Annoyance and the Saints

Hold onto your hats and your pews, friends! This post is going to be half rant half meditation!

Some days I just weep for the state of our parishes and the souls within them - and the very fact that our fallen nature has created our circumstances. Which, ironically, is why we go to Mass.

This morning I attended Mass, arrived early in order to pray. Several others arrived as well, as the church was relatively quiet. Then some families arrived with their fussy children, and more people arrived, and then came a couple who sat behind me, loudly talking to each other.

Recollection gone.  I tried to "offer it up" and be patient. I failed miserably.

They continued with mindless chit-chat, almost in my ear. Or both ears, as it were. I was resigned to the fact this is what Mass was going to be like, until I heard one of them comment, "I really don't like children."

To my surprise, rather than being angry, I was overwhelmed with sadness. Dislike children!? I realized many young ones were crying at that moment, and there was a child in front of me actively playing and talking to his mother. But they didn't bother me nearly so much as the couple behind me talking loudly and stating how much they dislike children.

I'll admit I used to get distracted by children, and quite annoyed by them. Over time, though, I have come to not really notice if they are crying, but rather, if they are silent. A parish devoid of children is a dying parish. I thank God my parish is vibrant and filled with the cries of children! Glory be to God! Alleluia!

And then comes this couple desiring to quash that, while their behavior was far, far worse.

Yes, I was annoyed.

I was annoyed by many things today, and struggled to pray. The music was so theologically bad that I missed the psalm and had to page through and read it for myself.  As the Feast of the Ascension is transferred to the 7th Sunday of Easter in my diocese, today's Gospel, MT 28:16-20 proclaims:  (say it with me!)

 Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations,

baptizing them in the name of the Father,

and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,

teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.

So, did you catch that? Jesus told us to GO FORTH AND MAKE DISCIPLES OF ALL NATIONS, BAPTIZING THEM AND TEACHING THEM TO OBSERVE ALL THAT JESUS HAS COMMANDED US.

Then our communion hymn sang about bread, and our closing hymn was "As A Fire is Meant for Burning", containing the words:

Not to preach our creeds or customs,

but to build a bridge of care,

UM, WHAT!? How in the world does that line up with the Gospel COMMAND to preach our creeds and customs?

How do we celebrate the Ascension, hear the command of Christ to go forth and evangelize, and then leave church having just sung that we just have to be nice to everybody, but for the love of God, don't, under any circumstances, preach our faith or baptize anyone!??????

Folks, it's no wonder Catholics aren't out there evangelizing and living out today's Gospel command: we undermine ourselves before we even leave the building.

Here's the danger in singing such bad music:  the Arian heresy spread by music. The Arians were great marketers and spread their bad theology through a catchy tune. That overcame the True teachings of the Faith, thus confusing people and leading them into heresy. The brain remembers and repeats music (ever got a bad earworm? Yeah, exactly).  So thousands of people are going to leave today singing all about how we should be nice but never evangelize.

Yes, that annoys me. And it SHOULD. It should annoy YOU, too. It explains a lot about the state of  many Catholics today, doesn't it?

Meditation on what it means to be annoyed

Today, as I fought those annoyances, as always, I tried to think about the Saints. People are people in every age, and Saints were  people, too.

It is a temptation in our age to glorify the Saints so much so that we forget their humanity. We read their writings and we are in awe of their holiness, seeking to learn from them how to follow Christ. If they can do it, WE can do it, right?

Unfortunately, we fall into this weird trap of thinking the Saints were somehow robotic and didn't get annoyed, or angry. We seem to think the Saints were nice to people all the time, and that's why they became Saints: that they learned not to "feel" anything.

Nothing could be further from the truth. The Saints were all human beings and you know what? They got ANNOYED with people and situations! And I'm really glad I don't have to hear what St. Padre Pio would be saying about the music we sing at Mass in our age! I'm glad I don't have to watch St. Thomas Aquinas roll in his grave. I'm glad I don't have to withstand the fiery preaching of St. Paul or the ranting of St. Jerome.

Did you know that St. Francis de Sales had such a massive temper that after his death, they found GROOVES under his writing desk, where he took out his frustrations by scratching the underside repeatedly in effort to control his anger?

And yet, we read his writings, all of which are so gentle and wise. We are led to believe that he was always calm, recollected, and no, not ever angry.

No, St. Francis de Sales was a human being like the rest of us, and he got annoyed.  Without looking at who he was as a human being, we divorce his writings from him as though they could stand alone and be enough. The truth is that St. Francis de Sales, as well as other Saints, wrote from experience, they wrote through their temptations, and they wrote in such a way so as to preach holiness to themselves as well as to others. They were not separate from their spiritual direction; they lived it, too.

It was actually a consolation to me today to reflect upon the humanity of the Saints.

Is Being Annoyed a Sin?

Often I read about liturgical abuses or other things that set people off, and there are always a few jokers in the various com-boxes who suggest there is something wrong with the person who is annoyed. Maybe that's true; we are all sinners, and we do often let our annoyances turn into some kind of personal sin.

I think more often, though, the opposite of that criticism is true:  there's something missing in a human who refuses to be annoyed, for they are repressing their own humanity in a false understanding of what it means to be holy.

It is not a sin to be annoyed or irritated. It would qualify as a passion, I think. It's not anger, but can lead to anger, and anger alone is not a sin. The emotion of annoyance or irritation is simply that: something that tells us something is wrong. Compare it to a bug bite: when we are bitten, we are tempted to scratch at it because it itches! It can be really awful, and so we think about that bite and ponder it and feel that itch and then scratch and scratch until it finally bleeds, and maybe we keep scratching even THEN. And then it might get infected.

Or... we could just feel the annoyance, realize it's there and there's nothing we can do about it, or maybe spray a little Benadryl on it to control the histamine reaction. The bug bite is still there, but we've chosen a different way to handle it.

See the difference? Annoyance is nothing more than a spiritual bug bite. We can zap it by embracing it with virtue or we can scratch at it and let it get infected. The latter is a sin. The former turns it into a path to holiness.

At Mass today,  I hold that I was right to be annoyed: by people talking loudly when they should have been observing silence out of respect to others, annoyed by people claiming they hate children (loudly), annoyed by bad theology. If we aren't annoyed by those things, then we are completely unaware of what Mass is about. That's a problem. Annoyance is actually a gift from God. It is what we DO with annoyance that makes a difference.

We will all struggle with that for our entire lives. Mass equips us through the Sacraments and through the experience of other people who are fallen just like us.

How did the Saints react?  

It is important to learn from the Saints: how did THEY handle things that bothered them, rightly or not?

When we take a look at their writings and biographies, we witness that they sought to overcome their annoyances through practicing the Virtues. They practiced patience by not turning around and slapping offenders who mouthed off in church. They practiced fortitude by being patient throughout the Mass. They considered how much God loves even the most annoying among us. They resolved to love children and their haters more in order to overcome hatred in themselves. When confronted with bad theology, they sought to educate others so that they would know the Truth about God.

 The Saints, when annoyed,  looked to God and said, "Dear God I am so annoyed right now I could spit! Most Adorable Jesus, please grant me peace so that I might love others as you love me in spite of my own faults!"   

The Saints struggled just as we do. That doesn't mean they weren't holy: it means they learned how to handle annoyance and not allow it to degenerate into sin.  They didn't entertain it, but tried to let it change their hearts, not to a position of denial, but as a revelation of Truth and Divine Charity.

St. Catherine of Siena wrote in her "Dialogue" that we obtain every virtue through other people. She knew this well: she was annoyed sometimes, too. She was highly annoyed by the Pope during the Avignon captivity and called him to conversion, and back to Rome in no uncertain terms.

Let us all learn to handle annoyance by following the example of the Saints. We should not fear annoyance, but embrace it and allow it to change our hearts so that we might grow in faith, hope, and charity.

May God grant us all the grace to become Saints through the annoyances in our lives.

A Fire Ever Burning

As a friend reminded me this morning, today (April 29) is the Feast of St. Catherine of Siena, one of my patron Saints. I was thankful for the reminder and prayed wearily this morning for her assistance, and indeed, she came through for me in a big way this evening, just when I needed her most.  And through her intercession, I have been brought closer to Jesus, closer to once again falling in love with Him.

Today, I was especially struck by the second reading for her Feast day in the Divine Office, and so I am placing it here for you, too, in hopes that her prayer will become yours, not just today, but always.

The following is an excerpt from her work, Dialogue, specifically her Treatise on Divine Providence:

Eternal God, eternal Trinity, you have made the blood of Christ so precious through his sharing in your divine nature. You are a mystery as deep as the sea; the more I search, the more I find, and the more I find the more I search for you. But I can never be satisfied; what I receive will ever leave me desiring more. When you fill my soul I have an even greater hunger, and I grow more famished for your light. I desire above all to see you, the true light, as you really are. 


Eternal Trinity, Godhead, mystery deep as the sea, you could give me no greater gift than the gift of yourself. For you are a fire ever burning and never consumed, which itself consumes all the selfish love that fills my being. Yes, you are a fire that takes away the coldness, illuminates the mind with its light and causes me to know your truth. By this light, reflected as it were in a mirror, I recognize that you are the highest good, one we can neither comprehend nor fathom. And I know that you are beauty and wisdom itself. The food of angels, you gave yourself to man in the fire of you love.

St. Catherine of Siena....pray for us! 

Feast of St. Thomas Aquinas, Blog Patron, Priest, and Doctor of the Church

I could not let this day pass without commenting on the Angelic Doctor. However, given who he was, perhaps it is best if I let him speak for himself...or rather, for Christ and how the cross exemplifies every virtue.

The following reading was taken from today's Divine Office:
(Collatio 6 super Credo in Deum)

The Cross exemplifies every virtue:

Why did the Son of God have to suffer for us? There was a great need, and it can be considered in a twofold way: in the first place, as a remedy for sin, and secondly, as an example of how to act.


It is a remedy, for, in the face of all the evils which we incur on account of our sins, we have found relief through the passion of Christ. Yet, it is no less an example, for the passion of Christ completely suffices to fashion our lives. Whoever wishes to live perfectly should do nothing but disdain what Christ disdained on the cross and desire what he desired, for the cross exemplifies every virtue.


If you seek the example of love: Greater love than this no man has, than to lay down his life for his friends. Such a man was Christ on the cross. And if he gave his life for us, then it should not be difficult to bear whatever hardships arise for his sake.


If you seek patience, you will find no better example than the cross. Great patience occurs in two ways: either when one patiently suffers much, or when one suffers things which one is able to avoid and yet does not avoid. Christ endured much on the cross, and did so patiently, because when he suffered he did not threaten; he was led like a sheep to the slaughter and he did not open his mouth. Therefore Christ’s patience on the cross was great. In patience let us run for the prize set before us, looking upon Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith who, for the joy set before him, bore his cross and despised the shame.
If you seek an example of humility, look upon the crucified one, for God wished to be judged by Pontius Pilate and to die.


If you seek an example of obedience, follow him who became obedient to the Father even unto death. For just as by the disobedience of one man, namely, Adam, many were made sinners, so by the obedience of one man, many were made righteous.

If you seek an example of despising earthly things, follow him who is the King of kings and the Lord of lords, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. Upon the cross he was stripped, mocked, spat upon, struck, crowned with thorns, and given only vinegar and gall to drink.


Do not be attached, therefore, to clothing and riches, because they divided my garments among themselves. Nor to honors, for he experienced harsh words and scourgings. Nor to greatness of rank, for weaving a crown of thorns they placed it on my head. Nor to anything delightful, for in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink.

The Conversion Was Not the Call of St. Paul the Apostle

Today, the Apostle Paul himself tells us of his conversion, and the story is well known. There is a reason, though, that we celebrate it not as the Call of St. Paul, but rather his Conversion. I think that the reality is that the Call of the Apostle Paul happened many years prior, when he was still a young man.

A few months ago it was my privilege to attend a conference in which a priest offered a possible link between the man who went away sad and our beloved St. Paul.  In my opinion, this link is worth considering and I have pondered it often, for there is a great deal of truth in the idea, including something of human psychology we can observe in people around us who have missed their calling or have outright rejected Christ.

Let us review the relevant passages to this meditation:

Mark 10:17-31 The Man Who Went Away Sad

17As he was setting out on a journey, a man ran up, knelt down before him, and asked him, "Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" 18 Jesus answered him, "Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. 19 You know the commandments: 'You shall not kill; you shall not commit adultery; you shall not steal; you shall not bear false witness; you shall not defraud; honor your father and your mother.'" 20 He replied and said to him, "Teacher, all of these I have observed from my youth." 21 Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said to him, "You are lacking in one thing. Go, sell what you have, and give to (the) poor and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me." 22 At that statement his face fell, and he went away sad, for he had many possessions.

Now let us look to today's Feast and read part of what Paul has to say about his conversion in

Acts 22:36-11

“On that journey as I drew near to Damascus,about noon a great light from the sky suddenly shone around me. I fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to me,‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me? I replied, ‘Who are you, sir?’And he said to me,‘I am Jesus the Nazorean whom you are persecuting.’ My companions saw the light but did not hear the voice of the one who spoke to me.I asked, ‘What shall I do, sir?’ The Lord answered me, ‘Get up and go into Damascus, and there you will be told about everything appointed for you to do.’

Do you see the link between the two?

The priest who made this connection advanced it carefully, not to be considered dogma but rather for a point of meditation. If you have not guessed, he advanced the idea that the young man who approached Jesus asking, "What must I do?" was Saul who became St. Paul the Apostle.

In that young man of the reading from Mark's gospel,  the priest saw Saul, who we know to have been a Pharisee, a privileged man, one who persecuted the Christians without mercy.  In the first passage from Mark, we observe a young man who is struck to his very being by what Jesus is saying, so much so that he RUNS to Him, falls on his very knees and asks what he can DO!

How does Jesus respond?  First he asks Saul to go deeper into the mystery.  He asks him, "Why do you call me good?  No one is good but God alone!"

In this question, imagine Jesus looking into Saul's eyes, perhaps putting His hand on Saul's shoulder to emphasize His words and express His goodwill.  "Why do YOU call ME 'good'?  NO one is 'good' but GOD ALONE'."   Jesus does not break eye contact.  He is asking Saul to go deeper into himself, and into HIM to see the Truth of His very being...and what He is really asking.

Imagine a moment of silence as Saul ponders this question. "What does Jesus mean?  What is he saying?  Is he...claiming what I THINK he is?  That HE is....GOD?!!!!!??????"

Jesus emphasizes the Ten Commandments...the Law of God HIMSELF.  It is God HIMSELF speaking here, the Word Incarnate giving spoken expression the Word that is HIM.

Saul has broken eye contact. He looks away and in meeting the gaze of Jesus again, he sees everything...he recognizes who he is in the face of God, who LOVES him.  God LOVES Saul, but still tells him what he is lacking...he is not free to follow Him. He must purge himself of his worldly attachments, give to the poor...and follow.

That's where Saul goes away sad. 

So often this scripture is interpreted in a way not supported by scripture itself.  I've heard many homilies and lectures giving rise to the idea that the young man went away sad because he didn't want to part with his belongings.  Maybe that's true, but where in scripture is that verified as reality?  I pondered this myself  years ago when teaching RCIA, and in light of what Father said, I ponder it even more.  It seems that the man who went away sad isn't actually the end of the story.

 It makes sense that we consider this testimony in the light of Paul's Conversion...and Apostleship.

Look seriously at and ponder the story the Apostle Paul tells us today. If we can assume the negative about the Gospel of Mark, can we not ponder it in light of Paul's testimony in ACTS?    What did he do?  He HEARD a voice...a voice he recognized especially when Christ Himself spoke.  The conversation is almost an echo of the first!.

 Saul has matured and asks, "Who ARE you?"

Jesus simply identifies Himself, knowing Saul will remember and BELIEVES that only God alone is Good.

Saul doesn't question the identification.  This good Pharisee who questions EVERYTHING and is ready to kill on contact lies there on the ground and recognizes the voice of the Good Teacher from his youth.  This time, instead of asking, "What must I do to inherit eternal life" he asks a more open-ended question, "What shall I do?"

Jesus, instead of giving him an open ended answer, gives him one far more specific...and tells him where to go, and to whom.

Saul goes.

The young man, maybe Saul, went away sad. He had many possessions.  Perhaps he was prideful and expected to be told how wonderful and holy he was.  Perhaps he expected the Teacher to  hold him up as a perfect example.  Perhaps it was a moment of humility that made him approach with such zeal,  but upon learning that the greatest possession he had, himself, was what he had to give up, he went away knowing he could not do so.

He is the epitome of the sin of Adam, juxtaposed with the New Adam

He goes away, and considers all he has, and most importantly, that he is being asked to die to himself.  In order to follow Christ, he has to give up EVERYTHING, perhaps not understanding that Jesus is the fulfillment of every belief he has ever held, and that his people have ever held.

Saul struggles and succumbs to the world and his own will, which, as St. Francis de Sales calls it, his self-love.   He becomes angry, and when his life doesn't pan out as he thinks it should, he becomes bitter. He recalls that intimate moment with Christ, where he knelt at His knee, made eye contact, and recognized...the Call.  Which he rejected.

Saul, in his battle with himself, expresses it as a battle towards the early Christians.  He persecutes them mercilessly. Instead of attacking his own sin, his own faults, he puts to death those who reveal the Truth Incarnate, the real love of Christ that would not abandon him to his own disorder, his own superficiality, but would call him out of it for the benefit of eternity.

Because he rejected such a gift, he must try to destroy it, knowing all the while that this war is futile...and it makes him that much more furious in his persecution.

It all makes sense. The Young Man is the Apostle Paul.

We who struggle to know our Vocation, especially we who are so LATE can find a friend in the Apostle Paul through this particular meditation.  Maybe we identify with an earlier Call...and we went away sad. Maybe we didn't trust, maybe we were hindered in some other way. Maybe it had nothing to do with us, but with legitimate worldly and holy obligations.

But we can't look at it without looking honestly at ourselves, considering our own unholy flaws.  I can see it clearly now that it  has been pointed out. I can understand some of my own anger and rejection of Our Lord over the years in light of this, and can more clearly understand others, even those who claim to be Catholic, who spout off so publicly in anger at Jesus, Christianity, and the Church.

I wonder if maybe they recognize that once they were LOVED...but either that love was distorted or because of their own Pride, they chose to run away...and try to kill that which loves them the most in hopes they will eliminate that terrible ache within that calls them onward..towards Christ.

It's easier to attack than it is to succumb to the sacrificial love of Christ. I know this from experience. And it's easier to run away.  

Maybe we can give up things, but are we ready to give up OURSELVES, to lose our own lives in order to partake in the life of Christ?  Are we willing to forego those things we "love" because we love God more?

Or will we reject a Call we sincerely hear, in favor of a few trivialities such as social status or education or...simple, pure...love?

Maybe the reason Saul was angry was because he rejected Christ and instead of pursuing him, focused on a lost Vocation he would prefer to destroy rather than pursue.  Maybe some of us who are miserable are clinging to who we think we are instead of accepting that we are to become who God created us to BE.

The good news is this:  maybe the Young Man came BACK...and leads us all still today.  Perhaps we who think it is too late, can find, in the Apostle Paul, a Patron Saint for Late and Lost Vocations.  Perhaps if anyone can understand...it is him.

St. Paul the Apostle...pray for us! 

Silent Night, Lonely Night - Abandoned

My Dad died on January 3rd, 1995, 15 years ago, and until this year, I couldn't find a Saint assigned to the day of his death.  I learned last spring during Lent that St. Paul of the Cross was born on January 3rd;  a patron who founded the Passionist Order came into the world on the same date my Dad left it and brought me directly into Our Lord's Passion, even though I didn't understand it at the time. He is a fitting Saint for such a terrible loss.

It's usually a hard day for me and I never know how it will hit me. Sometimes I just experience a general sense of unrest, while at other times that bitter sword of grief reminds me that time means nothing and it was only yesterday that I stood at Dad's casket, looking upon him for the very last time this side of the veil.

A few years ago I wrote of my first Christmas, nearly a year later, without him, and republish it here for you all:

**************************

My Dad passed in early January 1995, and it took me MONTHS to really grieve. I didn't know what to do, what to say, how to act, so instead, I was just angry. And sad. And desolate. All those things, and more, yet I lived my day to day life, losing my faith along with the rest of the world.

Even though my parents had been divorced for many many years, for some reason I dreaded Christmas that year with a strange sense of horror. We wouldn't talk to Dad on the phone. We couldn't buy Dad gifts. Nothing was coming from Dad - no cards with his familiar handwriting.

It was Christmas...without Dad.

I couldn't bear to be around my family, for his absence was even more absent, and because I hadn't seen him at all since my high school graduation, about 3 1/2 years prior, my guilt just ate away at me, burrowing into my soul and penetrating even more deeply than the strongest concentration of acid found on earth.

I had graduated early and was working for the college that winter, so I made sure I was on the Christmas schedule. Prior to Christmas I had gone home, celebrated "Christmas", stayed overnight and then headed back to the school. It wasn't that I really wanted to be alone...I just didn't want to be around family.

Then again, I DID want to be alone because when I was with them, I felt even more alone; Dad's loss was that much more painful, and I couldn't handle it.

It was so painful it was like a burn; it left my nerves deadened; I was numb. It was a grief so deep I could not express it to anyone, not even to myself. So I fled civilization for the haven of the school from which I had graduated and I enclosed myself into the darkness of my grief, trying to understand.

I've never felt so incredibly alone in my entire life.

On that Christmas Eve, I couldn't even stand the very room I was in. No one was at the college; no one was anywhere. The dorms were abandoned, the bluffs were silent.

And it was into the bluffs I fled, under the Christmas Eve stars, into the shadows of the trees and the confinement of the snowy creek banks.

I just walked, alone in that darkness, tramping through the snow, wishing I could cry, wanting to scream, wanting only relief from this terrible, terrible pain. I wondered if I was depressed? I considered that seriously, but no...I knew what depression was, I had all the symptoms indexed in my mind for professionally I had worked with truly depressed people. No; I was far too functional to be depressed. Dysthymia? Nope...not that either.

Intellectually, I knew that this was grief, I knew I was not handling it well, and whenever I confronted myself with that reality I shoved it aside in favor of wallowing within the pain, wanting to understand it, needing to purge myself of it, but not wanting to go to anyone else for help to do it. I was far too independent for my own good.

But I didn't care; I just wanted to be alone. Alone with God, seeking my faith again, seeking the God I had grown up knowing. And yet I didn't know Him.

So that night as I walked, I spoke to God. I berated him for this pain, I berated him for taking my Dad away from me, and I cried out to him about my own guilt.

I remember sitting in the snow at the side of the creek, suddenly realizing that I felt completely alone; completely abandoned.

Abandonment.

In the middle of the cold winter wildnerness, surrounded by the frozen forest, unable to even hear the waters gurgling under the ice and snow.

I was numb; I was abandoned. I cried out to God, but He did not answer me, nothing was revealed. Nothing was changed, nothing purged, nothing healed.

I realized that I had gone out to seek God because the futility of my own actions had so far gotten me nowhwere. And yet I was still rejecting the Church which had always been my solace before. Even as I sought God, I was running away from Him.

I remember that terrible, terrible numbness; not just from physical cold, but this strange spiritual numbness; Abandonment.

I remember a couple of tears fell...and froze on my cheeks.

Frozen just as I was inside.

Slowly, I stepped out on the ice, knowing where the little waterfall was. I knew I was being stupid for there was no one to hear my screams. I was not suicidal; far from it! Yet I almost hoped I would fall through a weak spot in the ice, to be partially submerged; water ran under that ice all winter. Even the harsh Minnesota winters would not completely freeze that rushing stream.

I didn't want to die; I only wanted to shock myself into feeling something again. Anything other than this terrible interior pain. Anything other than this hopeless feeling of complete and utter desolation;

Abandonment.

But the ice didn't crack. Even it was silent, refusing to give me the relief I so desperately craved.

I walked back to my room, to the warmth, still numb, still alone within my pain, still bereft of God.

Desperate for God, I tried to go to Christmas Mass the next day, the first time in a long time. Oddly, I couldn't find one! Even though it was a Catholic college, the chapel was closed and I had to find my way to a Catholic Church in town. I sincerely tried, but I must have gone at the wrong time.  I couldn't even find anyone to call to answer my questions as to WHEN I could go!

I knew of one church and thought maybe if I just showed up, even if it was in the middle of Mass, I would wait there for the next one, or find out when to go. That frigid, subzero day when my car would barely run, I found nothing but a Catholic Church with large, locked doors.

No one was around. It was only 10 in the morning but I couldn't get in and everyone was gone. The Church was empty, and it was locked and I had nowhere else to go.

Even when I finally went to find God, the door was closed and locked, sealing my complete and utter abandonment. Even when I sought Him out, He wasn't there. I'd lost my earthly Father, and that Christmas, I lost my Eternal Father as well.

I was in a ghost town, literally knocking on the door; and no one answered.

I can't remember how I got through that terrible phase in my life. Probably just fell into the routine of work, but I do know that the terrible sensation did finally ease. I do know that over time, the grief ebbed, leaving mostly only the anger...and finally, acceptance.

Grief is still painful and sometimes catches me by surprise with its razor-sharp edges, yet never since that Christmas Eve have I ever felt that terrible, terrible abandonment.

In looking back, now I see a blessing; a spiritual purging I did not understand. I chose the separation, and  now I look back and realize that it could be a shadow of what is to come. God was right there with me the entire time, likely crying the tears I could not, likely closer to me than He ever has been before or since.

It is in our abandonment, the Saints have learned and taught in their wisdom, that God is closer than ever, and we can't find Him or see Him because He is holding us so closely we are blinded by His love and compassion.

 Even in the snowy, frozen bluffs of a cold Minnesota Christmas, God is there, and sometimes, when it seems like He isn't answering, it is because He is speaking so softly that it takes years to understand His words.

*

Author's Note:   A year ago I published, in three parts, the story I wrote about my Dad and his death. The first chapter can be found here, and the other chapters are linked in sequence.  Otherwise click on the tag "Dad" below and you will be taken to all posts pertaining to this topic.

Contemplate the Cross

WHEN you are alone in your room, take your crucifix, kiss its five wounds reverently - tell it to preach you a little sermon and then listen to the words of eternal life that it speaks to your heart; listen to the pleading of the thorns, the nails, the precious Blood. Oh what an eloquent sermon!

~ St. Paul of the Cross, Flowers of the Passion

Today is the Memorial of St. Paul of the Cross, priest and founder of the Passionists. I have a special devotion to him for many reasons, although I am only now beginning to discover his writings. Devotion to the Passion of Our Lord is a rare thing, especially in today's culture that seeks to escape suffering...never to embrace it. Yet in contemplation of Jesus, how can anyone expect to really know and love Him without that perfect unitive love that comes ONLY through suffering?

It is ONLY through suffering that we can know Christ with any real intimacy. He invites us into His Passion, to contemplate His wounds, suffered for love of us. He gave all. The Father looks at us through the wounds of Our Lord, and through those same wounds, we are absorbed into Him and given the grace to rest, completely, within His Most Sacred Heart.

"Love is a unitive virtue which appropriates the sufferings of the Beloved."

Spend some time each day contemplating the Cross, seeking to unite yourself with the Passion of Our Lord. Recall that each time you attend Mass, you are kneeling at the very foot of the Cross, the one and only Sacrifice of Calvary, having just offered yourself as a holocaust in union with

Him. Know what you are seeking, know what is being made present to you, and know that it is possible to be completely lost within the wounds that bring us all to salvation...if we are only willing to drink deeply of that cup so freely offered for our sins.

"Would that I could set the whole world on fire with love of God!"

St. Paul of the Cross....PRAY FOR US!

St. Therese of Lisieux

Like so many, I have long loved St. Therese of Lisieux, and at times in the past she has made her intercession known to me.

I specifically recall one evening, I'd gone to the church for Adoration and decided to go to Confession. I didn't have anything major to confess, although all the sins of my past were weighing on me heavily; I wasn't accepting of God's mercy, I was angry about several things (the new-revert syndrome, as I call it), and was quietly weeping in a corner of the chapel, near St. Therese's statue.

A woman I didn't know came up to me and handed me a little booklet as she whispered, "I came here today to give this to someone, but that person isn't here. I think I'm supposed to give it to you." I thanked her, and, wiping my eyes, stared down at this little home-made much-copied folded-paper booklet of prayers and devotions of St. Therese of Lisieux.

St. Therese and the Priesthood

If I recall correctly, St. Therese had a special love for the priesthood, a special devotion for this great gift Christ had left us, all so that we could be brought closer to Him through His chosen Ministers.

I have to wonder if maybe my own devotion to the priesthood began with my devotion to St. Therese of Lisieux? It is something to ponder, for the Saints never point to themselves; when we involve them in our prayer life, they direct us towards Our Lord, and to towards anything that will deepen our love for Him.

I don't recall what Saint said it, or if it was a private revelation to a saint, but I do remember reading the words, "The greatest way to honor Jesus is to honor the priesthood!" (Could it have been St. John Vianney?)

Ah, but so I've wandered in this post, as I usually do.

Flowers from Heaven

So many people say they have received roses from St. Therese. Fr. MacRae posted a particularly touching story yesterday on his blog, one I needed to read for I needed a reminder of the miraculous. Especially this week.

I've never received a rose from St. Therese. I don't think I've ever actually received roses from anyone, for that matter, although I used to pray for them all the time. While I've received signs of her intercession, it was apparently never God's will that I receive a physical rose, and maybe that's for the best.

After all...flowers wilt and die and God knows I can't keep green things alive.

But I rejoice that others do receive this sign, for even knowing their stories and witnessing their miracles, I take heart knowing that prayers are not spoken in vain and indeed, St. Therese is making good on her promise to shower roses from heaven upon the earth for those who most need such a sign of God's love.

I've been praying for a rose this week, though, admittedly not with much faith. If it be God's will, the Saint will send a rose. If not, my faith (or currently, lacking faith) will not be affected.

The one thing we always have to keep in mind is that our belief, our Faith, does not rest on miraculous signs, but rather, on the Cross and Resurrection. If we are not receiving signs, perhaps it is because we've been called to the Cross, and in the shadow of that, the greatest Sign in history, a rose simply has no beauty to compare to the redemptive sacrifice of Our Lord.

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Feast of St. Padre Pio

When I was growing up, "Padre Pio" was a family name. Even though we had no relationship with him directly, he was spoken of so often that it was almost as if he was an uncle I never saw. I remember asking my mom, "Who is this 'Padre Pio' guy anyway? What does he have to do with anything?"

Well, Mom explained that "Padre" meant "Father" and that Padre Pio was a priest who was a friend of our great -uncle's, and who bore the stigmata. Oh. OK.

Over the years I came to know Padre Pio, and came to understand that indeed, I am one of his spiritual daughters. It isn't that I've seen his intercession directly in my life, but rather, I seem to constantly run into his other spiritual children and randomly provide some kind of affirmation to them that they're a part of that family.

For example, once when I was heading out the door to meet a friend, I had the thought I should grab a few Padre Pio holy cards for him, thinking he might enjoy them. When I arrived, I handed them over to him immediately, thinking nothing of it. Handing cool holy cards to people is something we Catholics do regularly; it's second nature to us!

Apparently on that particular day, though, it was the sign my friend needed. Later on, at my Mom's house where he happened to be seated directly under a framed picture of Padre Pio, (which he hadn't noticed), he told me that there was NO WAY I could have known the request he'd made to the Saint that very morning. He had been learning about Padre Pio, he said, and learned of his "Spiritual Children", wondering if perhaps he could be one of them. He asked for an affirmation from the Saint; specifically that if he was indeed one of Padre Pio's spiritual sons, that someone would hand him a holy card of the Saint.

And shortly after I walked in the door and handed him a STACK!

I was just as floored as my friend was! Although I did point out to him that he had unwittingly ALSO sat under a picture of the Saint, which seemed to me to be yet another affirmation for him.

I have many such stories like that. It seems that at times, I am the Saint's messenger and it makes me wonder how many other "messages" I've delivered without even realizing!

Some may wonder why I continue to call Padre Pio by that name without the "Saint" attached. Perhaps it is because he was so close to our family that even as I recognize his Sainthood, there is a particular bond there. I don't know. If I speak of him formally I try to remember to call him "Saint", so that others know he is canonized. Yet given his great humility, it seems to me he would not be offended by my practice of simply calling him "Padre Pio", knowing it comes from great affection and never disrespect. Ah, but here I am, just musing. As usual.

A Spiritual Son

I want to direct you to one of Padre Pio's spiritual sons, a priest who wrote a beautiful article about him today.

Fr. MacRae sees some parallels between Padre Pio and himself, revealing the friendship of the Saint and God's Divine Providence. The good Father, who was imprisoned on this day, September 23rd, shares this important date with the Saint; a Saint who was also unjustly imprisoned and falsely accused.

Go read Fr. MacRae's article for yourself; it is one that will remain with you for a very long time. Please keep him in your prayers.

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Padre Pio, thank you for your intercession and spiritual paternity. Pray for us!

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Cool Light Reflection

A couple weeks ago, I had just gotten up and was feeling very stressed over all the things that were happening. Work, my upcoming "Great Monastic Adventure", etc.

My drapes were still closed as the sun was coming in and I wanted to keep the house as cool as possible.

I think that's also the morning I received an email reply or at least was reviewing it, from one of the communities I wanted to visit. I remember a sudden sense of being overwhelmed and I prayed, "Blessed Mother, what should I do?"

I stood up, turned to go into the kitchen and get my coffee, and caught sight of a bright glare of sunlight that had found its way through the drape.

To my eye at the time, it looked like an angel, and indeed, I know my Guardian Angel is always present. The photos make me think of several versions of Our Lady, though. Our Lady of Grace, Our Mother of Perpetual Help, Mary Queen of Heaven, Queen of the Angels... all of course, are the same person....our dear Blessed Mother.

Because the light was so cool, I grabbed my cheapo disposible camera and thought it couldn't hurt to try to capture the image, although I sincerely thought that the flash would completely destroy it. So I covered it as best I could with my fingers and snapped a few shots. I think one of the two images is actually with full flash, which is amazing, and I think the other is without, with me covering it (as it's automatic), so a little got through.

I've seen the light come through and hit that corner a few times, but it's never before caught my attention like it did on that day. I love how God can use the most mundane things to remind us that He is present and hears our prayers.

I also love it when photos we think don't have a chance of turning out...do!

I believe it was St. Therese of Lisieux who said, "Always take comfort from knowing you are in the presence of the angels."

Indeed.

Sacred Mysteries

Today somone on Twitter raised a question arising from today's Divine Office reading, taken from Origen's homily on Joshua. She thought he was talking about salvation being limited to a certain few, wheras he is actually speaking in the context of the Sacraments, ie "Sacred Mysteries."

I'm going to quote a larger passage, not a "twitterable" one, so as to give better context which will aid in our understanding. (Words in bold were the passage being questioned.)

From Origen's Homily on Joshua:

"You have recently abandoned the darkness of idolatry, and you now desire to come and hear the divine law. This is your departure fro mEgypt. When you became a catechumen and began to obey the laws of the Church, you passed through the Red Sea; now at the various stops in the desert, you give time every day to hear the law of God and to see the face of Moses unveiled by the glory of God. But once you come to the baptismal font and, in the presence of the priests and deacons, are initiated into those sacred and august mysteries which only those know who should, then, through the ministry of the priests, you will cross the Jordan and enter the promised land. There Moses will hand you over to Jesus, and he himself will be your guide on your new journey."

There is actually a great deal of theology in this passage, and a great deal of history being alluded to which was relevant to Origin's audience. Thus I'd like to first point out that the overall context of the homily seems to indicate that those hearing it were converts from Judaism. In it, Origin is referring to their history, familiarity with Moses, the Red Sea, the Ark of the Covenant, etc. (I did not quote the entire reading for today). Had he been speaking to gentile converts, he would have had to explain these things as opposed to bringing them into the present and into the Christian understanding.

Now, as far as the text that the individual questioned, it seems clear to me that Origin is discussing the Sacraments. He refers to "initiation", and we refer to Baptism, Confirmation, and Holy Communion as the "sacraments of initiation". At that time, I believe catechumens received all three Sacraments at the same time.

If you read the passage again, it discusses the presence of priests and deacons, and specifically, that they are admitted to these mysteries through the ministry of the priests. This indicates the reception of Sacraments, as well as presence at the Paschal Mystery (e.g. the Mass)

What many do not understand is that Mass was not always so accessable to people. Recall that in the Early Church, Christians were greatly persecuted. All week in the Divine Office we've been reading about St. Ignatius; he was paraded to Rome in captivity to face his martyrdom, and in the process wrote something like 15 letters to those in his care. When he reached Rome, he was fed to the lions, and many other Christians, people like you and I, (from children to the elderly) also stood up and identified themselves publicly as Christians, and were ALSO sent to the lions.

It doesn't surprise me, then, that this reading follows, for the persecution of our ancestors was not the lame and cowardly persecutions we face today (at least, in America). Wheras we risk and suffer ridicule and maybe political "attack" in our countries, for them it was a crime to be Christian, and to publicly admit the affiliation was an automatic death sentence. A very torturous death, done for the entertainment of the pagan masses.

So it was that, in the Early Church, Mass was a secret meeting. The priests consecrated the bread and wine into the body, blood, soul, and divinity of Christ. They spoke of eating His flesh and drinking His blood, and yes, they did this quite seriously. St. Ignatius of Antioch, St. Clement of Rome, St. Irenaeus, St. Justin Martyr, St. Cyril, among others, all spoke of this Mystery (which today we call the Paschal Mystery).

There, deep in history, the rumor mill was just as active as it is today, even without benefit of the internet. The pagans, and others, sincerely believed the Christians were cannibals, and that they were meeting in secret in order to do their grisly and immoral deeds. Christians were hated and feared.

It was for this reason (among others) that St. Justin Martyr wrote Apologia, in an attempt to defend the Church, respond to the attacks, and put the rumors to rest.

At that time in history, strangers were not admitted to Mass. Catechumens (the non-baptized being instructed in the Christian faith, a term still used today) were barred from attendance until, for approximately three years, they had completed their instruction, had truly converted, and were ready to be admitted to the Mysteries. (To be specific, they were admitted to the Liturgy of the Word, ie the penitential rite, collect, Gloria, scripture readings, and the Homily, and were dismissed after this.)

St. Justin Martyr, in his 1st Apology, wrote about this practice:

No one may share the Eucharist with us unless he believes that what we teach is true, unless he is washed in the regenerating waters of baptism for the remission of his sins, and unless he lives in accordance with the principles given us by Christ.

We do not consume the eucharistic bread and wine as if it were ordinary food and drink, for we have been taught that as Jesus Christ our Savior became a man of flesh and blood by the power of the Word of God, so also the food that our flesh and blood assimilates for its nourishment becomes the flesh and blood of the incarnate Jesus by the power of his own words contained in the prayer of thanksgiving.

He explains here why others were not admitted to these mysteries, raising the demand of a conversion of life, of intent, of proving their ability to live "in accordance with the principles given us by Christ."

Those who became Christians then, through the Sacraments of initiation, knew what they were getting into. They were willing to die for it, and they were everyday witnesses to exactly what kind of death awaited them.

They were not willing to die for a lie, for a "mystery" that turned out to have been written by an early Dan Brown hack. When they were finally, at long last, admitted to the Church and initiated into those Mysteries, they knew what they were receiving, the importance of it, the sacredness, and the reality that this was going to cost them. They had to first die to themselves in order to risk dying for the Faith of Jesus Christ.

Salvation

Now, there was also the question of salvation, and I won't go into detail on this, but I can focus on some very simple beliefs.

We believe that baptism is NECESSARY for Salvation, and that no one enters heaven but through Jesus Christ. His suffering and death was for the remission of sin, paid the ransom owed, rendering Divine Justice through His perfect act of Mercy. But we must be baptized, the stain of original sin erased, and through this Sacrament, we enter the Church.

As Catholics, we recognize that Confirmation and Holy Communion complete our initiation into the Church, each Sunday we profess our Faith, and continue to live the sacramental life of the Church, even if it means that we receive the Sacrament of Confession daily if necessary! Even we who have been initiated are not admitted freely to the Sacrament of Holy Communion if we are in a state of mortal sin!

So, yes, Origin is ALSO speaking of salvation in this homily, but by no means is giving a discourse on that (no more than I am in this post!). His main point is the necessity and importance of the sacramental life, instruction in the relevence (and revelation!) of these mysteries for those upon whom the chrism oil still drips from their foreheads.

Today

Anyone can attend Mass today, no matter what their faith, and no matter how much they reject our beliefs. All are admitted. Yet, they cannot participate in the sacred mysteries that are the Sacraments; if they have not been instructed or reject those beliefs, they cannot be admitted for they are not in union with the Church.

I would argue that the early preparation given to the catechumens of that age probably better served to reveal the importance of the sacraments and the holiness of the Mass, far more so than the current (and typical) RCIA models do. Do I think we should make a return to what they had to do in the first centuries? Perhaps not; what was proper then might not be proper now, although I suspect that in places like India, the Sudan, and Saudia Arabia, this probably IS a more likely practice than that which we have here in America.

Persecution and suffering tends to impress upon those affected the holiness and grace of God far more than we butter-fed prosperous countries can muster on even our worst of days.

Something for us all to consider as we enter into perhaps the only season of "persecution" many of us have ever known.

Disclaimer:

I'm not overly familiar with early Church history as it applies to the Mass and Sacraments, so tried to keep my comments general. It's entirely possible that I erred in some of my statements, and so this post should not be taken as gospel fact. I would encourage anyone reading this to read formal documentation of this history, and definitely click on the link to St. Justin Martyr's 1st Apology.

Further, it's not intended to be a complete discourse on St. Justin Martyr or any of the other listed Saints, only a general explanation. I am not an expert in anything.

Another great resource is Rod Bennett's Four Witnesses; the Early Church in Her Own Words , available from Ignatius Press. I've read this book and cannot recommend it highly enough, especially for those who are unfamiliar with the Church Fathers and life in the Early Church.

Entering Into the Passion of Christ

From today's Office of Readings:

I will say more: we must sacrifice ourselves to God, each day and in everything we do, accepting all that happens to us for the sake of the Word, imitating his passion by our sufferings, and honoring his blood by shedding our own. We must be ready to be crucified. 

~ from a homily by St. Gregory Nazianzen, bishop

Kiss of Death

I've been thinking a lot lately about Judas, and how much I resemble him.  I recently watched The Passion of the Christ again, and the scene that stood out to me this time was near the beginning.  There is something in the way he furtively leaves the Last Supper and goes to receive his payment for betrayal. 

There is something in the way the money bag flies through the air; and as Judas desperately and clumsily reaches out to catch the

 offhand throw, the money falls at his feet and scatters.  He is helpless to stop it.  He looks up at the crowd that stares back at him dispassionately and with an air of condescension, then with an attitude of desperate greed Judas drops to the ground to quickly gather up the silver he was paid for the blood of Christ who had ordained him that very evening.

He looks up at the soldiers, and the fear in his eyes cannot be mistaken. It seems he is already regretting his act.  And yet, he goes into the Garden, and there finds Jesus waiting for him. The man he had followed, the man who had washed his feet, even knowing of the betrayal to come.  The One who had shown him ONLY love...and gave him the free will to do what he set out to do. 

Then, when Judas returns to the Garden with the soldiers, how does the betrayal occur?  Through a kiss. An expression of love. 

How many times have I expressed love to Christ while bearing hatred in my heart in some way?

How many times have I begged Jesus for His love, while I pondered my next sin, my very betrayal of His own love?  

Judas flees, realizing what he's done.  The movie shows his torment and ultimate demise; suicide. 

Yes, he sinned in his betrayal, but that sin was forgivable.  He could have come to the Cross.  He could have come to Christ an any time and made his repentance clear.  He could have been forgiven.  

Just as I've been forgiven, over and over, for my many betrayals.  

Because, every time I sin, I  give Christ the same kiss of death.  The very same. 

We look to Peter, whose love, as beloved John Paul II pointed out, set him up for failure. It was in how Peter followed Christ to his scourging that put him in the position to be confronted, and where he denied him.  Three times.  

Judas denied Christ only ONCE; when he betrayed him. The betrayal was a single, seamless act.   Peter denied him THREE times.

Yet their stories are very different.  Peter continued to follow Christ.  He truly loved Him and could not stay away.  He repented of his denial.  When Our Lord appeared a few days later on the sea shore, Peter was so excited that he didn't wait for the boat to pull up...he leapt overboard and SWAM to Jesus, where he was given three chances to overcome his three denials.

Our God is a God of Mercy.  Infinite mercy. 

Judas, though, betrayed Christ, ran away...and stayed away.  It was his rejection of God's love that lead him into such complete despair that he saw no other way out than suicide.  

How many times have I rejected God's love?  In choosing to sin, not only have I betrayed Him, but I've rejected Him. 

How many times has Our Lord come after me, in spite of and because of the fact that He was nailed to the Cross on my behalf?  

How many times have I been tempted to avoid Confession because I've thought my sins were greater than God's own mercy?  

How many times have I turned my back on Jesus because Mercy was inconvenient to my Pride?

Judas was the first to leave Mass right in the middle, and completely missed the consecration which took place as Christ died upon the Cross.   Judas left right after his own ordination, only to bring destruction when he returned.  And ultimately, he missed the biggest moment of all. 

Judas did repent, but he repented to the wrong authority; rather than going to Christ, the one whom He'd wronged, God himself whom he betrayed, he tried to give back the tangible evidence of his sin.  

How many times have I tried to undo my own wrong only to make things worse?

How many times have those efforts been rejected because the ones in whom I sought comfort were the same ones who led me into sin to begin with?

How many times have I looked to myself for salvation, thinking I could fix things on my own?

Had Judas gone to Jesus, Our Lord would have taken him back, and although He would not have "undone" the damage, he would have helped Judas to carry that cross he'd so willingly embraced.  What was done was done, but Jesus understands everything. 

He asks only one thing; humility.  That in our sin, we recognize our sin, repent of it, and embrace the effects of that sin.  None of us is immune.  

This year, I'm trying to recognize each time I kiss Jesus in an act of betrayal, and have found even this short project to be maybe a little more than I can bear.  Yet it has been such a blessing, reminding me that whenever God reveals sin, He also reveals His Mercy. 

Lately I've been fleeing His mercy, realizing my own lack of repentance, my own failings.  Yet Our Lord has come after me, refusing to let me go. I've been astonished at His guidance, unable to deny what He has done.  

And yet, I look at Judas, and I see myself. If not in reality, then at least in the danger that has tempted me. To betray Christ, to run away, and even to be lost forever. I can understand why Judas did what he did; why he died at the end of a rope.  I've known that temptation as well and have been spared it only by the grace of God.  

Death is not what Our Lord wills.  He did not will for Judas to despair. He did not will for Judas to betray Him. The reality was that Judas did these things all on his own.  Jesus suffered greatly on account of Judas, whom He loved dearly.

It was Judas who rejected Jesus; not the other way around.  It was Judas who ran away and gave in to despair. He refused God's mercy.  

The reality is that the kiss Judas gave to Jesus was a betrayal not of Christ alone, but of himself.  He died in that moment, and he knew it. It was that very misuse of an act and symbol of love that truly revealed the state of Judas's soul. And if he could so warp love, how, in his mind, could he come back? 

Through Christ, and Christ alone.  For Jesus went willingly to his Passion and death.  He went, and would have taken Judas with Him, but instead, Judas refused the uncondemning gaze of Jesus whose last words to him were, 

"Would you betray the Son of Man with a kiss?"  

A statement, a question...not a condemnation. 

Jesus, I trust in Thee. 

St. Patrick's Breastplate

I bind unto myself today
The strong Name of the Trinity,
By invocation of the same
The Three in One and One in Three.
I bind this today to me forever
By power of faith, Christ’s incarnation;
His baptism in Jordan river,
His death on Cross for my salvation;
His bursting from the spicèd tomb,
His riding up the heavenly way,
His coming at the day of doom
I bind unto myself today.

I bind unto myself the power
Of the great love of cherubim;
The sweet ‘Well done’ in judgment hour,
The service of the seraphim,
Confessors’ faith, Apostles’ word,
The Patriarchs’ prayers, the prophets’ scrolls,
All good deeds done unto the Lord
And purity of virgin souls.

I bind unto myself today
The virtues of the star lit heaven,
The glorious sun’s life giving ray,
The whiteness of the moon at even,
The flashing of the lightning free,
The whirling wind’s tempestuous shocks,
The stable earth, the deep salt sea
Around the old eternal rocks.

I bind unto myself today
The power of God to hold and lead,
His eye to watch, His might to stay,
His ear to hearken to my need.
The wisdom of my God to teach,
His hand to guide, His shield to ward;
The word of God to give me speech,
His heavenly host to be my guard.

Against the demon snares of sin,
The vice that gives temptation force,
The natural lusts that war within,
The hostile men that mar my course;
Or few or many, far or nigh,
In every place and in all hours,
Against their fierce hostility
I bind to me these holy powers.

Against all Satan’s spells and wiles,
Against false words of heresy,
Against the knowledge that defiles,
Against the heart’s idolatry,
Against the wizard’s evil craft,
Against the death wound and the burning,
The choking wave, the poisoned shaft,
Protect me, Christ, till Thy returning.

Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me.
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.

I bind unto myself the Name,
The strong Name of the Trinity,
By invocation of the same,
The Three in One and One in Three.
By Whom all nature hath creation,
Eternal Father, Spirit, Word:
Praise to the Lord of my salvation,
Salvation is of Christ the Lord.

St. Blase, We Have A Miracle!

Today is the Feast of St Blase, Bishop and Martyr, and if you go to Mass today, you may receive a throat blessing compliments of this Saint. Legend has it that he saved a child from choking on a fishbone.

Although fishbones aren't the things that tend to plague us these days, he is the patron saint of conditions affecting the throat, and is often invoked for his intercession in things like throat cancer, laryngitis, choking, thyroid problems, etc.

I had a friend who once experienced a healing after she received the throat blessing; she had a node of some sort on her neck and was concerned that it might be cancerous, was going to get it checked. After Mass, after the blessing, she felt a "burning" sensation on her neck, and when she placed her hand on the spot, it was gone. When she arrived home and could check, the node had completely disappeared! (And no, it wasn't a zit.)

Well, for days now, I've been praying to St. Blase, realizing first with dismay that my cold was settling low and that my vocal cords would be affected. Then when laryngitis struck, I began praying I'd be able to speak well enough to give a talk...today. It's the second of two talks I have to give throughout the year, and it's a major event. (Not because it's me, but because of the information it's in my job description to present!)

For the last 2 days, I could barely speak, and so yesterday I worked a half day, sacrificing the rest so I could come home and ensure I wouldn't have to speak. When my roommate came home last night, she realized my Vow of Silence immediately and took care not to even speak to me unless it was necessary, so I wouldn't be tempted to respond! (I did have to write a couple notes for her, but otherwise gestures sufficed.)

Well...it seems I have a voice today! It's not 100%, and I'm still going to do my best not to speak for most of the day, but I think I'll be able to give the presentation tonight.

This is nothing short of a miracle...if you'd heard my voice yesterday, you would realize even the futility of silence.

Please keep praying to St. Blase, though...this presentation ain't over 'till it's over!

New Blog: Making Things Visible

Please go over and take a look at a new local blog, Making Things Visible. The authors are friends of mine, and many of us have been encouraging them to move from Caringbridge to a more common blog venue. And all I can say is....FINALLY and WELCOME!

From the "About" page:

“Our task is to make the truth visible and lovable in ourselves, offering ourselves as an attractive and, if possible, heroic example. The person who needs to touch and to feel in order to believe will not be easily won with words. Talk alone does not attract, but ‘making things visible’ does.” St. Gianna Molla

This blog is an offshoot of a site which was started during my daughter’s illness and subsequent death in the summer of 2008. It began as just a way to keep family and friends up to date on her progress, but after her death became the forum for many different reflections on the meaning of death, love and suffering- in light of the Cross of Christ. After being told from many that these entries were “inspirational”, I decided to branch out to a blog to give God an opportunity to reach a wider audience if He so chooses.

I am a wife, mom, grad student in theology, parish youth minister and most importantly, baptized Catholic. I am striving for holiness and some semblance of order in life.

I hope that you will all go over and give them a big welcome. All of us who know the authors and their story have been very touched by their suffering and their words of wisdom. Please also visit their Caringbridge site and read through Gianna's story.

The One-Virtue Challenge

A couple years ago, I attended a series of Advent talks given by a Priest at my parish. I'm afraid I don't remember a lot of what he said, but he made one point that continues to stick with me, because it's still a problem. It was then, it is now, and perhaps it shall ever be so.

Virtue Pitfall #1:

The good Father pointed out that many people, when trying to overcome vices, try to work on all of them all at once. Sometimes it's a matter of improper focus; as on the vice instead of the virtue, which is truly what is desired. For example, if we are impatient, certainly we need to recognize we are impatient, but then our focus should not be on the negative word, but on the virtue we desire to obtain.

In other words, our prayer should not be "Lord, help me not to be impatient today," but rather, "Lord, grant me the grace to be more patient with my family."

It's hard to get rid of the elephant in the room if we're constantly addressing it by name.

His suggestion, then, was firs to focus on the goal, that being the virtue we desire.

Virtue Pitfall #2:

His second suggestion: Don't work on ALL the virtues at once! If you try that, you're setting yourself up for failure!

I admit I kinda shrunk down in my pew at that statement. Guilty! I have this terrible habit of seeing how awful I am from all the standpoints. In doing an examination of conscience, naturally it came to my attention that I had no fortitude, selective prudence, no patience, selective obedience, humility - fogeddabodit!, and temperance - ha! Right!

So of course, I'd go to Confession, confess all my shortcomings and a week later I'd be back, having completely failed in ALL of them. Maybe I'd be ok for a day or so. But then would come the crash.

I knew Father was right, in that it made more sense to focus on only one thing instead of all things. Although I was impatient (see?) to obtain these virtues, in my hurry, I was like the proverbial guy with the overloaded camel; always stopping to pick up the mess.

The Remedy?

Pick a period of time. As this is once again Advent, this is a perfect time to follow his good advice. Choose one virtue, and offer it as a gift to Our Lord at Christmas. God has so many gifts and blessings for us, but we also have this wonderful ongoing opportunity to offer gifts back to Him. Could there be anything more beautiful than coming to Mass at Christmas and offering our attempts at holiness? For even in our failures, God is glorified, for we are motivated by love so as to love Him more.

I'm still struggling at picking just ONE. It's like holiness is a bag of chips...if I like one Virtue, for some reason, I like them all and I can't stop with just one! (Hmmm...maybe Temperance should be my choice this Advent!)

A funny thing happened this semester, though, because of course, I discovered more theology that supports Father's advice, but it goes further back than I ever realized.

According to the Dialogue of St. Catherine of Siena, revelations from the Eternal Father (as this translation refers to God the Father) give us some amazing insight:

Wherefore, learn, that, in many cases I give one virtue, to be as it were the chief of the others...to one I will give principally love, to another justice, to another humility, to one a lively faith, to another prudence or temperance, or patience, to another fortitude. These, and many other virtues, I place, indifferently, in the souls...it happens, therefore, that the particular one so placed in the soul becomes the principal object of its virtue; the soul disposing herself, for her chief conversation, to this rather than to the other virtues, and by the effect of this virtue, the soul draws to herself all the other virtues, which...are all bound together in the affection of love.

I have not placed them all in one soul, in order that man should, perforce, have material for love of his fellow.

Firstly, realize that first quote is, in fact, one sentence and actually goes on. But what a LOADED sentence it is! And the second sentence draws us to the Great Commandment...love of God is love of neighbor.

Ultimately, it makes perfect sense that we choose one virtue and work on it, one at a time. Through that ONE virtue, the others are united, and, all are joined through the fire of charity. St. Catherine uses the imagery of the virtues as paving-stones, and the mortar is love; the message to all of us is clear:

Keep your eyes on Christ, embrace the Cross you have been given, and focus on one of the virtues in your life with which you struggle to obtain. In this way, we all walk towards holiness, one paving-stone at a time.
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St. Albert the Great

Today is the feast of St. Albert the Great, Bishop, Doctor of the Church, Dominican, and teacher of St. Thomas Aquinas. Even as other students called St. Thomas a "dumb ox", St. Albert knew there was something in him that was not possessed by the other students, and indeed, his faith in his student was not in vain.

I have a special place in my own heart for St. Albert, for I believe he is one of the Saints that helped lead me back home.

At that time in my life I was struggling to come back to the Church. I'd begun attending Mass (although I hadn't been to Confession in about 10 or 11 years by that point), and a church near where I was living was named after the great Saint. It was somewhat of a dissenting parish with very low attendance, but it was close, it was convenient, and there was SOMETHING that kept drawing me. Noting the name of the church, I remember praying to this Saint I'd never heard of before, asking him for his help.

I was so thirsty for God, and had hope, every time I went, that I would indeed meeet God there. Nearly every week I'd be frustrated, though; the readings were great, but the "homily" was most often given by a woman, a Director of Religious Education, while the priest sat down and listened. While I was dying to hear something about the readings of that week, to learn more about Christ and obtain some kind of balm for my aching soul, I was given lessons in social statistics and subject to all sorts of "look how great we are for feeding x statistic of people!"

I wanted to know where Jesus was in all that; after all, I HAD a background in social services and had no problem getting my hands dirty. I had grown up eating from food shelves. But what I needed desperately was to know who God was, and where I could find Our Lord.

The church wasn't well attended, as I mentioned, but there were a few neighborhood elderly who had probably lived their lives in that neighborhood and who faithfully attended Mass each week. I wondered how they had survived. Even I, an uneducated fallen-away Catholic, could see that it seemed the parish had left them behind. Their devotion was obvious, especially during the Eucharistic prayers and the Consecration, when they knelt, sometimes with great difficulty, as perfectly healthy younger people stood. I knew we should all be kneeling, although I didn't really understand why. But something prompted me to follow their devotion, and kneel when they knelt.

A couple weeks later, I noticed that another young-ish type person sitting near me was watching me when I knelt...and she knelt, too. And so did someone else. Then so did a few more. It seemed to be confirmation that indeed, we should be kneeling, and I was thankful for the dear ladies and gentlemen who had the courage to be faithful, showing the rest of us proper reverence even for mysteries we did not understand.

I didn't know what was wrong or why this church was doing things differently than everyone else.

Nor do I know exactly what St. Albert did to interceed for me, but I do know this; that church, in spite of all the dissent and liturgical abuse, in spite of the spiritual malpractice going on there, was a very important waystation in my faith.

It was there that God began to console me through certain words of certain hymns, causing a certain miracle to happen one day at the beginning of Lent; that miracle is maybe for another post. Suffice to say that I knew God had heard my sincere prayer of repentance: Lord, have mercy on me!

That year, I attended the evening service on Good Friday. As of that point, I still had not been to confession, still too terrified to go. But I went forward to venerate the cross, knelt down and placed my hand on the wood. Suddenly I could almost see Our Lord nailed to the wood above me, and I could almost feel his blood dripping on my head. I was certain that, had I looked upward, I would have gazed upon Him as He took his last breath. It was a profound moment as I suddenly understood that this really happened, Jesus had died for me, and yes....Jesus loved me and wanted me back.

I returned to my pew, shaken, in tears, wanting nothing more than to return to the Cross and remain there forever.

Somehow, in spite of all the craziness, in spite of my own sinful life, in spite of my fear, Jesus got through to me, perhaps through the intercession of St. Albert the Great who refused to give up on me.

I didn't know then that he was a Dominincan, or St. Thomas Aquinas's teacher. I had never heard of the Summa. But now, having returned Home, in looking back at that waystation, at the connections made for me, I'm not surprised by any of those facts. After all...St. Thomas is one of my patrons (this blog being under his direct patronage, the name chosen when I didn't know he'd penned the hymn), and of course, I am drawn to the Dominican spirituality. Even more...the thirst to know God even more, and to make Him known to others seems not to abate, even as I drink of the Living Water, and continue to kneel at Calvary every week, sometimes every day.

Thank you, St. Albert, for your intercession. Pray for us!
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