastery (a suggestion of a traveling Redemptorist priest, who felt it matched Isidore's talents and will), but, in tears, they finally allowed it.

He had quite a time of it. First he couldn't find the monastery. Nobody in that part of Belgium spoke Flemish and Isidore spoke no French. So he spoke Flemish louder and slower. Funny. Finally a driver came by who was bilingual.

Once there, he resolved to follow the Rule perfectly, as a bulwark against the temptation to despair, since all the priests and brothers seemed more knowledgeable and educated than he. And he was completely obedient, humble and chaste. And as the Rule forbid extraordinary penances, he did little ones, like waiting 5 minutes before he started eating, skipping butter on his bread, and doing little individual kindnesses for the other priests and brothers, like preparing their favorite foods (he was cook for awhile). He would take on other's chores -- quietly and without complaint -- if they neglected to do them. He stayed to guard the monastery during World War I, one of the few to volunteer to do so. He had to face the dreaded "c" word -- yeah, himself and cancer in the same sentence! He suffered cancer of the eye and intestine. He knew unbearable pain. He asked the infirmarian to help him, and he sat upright (to lie down was too painful), with his head in the infirmarian's hands. Poor guy. It must have cost him a lot in pride. He wished, he said, that he could make a better thanksgiving after they brought him Communion. His last words were -- I kid you not -- "I am dying." And so he passed to his reward. 30,000 people flocked to his memorial service in 1952 (at his ritual exhumation, tied to the development of his cause in Rome), so much had news of his sanctity and posthumous miracles spread. Brother Isidore of St. Joseph, pray for us.

Homily: Twenty-seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time: 2007

Brothers and sisters, "From the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and men of violence take it by force." (Matt. 11:12) (or, in more literary terms -- like Flannery O'Connor's "The Violent Bear It Away").

And there's two different ways to take this. I read that some say "men of violence take it by force" means men who do violence to themselves who fight the world, the flesh and the devil. But I think that's doing quite a bit of verbal gymnastics. I think it's not unlike Muslims who said, "No, no, no; you've got it all wrong. 'Jihad' means spiritual jihad -- war against one's own passions."

I think it is more of a statement than an approbation or command. I think it's a reaction to John the Baptist's political imprisonment (and imminent execution) -- and an acknowledgment of the struggles of the "kingdom of heaven," the Church, here on earth. We used to point to this fact by calling it the Church Militant. We are fighting -- and it does surely look like we are outnumbered and outgunned, especially when we read about widespread persecution . . . or even martyrdom.

But it's important to make the connection, like Habakkuk did, between the lines 1:3 and 2:4. Yes, "I cry out to you [Lord], 'Violence!' " but "The rash one has no integrity, but the just one, because of his faith, shall live."

And what exactly does it mean to have "no integrity"? Well, that's one of the easiest questions on earth to answer. We see it every day, nearly everywhere we look. We see it in the reprehensible "musical chairs" of our economy -- "just let me get mine, and let the other man fend for himself. Who cares?" It means deliberately covering up and withholding information from those who need to know it -- but the ignorance of which is to our advantage. Like selling that used car with the mechanical problems you know about but don't want to -- or can't -- fix. Like taking money from people who can't afford it by playing on their irrational hopes and fears. Like backing someone into a corner and then jumping on them for doing so. The list of cheating, lying, selective vision and hearing, falsity and egregiousness just goes on and on. For heaven's sake, don't be like that! "The just one, because of his faith, shall live."

So, yes, "the children of the world are more clever when dealing with their own than are children of the light," but that doesn't mean throw in the towel and join them. It means stick it out . . . "the vision still has its time, presses on to fulfillment, and will not disappoint . . . it will surely come." (Habakkuk 2:3).

Let us now profess our faith . . . etc.

Today October 7

Today is the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary. This feast in honor both of the magnificent prayer to Our Lady known as the rosary and as a commemoration of the total defeat of the invading Turks at Lepanto is celebrated on October 7th (by the whole Church) and on the first Sunday of October (by the Dominicans), which, this year is the same exact day. Hooray.

The Dominicans often postulate that St. Dominic invented (or was given) the rosary, and though that is unlikely, he (or his followers) certainly DID promote its use. All of which calls to mind a question I've had. My old pastor once put this blurb (or something like it) in the Sunday bulletin. "St. Dominic founded the Dominicans to fight the Albigensians. St. Ignatius founded the Jesuits to fight the Protestants. when was the last time you saw an Albigensian?" Which was supposed to be funny, and, I thought at the time, a knock at the Dominicans (as if their raison d'etre no longer existed.) But now I'm not so sure. I think it may actually have meant to be a knock at the Jesuits! After all, their opponents don't appear to be defeated . . . or even shrunken in numbers.

The act of praying on beads has been done since ancient times and is no Christian invention. Early Christians used a string of 100 or more beads (often 150, as per the number of the Psalms) for counting pater nosters (Our Fathers). This was used from the Desert Fathers up through medieval times, notably by the lovely -- and never overdressed -- Lady Godiva. She described her rosary (in her will) as "the circlet of precious stones which I had threaded on a cord in order that by fingering them one after another I might count my prayers exactly." The art of making the beads count Aves or Hail Marys started with the illustrious Carthusians in the 14th century. Thus began a long and gradual development of the rosary into what it is today (200 Hail Marys in groups of 10, interspersed with 20 Our Fathers and ending with 20 Glory Be's). It has provided countless Christians, both high and low, both learned and simple, with a means of praying, of meditating and ultimately of praising and thanking the eternal God for His gift of Himself, "His Christ." - Butler's Lives. Our Lady of the Rosary, pray for us.

Today October 6

While today is the feast of St. Bruno, founder of the Carthusians, we are going to go with the OTHER saint of today: Blessed Rose Marie Durocher (1811 - 1849). She was born on this date in 1811, the tenth of 11 children in a little village near Montreal. She was always sickly, which led her to be rejected by religious orders. She always sort of wanted to be a nun but figured she never could. She never thought of herself as handicapped or an invalid: she was kind of a tomboy, loved sports and hunting and fishing, rode horses, and got a good education. When her mother died when Rose Marie was 18, she got a job as the housekeeper at the rectory where her brother was priest (in Beloeil). Her brother was rather a jerk to her, but she always maintained her gracious disposition. I was a little surprised to read (in my sources) some criticism of her for "taking" such cold treatment from him for 2 years. I thought Christians were supposed to turn the other cheek. Hey, I'm all for civil rights and defending your rights against abusers, but I think there's room for being agreeable to your brother or your employer even if he's being a jerk. What was that stuff about loving your enemies?

She decried the lack of education for girls . . . in every parish . . . but felt it was something for someone ELSE to solve. After all, she was just one woman, and a laywoman at that! But her spiritual director, Father Pierre Telmon, thought otherwise. After a period of intense training, she agreed not only to take her vows, but to take them as foundress of a whole new order, the Sisters of the Holy Names of Jesus and Mary. She set up a mission on the banks of the St. Lawrence across from Montreal. She worked fast and diligently, which was a good thing, it turned out, as she was dead herself in 6 years. Today there are 1300 sisters in Canada, the US, Africa, and Central and South America. Blessed Rose Marie, pray for us.

Today October 5

Today is the feast of Blessed Bartolo Longo, layman (1841 -1926). This great man was a very eloquent and learned writer, a good student at a good (Catholic) school, and a searcher for the "ultimate truth." At the University of Naples Bartolo fell for spiritualism, that weird, seance-riddled precursor to today's New Age movement (which is itself a modern version of gnosticism -- there's nothing new under the sun, they say). He fell into a depression. Later, he seemed to hear the voice of his dead father calling him to come back to God. Whether it was a case of his good angel trying to warn him, or the actual soul of his father communicating with him, or a result of mental disturbance, it doesn't really matter. He sought help from wise men, living (Professor Pepe and Father Radente) and dead (St. Thomas Aquinas), and their truth and testimony delivered him. He became a Thomist and a brave witness. He even went to a seance and right in the middle of the meeting declared: "I renounce spiritualism because it is nothing but a maze of error and falsehood!"

An "all-or-nothing" guy, he gave up his law practice and devoted himself entirely to charity. He wondered (later) why no one -- none of his friends -- encouraged him to become a priest. It was not to be. He had many good-hearted platonic female friends, one of whom was a countess by the name of Marianna. The two of them were seen in public together so often people thought they were having an affair! They mentioned the problem to their good friend Leo XIII and he said (and I quote): "Lawyer, you are free; Countess, you are a widow; get married and no one can say anything against you." So they married and honeymooned in Rome. They went there "good friends and returned good spouses" - Countess Marianna. And they stayed together, faithfully and happily for 39 years until her death at 88. (He died 2 years later at 85.)

He and she were so committed to living out the Gospel imperative to help the poor that they built a whole TOWN for them, kind of like Boys' Town. They started with a boys' orphanage (and later added a girls' one), and it became much, much larger: he built a printing press, hospital, typing school, music studio, vo-tech, post office, railroad station and retirement center. Wow. He was busy. Above all, he stressed catechism: "People without catechism are people without religion." And over all he put Mary. He even called the Boys' Town "City of Mary." He was devoted to the rosary, which he said every day, even when he was so sick in his final illness he couldn't move. And his City of Mary, his "new Pompeii" had a miraculous old picture of the Madonna and Child (with a rosary, which she was giving to St. Dominic and St. Catherine of Siena), miraculous in the sense that numerous and wonderful unexplained cures were attached to it. Though it had seen better days (and even been transported in a wagon full of manure), it cleaned up nicely and was even adorned with real diamonds from grateful petitioners.

He always hated having his character called into question, so it was particularly hard on him in his last days that he was accused of financial discrepancies in his management of his City of Mary. He exclaimed, "I have sacrificed all I had for the last 50 years for Our Lady, and now they call me a thief!" He later, much later, was exonerated, but it still was a depressing time for him.

He was always marked by a sincere affective relationship with the Virgin Mary, which his last words bear out. "My only desire is to see Mary, who has saved me and who will save me from the clutches of Satan."

Blessed Bartolo Longo, pray for us.

Today October 4

Today is the feast of St. Francis of Assisi (1181 - 1226). What can I say about this great man that hasn't already been said? I think the only thing I'd want to say is: take the man whole and all. Don't make him into a Protestant, or worse, an eco-worshiper. Many people have made him into a sentimental nature lover, totally editing out the very significant fact that he was very much a man of the Church. It's as if one took Gandhi as a yoga-practicing swami and made him into an imperialist -- totally denying what he was and what he stood for. St. Francis, not to put too fine a point upon it, is first of all a Catholic; all that other wonderful and appealing stuff is just gravy.

It's hard to categorize Francis -- he seems passionate to the point of impetuosity but I think he was much more logical than that. I think a clue is to be found in his given (as opposed to baptismal name, which was John) name: "the Frenchman." The French are passionate and sensitive, indeed, but they are also precise and logical. Francis was a man who took things seriously and to their ultimate conclusion. While a soldier, he had seen a vision of a heavenly court marked with the sign of the cross. Soon after he heard a voice: "Serve the master rather than the man." He immediately realized he needed to get his priorities in order. He left the service, went home and prayed (and served and visited the poor and sick) and while he was praying in St. Damiano heard the voice: "Francis, go and repair my house, which is falling down." He immediately got up, sold a horseload of cloth from his father's textile shop, brought the money to the priest at San Damiano and asked to live with him. He then set about actually repairing the old church. His father and the townspeople thought him mentally ill. They threw clods of soil on him and his father kidnapped him, beat him and put him in irons. With the help of his mother, he escaped and went right back to the old church. His father summoned him before the good bishop, Guido, who advised Francis to give back the money he'd taken as "[God] does not wish His Church to profit by goods which have been gotten unjustly." And Francis just took it a step further: "The clothes I wear are also his. I'll give them back." Which he dramatically did, then and there. He stood there naked, and was disowned by his father -- which he accepted. "Now I say 'Our Father, who art in heaven.' " He put on a simple brown garment, which he marked with the sign of the cross and tied with a rope for a belt. He went about the highways and byways singing and talking about the love of God (and Lady Poverty -- the Gospel poverty of "sell all you have and follow me") in terms of the great chivalry and troubadours of the time.

He was rejected by many, accepted by some. He was sometimes beaten and thrown in the snow. He was verbally maligned, which he bore with equanimity; he was ignored, but he was also welcomed. He did indeed literally help rebuild San Damiano and did himself rebuild the Portiuncula, a little abandoned chapel dedicated to Our Lady of the Angels, whom he loved. He predicted it would be the home of a group of dedicated nuns -- which it was, led by St. Clare, five years later. He greeted all with a sign of peace and embraced and kissed a man with a horrible cancer on his face; the man was instantly cured. "I know not which I ought most to wonder at, such a kiss or such a cure." - St. Bonaventure.

He attracted men to himself and when they had reached a dozen, Francis wrote up for them a short rule and applied for permission from the Pope. Francis, the Protestant, sought the Pope's approbation! Imagine. Innocent III was reluctant to give it to him, but John Cardinal Colonna cautioned that Francis was only following the Gospel, after all, and Innocent himself had had a vision in a dream of Francis propping up the Lateran church, the pope's own diocesan church. He gave his approval.

Francis and his spiritual brothers went back to Assisi and lived at the Portiuncula (plus little huts of wood and clay they built around it), but which they insisted on renting instead of accepting as an outright gift. They were ascetic but not excessive. When one brother cried out one night: "I'm dying of hunger!" Francis brought him food and even ate it with him so he would not be embarrassed. Francis was an "all or nothing" man, it's true, but at heart a kind and reasonable one. For that -- and for his magnificent poetry, his miraculous cures and talking to the animals, for his poverty and his chastity and holy obedience -- to the pope! -- I dearly love him. And in his last days, sprawled out on the grounds of the convent at the Portiuncula, he asked for an almond cookie from Clare (for some reason I always remember that), apologized to his body "Brother Ass" for treating him so roughly, and died: of all men, a truly happy man. His last words were "Blessed be God." and (to his spiritual brothers), "I have done my part; may Christ teach you to do yours." Good St. Francis, pray for us.

Today October 3

Today we have the wonderful memorial of Dom Columba Marmion (1858 - 1923). I like him because he was a philosopher, a theologian, and most of all, a very funny guy. This Irish priest (later, after much persuasion, he got his Irish archbishop to let him be a monk -- later the abbot -- of a Benedictine abbey in Belgium) was a teacher, but no administrator or disciplinarian. He was singularly unfit for and unsuccessful in his assigned role as dean in the boys' school, but he was a marvelous preacher, spiritual director and writer. His "Christ the Life of the Soul" moved many men to heights of holiness, including Pope Benedict XV, who personally thanked him. He was clear in form and accurate in content. He was very orthodox, and was responsible for many conversions, including whole parishes, notably the one in Caldey in Wales, and individuals such as a fierce woman atheist, whose car providentially broke down right in front of his abbey and whose confession he later heard. But he was not universally successful. He totally failed in getting George Tyrrell to reject Modernism, for instance.

He was brave. He stood up to the German soldiers during World War I who came to take the church bells for bullet material, as they did everywhere in the occupied countries. Dom Marmion told them the bells belonged to God and to take them would be stealing from God Himself. The soldiers retreated.

Later during the war they had to evacuate and Dom Marmion was chosen to lead a bunch of monks to Great Britain. He hadn't a passport, so he tried to sneak in under disguise and when questioned, he said, "I'm Irish and the Irish never need a passport -- except for Hell, and it isn't there that I'm wanting to go." They let him in.

Besides his classic books, he spoke to the hearts of people. He'd begin conversations by looking them in the eye and saying, "Well, my child, how is your soul?" And he said once, "You are never dearer to God, never glorify Him more than when, in full realization of your misery and unworthiness, you gaze at His infinite goodness and cast yourself on His bosom." Amen, Brother.

He died in peace on Jan. 30, 1923, his last words being "My God, my mercy" in Latin. His cause for beatification began in 1961. Dom Marmion, pray for us.

Today October 2

Today is the glorious and delightful feast of the Guardian Angels. We know, of course, that we have them. "For he hath given his angels charge over thee; to keep thee in all of thy ways." Ps 90:11; and of course, our Lord's words about each of the "little ones" whose "angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven" Matt 18:10. Even St. Paul remarked on board ship: "An angel of God, whose I am and whom I serve, stood by me this night saying, 'Fear not, Paul, thou must be brought before Caesar; and behold God hath given thee all of them that sail with thee." Acts 27:22-24. And though there was a shipwreck, all souls were saved. St. Basil says, "Each one of the faithful has an angel who directs his life." And we should pray to them, asking them to teach and shepherd and intercede for us: "We should pray to the angels who are given us as guardians." - St. Ambrose.

And when I wrote "the faithful have angels" I didn't exclude other men: we ALL have guardian angels from the moment we are born into the world (well, either that or from when we are conceived; there's a difference of opinion on that -- but early, and young!). They will stay with us in heaven, and though they won't help us attain salvation (because we'll already have it), they will continue to enlighten us.

They will rejoice with us when we get there, just as they grieve over our faults and sins. I know a story of a man who was very taken with guardian angels. He prayed day after day, for many years, to see them. One day, and for one day only, he was able to see them. There was one by each and every person, many were serene and happy, but on the bus he saw folks gossiping and their angels hung their heads and looked sad.

We all know stories of folks who said, "Something told me not to" and avoided a traffic accident or a dangerous situation. Or we know cases where someone was lost and they suddenly got an inspiration how to get back. I know a woman who as a little girl fell from a jungle gym and felt unseen arms catch her and place her gently on the ground. I myself was awakened one night (unusual in itself, since I am a very heavy sleeper) with thoughts of a friend, for whom I fervently prayed. I found out his mother had died that very night.

Now that doesn't mean that if things like this DON'T happen to you, you are somehow not as favored by God. Who can know God's ways? All we are saying is that if it does happen, it may be the mysterious intervention of our guardian angels. We should honor them, thank them, pray to them. They are very touched when we pray to them. We can even use them to help us finish our work or care for our sick. Blessed Mary Fortunata Viti used to rely on hers to help her with mending when it got overwhelming and often put him in charge of the night patients. Truly. And she never lost a patient when her angel was "on duty." We need to open our minds and extend our imaginations. I know I often tell a person's guardian angel things I cannot tell the person himself. St. Francis de Sales used to silently pray to each and every person in the congregation's guardian angel to soften their hearts before his sermon. Sometimes it works. Angel of God, my guardian dear, pray for me.

Today October 1

Today is the wonderful, glorious feast of the incomparable St. Therese of Lisieux, the "Little Flower," (1873 -1897), a mere 24 years. One of my little devotions is to say the "Chaplet of St. Therese, in which you mention your intention and say an Our Father, a Hail Mary and 24 Glory Be's, one for each year of her life. Many little things have been granted to me because of her intercession, including a mysterious flowering of a little flower on the exact day I'd finish her novena, whenever I said it, which wasn't consistent. It never failed, this little thing, and always surprised and delighted me, though others might laugh at its insignificance. They scoffed at Therese, too -- when she was sick with a fever and recovered so quickly, and even at the end of her life when she was dying of tuberculosis. Some people thought she was just faking it. But she wasn't. She was always an intense, sensitive and honest little girl. The fact that she died so young -- and died still a novice -- probably contributes to the appellation I just gave her: "little girl." But she had nerves of steel and a will of iron, particularly after her conversion experience on Christmas Day in 1886. She overheard her father (he was a widower, his wife having died in 1877, when Therese was only 4 1/2) sigh as he filled her shoes with gifts: "Thank goodness that's the last time we shall have this kind of thing." Normally such a remark would have devastated the sensitive girl, but she sucked it up, went downstairs, exclaimed over the presents and grew up in a hurry. The next year she entered the convent, after a tough and persistent fight on her part -- against the superior of the Carmelite convent she wanted to join, against the local bishop -- she even took her petition to the pope! He advised caution and patience, but the Vicar General had seen her courage and pulled for her at the convent. She soon joined her biological sisters Pauline and Marie; Celine joined later, after their father's death.

She knew and understood the pain of having a mentally ill father -- one who mysteriously ceased to be the man, the gentle giant of her childhood. She knew the confusion in one's heart and the pain of the stigma unlike the simple pity brought on by illness, such as cancer. I'm sure she "sucked it up," too, as she did before, and as she did time and time again in the convent. The sisters who annoyed her, the bad food, the false accusations, the sudden and fatal illness. She bore it all -- cheerfully, bravely, humbly -- for love, for love! "The only way I can prove my love is by scattering flowers and these flowers are every little sacrifice, every glance and word, and the doing of the least actions for love."

She died after a long and painful illness and what must have seemed equally hard, a long spiritual dryness (of which she once wittily remarked, "Jesus isn't doing much to keep the conversation going!"), but in peace and joy. "I will return," she said softly, "My heaven will be spent on earth." And so it has. Millions turn to her intercession and millions have read her inspirational little book, "Story of a Soul." It so resonated with John and Mary Churchgoer that her little town was flooded with visitors, pilgrims, forcing the Martin family to move. Pius XI who canonized her in 1925 remarked on the veritable "storm of glory" which had descended on Lisieux. She may never have left the convent, she may never have gone to the missions, she may never have founded an order, she may never have done any of the things the world calls "great," but this little saint, doctor of the Church, co-patron of the missions and of France, is great indeed. St. Therese, pray for us.