Today is the feast day of St. John Bosco aka Don Bosco ("Father Bosco" in Italian) (1815 - 1888). A juggler, acrobat and musician, this humble Italian farm boy-cum-priest was always a happy man. He always wanted the boys in his Oratory (religious orphanage, in this case) to be happy, to be no "long-faced saints." And yet he had reasons to be unhappy if he'd given in to them. For one thing, he never had any money: no money for rent, no money for food, no money to pay the workmen who built the churches he founded. He simply went ahead and trusted in God. Somehow the money always came. For another, there were anti-Catholic gangs that attacked him physically, verbally, politically, legally. Here, too, he had divine help: when walking about at night in his cassock -- an outfit that screamed "target" -- he was often was seen in the company of a large, mysterious dog who frightened the gangs away (and then disappeared). For yet another, due to his many visions, he was considered unstable and mentally ill. One day two of his friends came with a cab to collect him with the secret plan of dropping him off at a psychiatrist's. He smiled and politely opened the door of the carriage for them, making as if to follow. Instead he slammed the door shut and told the driver "To the lunatic asylum, quick!" The two guys had a heck of a time trying to convince the doctor they weren't insane!
Here, as in many other times and places, he had a preternatural ability to read hearts. It came in handy as a confessor, to be sure, but also in knowing just how to approach and reach people. His ideas were liberal, even in that traditionalist era. He saved many young men from prison and jail -- and due to unfair laws and a rigid societal structure, they were almost all recidivists. "[He] believed that these boys would not be where they were if they had someone to love and care for them" He believed in preventative care: he taught them trades, he gave them an education, he taught them religion by words and example, he amused them. He reached out to girls, too, founding the Salesian Sisters to go along with the Salesian priests and brothers, founded to help the youth of Italy and the world.
He was witness to more than one miracle. Once when there were not nearly enough hosts for Mass, he said a quick prayer and began distributing Communion. To his sexton's amazement, he returned to the altar with one host left in the ciborium!
He lived right among the boys, sharing their joys and their sorrows, their simple meals and humble shelters -- a situation a wise friend of mine pointed out probably wouldn't even be allowed today! But then it was another world, thank God. St. John Bosco, pray for us.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Today January 30
Today is the feast of Blessed Brother Mucian of Malonne (1841 - 1917). I really like this guy. I am a natural "TLC" person (tender loving care), or, if you will, a pussycat; I feared for years I was less of a person -- and certainly less of a saint -- for having "no backbone." Well, today's saint puts the lie to all that. He was beatified despite his glaring incompetence in matters of discipline. He himself was very disciplined, following the rules of the Christian Brothers, but lacked the commanding presence, booming voice and psychological tricks that mark the successful disciplinarian. The nine-year-olds ran circles around him, and as a former teacher of unruly 3rd graders myself, I can feel his pain.
He was shoved over to the art and music class in the boarding school (as a last resort -- many of the Brothers wanted him simply kicked out of the order), though he had absolutely no talent in either art or music! But being of a mind that obedience trumps talent, he set about learning these "skills" -- much like the philosophy of the Suzuki method in our own day. Indeed, he became adequate on the harmonium, organ, tuba and flute. (Flute was his favorite.) He rose every morning at 4:30 am, attended Mass, helped the students study before breakfast, taught, gave private music lessons, supervised lunch duty (always a thankless task), practiced and prayed, day after day. And he is a saint!
He lived a life of great patience (and there's hardly a job that requires more patience than listening to bad beginning musicians play), he painted, he drew, he read books, he loved Our Lady, he suffered from asthma, and he endured the predations of the First World War in Belgium. His monastery was made into a hospital and he and the other 79 brothers and 1000 students shoved into one small portion of it. But he treated the occupying Germans like brothers, in his own unique and understated way. Perhaps his secret was prayer and poverty -- he prayed every spare minute (he even shared the epithet "the one who is always praying" with St. Philippine Duchesne) and he always asked for anything he needed -- humbly begging from his fellow Brothers.
We don't know his last words, but we know the last words he heard: "Live Jesus in our hearts!" He expired immediately after, to the sound of the rising bells. Blessed Brother Mucian, pray for us.
He was shoved over to the art and music class in the boarding school (as a last resort -- many of the Brothers wanted him simply kicked out of the order), though he had absolutely no talent in either art or music! But being of a mind that obedience trumps talent, he set about learning these "skills" -- much like the philosophy of the Suzuki method in our own day. Indeed, he became adequate on the harmonium, organ, tuba and flute. (Flute was his favorite.) He rose every morning at 4:30 am, attended Mass, helped the students study before breakfast, taught, gave private music lessons, supervised lunch duty (always a thankless task), practiced and prayed, day after day. And he is a saint!
He lived a life of great patience (and there's hardly a job that requires more patience than listening to bad beginning musicians play), he painted, he drew, he read books, he loved Our Lady, he suffered from asthma, and he endured the predations of the First World War in Belgium. His monastery was made into a hospital and he and the other 79 brothers and 1000 students shoved into one small portion of it. But he treated the occupying Germans like brothers, in his own unique and understated way. Perhaps his secret was prayer and poverty -- he prayed every spare minute (he even shared the epithet "the one who is always praying" with St. Philippine Duchesne) and he always asked for anything he needed -- humbly begging from his fellow Brothers.
We don't know his last words, but we know the last words he heard: "Live Jesus in our hearts!" He expired immediately after, to the sound of the rising bells. Blessed Brother Mucian, pray for us.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Today January 29
Today is the feast of St. Gildas the Wise (circa 500 - 570). There is much evidence that this abbot was considered wise as well as exasperating. He was criticized as severe but his criticism of the state of English Catholicism was justified and even could be considered an act of charity. His excoriating words were in the book De excidio Britanniae, a list of the terrible sins and crimes rampant in Britain in his day. In it he displayed a remarkable knowledge of Scripture, Roman poets and early saints, such as St. Ignatius of Antioch. Gildas, a disciple of the knight Sir (and Saint) Illtud, ministered to the people's souls even as he fearlessly pointed again and again to the sins of the great and the small, assuring them that sin was the worst thing in the world. And he truly knew the people, the lowliest as well as the bishops and priests, going among them, listening to them and discussing with them, not only in England and Wales, but in Ireland and what is now France, where he ended his days. St. Gildas, pray for us.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Today January 28
Today is the feast of St. Thomas Aquinas (1225 - 1274), great doctor of the Church. Here is what I wrote last year concerning him:
Well, come next Jan. 28th, and for all the January 28ths we will ever live to see, there will be more than enough material to discuss today's wonderful saint, St. Thomas Aquinas. This quiet, deliberate genius of a man is the theologian par excellence.
He was above all a man of honor, choosing carefully and completely not only the course of his life (in the mendicant Dominican service) but also each topic and argument in his many, many works: commentaries on Aristotle (whose works he insisted be translated from the original Greek, after having read and appreciated them translated from Arabic), commentaries on Scripture, philosophical treatises, and two, not one, two complete systematic treatises on theology! He is the prescription against Lutheranism (among other things); I remember exclaiming when I first read the writings of Martin Luther, "All this guy needs is a good dose of Thomas Aquinas."
The drama in his life came early: he was kidnapped by his brothers and imprisoned in their castle. One even sent a prostitute in to tempt him. You know the story; he cast her out, slammed the door, and burned on it the figure of a cross using a blazing poker. He said he saw a vision of an angel handing him a rope belt, which he put on and ever after never suffered the torment of lust.
"Aquinas’ treatises on chastity indicate how clearly he saw the harm that unchastity posed for the moral and intellectual life. He lists the 8 daughters of unchastity (or lust) as blindness of mind, rashness, thoughtlessness, inconstancy, inordinate self-love, hatred of God, excessive love of this world, and abhorrence or despair of a future world. [Summa Theologiae, II-II, 153, 5] He explains that they wreak havoc with the four acts of reason and the twofold orientation of the will. Blindness hinders one’s ability to apprehend an object rightly. Rashness interferes with counsel. Thoughtlessness opposes judgment about what is to be done. And inconstancy conflicts with reason’s command about what is to be done. Inordinate self-love is contrary to the will’s proper end, which is God, while hatred of God flows from his forbidding acts of lust. Love of this world is inimical to the means man should will in relation to his end, while despair of a future world results from the distaste of spiritual pleasures brought on by over-indulgence in the pleasures of the flesh."
St. Thomas is the antidote to our society's ills. He is a voice for the laity, and his well-known words "communicating one's contemplations to others is a greater thing than merely contemplating" (ST 2-2, 188.6) could be spoken directly to us. "Contemplation comes first, and it will flow naturally into activity. There is no sign in St. Thomas of that tension between the religious and the intellectual life which is given expression in the Imitation of Christ, and which so many modern Catholics seem to feel." (Angelus Book of Saints) St. Thomas is able to navigate easily through the pagan and scientific worlds in his very orthodox boat and is a model for us all.
His honor is evident in his painfully fair and crystal-clear writings. "[We] come to see the characteristics of Thomas's mind its strongly empirical bent, its refusal to speculate where evidence is lacking, its refusal to play down the natural in favor of the supernatural."
We know the story of how when he was saying Mass in Paris at the end of 1273 he had so poignant a mystical experience that he couldn't write anymore "since all that have written seems to me like so much straw compared with what I have seen and what has been revealed to me" (Processus informativus, Naples 1317, # 79). Nevertheless, he knew, also mystically, that he had "written well of Me" saith the Lord, and when asked what he wanted in return, answered, "Only Thyself, Lord." And on March 7th, 1274, he got it.
That's what I wrote before. To that there's not much to add, other than re-emphasizing his placid and single-minded courage in defending Aristotelianism against its many detractors, including the Platonists who thought it entirely too materialistic and the over-cautious who felt it offered nothing helpful to Catholic theology. There were many who zeroed in on the differences between Aristotle and Christian revelation; Thomas showed you needn't throw the baby out with the bathwater. We need a man like him today! He also had to correct the Averroists who felt that reason proved that the earth always existed, that God has no knowledge of individual persons and that our souls are not immortal!
He upheld the "deeply reasonable order of man's return to the creator, in whose image we are made, harmoni[zIng] the manifold variety of human action into a single moral pattern." He was a very moral man, dedicated to truth, and endowed with great personal charm.
He was the subject of much envy, but while he may have suffered their jealousy, he didn't let it ruffle him. We have to remember he was more than just a genius university professor: he was a man bent deeply on contemplation of God. And he felt the importance of sharing what he learned there. As we have already seen, "Communicating one's contemplations to others is a greater thing than merely contemplating." (Summa Theologica, 2-2. 188.6). There was no tension between the contemplative and active life that modern Catholics seem to feel. There was not the downgrading of active life that some pious types used to express, nor the downgrading of the contemplative life that many moderns expressed later. I felt it myself when our Religious Education teacher in 8th grade posed the problem, "So if your elderly neighbor needed a meal and his lawn raked, would you go over and help him or would you just pray?" And I said, "I would do both." (Which wasn't the response he was looking for.) On the other hand, "[Thomas Aquinas'] sanctity was achieved in and through the main work of his life, his intellectual activity." - Angelus Book of Saints. St. Thomas Aquinas, pray for us.
Well, come next Jan. 28th, and for all the January 28ths we will ever live to see, there will be more than enough material to discuss today's wonderful saint, St. Thomas Aquinas. This quiet, deliberate genius of a man is the theologian par excellence.
He was above all a man of honor, choosing carefully and completely not only the course of his life (in the mendicant Dominican service) but also each topic and argument in his many, many works: commentaries on Aristotle (whose works he insisted be translated from the original Greek, after having read and appreciated them translated from Arabic), commentaries on Scripture, philosophical treatises, and two, not one, two complete systematic treatises on theology! He is the prescription against Lutheranism (among other things); I remember exclaiming when I first read the writings of Martin Luther, "All this guy needs is a good dose of Thomas Aquinas."
The drama in his life came early: he was kidnapped by his brothers and imprisoned in their castle. One even sent a prostitute in to tempt him. You know the story; he cast her out, slammed the door, and burned on it the figure of a cross using a blazing poker. He said he saw a vision of an angel handing him a rope belt, which he put on and ever after never suffered the torment of lust.
"Aquinas’ treatises on chastity indicate how clearly he saw the harm that unchastity posed for the moral and intellectual life. He lists the 8 daughters of unchastity (or lust) as blindness of mind, rashness, thoughtlessness, inconstancy, inordinate self-love, hatred of God, excessive love of this world, and abhorrence or despair of a future world. [Summa Theologiae, II-II, 153, 5] He explains that they wreak havoc with the four acts of reason and the twofold orientation of the will. Blindness hinders one’s ability to apprehend an object rightly. Rashness interferes with counsel. Thoughtlessness opposes judgment about what is to be done. And inconstancy conflicts with reason’s command about what is to be done. Inordinate self-love is contrary to the will’s proper end, which is God, while hatred of God flows from his forbidding acts of lust. Love of this world is inimical to the means man should will in relation to his end, while despair of a future world results from the distaste of spiritual pleasures brought on by over-indulgence in the pleasures of the flesh."
St. Thomas is the antidote to our society's ills. He is a voice for the laity, and his well-known words "communicating one's contemplations to others is a greater thing than merely contemplating" (ST 2-2, 188.6) could be spoken directly to us. "Contemplation comes first, and it will flow naturally into activity. There is no sign in St. Thomas of that tension between the religious and the intellectual life which is given expression in the Imitation of Christ, and which so many modern Catholics seem to feel." (Angelus Book of Saints) St. Thomas is able to navigate easily through the pagan and scientific worlds in his very orthodox boat and is a model for us all.
His honor is evident in his painfully fair and crystal-clear writings. "[We] come to see the characteristics of Thomas's mind its strongly empirical bent, its refusal to speculate where evidence is lacking, its refusal to play down the natural in favor of the supernatural."
We know the story of how when he was saying Mass in Paris at the end of 1273 he had so poignant a mystical experience that he couldn't write anymore "since all that have written seems to me like so much straw compared with what I have seen and what has been revealed to me" (Processus informativus, Naples 1317, # 79). Nevertheless, he knew, also mystically, that he had "written well of Me" saith the Lord, and when asked what he wanted in return, answered, "Only Thyself, Lord." And on March 7th, 1274, he got it.
That's what I wrote before. To that there's not much to add, other than re-emphasizing his placid and single-minded courage in defending Aristotelianism against its many detractors, including the Platonists who thought it entirely too materialistic and the over-cautious who felt it offered nothing helpful to Catholic theology. There were many who zeroed in on the differences between Aristotle and Christian revelation; Thomas showed you needn't throw the baby out with the bathwater. We need a man like him today! He also had to correct the Averroists who felt that reason proved that the earth always existed, that God has no knowledge of individual persons and that our souls are not immortal!
He upheld the "deeply reasonable order of man's return to the creator, in whose image we are made, harmoni[zIng] the manifold variety of human action into a single moral pattern." He was a very moral man, dedicated to truth, and endowed with great personal charm.
He was the subject of much envy, but while he may have suffered their jealousy, he didn't let it ruffle him. We have to remember he was more than just a genius university professor: he was a man bent deeply on contemplation of God. And he felt the importance of sharing what he learned there. As we have already seen, "Communicating one's contemplations to others is a greater thing than merely contemplating." (Summa Theologica, 2-2. 188.6). There was no tension between the contemplative and active life that modern Catholics seem to feel. There was not the downgrading of active life that some pious types used to express, nor the downgrading of the contemplative life that many moderns expressed later. I felt it myself when our Religious Education teacher in 8th grade posed the problem, "So if your elderly neighbor needed a meal and his lawn raked, would you go over and help him or would you just pray?" And I said, "I would do both." (Which wasn't the response he was looking for.) On the other hand, "[Thomas Aquinas'] sanctity was achieved in and through the main work of his life, his intellectual activity." - Angelus Book of Saints. St. Thomas Aquinas, pray for us.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Today January 27
Today is the feast of St. Angela Merici (1474 - 1540). She is regarded as the foundress of the Ursuline nuns, and so she is, but as far as her own vision goes, she was a failure. She didn't want the Ursulines to be "enclosed" and under solemn vows at all; she wished for them to be sisters only, unprofessed, living in the world, wearing secular dress, but dedicated to all spiritual and corporal works of mercy. It was her firm opinion that if you teach the girls of a society, you teach the world, sort of like "The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world." Her favorite saying was: "Disorder in society is the result of disorder in the family."
She was in her vision frustrated by two saints, no less. St. Charles Borromeo at Milan and (later) St. Pius V in Rome succeeded in forcing the Ursulines to become like any other order. But she is somewhat vindicated now, as the Ursulines more and more are moving out into the world and doing more parish visitation and social work and adopting more secular dress. They are still involved in education. Dear St. Angela, pray for us.
She was in her vision frustrated by two saints, no less. St. Charles Borromeo at Milan and (later) St. Pius V in Rome succeeded in forcing the Ursulines to become like any other order. But she is somewhat vindicated now, as the Ursulines more and more are moving out into the world and doing more parish visitation and social work and adopting more secular dress. They are still involved in education. Dear St. Angela, pray for us.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Today January 26
Today is the dual feast of Saints Timothy and Titus (first century). Both were "apostles" or emissaries of St. Paul (Timothy to Ephesus and Titus to Corinth and Crete) and recipients of letters from Paul that have since become part of the canon of Scripture. And in fact, plenty of Paul's exhortations to Timothy have passed into the liturgy.
Most all we know of Timothy comes from Paul's letters. Apparently he was of a diffident, retiring nature but firm in the faith and unlikely to defect. He was close to Paul, accompanying him on journeys (to take Mark's place), assisting him and Silas, countersigning Paul's letters to Thessalonica, and journeying back and forth to Corinth with those epistles. He is called by Paul "my well beloved son" and is exhorted in Paul's last extremity to remain "in firm resolve, in patience, in love, in endurance" and entreated to come to him in his last hours. There is a long tradition that Timothy remained in Ephesus as bishop until his death by stoning and clubbing, a faithful witness til the end. Saints Timothy and Titus, pray for us.
Most all we know of Timothy comes from Paul's letters. Apparently he was of a diffident, retiring nature but firm in the faith and unlikely to defect. He was close to Paul, accompanying him on journeys (to take Mark's place), assisting him and Silas, countersigning Paul's letters to Thessalonica, and journeying back and forth to Corinth with those epistles. He is called by Paul "my well beloved son" and is exhorted in Paul's last extremity to remain "in firm resolve, in patience, in love, in endurance" and entreated to come to him in his last hours. There is a long tradition that Timothy remained in Ephesus as bishop until his death by stoning and clubbing, a faithful witness til the end. Saints Timothy and Titus, pray for us.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Today January 25
Today is the feast of Blessed Mary of Providence (1825 - 1871). She was born in the city, one of six children of comfortable parents, and then moved to the country, where she loved to play outside chasing butterflies and picking flowers. Suddenly she started talking to her little friends about Purgatory -- they were nonplussed -- "The good God asks us only for a prayer to let [the souls in Purgatory] out and we don't say it!" Even in her young mind she began to link the concepts of Divine Providence and Purgatory. She thought she could even BE providence to the poor souls -- and offer them to God by prayers and little sacrifices.
She continued following her conviction even when she was homesick in boarding school. This "brilliant, warm and mischievous little girl" decided she would, instead of resisting the peaceful Sacred Heart nuns, become one herself as a way to "be providence for others." She distinguished herself in school to the point that another saint, Mother Madeleine Sophie Barat, said about her, "Who is that girl with the appealing eyes and the strong, intelligent face? She is a child of great promise. Watch her carefully."
She didn't automatically become a nun. After boarding school, she went back home, made the social rounds, quietly embroidered and studied art and music -- ostensibly to make herself a more attractive marriage candidate. But she still wanted to be a nun. She asked to join the Sacred Heart Sisters, but her parents forbade it. She started a lay apostolate for the poor, sewing for them at home, bringing them soup and donations, slipping in little notes to "Pray for the souls in Purgatory." She never forgot the Poor Souls. She never gave up her desire for religious life either. She went round and round considering whether she should found a community dedicated to the Poor Souls. She innocently asked for five signs from God to let her know if she should, and she received all five. But she was still full of confusion and uncertainty. Support came from an unlikely source: a man she had never met and unfortunately never would meet -- the Cure of Ars, St. John Vianney. Through letters alone he supported her, agreeing with her that the foundation was needed, and building up her self-esteem.
The little congregation, the Sisters Helpers of the Holy Souls, started in a tiny apartment in Paris in 1856. They supported themselves with piecework and begging. Poor Mother Mary of Providence suffered from homesickness, physical ailments and great spiritual dryness, but she never let it show. "My sufferings are as hidden as my virtues," she once joked in a letter to her mother. She wrote in a private journal about the hole in her soul, "a void in my heart, and You [Jesus] do not come to fill it!" She even struggled with doubt, doubt even about the existence of Purgatory itself, plunging all her work into meaninglessness and futility. But still she maintained her calm, her smile, her trust -- by an act of will. And she united it with the soul in Purgatory. "[I]t lives without light because it cannot see God, without joy because it cannot possess Him. . . . My life must be a continual Purgatory: that is the path along which God wills to lead me." She also suffered poverty, misunderstanding and the Franco-Prussian War of 1870 which came practically to her door. She died peacefully on February 7, 1871; some of her last words were: "Life is so short and eternity will never end." Blessed Mary of Providence, pray for us.
She continued following her conviction even when she was homesick in boarding school. This "brilliant, warm and mischievous little girl" decided she would, instead of resisting the peaceful Sacred Heart nuns, become one herself as a way to "be providence for others." She distinguished herself in school to the point that another saint, Mother Madeleine Sophie Barat, said about her, "Who is that girl with the appealing eyes and the strong, intelligent face? She is a child of great promise. Watch her carefully."
She didn't automatically become a nun. After boarding school, she went back home, made the social rounds, quietly embroidered and studied art and music -- ostensibly to make herself a more attractive marriage candidate. But she still wanted to be a nun. She asked to join the Sacred Heart Sisters, but her parents forbade it. She started a lay apostolate for the poor, sewing for them at home, bringing them soup and donations, slipping in little notes to "Pray for the souls in Purgatory." She never forgot the Poor Souls. She never gave up her desire for religious life either. She went round and round considering whether she should found a community dedicated to the Poor Souls. She innocently asked for five signs from God to let her know if she should, and she received all five. But she was still full of confusion and uncertainty. Support came from an unlikely source: a man she had never met and unfortunately never would meet -- the Cure of Ars, St. John Vianney. Through letters alone he supported her, agreeing with her that the foundation was needed, and building up her self-esteem.
The little congregation, the Sisters Helpers of the Holy Souls, started in a tiny apartment in Paris in 1856. They supported themselves with piecework and begging. Poor Mother Mary of Providence suffered from homesickness, physical ailments and great spiritual dryness, but she never let it show. "My sufferings are as hidden as my virtues," she once joked in a letter to her mother. She wrote in a private journal about the hole in her soul, "a void in my heart, and You [Jesus] do not come to fill it!" She even struggled with doubt, doubt even about the existence of Purgatory itself, plunging all her work into meaninglessness and futility. But still she maintained her calm, her smile, her trust -- by an act of will. And she united it with the soul in Purgatory. "[I]t lives without light because it cannot see God, without joy because it cannot possess Him. . . . My life must be a continual Purgatory: that is the path along which God wills to lead me." She also suffered poverty, misunderstanding and the Franco-Prussian War of 1870 which came practically to her door. She died peacefully on February 7, 1871; some of her last words were: "Life is so short and eternity will never end." Blessed Mary of Providence, pray for us.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Today January 24
Today is the feast of St. Francis de Sales, 1567 - 1622. Last year I wrote this about him:
Today is the feast day of St. Francis de Sales. Brilliant, well-to-do, sensitive and "he never did things by halves," Francis was a Jesuit-trained philosophy and theology major in the capital city of his country. Fiercely Catholic, feeling sorry for the Protestants, he embarked on a religious life, much to the opposition of his parents. They had hoped he would pursue a more worldly career. He was often under attack, but the patience and strength of character for which he was justly famous protected and vindicated him. He was a prolific writer -- "Introduction to the Devout Life" has never been out of print. He was responsible for many converts, rode fearlessly on his horse through Protestant Geneva (where just being a Catholic could cost you your life), founded the Order of the Visitation (Visitandines), and had many platonic female friends. He is a doctor of the church and patron saint of writers.
To his dear friend Jane de Chantal, he wrote, "I am nothing if not a man." Which goes a long way to explain his sanctity and self-knowledge. He didn't immediately call himself St. Jane's spiritual director, but he did write "God has given me to you; believe me to be yours in Him, and call me what you will -- it does not matter." He faced many distractions that tried to prevent him from writing to her, which he attributed to the devil. But he always did manage to see her, speak with her and write to her, "Because with you I speak as I do with my own heart." I believe them to have been good for each other, separated though they often were. He snapped her out of her depression and gave her outwardly-directed advice which resulted in the teaching and service order of the Visitandines; she on her part got him to see himself as he truly was, lighten up on himself a little and redouble his efforts for the lay apostolate, his special vocation, as important now as it was then, if not more so. It is Balthasar's contention that it is always the laity (and the clergy operating outside of the schools) who will renew and revitalize the appreciation and value of Catholic culture.
The Church agrees. His beatification process started the year after his death in 1622; he was the first person EVER canonized in the new basilica of St. Peter's in 1662 and he was declared a doctor in 1877.
That about says it. I would like only to add that this "shepherd of kings and commoners, sinners and saints," who wrote with "the incredible power of his words" the beautiful and enlightening (and long) "Introduction to the Devout Life" also wrote a book called "The Catholic Controversy." The Controversy is an even more captivating read. I recommend it. It sets down all -- or most (some of it was lost) -- of Catholic teaching -- but in an in-your-face kind of way. It's apologetics with teeth and spurs; it's big-boy stuff written in those pre-politically correct days and by the end proves its point against the Protestant position. Although for its time it was remarkable fair and even gentle, it would probably be condemned as too triumphalist and controversial now. Anyway, thank you for writing all that you did, dear St. Francis de Sales. Pray for us.
Today is the feast day of St. Francis de Sales. Brilliant, well-to-do, sensitive and "he never did things by halves," Francis was a Jesuit-trained philosophy and theology major in the capital city of his country. Fiercely Catholic, feeling sorry for the Protestants, he embarked on a religious life, much to the opposition of his parents. They had hoped he would pursue a more worldly career. He was often under attack, but the patience and strength of character for which he was justly famous protected and vindicated him. He was a prolific writer -- "Introduction to the Devout Life" has never been out of print. He was responsible for many converts, rode fearlessly on his horse through Protestant Geneva (where just being a Catholic could cost you your life), founded the Order of the Visitation (Visitandines), and had many platonic female friends. He is a doctor of the church and patron saint of writers.
To his dear friend Jane de Chantal, he wrote, "I am nothing if not a man." Which goes a long way to explain his sanctity and self-knowledge. He didn't immediately call himself St. Jane's spiritual director, but he did write "God has given me to you; believe me to be yours in Him, and call me what you will -- it does not matter." He faced many distractions that tried to prevent him from writing to her, which he attributed to the devil. But he always did manage to see her, speak with her and write to her, "Because with you I speak as I do with my own heart." I believe them to have been good for each other, separated though they often were. He snapped her out of her depression and gave her outwardly-directed advice which resulted in the teaching and service order of the Visitandines; she on her part got him to see himself as he truly was, lighten up on himself a little and redouble his efforts for the lay apostolate, his special vocation, as important now as it was then, if not more so. It is Balthasar's contention that it is always the laity (and the clergy operating outside of the schools) who will renew and revitalize the appreciation and value of Catholic culture.
The Church agrees. His beatification process started the year after his death in 1622; he was the first person EVER canonized in the new basilica of St. Peter's in 1662 and he was declared a doctor in 1877.
That about says it. I would like only to add that this "shepherd of kings and commoners, sinners and saints," who wrote with "the incredible power of his words" the beautiful and enlightening (and long) "Introduction to the Devout Life" also wrote a book called "The Catholic Controversy." The Controversy is an even more captivating read. I recommend it. It sets down all -- or most (some of it was lost) -- of Catholic teaching -- but in an in-your-face kind of way. It's apologetics with teeth and spurs; it's big-boy stuff written in those pre-politically correct days and by the end proves its point against the Protestant position. Although for its time it was remarkable fair and even gentle, it would probably be condemned as too triumphalist and controversial now. Anyway, thank you for writing all that you did, dear St. Francis de Sales. Pray for us.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Today January 23
Today is the feast of St. Joseph Cafasso, (1811 - 1860). If yesterday we focused on abortion (being the 35th anniversary of the Roe v. Wade decision), today we can focus on another aspect of being pro-life: anti-capital punishment. We may note that St. Joseph Cafasso did not work to end capital punishment but he believed with his whole heart and soul in repentance and even obtained from God the grace of converting every single prisoner on death row that he ministered to. Some of the prisoners themselves were skeptical. One particularly hardened criminal who had been convicted of a horrible crime voiced his doubt and St. Joseph asserted: "I believe it is certain [for you to be saved], for who is it that will be able to take you out of my hands? Even if you were in the vestibule of hell, and if there remained outside but one hair of your head, that would be sufficient for me to drag you from the claws of the devil and transport you to heaven." Strong words, those.
He decided to be a priest at age 15. He'd always been "aware of God" and devout, and once he made up his mind to do something, that was it. He made such progress in theology and virtue, his fellow seminarians marveled. He was like a breath of fresh air -- both then and later, in fact, all through his life. People cheered up when they saw him; he lifted burdens from their shoulders; he even touched the hearts of the suicidal. Many of them would, miraculously, be filled with joy and some would even offer up their tremendous sufferings as reparation for their sins. That may have been due to his great witness -- he not only commiserated with them, he preached the truth to them -- unvarnished. He did not shy away from the words and concepts of "sin" and "hell" and "penance." And he was not "all talk," either. He himself did major penance for his sins and made sure to be available every day for several hours in the confessional, though he was in poor health all his life. He preached, said Mass, gave missions, led retreats, spiritually directed boys (thus his relationship with Don Bosco, who was always trying to get him to relax -- "Our rest will be in heaven," St. Joseph would reply) and always attended the prisoners, especially those doomed to die. And in those days, capital punishment was by hanging. Grim.
Though he was small and frail, he never feared even the biggest and baddest of them all. He was always ready with a friendly ear, a smile, a needed item, and to hear their confessions. They weren't always ready to go, though. Once after a week preparing the men, he was confronted with a huge room full of prisoners all with cold feet. No one would go to confession. His solution? Well, maybe you've heard -- you find the biggest, meanest guy and go right up to him and challenge him. Joseph did; he grabbed the guy by his beard and told him he wouldn't let go til he heard his confession.
"I don't want to go," the man said flatly.
"But you will not escape from me," St. Joseph said.
"I'm not prepared."
"I will prepare you."
The big guy allowed himself to be led to a quiet corner and there he confessed. He went back to the others and swore he had never been happier in his whole life. He got all the others to go, too. And in fact, in St. Joseph's whole life he never lost a single soul.
As soon as he heard about a conviction leading to execution, he hurried to the man's side -- even staying with him all night. Sentences were very swiftly carried out in those days, so often he'd only have a few days. He'd offer Mass, give the man Holy Communion, and spend a long time with him in thanksgiving. He'd laugh and cry with the other prisoners as well. He truly loved them, and I think they sensed that. What a great lesson for us! Even the worst, the most hardened, the most hateful are still God's children, our brothers. There's always hope for repentance and conversion. Praise God.
He welcomed anyone, big or small, to his office to talk. He always seemed to have time for people, time to visit families, time to visit the hospital, even time to write. He left enough papers to have been made into several books. And he welcomed the youth. He made a huge impression on the young John Bosco. But at the end, he made a sign for everyone to leave him alone -- he wanted to talk to God and His Blessed Mother. He died on June 23 at the age of 49, having accomplished more in his short life than many do in half again or twice as many years. St. Joseph Cafasso, pray for us.
He decided to be a priest at age 15. He'd always been "aware of God" and devout, and once he made up his mind to do something, that was it. He made such progress in theology and virtue, his fellow seminarians marveled. He was like a breath of fresh air -- both then and later, in fact, all through his life. People cheered up when they saw him; he lifted burdens from their shoulders; he even touched the hearts of the suicidal. Many of them would, miraculously, be filled with joy and some would even offer up their tremendous sufferings as reparation for their sins. That may have been due to his great witness -- he not only commiserated with them, he preached the truth to them -- unvarnished. He did not shy away from the words and concepts of "sin" and "hell" and "penance." And he was not "all talk," either. He himself did major penance for his sins and made sure to be available every day for several hours in the confessional, though he was in poor health all his life. He preached, said Mass, gave missions, led retreats, spiritually directed boys (thus his relationship with Don Bosco, who was always trying to get him to relax -- "Our rest will be in heaven," St. Joseph would reply) and always attended the prisoners, especially those doomed to die. And in those days, capital punishment was by hanging. Grim.
Though he was small and frail, he never feared even the biggest and baddest of them all. He was always ready with a friendly ear, a smile, a needed item, and to hear their confessions. They weren't always ready to go, though. Once after a week preparing the men, he was confronted with a huge room full of prisoners all with cold feet. No one would go to confession. His solution? Well, maybe you've heard -- you find the biggest, meanest guy and go right up to him and challenge him. Joseph did; he grabbed the guy by his beard and told him he wouldn't let go til he heard his confession.
"I don't want to go," the man said flatly.
"But you will not escape from me," St. Joseph said.
"I'm not prepared."
"I will prepare you."
The big guy allowed himself to be led to a quiet corner and there he confessed. He went back to the others and swore he had never been happier in his whole life. He got all the others to go, too. And in fact, in St. Joseph's whole life he never lost a single soul.
As soon as he heard about a conviction leading to execution, he hurried to the man's side -- even staying with him all night. Sentences were very swiftly carried out in those days, so often he'd only have a few days. He'd offer Mass, give the man Holy Communion, and spend a long time with him in thanksgiving. He'd laugh and cry with the other prisoners as well. He truly loved them, and I think they sensed that. What a great lesson for us! Even the worst, the most hardened, the most hateful are still God's children, our brothers. There's always hope for repentance and conversion. Praise God.
He welcomed anyone, big or small, to his office to talk. He always seemed to have time for people, time to visit families, time to visit the hospital, even time to write. He left enough papers to have been made into several books. And he welcomed the youth. He made a huge impression on the young John Bosco. But at the end, he made a sign for everyone to leave him alone -- he wanted to talk to God and His Blessed Mother. He died on June 23 at the age of 49, having accomplished more in his short life than many do in half again or twice as many years. St. Joseph Cafasso, pray for us.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Today January 22
Today is the feast of St. Vincent Pallotti (1795 - 1850). And since it's also the national day of penance for the violation of the dignity of human persons due to abortion, we are going to focus on the pro-life aspects of today's saint. Vincent was one of only four surviving children of his parents -- several of them died in infancy, a great loss, not a benefit -- oh, look, now they have more money and freedom as a couple. No, they loved and treasured each of their children, no matter how long they lived.
He wasn't a good student -- he struggled for a long time. But it was suggested to him to pray to the Holy Spirit, and after a fervent novena, he actually began to improve; he even took first place. He was devoted to the Holy Spirit; and so should we in the pro-life movement be. Mountains can be moved!
Vincent believed in material charity as fervently as he believed in spiritual education, and he gave freely to all. He saved part of his dinner for the poor; he even gave a beggar his shoes! Later in life, he formed guilds for poor workers; and agricultural schools and savings banks for small farmers and workers. He did simple acts and great organizational acts -- all for charity, and I think that's important. If you truly want to end abortion, you need to put your money where your mouth is and work to give poor women in trouble an alternative.
He wasn't a wealthy man; he was frugal. He used to save scraps of paper that weren't written on and put them in a basket. His young protege thought he was a little nuts. But later Vincent showed him the fruits of even a small act. He sold the basket of scraps for 10 cents, used the 10 cents to buy a box of crackers and went to the Hospital of the Holy Spirit. There was a very disturbed man there who used to curse in the most foul language whenever someone religious was about. Father Vincent approached him to give him a blessing. Before the man really got started, Vincent popped a cracker in his mouth. While he was chewing, the priest got a few more words in. This repeated for some time. Finally, the man broke down. He made an act of contrition and went to confession. Father Vincent gave him the Last Rites as the now penitent man cried out over and over, "My Jesus, mercy!" It was a beautiful scene. He died peacefully and Vincent said to the young priest, "There is a soul saved and gone to Purgatory . . . you see, my friend, of what use were those scraps of paper!"
We in pro-life work should not be ashamed of how little our actions are. It is, after all, not about us. We should have unbounded confidence in God, as did today's saint. And he was rewarded with many touching manifestations of God's aid. He was somehow aware of when people were dying -- inexplicably he'd take off down a certain street just as a desperate relative of a dying person would come out, calling for a priest. He was gifted with seeing the departing souls sometimes. He could read hearts; he was in two places at once on at least one occasion; he cast out demons; he converted even the most hardened criminals before their executions. He saw a lot in his life -- a lot of heartache, a lot of suffering -- but he never slowed down, he never gave up. The results of his simple and beautiful faith and "Catholic action" are incalculable. Even after death, he was a sign. There were six reported appearances of him after his death, all with a sweet fragrance attached to them. His room itself exuded a mysterious and pleasant fragrance. His body is incorrupt. He was canonized by John XXIII in 1963. St. Vincent Pallotti, pray for us.
He wasn't a good student -- he struggled for a long time. But it was suggested to him to pray to the Holy Spirit, and after a fervent novena, he actually began to improve; he even took first place. He was devoted to the Holy Spirit; and so should we in the pro-life movement be. Mountains can be moved!
Vincent believed in material charity as fervently as he believed in spiritual education, and he gave freely to all. He saved part of his dinner for the poor; he even gave a beggar his shoes! Later in life, he formed guilds for poor workers; and agricultural schools and savings banks for small farmers and workers. He did simple acts and great organizational acts -- all for charity, and I think that's important. If you truly want to end abortion, you need to put your money where your mouth is and work to give poor women in trouble an alternative.
He wasn't a wealthy man; he was frugal. He used to save scraps of paper that weren't written on and put them in a basket. His young protege thought he was a little nuts. But later Vincent showed him the fruits of even a small act. He sold the basket of scraps for 10 cents, used the 10 cents to buy a box of crackers and went to the Hospital of the Holy Spirit. There was a very disturbed man there who used to curse in the most foul language whenever someone religious was about. Father Vincent approached him to give him a blessing. Before the man really got started, Vincent popped a cracker in his mouth. While he was chewing, the priest got a few more words in. This repeated for some time. Finally, the man broke down. He made an act of contrition and went to confession. Father Vincent gave him the Last Rites as the now penitent man cried out over and over, "My Jesus, mercy!" It was a beautiful scene. He died peacefully and Vincent said to the young priest, "There is a soul saved and gone to Purgatory . . . you see, my friend, of what use were those scraps of paper!"
We in pro-life work should not be ashamed of how little our actions are. It is, after all, not about us. We should have unbounded confidence in God, as did today's saint. And he was rewarded with many touching manifestations of God's aid. He was somehow aware of when people were dying -- inexplicably he'd take off down a certain street just as a desperate relative of a dying person would come out, calling for a priest. He was gifted with seeing the departing souls sometimes. He could read hearts; he was in two places at once on at least one occasion; he cast out demons; he converted even the most hardened criminals before their executions. He saw a lot in his life -- a lot of heartache, a lot of suffering -- but he never slowed down, he never gave up. The results of his simple and beautiful faith and "Catholic action" are incalculable. Even after death, he was a sign. There were six reported appearances of him after his death, all with a sweet fragrance attached to them. His room itself exuded a mysterious and pleasant fragrance. His body is incorrupt. He was canonized by John XXIII in 1963. St. Vincent Pallotti, pray for us.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Today January 21
Today is the feast of St. Agnes, virgin, died circa 304. This lovely young saint is the patroness of bodily purity, so necessary in this day of rampant sexual activity outside of marriage, with its consequent cheapening of chastity and virginity. But her self-sacrificing -- and non-violent -- answer is a wiser and more moderate response than the totally extremist reaction the OTHER way: puritanism, chastity belts and honor killings.
Agnes, only 13 years old, refused her lover, who had her denounced as a Christian. Her suitor was the prefect's son and well aware of his money and power. She kind of taunted him, though, by putting him off while saying her own lover had five things in more abundance than he: nobility (for he is a King), beauty (for even the sun and moon admire him), abundance (for his wealth never lessens), courage (for he encourages all and even brings back to life), and love (for his love is virtue itself). And "he binds them [his lovers] to himself with the bond of his love." Now, the young man didn't get it until someone else told him she was referring to Christ, which is when he turned her over to his father, who threatened her with white slavery if she did not renounce Christianity and worship at the [pagan] temple. She refused to sacrifice to the gods and declared her faith in her guardian angel. She appears to have been justified, since though she WAS thrown into the brothel, she was not violated in any way. She was then thought to be a witch; the prefect wanted to let her go, for he feared her a little, but instead turned her over to a deputy. This deputy had her burned, but again she escaped harm. Finally he had a soldier stab her in the throat, at which point she (bravely) died. Her body, headless, is enshrined in St. Agnes' Basilica in Rome and on this day lambs are blessed whose wool is made into the pallia (stoles) sent by the pope to the new archbishops. St. Agnes, pure one, pray for us.
Agnes, only 13 years old, refused her lover, who had her denounced as a Christian. Her suitor was the prefect's son and well aware of his money and power. She kind of taunted him, though, by putting him off while saying her own lover had five things in more abundance than he: nobility (for he is a King), beauty (for even the sun and moon admire him), abundance (for his wealth never lessens), courage (for he encourages all and even brings back to life), and love (for his love is virtue itself). And "he binds them [his lovers] to himself with the bond of his love." Now, the young man didn't get it until someone else told him she was referring to Christ, which is when he turned her over to his father, who threatened her with white slavery if she did not renounce Christianity and worship at the [pagan] temple. She refused to sacrifice to the gods and declared her faith in her guardian angel. She appears to have been justified, since though she WAS thrown into the brothel, she was not violated in any way. She was then thought to be a witch; the prefect wanted to let her go, for he feared her a little, but instead turned her over to a deputy. This deputy had her burned, but again she escaped harm. Finally he had a soldier stab her in the throat, at which point she (bravely) died. Her body, headless, is enshrined in St. Agnes' Basilica in Rome and on this day lambs are blessed whose wool is made into the pallia (stoles) sent by the pope to the new archbishops. St. Agnes, pure one, pray for us.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Today January 20
Today is the feast of St. Fabian, died 250. He succeeded St. Antherus as pope in 236 and reigned for 14 years. He was martyred in the persecution of Decius.
His election seemed to be confirmed when a dove flew in and landed on his shoulder. He was a layman and a foreigner, but the holiness and purity of his life was a testament to their choice. He brought the body of St. Pontian back from Sardinia to Rome and condemned the heresy of Privatus. He built basilicas at martyrs' tombs and ordered accounts of their lives put in writing if they were not already. He established the practice of burning the old chrism and consecrating new every Holy Thursday. St. Fabian, pray for us.
His election seemed to be confirmed when a dove flew in and landed on his shoulder. He was a layman and a foreigner, but the holiness and purity of his life was a testament to their choice. He brought the body of St. Pontian back from Sardinia to Rome and condemned the heresy of Privatus. He built basilicas at martyrs' tombs and ordered accounts of their lives put in writing if they were not already. He established the practice of burning the old chrism and consecrating new every Holy Thursday. St. Fabian, pray for us.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Today January 19
Today is the feast of St. Knut (Eleventh century), king of Denmark. He seems to have been regarded as a saint merely for being a murder victim, and a timely one at that. Had he not been killed -- rather alarmingly as he knelt before the altar of the church of St. Alban in Odense, Denmark -- he would have invaded England. And, in fact, it was English monks who first proclaimed him a saint. (I am reminded of the rabbi's prayer in "Fiddler on the Roof": "God bless and keep the czar . . . far away from us!") His own life was not a holy one. An illegitimate child, he lived as royally, sumptuously, and self-indulgently as he could (and after he became king, he certainly could.) He cared more about temporal than religious affairs. He made his subjects angry by extracting what they considered an excessive war tax. He ran from an angry mob to the aforementioned church, where he was killed. His name was given to a great Notre Dame football coach, Knute Rockne. St. Knut, pray for us.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Today January 18
Today is the feast of Mary Ann Long (nice name!) (1946 - 1959), pro-life hero and cancer victim. Though she suffered a painful, disfiguring, expensive disease, she inspired joy in all who came in contact with her and died at age 12 in complete security. Over and over in her last days she said, "Dear Jesus, I love You." And when a self-styled faith healer said to her, "The Lord Jesus can heal you, Mary Ann," she said these last words: "I know Jesus can heal me. I know He can do anything. It doesn't make a bit of difference whether He heals me or not. That's His business." What faith! This little girl reminds me an awful lot of the plucky, innocent hero Lucy in C.S. Lewis' "Chronicles of Narnia" series, she who was most privileged to see the mighty Aslan.
Mary Ann was one of four children from a poor Kentucky family. After she lost an eye to cancer, Mary Ann, whose mother herself was too ill to care for the child, was sent to a home run by the Dominican sisters in Atlanta.
Mary Ann wasn't Catholic and Sister Veronica worried she would be scared of the nuns in their strange long habits. But Mary Ann ran to her and hugged her as soon as she met her. Though she was small for her age and disfigured, her one eye sparkled with life and her round face was full of innocence and trust.
She didn't show any signs of homesickness but instead made the rounds of the ward and would just climb up into the bed of a patient who looked sad and lonely. She would just look at them and stroke their hand. She became a huge consolation to patients all her short life.
Although her parents were "nothing" (not religiously affiliated), they asked the sisters to baptize Mary Ann. All the patients wanted to joyfully celebrate the ceremony. Mostly adults, the cancer patients all loved the simple little girl. One Methodist woman gave her a white nightgown; a Baptist patient made it into a Baptismal dress for Mary Ann.
Mary Ann learned quickly, and responded spontaneously with a generous soul. When one of the sisters lifted her up to see the Stations of the Cross when she was teaching her them, Mary Ann said, "Oh, poor Jesus." And her prayer was "Jesus I love You with all my got." She added her own prayers to the rote, formal prayers she was taught.
She was only four years old but she desired First Communion. The sisters slowly tried to teach her about the examination of conscience. She seems to have understood the "zamination," since when recalling some self-willed naughtiness, she spontaneously said, "I'm sorry, Baby Jesus." She was allowed to make her First Communion at age 5 and to be confirmed at age 6.
She tried a couple of times to live back at home, but it didn't work out. For one thing, her family just weren't able to make her as happy as the nuns at the home were; and for another, the local kids teased her and made fun of her deformity. Back at the home, a retreat master from the nearby Trappist monastery asked her if she'd like to help those ignorant kids who had teased and hurt her. When she said she did, he told her to offer up all her sufferings and frustrations to Baby Jesus and He would help them. She took it to heart and never forgot it.
Though she expressed a desire to be a nun, when her sister Sue, who also followed her into the Catholic Church, would sneak off to the chapel to pray while Mary Ann was visiting patients, she said, "All I say is if all Sue wants to do is go to chapel and pray, she just better join another order . . . We work!"
She would brush some incapacitated patients' hair and bring them water. One lady whose husband had left her when he found out she had incurable cancer responded to Mary Ann's loving, spontaneous desire to be her "nurse" and just before her death returned to the Church she'd left long ago. "Now I know why I came all the way from Kentucky," the woman said. "Years ago I was Catholic. I've wanted to come back for a long time and didn't know how."
One special patient of Mary Ann's was a little baby with inoperable cancer. The parents, of whom this was their seventh child, were reluctant to leave her at the home, but seeing Mary Ann embrace her, they relaxed. The mother's doctor and others had told her the baby was useless and the kindest thing would be to let her die. But the mom said, "Stephanie was needed; she wasn't useless; this child with a bandaged face and a heart full of love needed her. My whole attitude changed and as the months passed and we came back to see Stephanie the hurt healed and was replaced with a quiet joyful gratitude for her. Not only did she bring happiness to Mary Ann, but she brought it to all in the home."
Mary Ann died a year later in the home, a rosary in her hand. Mary Ann Long, pray for us.
Mary Ann was one of four children from a poor Kentucky family. After she lost an eye to cancer, Mary Ann, whose mother herself was too ill to care for the child, was sent to a home run by the Dominican sisters in Atlanta.
Mary Ann wasn't Catholic and Sister Veronica worried she would be scared of the nuns in their strange long habits. But Mary Ann ran to her and hugged her as soon as she met her. Though she was small for her age and disfigured, her one eye sparkled with life and her round face was full of innocence and trust.
She didn't show any signs of homesickness but instead made the rounds of the ward and would just climb up into the bed of a patient who looked sad and lonely. She would just look at them and stroke their hand. She became a huge consolation to patients all her short life.
Although her parents were "nothing" (not religiously affiliated), they asked the sisters to baptize Mary Ann. All the patients wanted to joyfully celebrate the ceremony. Mostly adults, the cancer patients all loved the simple little girl. One Methodist woman gave her a white nightgown; a Baptist patient made it into a Baptismal dress for Mary Ann.
Mary Ann learned quickly, and responded spontaneously with a generous soul. When one of the sisters lifted her up to see the Stations of the Cross when she was teaching her them, Mary Ann said, "Oh, poor Jesus." And her prayer was "Jesus I love You with all my got." She added her own prayers to the rote, formal prayers she was taught.
She was only four years old but she desired First Communion. The sisters slowly tried to teach her about the examination of conscience. She seems to have understood the "zamination," since when recalling some self-willed naughtiness, she spontaneously said, "I'm sorry, Baby Jesus." She was allowed to make her First Communion at age 5 and to be confirmed at age 6.
She tried a couple of times to live back at home, but it didn't work out. For one thing, her family just weren't able to make her as happy as the nuns at the home were; and for another, the local kids teased her and made fun of her deformity. Back at the home, a retreat master from the nearby Trappist monastery asked her if she'd like to help those ignorant kids who had teased and hurt her. When she said she did, he told her to offer up all her sufferings and frustrations to Baby Jesus and He would help them. She took it to heart and never forgot it.
Though she expressed a desire to be a nun, when her sister Sue, who also followed her into the Catholic Church, would sneak off to the chapel to pray while Mary Ann was visiting patients, she said, "All I say is if all Sue wants to do is go to chapel and pray, she just better join another order . . . We work!"
She would brush some incapacitated patients' hair and bring them water. One lady whose husband had left her when he found out she had incurable cancer responded to Mary Ann's loving, spontaneous desire to be her "nurse" and just before her death returned to the Church she'd left long ago. "Now I know why I came all the way from Kentucky," the woman said. "Years ago I was Catholic. I've wanted to come back for a long time and didn't know how."
One special patient of Mary Ann's was a little baby with inoperable cancer. The parents, of whom this was their seventh child, were reluctant to leave her at the home, but seeing Mary Ann embrace her, they relaxed. The mother's doctor and others had told her the baby was useless and the kindest thing would be to let her die. But the mom said, "Stephanie was needed; she wasn't useless; this child with a bandaged face and a heart full of love needed her. My whole attitude changed and as the months passed and we came back to see Stephanie the hurt healed and was replaced with a quiet joyful gratitude for her. Not only did she bring happiness to Mary Ann, but she brought it to all in the home."
Mary Ann died a year later in the home, a rosary in her hand. Mary Ann Long, pray for us.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Today January 17
Today is the feast of St. Anthony, abbot (235 - 340). His story is a famous one. He left the world, sold all he had, set his sister up financially (they were orphans), and retreated into the desert after his sudden conversion during a homily after a Gospel in which he heard the words: "If thou wilt be perfect, go sell what thou hast and give to the poor."
When the same Abba Anthony thought about the depth of the judgments of God, he asked, "Lord, how is it that some die when they are young, while others drag on to extreme old age? Why are there those who are poor and those who are rich? Why do wicked men proper and why are the just in need?" He heard a voice answering him, "Anthony, keep your attention on yourself; these things are according to the judgment of God, and it is not to your advantage to know anything about them."
Someone asked Abba Anthony, "What must one do in order to please God?" The old man replied, "Pay attention to what I tell you: whoever you may be, always have God before your eyes, whatever you do, do it according to the testimony of the holy Scriptures; in whatever place you live, do not easily leave it. Keep these three precepts and you will be saved."
He was an ascetic, but he was no excessive one -- no stylite or flagellant or hunger-striker, for he also said: "Some have afflicted their bodies by asceticism, but they lack discernment, and so they are far from God."
A hunter in the desert saw Abba Anthony enjoying himself with the brethren and he was shocked. Wanting to show him that it was necessary sometimes to meet the needs of the brethren, the old man said to him, "Put an arrow in your bow and shoot it." So he did. The old man then said, "Shoot another," and he did so. Then the old man said, "Shoot yet again," and the hunter replied, "If I bend my bow so much I will break it." Then the old man said to him, "It is the same with the work of God. If we stretch the brethren beyond measure they will soon break. Sometimes it is necessary to come down to meet their needs." When he heard these words the hunter was pierced by compunction and, greatly edified by the old man, he went away. As for the brethren, they went home strengthened.
His last words were as follows:
Some of the monks asked Anthony (on his deathbed) to tell them the word of salvation, and he said, "You have heard the Lord saying, 'If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him also the other.'" They replied: "That we cannot fulfill." He said: "Then at least bear the one blow patiently." "We cannot do that either." Anthony: "Well, at least do not strike rather than be struck." "Even that is too much!" So Anthony said to his disciple: "Prepare a fortifying drink for these brothers, because they are so frail!" But, to the brothers: "All I can say to you is, 'Pray!' " St. Anthony, great pray - er, pray for us!
When the same Abba Anthony thought about the depth of the judgments of God, he asked, "Lord, how is it that some die when they are young, while others drag on to extreme old age? Why are there those who are poor and those who are rich? Why do wicked men proper and why are the just in need?" He heard a voice answering him, "Anthony, keep your attention on yourself; these things are according to the judgment of God, and it is not to your advantage to know anything about them."
Someone asked Abba Anthony, "What must one do in order to please God?" The old man replied, "Pay attention to what I tell you: whoever you may be, always have God before your eyes, whatever you do, do it according to the testimony of the holy Scriptures; in whatever place you live, do not easily leave it. Keep these three precepts and you will be saved."
He was an ascetic, but he was no excessive one -- no stylite or flagellant or hunger-striker, for he also said: "Some have afflicted their bodies by asceticism, but they lack discernment, and so they are far from God."
A hunter in the desert saw Abba Anthony enjoying himself with the brethren and he was shocked. Wanting to show him that it was necessary sometimes to meet the needs of the brethren, the old man said to him, "Put an arrow in your bow and shoot it." So he did. The old man then said, "Shoot another," and he did so. Then the old man said, "Shoot yet again," and the hunter replied, "If I bend my bow so much I will break it." Then the old man said to him, "It is the same with the work of God. If we stretch the brethren beyond measure they will soon break. Sometimes it is necessary to come down to meet their needs." When he heard these words the hunter was pierced by compunction and, greatly edified by the old man, he went away. As for the brethren, they went home strengthened.
His last words were as follows:
Some of the monks asked Anthony (on his deathbed) to tell them the word of salvation, and he said, "You have heard the Lord saying, 'If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him also the other.'" They replied: "That we cannot fulfill." He said: "Then at least bear the one blow patiently." "We cannot do that either." Anthony: "Well, at least do not strike rather than be struck." "Even that is too much!" So Anthony said to his disciple: "Prepare a fortifying drink for these brothers, because they are so frail!" But, to the brothers: "All I can say to you is, 'Pray!' " St. Anthony, great pray - er, pray for us!
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Today January 16
Today is the feast of St. Marcellus, pope, died c. 287. He was a brave man who publicly reproached the Emperor Maximian for his cruelty to Christians. He could have kept quiet and "kept the peace," but he was not afraid to rock the boat. And for his pains one of his churches in Rome was turned into a stable -- and Marcellus into the stableboy! He was confined there for several years before his death. St. Marcellus, pray for us.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Today January 15
Today is the feast of St. Macarius (300 - 390). He was a camel driver but left the world to become a priest. He was accused of sexual misconduct and run out of office. Rather than defend himself, even against physical blows, he gave away all he had and even worked day and night to (financially) support his accuser! Wow. But she was in great travail when delivery time came, and when asked "What is the matter?", the woman cried out, "I know what it is, it is because I slandered the priest, and accused him unjustly; it is not he who is to blame, but such and such a young man." Her conscience cleared, the woman gave birth. Then Macarius must have been relieved, but he left that village and went to live in the desert.
They said of Abba Macarius that a thief went into his cell when he was away. Macarius came back to his cell and found the thief loading his things onto a camel. So Macarius went into the cell, picked up his things and helped him load them onto the camel! When the loading was finished, the thief began to beat the camel to make it get up but in vain. Seeing that it did not get up, Abba Macarius went inside his cell, found a small hoe there, picked it up and put in onto the camel saying, "Brother, the camel wants to have this." Then the old man kicked it, saying, "Get up." At once the camel got up and went forward a little, because of his command. Then it lay down again and refused to get up until it was completely unloaded; and then it set off.
Another time a demon approached Abba Macarius with a knife and wanted to cut his foot. But, because of his humility he could not do so, and he said to him, "All that you have, we have also; you are distinguished from us only by humility; by that you get the better of us."
He prayed even for the souls in hell -- and it was not in vain. He was granted a spirit visit once. Abba Macarius said, "Walking in the desert one day, I found the skull of a dead man, lying on the ground. As I was moving it with my stick, the skull spoke to me. I said to it, 'Who are you?' The skull replied, 'I was high priest of the idols and of the pagans who dwelt in this place; but you are Macarius, the Spirit-bearer. Whenever you take pity on those who are in torments, and pray for them, they feel a little respite.' The old man said to him, 'What is this alleviation, and what is this torment?' He said to him, 'As far as the sky is removed from the earth, so great is the fire beneath us; we are ourselves standing in the midst of the fire, from the feet up to the head. It is not possible to see anyone face to face, but the face of one is fixed to the back of another. Yet when you pray for us, each of us can see the other's face a little. Such is our respite.' The old man in tears said, 'Alas the day when that man was born!' He said to the skull, 'Are there any punishments which are more painful than this?' The skull said to him, 'There is a more grievous punishment down below us.' The old man said, 'Who are the people down there?' The skull said to him: 'We have received a little mercy since we did not know God, but those who know God and denied Him are down below us.' Then, picking up the skull, the old man buried it."
They said of Abba Macarius the Great that he became, as it is written, a god upon earth, because, just as God protects the world, so Abba Macarius would cover the faults which he saw, as though he did not see them; and those which he heard, as though he did not hear them. A fine epitaph. St. Macarius, pray for us.
They said of Abba Macarius that a thief went into his cell when he was away. Macarius came back to his cell and found the thief loading his things onto a camel. So Macarius went into the cell, picked up his things and helped him load them onto the camel! When the loading was finished, the thief began to beat the camel to make it get up but in vain. Seeing that it did not get up, Abba Macarius went inside his cell, found a small hoe there, picked it up and put in onto the camel saying, "Brother, the camel wants to have this." Then the old man kicked it, saying, "Get up." At once the camel got up and went forward a little, because of his command. Then it lay down again and refused to get up until it was completely unloaded; and then it set off.
Another time a demon approached Abba Macarius with a knife and wanted to cut his foot. But, because of his humility he could not do so, and he said to him, "All that you have, we have also; you are distinguished from us only by humility; by that you get the better of us."
He prayed even for the souls in hell -- and it was not in vain. He was granted a spirit visit once. Abba Macarius said, "Walking in the desert one day, I found the skull of a dead man, lying on the ground. As I was moving it with my stick, the skull spoke to me. I said to it, 'Who are you?' The skull replied, 'I was high priest of the idols and of the pagans who dwelt in this place; but you are Macarius, the Spirit-bearer. Whenever you take pity on those who are in torments, and pray for them, they feel a little respite.' The old man said to him, 'What is this alleviation, and what is this torment?' He said to him, 'As far as the sky is removed from the earth, so great is the fire beneath us; we are ourselves standing in the midst of the fire, from the feet up to the head. It is not possible to see anyone face to face, but the face of one is fixed to the back of another. Yet when you pray for us, each of us can see the other's face a little. Such is our respite.' The old man in tears said, 'Alas the day when that man was born!' He said to the skull, 'Are there any punishments which are more painful than this?' The skull said to him, 'There is a more grievous punishment down below us.' The old man said, 'Who are the people down there?' The skull said to him: 'We have received a little mercy since we did not know God, but those who know God and denied Him are down below us.' Then, picking up the skull, the old man buried it."
They said of Abba Macarius the Great that he became, as it is written, a god upon earth, because, just as God protects the world, so Abba Macarius would cover the faults which he saw, as though he did not see them; and those which he heard, as though he did not hear them. A fine epitaph. St. Macarius, pray for us.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Today January 14
Today is the feast of St. Hilary of Poitiers (320 - 368), doctor of the Church. Now the beginning of a new (school) term, his feast has lent the name "Hilary term" to the spring semester in England. A bright pagan, he came to the conclusion -- entirely naturally -- that polytheism must be wrong, because God must be one.
He was impressed with the Name given to Moses for God, I AM WHO AM, and felt his reading of the entire Old Testament completed in the New, especially the high theology of John, stating that the Divine Word, God the Son, is coeternal with the Father. He accepted, and was baptized, as an adult.
He was a poet, and he wrote:
I am well aware,
Almighty God and Father,
that in my life I owe You
a most particular duty.
It is to make my every thought
and word speak of You.
In fact, You have conferred on me
this gift of speech,
and it can yield no greater return
than to be at your service.
He was an idealist and saw through hypocrisy. Though he could be the gentlest of men, his words could be strong, full of invective and the severest language. He was afraid of no one. He rebuked the (last) Arian emperor, Constantius, and made a renegade bishop, Auxentius, sign an orthodoxy oath (to the effect that Jesus Christ is the true God, of the same substance of the Father.)
He was banished from his French see (to which he had been appointed as a layman. He was made bishop by popular acclaim, took holy orders, and what he did with his wife and daughter -- the daughter's name was Apra; the wife's is not recorded -- is unknown. Presumably he provided for them.) and sent to Phrygia in the East. But Hilary "had the greatest veneration for the truth, sparing no pains in its pursuit and dreading no dangers in its defence." - Butler's Lives. He was soon defending the council of Nicaea, even confronting the emperor in Constantinople, and challenging the Arian Saturninus to public debate. He so riled the people they begged him to be sent back to France. And so he was.
Arianism pretty much died with Constantius; Hilary, who desired to give his life as a martyr, ended his days in peace. St. Hilary, pray for us.
He was impressed with the Name given to Moses for God, I AM WHO AM, and felt his reading of the entire Old Testament completed in the New, especially the high theology of John, stating that the Divine Word, God the Son, is coeternal with the Father. He accepted, and was baptized, as an adult.
He was a poet, and he wrote:
I am well aware,
Almighty God and Father,
that in my life I owe You
a most particular duty.
It is to make my every thought
and word speak of You.
In fact, You have conferred on me
this gift of speech,
and it can yield no greater return
than to be at your service.
He was an idealist and saw through hypocrisy. Though he could be the gentlest of men, his words could be strong, full of invective and the severest language. He was afraid of no one. He rebuked the (last) Arian emperor, Constantius, and made a renegade bishop, Auxentius, sign an orthodoxy oath (to the effect that Jesus Christ is the true God, of the same substance of the Father.)
He was banished from his French see (to which he had been appointed as a layman. He was made bishop by popular acclaim, took holy orders, and what he did with his wife and daughter -- the daughter's name was Apra; the wife's is not recorded -- is unknown. Presumably he provided for them.) and sent to Phrygia in the East. But Hilary "had the greatest veneration for the truth, sparing no pains in its pursuit and dreading no dangers in its defence." - Butler's Lives. He was soon defending the council of Nicaea, even confronting the emperor in Constantinople, and challenging the Arian Saturninus to public debate. He so riled the people they begged him to be sent back to France. And so he was.
Arianism pretty much died with Constantius; Hilary, who desired to give his life as a martyr, ended his days in peace. St. Hilary, pray for us.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Today January 13: Baptism of the Lord
Today is the feast of the Baptism of Our Lord. It is also called "Theophany," from theos, God, and phanos, apparition. God appeared among us in a special way, and in a special way, all three Persons of the Trinity: the father by His voice, the Son in the flesh, and the Spirit as a dove. It was important to St. John the Baptist, too, for before the baptism, he hadn't recognized Jesus. There's a good chance the cousins hadn't met as adults and thus naturally wouldn't have (physically) recognized each other -- at least John wouldn't. But he recognized Our Lord's holiness and in a brave declaration of humility declared, "I ought to be baptized by thee, and comest thou to me?" Since John's baptism was purely a baptism of repentance, John is declaring he is a greater sinner than this one. And then the sign. We don't know who all saw (and heard) it. John for sure. Perhaps others. Our Lord himself. For John it was a confirmation of the sign he had awaited -- the Spirit would descend on the One. Now, neither he nor the others could have expected nor been prepared for one like a Dove, since doves were offered in sacrifice but that's the only role they played int he Jewish religion. But also John (and maybe others) heard the magnificent and powerful voice. (I think of the roar of the Lion in the Narnia books.) And one also for sure heard it -- Jesus himself. "He knew his own sonship, for he WAS God. Yet it must have been the same kind of thrill to his human soul as to any other creature of God to hear from the Father himself the words 'In thee I am well pleased.' " - Frank Sheed.
May we all hear the words "well done, good and faithful servant" at the end of our lives. May we, who first died with Him in baptism, rise with Him at the end. Happy Baptism Day, everybody!
May we all hear the words "well done, good and faithful servant" at the end of our lives. May we, who first died with Him in baptism, rise with Him at the end. Happy Baptism Day, everybody!
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Today January 12
Today we are going to celebrate St. Benedict Biscop (c. 628 - 690). He started out as a knight to King Oswy of Northumbria (England being divided into many kingdoms at the time) but left the service to go on pilgrimage. The many pilgrimages he made led in turn to a deep spirituality and to a religious calling. He made 5 trips in all. On the first, he met a saint (St. Wilfrid) and became convinced of the rightness and justice of 1) having a universal [religious] system and 2) having that be Rome's. Ever after he argued convincingly for the Roman date of Easter and its custom and law. On his second visit, he became a monk in Lerins, in the seemingly inauspicious year 666. He accompanied both the monk Adrian and the newly appointed archbishop Theodore of Tarsus to Canterbury. After the third visit (to Rome), he founded the twin monasteries of Jarrow and Wearmouth (which were to become so dear to the Venerable Bede). After the fourth visit, he brought back many, many books for his libraries (good man!). These were available to all at the monasteries and churches (under the watchful and discreet eyes of the monks, of course). And after the final visit, he brought back architects, masons and glaziers to build the first churches of stone in the kingdom and to fit them with the heretofore unheard-of "stained glass." "Apart from his undoubted spirituality, he earned an eternal debt of gratitude by linking English art and culture with the Mediterranean tradition" - Angelus Book of Saints. St. Benedict Biscop, pray for us.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Today January 11
Today is the feast of Theodosius the Cenobiarch (423 - 529). He was ordained a "reader," which position was a minor order, but as an avid reader, I like the name! He resolved to visit the fabulous St. Simeon the Stylite, who received him and foretold many things about him, but Theodosius didn't want to follow in his footsteps. He chose instead to join a community of monks and avail himself of a spiritual guide, but he at first balked at having to serve women (in their church on the high road to Bethlehem). I don't think his reluctance had anything to do with them being "mere women," but with the contemporary idea that the ideal monk neither looked at nor spoke to women -- ever. But he was obedient, and it turned out not to be so bad, or sinful.
Not long after, though, he retired to a lonely hermitage. Soon he had lots of company; it was necessary to build a communal monastery -- the monks being called cenobites, thus, their leader, the Cenobiarch. He made several important decisions: one was never to refuse any who came to him to be a monk (a radical decision in those days), and the other to just trust in God, even if there were no resources. This latter was the context of a miracle: one Easter the monks (they were 12 in number) had nothing to eat. Theodosius prayed and a mule train loaded with provisions appeared. They all had a magnificent Easter feast.
He built three hospices: one for the sick, one for the old, and one for the mentally ill. Interestingly, the cause for the mental illness of many of the patients was an over-indulgence in penances! All were treated with respect and kindness, fed and cared for by the ever-growing community of gentle monks.
He also built four churches: one for each of the different languages spoken, so all could hear the Mass and prayers in the vernacular and one for the mentally ill, who were recovering separately.
He defended Church teaching even when it wasn't popular: he defended the two natures of Christ in one Person despite the heavy-handedness and popularity of the Eutychian heresy and its adherents, including the Emperor Anastasius. This Emperor tried to bribe him (didn't work) and tried to banish him (he [the Emperor] died before it could go into effect).
Theodosius died in his 105th year, after a year-long illness. St. Theodosius, pray for us.
Not long after, though, he retired to a lonely hermitage. Soon he had lots of company; it was necessary to build a communal monastery -- the monks being called cenobites, thus, their leader, the Cenobiarch. He made several important decisions: one was never to refuse any who came to him to be a monk (a radical decision in those days), and the other to just trust in God, even if there were no resources. This latter was the context of a miracle: one Easter the monks (they were 12 in number) had nothing to eat. Theodosius prayed and a mule train loaded with provisions appeared. They all had a magnificent Easter feast.
He built three hospices: one for the sick, one for the old, and one for the mentally ill. Interestingly, the cause for the mental illness of many of the patients was an over-indulgence in penances! All were treated with respect and kindness, fed and cared for by the ever-growing community of gentle monks.
He also built four churches: one for each of the different languages spoken, so all could hear the Mass and prayers in the vernacular and one for the mentally ill, who were recovering separately.
He defended Church teaching even when it wasn't popular: he defended the two natures of Christ in one Person despite the heavy-handedness and popularity of the Eutychian heresy and its adherents, including the Emperor Anastasius. This Emperor tried to bribe him (didn't work) and tried to banish him (he [the Emperor] died before it could go into effect).
Theodosius died in his 105th year, after a year-long illness. St. Theodosius, pray for us.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Today January 10
Today is the feast of Father Felix Rougier, (1859 - 1938). He was the son of a simple farmer and had been baptized and placed on the side altar of the Virgin Mary and consecrated to her shortly after his birth. He entered the seminary in France and while there, heard a stirring appeal by a Marist missionary in Samoa. He felt a call -- and despite clerical opposition -- went to join the Society of Mary, with the idea of serving in Oceania. He failed to get there, but he did become a missionary: first in Colombia and then in Mexico -- and this during the huge anti-clerical movement and revolution there. He always felt that "many people were mediocre in the spiritual life because they had no one to listen to them" -- so he was always ready to listen -- in the fields with the farmworkers, on horseback with the cowboys (he became quite a horseman himself), with pockets full of candy and nuts with the little children, in the confessional for long hours with penitents, on the battlefield with soldiers. The first parish he was pastor of was Our Lady of Lourdes in Mexico City, with a congregation of about 6000. He felt, as do many conscientious priests, that the parish bulletin was an important vehicle to teach people about God and put lots of time and effort into his words there.
He encouraged the organization of Altar Boys and Choir Boys -- taking them on picnics and sports outings, all the while talking to them about God; a similar group for girls, called The Angels; and a huge organization of laypeople called "The Works of the Cross" (from which spun other groups and orders, including the Priests of the Cross) which he established with Conchita Cabrera, a close platonic female friend (who was also, like him, a writer). These groups, centered on helping (lay)people to carry their crosses daily, were slow to receive permission from church authorities, but Felix always obeyed his superiors and accepted even their unfairness as "the will of God." He adopted as his motto the native Latin American saying when confronted with a personal cross: "God remembered me."
He was called home to Europe at this time -- another personal frustration, because it delayed his founding of the orders and seemed to thwart his desire to complete his missionary work -- for 10 years! But he was allowed to return during a big heat-up of persecution in Mexico. He got the go-ahead for his priestly order (now called the Missionaries of the Holy Spirit) and rushed in to a country where the majority of priests were bailing out. The bishop of Guadalajara even told him "It is madness" about his trying to serve in Mexico in 1914. His congregation of priests had to begin in secret and in civilian clothes. He himself was not allowed to join it, his superiors refusing to let him leave the Marists. Still he obeyed; still he was loyal. He did get the country of Mexico to be consecrated to the Holy Spirit.
He became a wanted man: the bishops of Mexico suspended all religious services; men were stabbed for saying "Viva Cristo Rey!", priests were lynched. Felix opened a retreat house for old and troubled priests; all who came were positive and grateful for the experience. The police closed and seized it; frustrated once again, Felix only said, "God gave it. God took it away. Blessed be God."
Felix wasn't killed in the persecution: he died of internal hemorrhage after 2 - 3 years of heart and stomach ailments. He died on January 10 in 1938, his last words about his heavenly mother: "With her, everything. . . without her, nothing." He died gazing at a statue of Our Lady of Lourdes, one of his favorite of her appearances. Father Felix Rougier, pray for us.
He encouraged the organization of Altar Boys and Choir Boys -- taking them on picnics and sports outings, all the while talking to them about God; a similar group for girls, called The Angels; and a huge organization of laypeople called "The Works of the Cross" (from which spun other groups and orders, including the Priests of the Cross) which he established with Conchita Cabrera, a close platonic female friend (who was also, like him, a writer). These groups, centered on helping (lay)people to carry their crosses daily, were slow to receive permission from church authorities, but Felix always obeyed his superiors and accepted even their unfairness as "the will of God." He adopted as his motto the native Latin American saying when confronted with a personal cross: "God remembered me."
He was called home to Europe at this time -- another personal frustration, because it delayed his founding of the orders and seemed to thwart his desire to complete his missionary work -- for 10 years! But he was allowed to return during a big heat-up of persecution in Mexico. He got the go-ahead for his priestly order (now called the Missionaries of the Holy Spirit) and rushed in to a country where the majority of priests were bailing out. The bishop of Guadalajara even told him "It is madness" about his trying to serve in Mexico in 1914. His congregation of priests had to begin in secret and in civilian clothes. He himself was not allowed to join it, his superiors refusing to let him leave the Marists. Still he obeyed; still he was loyal. He did get the country of Mexico to be consecrated to the Holy Spirit.
He became a wanted man: the bishops of Mexico suspended all religious services; men were stabbed for saying "Viva Cristo Rey!", priests were lynched. Felix opened a retreat house for old and troubled priests; all who came were positive and grateful for the experience. The police closed and seized it; frustrated once again, Felix only said, "God gave it. God took it away. Blessed be God."
Felix wasn't killed in the persecution: he died of internal hemorrhage after 2 - 3 years of heart and stomach ailments. He died on January 10 in 1938, his last words about his heavenly mother: "With her, everything. . . without her, nothing." He died gazing at a statue of Our Lady of Lourdes, one of his favorite of her appearances. Father Felix Rougier, pray for us.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Today January 9
Today is the feast of Venerable Pauline Jaricot (1799 -1862). She was a plucky favorite daughter of a hard-working silk merchant in France. She herself was hard-working, vibrant and possessed of great powers of organization. She was also beautiful, worldly and vain -- at least until her first obstacle in a life FULL of them. At 16 she fell off a chair and suffered a concussion and some brain damage: her speech was slurred, her walk unsteady and her pain unbearable. She also suffered what would later be called an "identity crisis." Mentally and physically she was a wreck. But after a particular confession and reception of Holy Communion, she began to recover. She experienced a total conversion a short time later. At 17 she heard a sermon against vanity that particularly moved her. Never one to do things by halves, she cast off all her Parisian fashions, dressed as a peasant and started giving away all she owned until her father stopped her. She volunteered her time at the local hospice for incurables. She organized poor factory girls into a prayer team for the conversion of sinners and France. Her brother cautioned her to be reasonable, saying, "Pauline, you are taking your soup too hot; let it cool a bit." But she was idealistic and wouldn't listen. Thank God, because Miss Jaricot was a pioneer of Catholic action.
Her two greatest endeavors were the establishment of the Society for the Propagation of the Faith (in which she got her factory girls to collect "prayers and pennies" each from 9 others, who is turn collected from 9 more, etc., turning all the proceeds in to the missions) and the Living Rosary (a prayer chain of each person taking just one mystery of the Rosary each day; a chain that soon swept the country and resulted in a 3 million membership!), both huge successes. But not for Pauline personally. This humble, devout and innocent servant of God was viciously and jealously ATTACKED by priests and other clerics who felt such an undertaking (the Society of the Propagation of the Faith -- they let her have the Rosary) did not belong to the laity but to the clergy. It was unjustly ripped from her to the point that the new directors denied she ever had anything to do with it! And when she fell into bankruptcy and poverty, they wouldn't help her at all (even when Rome requested it!), saying, "You never laid claim to the title of foundress of this movement until you found yourself in financial difficulty. Our money is for the missions, not for you." And she didn't disagree. She even prayed for them, as she did for all who denied her. Her last painful years (she suffered greatly from edema) were spent begging for her bread. She went into a huge debt because she trusted her advisers in her most idealistic charitable project of all: a whole town run according to Catholic social justice principles. She bought property, a foundry, a stream, a flour mill and a beautiful chapel, all with the ideal of using fair wages, dignity and equality for men. It stood as a beacon against the rapacious capitalism of the day -- workers oppressed, underpaid and crushed, all in the name of profit. Well, one of the advisers absconded with a lot of the funds and Pauline was held accountable. The town never materialized -- it was all a huge failure -- and Pauline was to spend the rest of her life attempting to collect the funds necessary to pay this debt -- 430,000 francs. These last 10 years she spent as a pauper, as she cut down on expenses, begged, and lived primarily on bread and cheese, saving every possible sou and attempting somehow to pay off the huge debt before she died. Even there, she was a failure -- it wasn't paid off til after her death. And still she was insulted and misunderstood, even by clergy, even by devout churchgoers: she was accused of not caring for anything but money! Her heart was broken time and time again, but she soldiered on, always loyal to the Holy Catholic Church and the Chair of St. Peter. She forgave all who had injured her and told the loosely-structured community of women she founded, called the Daughters of Mary, never to offend against charity, "the greatest of all treasures," and to "never go to bed without asking pardon for the small injuries you have done during the day." She died on this date 146 years ago, her last words being, "Mary, my mother, I am all yours!" Dear Pauline Jaricot, pray for us.
Her two greatest endeavors were the establishment of the Society for the Propagation of the Faith (in which she got her factory girls to collect "prayers and pennies" each from 9 others, who is turn collected from 9 more, etc., turning all the proceeds in to the missions) and the Living Rosary (a prayer chain of each person taking just one mystery of the Rosary each day; a chain that soon swept the country and resulted in a 3 million membership!), both huge successes. But not for Pauline personally. This humble, devout and innocent servant of God was viciously and jealously ATTACKED by priests and other clerics who felt such an undertaking (the Society of the Propagation of the Faith -- they let her have the Rosary) did not belong to the laity but to the clergy. It was unjustly ripped from her to the point that the new directors denied she ever had anything to do with it! And when she fell into bankruptcy and poverty, they wouldn't help her at all (even when Rome requested it!), saying, "You never laid claim to the title of foundress of this movement until you found yourself in financial difficulty. Our money is for the missions, not for you." And she didn't disagree. She even prayed for them, as she did for all who denied her. Her last painful years (she suffered greatly from edema) were spent begging for her bread. She went into a huge debt because she trusted her advisers in her most idealistic charitable project of all: a whole town run according to Catholic social justice principles. She bought property, a foundry, a stream, a flour mill and a beautiful chapel, all with the ideal of using fair wages, dignity and equality for men. It stood as a beacon against the rapacious capitalism of the day -- workers oppressed, underpaid and crushed, all in the name of profit. Well, one of the advisers absconded with a lot of the funds and Pauline was held accountable. The town never materialized -- it was all a huge failure -- and Pauline was to spend the rest of her life attempting to collect the funds necessary to pay this debt -- 430,000 francs. These last 10 years she spent as a pauper, as she cut down on expenses, begged, and lived primarily on bread and cheese, saving every possible sou and attempting somehow to pay off the huge debt before she died. Even there, she was a failure -- it wasn't paid off til after her death. And still she was insulted and misunderstood, even by clergy, even by devout churchgoers: she was accused of not caring for anything but money! Her heart was broken time and time again, but she soldiered on, always loyal to the Holy Catholic Church and the Chair of St. Peter. She forgave all who had injured her and told the loosely-structured community of women she founded, called the Daughters of Mary, never to offend against charity, "the greatest of all treasures," and to "never go to bed without asking pardon for the small injuries you have done during the day." She died on this date 146 years ago, her last words being, "Mary, my mother, I am all yours!" Dear Pauline Jaricot, pray for us.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Today January 8
Today is the feast of St. Peter Orseolo (928 - 987). What an interesting guy! He was a distinguished Venetian, born to command, it seemed. His power and enthusiasm may have gotten the better of him because he was personally involved in the violent overthrow of the government and may even have killed the doge (governor), whom he succeeded. He governed well, first putting out the fires and repairing all the fire damage. Then he settled with the doge's widow, Gualdrada. Then he began the building of a new palace and church.
Then in the dead of night on September 1, 978, he fled to the Benedictine monastery at Cuxa in the Pyrenees. He'd abandoned his wife and son and took orders as a monk.
I've written about this case before and it's not as odd and off-putting as it first appears. I think it's actually MORE likely that Peter was guilty of murder or at least manslaughter and he was attempting to do penance rather than just running away from his marital and family obligations. After all, if he were convicted in a court, he'd have had to leave his wife and son anyway -- and perhaps leave them permanently in death, as capital punishment was in effect then. And he'd lived in a continent marriage with his wife since the birth of their son, who was already an adult by this time. They were both financially well cared-for and the son later went on to become doge in his own right. Peter on his part lived the life of a humble self-effacing monk and then as a hermit. He died in 987 and many miracles took place at his tomb. St. Peter Orseolo, pray for us.
Then in the dead of night on September 1, 978, he fled to the Benedictine monastery at Cuxa in the Pyrenees. He'd abandoned his wife and son and took orders as a monk.
I've written about this case before and it's not as odd and off-putting as it first appears. I think it's actually MORE likely that Peter was guilty of murder or at least manslaughter and he was attempting to do penance rather than just running away from his marital and family obligations. After all, if he were convicted in a court, he'd have had to leave his wife and son anyway -- and perhaps leave them permanently in death, as capital punishment was in effect then. And he'd lived in a continent marriage with his wife since the birth of their son, who was already an adult by this time. They were both financially well cared-for and the son later went on to become doge in his own right. Peter on his part lived the life of a humble self-effacing monk and then as a hermit. He died in 987 and many miracles took place at his tomb. St. Peter Orseolo, pray for us.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Today January 7
Today is the feast day of St. Raymond of Penafort (1175 - 1275), the great Spanish Dominican known for codifying canon law. He was a great student, majoring in philosophy, and later teaching philosophy for free; Socrates would be proud. He got his doctorate in Italy (Bologna), served as his bishop's (Berengarius of Barcelona's) archdeacon, and finally took religious orders at the age of 47, quite a late vocation, especially in those days. He was so happy that he feared complacency, so he asked his superiors for a great penance. They agreed, but it ended up being a complete surprise for him: to write a complete record of cases for confessors and moralists later compiled into a book titled Summa de casibus poenitentialibus. He also compiled various popes' writings and gathered canon law into all one place. He joined these labors with spiritual ones: preaching, teaching, hearing confessions and converting heretics, Jews and Muslims. Imagine. Nowadays there is virtually a 0% conversion rate of Muslims to Christianity, and yet he converted thousands. He also converted fallen-away Christians who had been enslaved by Muslims. He said that in order to subdue our political enemies we must first subdue our spiritual enemies and overcome sin in ourselves.
He is considered a co-founder of the Mercedarians, an order dedicated to ransoming the slaves. Though originally founded by St. Peter Nolasco -- and resembling more a military than a strictly religious order -- the Mercedarians were incorporated with the help of Raymond, who also endowed them with many Dominican rules and customs.
He was named archbishop of Tarragona in Aragon, much against his will, and unlike others who warmed to the task, he actually convinced the pope (Gregory IX, who had been his penitent when Raymond was his confessor) to let him resign. So clerics CAN resign, despite many folks' idea that they are elected for life. He did, however, find the pope a suitable replacement.
He was allowed to return to the solitude of Catalonia and enjoyed peace as he wrote, preached and heard thousands of confessions. It was not to last, however. He was elected superior general of his order by force. This office he held for two years, during which he distinguished himself, but after which he begged off due to old age. He was 65 . . . and yet he lived to be 100!
He spent the remainder of his years trying to convert the Muslims and also building up schools and colleges, advocating the teaching of St. Thomas Aquinas and encouraging the reading of Hebrew and Arabic sources in their original languages.
He died January 6th, 1275 in the 100th year of his age and was attended by two kings of what is now Spain, along with their princes and princesses. St. Raymond, pray for us.
He is considered a co-founder of the Mercedarians, an order dedicated to ransoming the slaves. Though originally founded by St. Peter Nolasco -- and resembling more a military than a strictly religious order -- the Mercedarians were incorporated with the help of Raymond, who also endowed them with many Dominican rules and customs.
He was named archbishop of Tarragona in Aragon, much against his will, and unlike others who warmed to the task, he actually convinced the pope (Gregory IX, who had been his penitent when Raymond was his confessor) to let him resign. So clerics CAN resign, despite many folks' idea that they are elected for life. He did, however, find the pope a suitable replacement.
He was allowed to return to the solitude of Catalonia and enjoyed peace as he wrote, preached and heard thousands of confessions. It was not to last, however. He was elected superior general of his order by force. This office he held for two years, during which he distinguished himself, but after which he begged off due to old age. He was 65 . . . and yet he lived to be 100!
He spent the remainder of his years trying to convert the Muslims and also building up schools and colleges, advocating the teaching of St. Thomas Aquinas and encouraging the reading of Hebrew and Arabic sources in their original languages.
He died January 6th, 1275 in the 100th year of his age and was attended by two kings of what is now Spain, along with their princes and princesses. St. Raymond, pray for us.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Today January 6
Today is the feast of Blessed Andre Bessette (1845 - 1937). This kid met difficulty after difficulty in his long life. He was the 6th of 10 children and so weak and sick when he was born that many thought he wouldn't live. In our day he might have received no more than "comfort care" and been allowed to die but in those more faith-filled days the response was simply to baptize him immediately. Then his father, a humble French-Canadian carpenter, died when Alfred (his baptismal name) was only 9. Then his mother died 2 years later. No one wanted all the kids so they were parceled out to relatives. He was sent to live with his aunt and uncle. Lonely and illiterate, he clung to his Bible, loved to hear stories and tried to pray. Years later he said, "It is not necessary to have been well educated, to have spent many years in college, to love the good God." Trained by the Brothers of the Holy Cross, he learned to read and write, but needed to make a living. Then came the other difficulties: he was unsuccessful at a number of trades, including baking, shoemaking and blacksmithing. He even socratically admitted his ignorance (though he was indeed a wise man): "Personally I am nothing. God chose the most ignorant one. If there was anyone more ignorant than I am, the good God would have chosen him." Humble and shy though he was, he enjoyed a laugh with his few close friends. Though devoted to the Passion of Christ, he was no sorry saint. In fact, he said, "You mustn't be sad; it is good to laugh a little."
After he became a religious brother, he served as a porter, a messenger, and then the founder and instigator of the near-miraculous Oratory of St. Joseph on Mount Royale, the highest point in Montreal. He never forgot the little people, especially the sick who came to him. His prayers and visits to them were reputed to work miracles, though he always attributed them to st. Joseph, his favorite saint. he even distracted them with a novena, oil from lamps in front of St. Joseph's statue or a medal of the saint. But he never refused to pray for them and often advised, "The best way to be cured is to submit to His Will." And he prayed and spent time with sick and elderly of every race and creed. Fittingly for one known even now as the "little Brother," he said, "Our Lord is our big Brother, and we are the little brothers. Consequently, we should love one another as members of the same family."
When he died peacefully in his hospital bed in Montreal on this date 71 years ago, he was heard to say "The great Almighty is coming. . . " and when the brothers leaned close to his lips they heard him whisper, "Here is the grain." And when a grain of wheat falls and dies, it can yield twenty or sixty or a hundredfold. Blessed Andre, little Brother, we love you; pray for us.
After he became a religious brother, he served as a porter, a messenger, and then the founder and instigator of the near-miraculous Oratory of St. Joseph on Mount Royale, the highest point in Montreal. He never forgot the little people, especially the sick who came to him. His prayers and visits to them were reputed to work miracles, though he always attributed them to st. Joseph, his favorite saint. he even distracted them with a novena, oil from lamps in front of St. Joseph's statue or a medal of the saint. But he never refused to pray for them and often advised, "The best way to be cured is to submit to His Will." And he prayed and spent time with sick and elderly of every race and creed. Fittingly for one known even now as the "little Brother," he said, "Our Lord is our big Brother, and we are the little brothers. Consequently, we should love one another as members of the same family."
When he died peacefully in his hospital bed in Montreal on this date 71 years ago, he was heard to say "The great Almighty is coming. . . " and when the brothers leaned close to his lips they heard him whisper, "Here is the grain." And when a grain of wheat falls and dies, it can yield twenty or sixty or a hundredfold. Blessed Andre, little Brother, we love you; pray for us.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Today January 5
Today is the feast of St. John Neumann (1811 - 1860). An introverted and even shy man, he was a good student and even amateur botanist and astronomer in his native Czechoslovakia. He struggled with twin desires to be a medical doctor an a priest. He really didn't think he had much chance to be a priest since only 20 out of the 90 applicants would be accepted. But his other said, "Well, John, if you really are thinking of the priesthood, it's only fair to yourself to try." He did and was accepted. He did s well, especially int he area of linguistics (he spoke 6 languages), he was offered a job with the government. He refused and asked to be sent to America. He had no sponsor and little prospects, but by sheer force of will he went. He walked to the port of Le Havre and sailed to New York, presenting himself, hopeful yet penniless, to Bishop Jean Dubois. The bishop laughed, since he'd already sent an invitation to him in Bohemia, but he'd left before it arrived!
He was assigned to a huge parish (over 900 square miles) in Buffalo, NY. His parishioners includes German, French, Irish and Indian people. He walked throughout the parish, always with a Mass kit, always saying Mass, always bribing the children with candy to learn their catechism. He passed out on one of trips and luckily some Indians found him and dragged him to their hut or he may have died. After that, a friend got him a horse and he rode on horseback.
Finding a need for community in his spiritual life, he asked leave to join the Redemptorists. His bishop was unwilling to let him go but finally relented. He made his vows in 1842 and soon became superior general of the order. But he wasn't popular there, because of his unobtrusive personality and his unwillingness to spread his personnel too thin. "John's sensitive soul smarted under the criticism, and he begged his superiors to relieve him of this post."- Modern Saints. They did, but if he thought he'd seen the last of being in authoritative positions, he was wrong.
A few years later he was made bishop of Philadelphia, much against his will. He lived up to the task admirably, however, and this in the difficult times plagued by the rampant anti-Catholicism of the sometimes violent Know-Nothing party (and their roving gangs.) By now he spoke a total of 12 languages. The story is told of an old Irish woman who went to confession to the bishop and after rattling off her sins in Gaelic and receiving wise counsel and absolution in the same language, emerged saying, "Thanks be to God we finally have an Irish bishop!"
In his 8 years as bishop he made it his goal to have a Catholic school attached to every Catholic church. And he made great progress toward that goal: at the beginning of his episcopate, there were 2 Catholic schools in all of Philadelphia; at its end, there were 100. Kids, in the old days everyone could afford to go to a catholic school, because each were subsidized by the parish. They were not subject to fair-wage laws nor were there prohibitively expensive laws set by the state concerning class size and curriculum. And even so, students received a great secular education as well as learning their faith better than any CCD class could do.
When he died -- in the middle of the street in Philadelphia -- his funeral was attended by thousands, making it the largest the city had ever seen. His last words, preceding as they did his sudden -- and unprovided -- death, were prophetic: "A man must always be ready, for death comes when and where God wills it."
St. John Neumann, pray for us.
He was assigned to a huge parish (over 900 square miles) in Buffalo, NY. His parishioners includes German, French, Irish and Indian people. He walked throughout the parish, always with a Mass kit, always saying Mass, always bribing the children with candy to learn their catechism. He passed out on one of trips and luckily some Indians found him and dragged him to their hut or he may have died. After that, a friend got him a horse and he rode on horseback.
Finding a need for community in his spiritual life, he asked leave to join the Redemptorists. His bishop was unwilling to let him go but finally relented. He made his vows in 1842 and soon became superior general of the order. But he wasn't popular there, because of his unobtrusive personality and his unwillingness to spread his personnel too thin. "John's sensitive soul smarted under the criticism, and he begged his superiors to relieve him of this post."- Modern Saints. They did, but if he thought he'd seen the last of being in authoritative positions, he was wrong.
A few years later he was made bishop of Philadelphia, much against his will. He lived up to the task admirably, however, and this in the difficult times plagued by the rampant anti-Catholicism of the sometimes violent Know-Nothing party (and their roving gangs.) By now he spoke a total of 12 languages. The story is told of an old Irish woman who went to confession to the bishop and after rattling off her sins in Gaelic and receiving wise counsel and absolution in the same language, emerged saying, "Thanks be to God we finally have an Irish bishop!"
In his 8 years as bishop he made it his goal to have a Catholic school attached to every Catholic church. And he made great progress toward that goal: at the beginning of his episcopate, there were 2 Catholic schools in all of Philadelphia; at its end, there were 100. Kids, in the old days everyone could afford to go to a catholic school, because each were subsidized by the parish. They were not subject to fair-wage laws nor were there prohibitively expensive laws set by the state concerning class size and curriculum. And even so, students received a great secular education as well as learning their faith better than any CCD class could do.
When he died -- in the middle of the street in Philadelphia -- his funeral was attended by thousands, making it the largest the city had ever seen. His last words, preceding as they did his sudden -- and unprovided -- death, were prophetic: "A man must always be ready, for death comes when and where God wills it."
St. John Neumann, pray for us.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Today January 4
Today is the glorious feast of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton (1774 - 1821). She was a great reader and when she was older an avid lover of dance and the theater. She read Scripture continually and was a good Protestant (society) girl. She married William Seton in 1794, with whom she was deeply in love. They had 5 children and during Will's health failure (which coincided with an unfortunate bankruptcy), she traveled with one of them to Italy, which ironically killed him, since the Tuscan authorities had all visitors from New York locked down in quarantine in a dank dungeon-like fortress. But Elizabeth Ann was strong and became ever more strong and faith-filled, turning her thoughts and feelings more and more to God's will, which she called simple "The Will." She was so generous and heroic the Italians exclaimed, "If she were not a heretic she would be a saint!"
Her preoccupation with God led her directly to the Catholic Faith, in which quest she was aided by her husband's business friends the Filicchis. They accompanied her on the perilous journey home and provided for her out of their modest means. For a year back home she read Catholic books and searched for truth, even in the face of great pressure and apologetical instruction from the Episcopalians. What finally did it for her were her desire for the Blessed Sacrament ("How happy would we be, if we believed what these dear souls believe: that they possess God in the Sacrament" [her emphasis]) and her love of the Virgin Mary, especially since she lost her mother at a young age (and was the victim of an indifferent stepmother who didn't really want to be a "mother" at all). She also noticed a difference in non-Catholic and Catholic deathbeds: the former being often fraught with "agony" (her word) and the latter being characterized by peace. Catholics were consoled by their religion and the presence of a priest, "the one you call Father of your soul." She finally joined the Church in 1805 and suddenly found herself suspected and distrusted, a true victim of anti-Catholic prejudice. She was denied any and all forms of employment in New York and found herself forced to abandon her home out of simple self-preservation. She was invited to teach in Baltimore (definitely a more friendly city to Catholics) and jumped at the chance. Two other young women joined her and became the first Daughters of Charity years later. They started the first free Catholic school in America -- even while she was still raising her own children. She took her public vows before Archbishop John Carroll in 1809 and saw her little rule (adopted from St. Vincent de Paul's Daughters of Charity) ratified in 1812.
She herself taught classes, personally overseeing all in her schools, tirelessly endeavoring to make model wives and mothers of the girls in her schools. She was a natural mother, covering them up at night, writing them encouraging little notes, nursing them, and always gently turning their minds to God. Her own children were a source of heartbreak to her: her one daughter made a terrible choice in fiances, there was suffering too when he broke it off. Her sons were wild terrors -- and not always churchgoers -- but they all made good ends, though she didn't live to see it. She endured the death of her two beloved daughters as well as her sisters-in-law, but she met each trial with serenity and grace. She was always attached to her friends and met her Lord (after 3 years of tuberculosis) with joy: "The thought of going home -- what a transport!" Mother Seton, pray for us.
Her preoccupation with God led her directly to the Catholic Faith, in which quest she was aided by her husband's business friends the Filicchis. They accompanied her on the perilous journey home and provided for her out of their modest means. For a year back home she read Catholic books and searched for truth, even in the face of great pressure and apologetical instruction from the Episcopalians. What finally did it for her were her desire for the Blessed Sacrament ("How happy would we be, if we believed what these dear souls believe: that they possess God in the Sacrament" [her emphasis]) and her love of the Virgin Mary, especially since she lost her mother at a young age (and was the victim of an indifferent stepmother who didn't really want to be a "mother" at all). She also noticed a difference in non-Catholic and Catholic deathbeds: the former being often fraught with "agony" (her word) and the latter being characterized by peace. Catholics were consoled by their religion and the presence of a priest, "the one you call Father of your soul." She finally joined the Church in 1805 and suddenly found herself suspected and distrusted, a true victim of anti-Catholic prejudice. She was denied any and all forms of employment in New York and found herself forced to abandon her home out of simple self-preservation. She was invited to teach in Baltimore (definitely a more friendly city to Catholics) and jumped at the chance. Two other young women joined her and became the first Daughters of Charity years later. They started the first free Catholic school in America -- even while she was still raising her own children. She took her public vows before Archbishop John Carroll in 1809 and saw her little rule (adopted from St. Vincent de Paul's Daughters of Charity) ratified in 1812.
She herself taught classes, personally overseeing all in her schools, tirelessly endeavoring to make model wives and mothers of the girls in her schools. She was a natural mother, covering them up at night, writing them encouraging little notes, nursing them, and always gently turning their minds to God. Her own children were a source of heartbreak to her: her one daughter made a terrible choice in fiances, there was suffering too when he broke it off. Her sons were wild terrors -- and not always churchgoers -- but they all made good ends, though she didn't live to see it. She endured the death of her two beloved daughters as well as her sisters-in-law, but she met each trial with serenity and grace. She was always attached to her friends and met her Lord (after 3 years of tuberculosis) with joy: "The thought of going home -- what a transport!" Mother Seton, pray for us.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Today January 3
Today is the feast of St. Genevieve, (420 - 500), patron of Paris and against disasters. Born in Nanterre to middle-class parents, Genevieve was "discovered" by St. Germanus when she was only 7 years old. He foretold her future as a brave and holy nun, and so she became. He gave her a coin to wear as a souvenir around her neck in remembrance of his blessing. She entered the convent at age 15 in Paris, but she was not cloistered and often traveled for reasons of charity. She set out at the head of a boat down the river to Troyes to bring grain back to starving Parisians. She prevailed upon King Childeric, a pagan and a barbarian, to spare the lives of prisoners. His great respect for her was continued by his son Clovis, who embraced the faith in 496. She led a spiritual front against Attila the Hun by prayer and fasting, and it was believed due to her intercession that the attack veered right around the city. But for every person who rightly looked upon her as a Christian Judith or Esther, there was another who excoriated her as a visionary, hypocrite or impostor. She was buried in the magnificent church first called Saints Peter and Paul and then St. Genevieve's, but now known as the Pantheon. Her relics were destroyed during the French Revolution. Dear St. Genevieve, pray for us.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Today January 2
Today is the (new) feast of St. Basil the Great (330 - 379). He was a good student, both in Constantinople and in Athens the two most scholarly cities of his time. He couldn't have had much fun in college, for, as his biographer (who was also a saint), said: "he knew only two streets, those leading to the church and to the schools." He had somewhat of a retiring nature, though he was a brilliant teacher and rhetorician, he became a monk in Pontus in what is now Turkey and lived just beyond the river Iris from Annesi, where his saintly mother and sister lived in a religious community. Others soon joined him and he wrote a rule so famous and followed, he belongs as an Eastern counterpart to St. Benedict himself.
Basil had two friends. One, Gregory of Nazianz, whom he kept all his life. If anything, he grew in affection for him til they were "one soul with two bodies." The other was Eustathius, whom he loved at first, but with whom the friendship dissolved in a veritable firestorm of accusation and acrimony years later.
In his time St. Basil was the only orthodox bishop in the East, which he maintained through sheer force of will, "combined with the courage to withstand the Emperor when needful and to ignore him when practicable. This was a period when, throughout the world, the orthodox [rather than Arian] bishops who remained in charge of churches could be counted on one's fingers, and probably on the fingers of one hand." - Faith of the Early Fathers, vol. 2.
Basil is a complex man, cultured and polished, but also proud and pragmatic, "a real man of flesh and blood, not just a plaster saint." - Faith of the Early Fathers, ibid. He was a victim of jealousy on the part of Eusebius, archbishop of Caesarea, but he handled the situation with tact. And he, proud though he was, actually tied on an apron and served in the soup kitchen he himself established. But in matters of faith and morals he was unshakable. "Nothing short of violence can avail against such a man" said the prefect Modestus in a report to the Emperor Valens. He said Mass every day, preached incessantly and sang psalms before each dawn. When he himself became bishop he visited every parish, even in remote villages and despite his chronic ill-health. He was greatly misunderstood even by the orthodox faithful, and accused of ambition and of heresy. Even Rome was reluctant to help him. "For my sins I seem to be unsuccessful in everything!" he wrote when plunged in depression.
He died on Jan. 1, 379, worn out with hard work and from a painful illness. His funeral was attended and he was mourned by pagans, Jews and strangers as well as by many Christian friends. "The great Basil," he was declared at the council of Chalcedon, "who has expounded truth to the whole earth." A fine epitaph, that. St. Basil, pray for us.
Basil had two friends. One, Gregory of Nazianz, whom he kept all his life. If anything, he grew in affection for him til they were "one soul with two bodies." The other was Eustathius, whom he loved at first, but with whom the friendship dissolved in a veritable firestorm of accusation and acrimony years later.
In his time St. Basil was the only orthodox bishop in the East, which he maintained through sheer force of will, "combined with the courage to withstand the Emperor when needful and to ignore him when practicable. This was a period when, throughout the world, the orthodox [rather than Arian] bishops who remained in charge of churches could be counted on one's fingers, and probably on the fingers of one hand." - Faith of the Early Fathers, vol. 2.
Basil is a complex man, cultured and polished, but also proud and pragmatic, "a real man of flesh and blood, not just a plaster saint." - Faith of the Early Fathers, ibid. He was a victim of jealousy on the part of Eusebius, archbishop of Caesarea, but he handled the situation with tact. And he, proud though he was, actually tied on an apron and served in the soup kitchen he himself established. But in matters of faith and morals he was unshakable. "Nothing short of violence can avail against such a man" said the prefect Modestus in a report to the Emperor Valens. He said Mass every day, preached incessantly and sang psalms before each dawn. When he himself became bishop he visited every parish, even in remote villages and despite his chronic ill-health. He was greatly misunderstood even by the orthodox faithful, and accused of ambition and of heresy. Even Rome was reluctant to help him. "For my sins I seem to be unsuccessful in everything!" he wrote when plunged in depression.
He died on Jan. 1, 379, worn out with hard work and from a painful illness. His funeral was attended and he was mourned by pagans, Jews and strangers as well as by many Christian friends. "The great Basil," he was declared at the council of Chalcedon, "who has expounded truth to the whole earth." A fine epitaph, that. St. Basil, pray for us.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Today January 1
Happy New Year, everybody! Today is the feast of the Circumcision of Our Lord Jesus Christ, now known as the Solemnity of Our Lady. That was always a part of this feast, even when it was called the Circumcision; "it is, to begin with, the octave of Christmas, and -- possibly as a consequence of this -- a special commemoration is made of the Virgin Mother whose pre-eminent share in the mystery could not adequately be recognized on the feast itself." - Butler's Lives. And of course, it is a feast of Joseph, too. "On the 8th day, the child was circumcised. By that time we may hope, they had moved out of the cave into a house, as Bethlehem emptied again after the census. The rite was probably performed by Joseph. It was a father's privilege." - theologian Frank Sheed.
It was a sacrament of the Old Law, one that marked them as a people set apart, kind of like our baptism which superseded it. It was something more solemn -- or at least less joyful, than our baptism -- and even in the early Church days (for this is an ancient feast), there was a desire to make it kind of a day of penance. But New Year's Day? Are they kidding? It was a huge pagan feast -- a huge secular feast, and all the world was partying. As the great Augustine said, it was hopeless to impose a general fast upon an occasion which was a holiday for the rest of the world. So a Christian holiday supplanted it.
And I've often wondered about the nature of the old sacrament. I mean, why the foreskin? And Frank Sheed set me straight: "By the command God gave to Abraham, every male child must undergo circumcision. It is a rite not restricted to the Jews, practised for all sorts of reasons, religious and non-religious, by many peoples. But for the Jews its meaning was wholly religious: it was the consecration to God of man's greatest power in the physical order, the power by which he shares with God in the generation of new life."
Happy New Year's Day, everybody!
It was a sacrament of the Old Law, one that marked them as a people set apart, kind of like our baptism which superseded it. It was something more solemn -- or at least less joyful, than our baptism -- and even in the early Church days (for this is an ancient feast), there was a desire to make it kind of a day of penance. But New Year's Day? Are they kidding? It was a huge pagan feast -- a huge secular feast, and all the world was partying. As the great Augustine said, it was hopeless to impose a general fast upon an occasion which was a holiday for the rest of the world. So a Christian holiday supplanted it.
And I've often wondered about the nature of the old sacrament. I mean, why the foreskin? And Frank Sheed set me straight: "By the command God gave to Abraham, every male child must undergo circumcision. It is a rite not restricted to the Jews, practised for all sorts of reasons, religious and non-religious, by many peoples. But for the Jews its meaning was wholly religious: it was the consecration to God of man's greatest power in the physical order, the power by which he shares with God in the generation of new life."
Happy New Year's Day, everybody!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)