There is Only One That is Unchanging

This morning, I walked about the grounds of a beautiful house near Kilkenny, Ireland - a small river flowing through a farm, warm sunlight, dogs and cats with soft fur and good hearts, all permeated by a sweet-smelling Irish breeze.  All of this passes.

As I prayed my Morning Rule and Offering, it came to me that there truly is only ONE that is unchanging.  All the beauty around me does not last, indeed, there is not one thing in all of the glory of God's creation that remains as it is. 

We see this reflected in the life of St. Francis, who always viewed the creation around him as a gift from the one unchanging God, not as an end in itself.  I remember reading in a book on Fr. Arseny that a priest went out in the morning and was in tears over the beauty that surrounded him - but he gave thanks again to God, who created it all. 

So it is that I see that all that surrounds us, all the love and beauty and kinship - this all fades.  We must always be thankful for everything that God has given us, but look past it all in thanksgiving to the One who gave it to us in the first place, the source of it all. 

In the end, only ONE remains.  Only God remains. 

Divine Intimacy: A Book Every Catholic Should Own

Once in awhile, a book comes along that is so spiritually enriching for the Catholic soul that one would be amiss to pass up perusing its pages.  Divine Intimacy by Fr. Gabriel of St. Mary Magdalen is such a book. 

In my opinion, it is like a Summa Theologica for a Catholic's daily prayer life - no topic pertaining to our lives as Christians is left untouched, no devotion to Christ left unspoken of, no spiritual stone left unturned as it were.  Fr. Gabriel, a Carmelite priest, approaches the most difficult and deep of subjects with the wisdom of the great Carmelite saints (along with many others) to back him.  He has the wisdom and intellect of a St. Thomas Aquinas, but with the deep mystical touch of St. John of the Cross.  The writing is never dry or academic, never dull, but rich, touching, and pious.  There is not a single sentence in this work that is not useful for the Christian soul.

For those who may not know of it, Divine Intimacy is a collection of Fr. Gabriel's thoughts and writings for every day of the liturgical year that can be used for one's daily prayer routine.  Each section is enriched with words from the saints, especially the great Carmelite saints (St. Therese of Lisieux, Bl. Elizabeth of the Trinity, St. Teresa Margaret of the Sacred Heart, St. Teresa of Avila, St. John of the Cross, and St. Mary Magdalen de Pazzi).  In some ways, it reads very much like a Catholic Philokalia, in some ways, similar to excellent Eastern Orthodox work The Art of Prayer. 

To me, Divine Intimacy is the real deal - serious Catholic devotional writing that stands far above the morass of pop spiritual writing (both within the Catholic world and without) that is so common these days.  The only drawback of course is the price, which most places seems to be around $60.  Despite the cost, the work is worth every penny - I have no doubt that it will one day be a far bigger classic and far more well-known than it is at present.

Confession and Mass in Doolin, Ireland

From parish website.

As some may have read earlier in passing through this blog, I am currently on leave with my wife in Ireland, before heading out across Austria, Italy, and France later on. 

I was privileged to attend Holy Mass in my favorite Irish coastal village of Doolin, often home of the famous traditional musician Blackie O'Connell, and site of the best trad Irish folk music in all the country. 

Holy Rosary parish in Doolin is, in many respects, what I love so much about little country churches.  Though the town of Doolin is meager in population, the church was packed in the morning.  The walk up the dirt road in the misty morning air was wonderful - a great opportunity to clear one's mind and pray before Mass begins.

Fr. Conor, who is priest of this particular parish, was a warm and friendly man - maybe I really don't look from around here, but he picked me out immediately of the crowd, and we went off to a corner of the church for a quick confession before Mass began.  He gave a firm handshake and a hug after, and I was strengthened by the mercy of Christ, which is so constantly shown to me in my life.  Fr. Conor asked me to pray for him - I always marvel that someone much holier than me should ever ask for my prayers, but I gladly will do so.

One of the greatest things about being Catholic and traveling, of course, is the fact that the Mass is always the same no matter where one goes.  There's never any wondering what's going on, and even if the Mass is in a different language, one can still know and sense what is happening.

Two Dominicans, along with Fr. Conor, assisted in the Mass, with one Dominican giving a powerful homily on simply trusting in God no matter how much He turns your world upside down.  He told us that he had never thought he would be a Dominican - at the age of 7, he had found himself lying in a ditch, abandoned, with two broken legs.  Now, he is a member of one of the greatest orders in the Church.  All we have to do is trust God from day to day, and bring "heaven on earth", taking it out of our parishes and into the streets.

With the strength gained from receiving the Eucharist, and a beautiful lilting song played on a recorder still haunting the church, I left with a smile on my face and in my heart. 

Top 5 Patron Saints of the Daily Grind

St. Raphaela

Not every saint in the glorious history of the Church was a visible mendicant and reformer like St. Francis of Assisi, nor a warrior such as St. Joan of Arc.  Some of the Church's saints, on the outside, lived seemingly mundane lives of chores and menial labor.  How many persons are probably saints known only to God Himself?

Regardless, the following below are some of the saints I have found to be my top 5 candidates for being patrons of the "daily grind", the unsatisfying dayjob, and everyday work.

1.  St. Andre Bessett

One of the greatest Canadian saints, beloved by so many Catholics, was little more than a doorkeeper.  After joing the Congregation of the Holy Cross in Montreal, "for the next 40 years he joyfully and uncomplainingly washed floors and windows, cleaned lamps, carried firewood, and worked as a porter, messenger, and doorkeeper."1  In many respects, I see in him a similar figure to St. Padre Pio in his spending so many hours in the confessional, and for his ability to read souls so very well.  Despite being such a holy man, St. Andre only said of himself that "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."2

2.  St. Raphaela Mary Porras

"God wants me to submit to all that happens to me as if I saw him there commanding it."3  Such are the words of St. Raphaela Mary, the foundress of the Handmaids of the Sacred Heart of Jesus.  She is, in some ways, another one of those saints who seems like someone who would have normally slipped by without any notice had it not been for her profound holiness of life.  Due to all kinds of internal conflicts in the congregation, St. Raphaela was treated unfairly within the community, even by her own sister who co-founded the order with her, and was stripped of all her responsibilities and sent to a house of the order in Rome, where she spent the rest of her days doing nothing but menial work.  She even became regarded as "mentally incompetent"4, but bore it all with heroic patience. 

3.  St. Joseph


In a way, it seems odd for me to put one such as St. Joseph on this list.  As William Morris once distinguished between "useful work versus useless toil", so I think of St. Joseph's work as a carpenter to fall under "useful work" - the kind that "has hope in it"5 due to one's being able to create, to see a difference being made, to accomplish something that one can be proud of.  But this is no doubt to romanticize the work that St. Joseph no doubt was engaged in.  He was a carpenter, probably doing all sorts of oddjobs for the townsfolk, working long hours, and still living in poverty despite all of the hard work.  He is today the patron saint of all workers.

4.  St. Zita of Lucca

A maid and the patron of all those involved in the domestic life of chores and cleaning, St. Zita's personal holiness spread far and wide.  She was a servant of a wealthy household, that of the Fatinellis, and was often ridiculed for her pious nature.  "As the new girl, Zita was given all the dirtiest and most monotonous household tasks.  She did them all well, but when she felt the drudgery getting to her she would say a very short prayer to remind herself that she was doing this unpleasant job for love of God rather than to win praise from her employers."6  How many of us, I think, could benefit from such a mindset - to always view all tasks and work as an opportunity to show love for God!

5.  St. Stanislaus Kostka

The story of St. Stanislaus is a fascinating one in many ways - a youth who was a living flame of love for Christ, he let nothing stand in his way in order to further serve Christ by joining the Jesuit order.  Fleeing his abusive brother and the Lutheran household where he was staying, St. Stanislaus walked over three-hundred miles to get to Rome and obtain special permission to join the order.  "On his way, he saw Peter Canisius [one of the Doctors of the Church] who encouraged him, but also tested him by assigning him menial tasks."7  In his life as an aspiring Jesuit, "he washed dishes, helped prepare food, swept, scrubbed -whatever he was told to do. He ate with the servants, took his recreations with them. And he went about it all as simply and naturally as if he had been doing nothing else all his life."8 His obedience in doing whatever he was asked, and his willingness to engage in even the most menial of work for the love of God should be an inspiration to all.

1 - Ann Ball, Modern Saints: Their Lives and Faces, pg. 340
2 - ibid., pg. 338
3 - Paul Burns, Butler's Lives of the Saints: New Concise Edition, pg. 8
4 - Ann Ball, Modern Saints: Their Lives and Faces, pg. 275
5 - William Morris, "Useful Work Versus Useless Toil"
6 - Thomas J. Craughwell, This Saint's For You!, pg. 214
7 - David Farmer, Oxford Dictionary of Saints, "Kostka, Stanislaus"
8 - William T. Kane, S.J., For Greater Things: The Story of Saint Stanislaus Kostka, XI

"I Know a Man Who Loves God..."

"I know a man who loves God with great intensity, and yet grieves because he does not love Him as much he would wish.  His soul is ceaselessly filled with burning desire that God should be glorified in him and that he himself should be as nothing.  This man does not think of what he is, even when others praise him.  In his great desire for humility he does not think of his priestly rank, but performs his ministry as the rules enjoin.  In his extreme love for God, he strips himself of any thought of his own dignity; and with a spirit of humility he buries in the depths of divine love any pride to which his high position might give rise.  Thus, out of desire to humble himself, he always sees himself in his own mind as a useless servant, extraneous to the rank he holds.  We too should do the same, fleeing all honour and glory in the overflowing richness of our love for the Lord who loves us so greatly."1

1 - St. Diadochus of Photike, On Spiritual Knowledge, XIII

A Prayer Before the Day Begins

Lord Jesus, be with me this day.  Help me to find You in all things - in everything I do, let me glorify You.  In everything I say, let it be said in kindness, humility, and patience.  Through Your grace, help me to struggle against my shortcomings, my sins, and my failings.  Help me to be patient instead of frustrated.  Help me to bear with insults and jeers with kindness and thanksgiving for being able to suffer in some small way for the sake of Your Holy Name.  May I always bless Your Name when it is misused in mockery and spite.  May I turn away my eyes from all vanity, and root out the vanity already nestled within my heart.  Help me to make a dwelling space, however humble and poor, for You alone within my heart.  Come, Lord Jesus, into my heart and dine with me.  Visit me as you did Zacchaeus the sinner. 

Oh Jesus, bring me into the light of Your mercy.  Help me to understand how very much You love even me, who fails You so much and so often.  Help me to always rise in Your strength when I fall in my weakness.  Help me to love You above all things, and to see You in all things, so that I may serve You always, until the end of my days. 

In Your Holy Name, Lord Jesus, I pray,
Amen. +

End Your Day With Praise and Contrition

Beginning one's day with the Morning Offering is essential - ending one's day with praise to the Lord for His sustaining you throughout it is no less so.  And given our fallen nature and the fact that, despite all of our intentions, we often slip into our accustomed failings, it is also prudent to end the day with an examination of conscience and an act of contrition.  If the morning prayer is breakfast and coffee to start the day with, then evening prayer and a nightly act of contrition is akin to supper and a shower before bed.

In many ways, this rings to me of the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola.  Every evening, I make an effort to go over my sins of the day - and God be praised, I have a very keen memory - and to ask pardon of the Lord for my offenses.  In engaging in such a practice, one always manages to keep their souls in check, develops a keener awareness for sin and how to avoid it, and above all, develops a greater understanding for the love and mercy of God.

But the evening time for prayer is not dominated only by sorrowful examinations of conscience, but praise as well - praise for the Lord sustaining one throughout the day, holding us up, carrying us, and not only these thanksgivings, but also praise for God simply for the sole reason of rendering glory to God. 

As St. Francis de Sales says on the subject - "If we find that we have done any good, we must thank God for it.  On the other hand, if we have done anything wrong in thought, word, or deed, we must ask pardon of His Divine Majesty with a resolution to confess it at the first opportunity and to make careful amendment for it... This exercise, like that in the morning, must never be forgotten.  By the morning exercise you open the windows of your soul to the Sun of Justice and by this evening exercise you close them against the shadows of hell."1

1 - Introduction to the Devout Life, II:11

"One Thing Is Needful"

"O life that art life indeed!  O glory that art glory alone!  O royal city, whose citizens have great delight!  None know the meaning of pain or sickness.  Death comes not to thee, for all is life.  There is no pain, for all is delight; no sickness, for God is true health.  Blessed city, whose laws are of love, whose citizens are wholly possessed by love!  In thee all love, their office is love, they know only how to love!  One wish have they, one desire, one counsel.  One thing they love, one they desire, one they contemplate, with one they are united.  Unum est necessarium.  One thing is needful."

-Pedro Malon de Chaide, Conversion of the Magdalen, 62

The Best Way To Begin Your Day is With a Morning Offering

If anyone wishes to live everyday for Christ, then I would say that the best way to begin this is by saying a Morning Offering:

"O my Jesus, through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I offer You all of my prayers, works, joys, and sufferings for all of the intentions of Your Sacred Heart, in union with the holy sacrifice of the Mass throughout the world, in thanksgiving for all of your favours, in reparation for all of my sins, for the reunion of all Christians, the salvation of souls, (here mention your personal requests and others you wish to pray for), and especially I pray for the intentions of the Holy Father."

This is but one part of my own morning prayers, but I believe it is technically the Morning Offering itself.  Regardless, I find that beginning the day with prayer, offering the day before it begins to God, taking even a few minutes just to be with Jesus - this is tantamount to ensuring that one's day is lived truly to one's calling as a Christian.

Though I may fail throughout the day, though I commit sins of all kinds, I have noticed that they are less and less as time goes on, and all of this is through the grace I find in simply offering my day to Christ in prayer before the day even begins.  It sets alight a fire in the heart, and if it is diligently tended throughout the day, almost nothing can upset it and cause it to go out.

Surely, for the day-to-day tasks, some breakfast and coffee are essential for getting started.  But these are for the needs of the body and not the soul.  Therefore, nourish the soul - begin the day right by offering it to Christ.

The Spirituality of the Beguines

Female mystics of the 13th to the 16th centuries who lived the lives of lay monastics without formal vows, the beguines have much to say to Christians of today.  Before I dive in to writing a bit about them, check out the following clip of some singers delivering a beautiful rendition of "Cordis ac vocis" - a little music to listen to whilst reading from some manuscripts found in beguine communities.

The beguines were essentially women who lived lives nearly like nuns of varying religious orders, but still lived in the world and did not take formal religious vows.  In the beginning, from what I can tell, they were quite influenced by the Franciscan order, which to me, is never a bad place to start.  Instead of any kind of formal organization as such, beguine women lived in communities together where they still owned property and the like, but lived lives of prayer and service to the poor.  In some ways, this reminds me much of the Devotio Moderna movement that sprung up a little later on with Geert Grote (a famous figure in this movement being Thomas a Kempis).  

The spirituality of the beguines is rich, mystical, and poetic.  In its earlier days, it seems to have hit its peak in the writings of two of the more famous beguine writers, Mechthild of Magdeburg and the mysterious Hadewijch.  

Mechthild of Magdeburg is a powerful read.  Blessed by countless visions, she was the author of the work known as The Flowing Light of the Godhead, a classic of medieval mysticism.   Her work is a wild combination of frightening visions of Hell interspersed with beatific descriptions of the joy the soul finds in God, and spiced with fiery denunciations of corruption within the Church (an aspect very common, I have found, in the writings of other famous mystics of the time, such as St. Hildegard of Bingen, St. Elizabeth of Schonau, and later on, St. Catherine of Siena).

Hadewijch, on the other hand, is a much more enigmatic figure, of whom really very little is known.  Her poetry is rapturous to read, and her mystical writings were praised by the "Doctor admirabilus" himself, Bl John of Ruysbroeck.  

Other famous individuals include the famed and reportedly "first beguine"1, Bl. Mary of Oignies, who was known to wear all white, engaged in extreme mortifications and penances, was the subject of numerous visions and ecstacies, and lived a life in complete imitation of the Passion of Christ. 

What is saddening is that despite the seemingly fruitful beginnings of the beguine movement, over the next couple of centuries, some beguines began to fall into heretical thought.  The most notable of these, perhaps, is Marguerite de Porete, a beguine executed for heresy circa 1310.  Her work, The Mirror of Simple Souls is experiencing somewhat of an upsurge in interest nowadays, presumably more amongst the same crowd who have somehow warped St. Hildegard of Bingen into a New Age visionary than amongst those genuinely interested in medieval mysticism.  For myself, a quick perusal of the work is alarming at best in what it says.  In its pages, Marguerite espouses a kind of spiritual indifference that is bizarre at best (not even Meister Eckhart in his own more questionable statements goes even half as far as she does), writing that if souls advanced in the Christian life were to be asked "if they wished, in this life, to be certain of their salvation, they would say no"2.  She also goes on to state that the Mass is a matter of indifference - the most profound prayer of the Church itself, of which St. Pio of Pietrelcina wrote that "It would be easier for the earth to carry on without the sun than without the Holy Mass."3

It's a sad thing indeed that the beguines later fell into the heresy of quietism, amongst others by the sounds of it.  But to only focus on the more unorthodox writings of this mystical movement is to ignore what I feel is a fruitful wellspring of what I would call lay monastic spirituality. 

1 - Bernard McGinn, "James of Vitry: The Life of Mary of Oignies", The Essential Writings of Christian Mysticism, pg. 60

2 - The Mirror of Simple Souls, IX

3 - Qtd. in Fr. Charles Mortimer Carty, Padre Pio: The Stigmatist

Upcoming Pilgrimages!

Hi all - just a quick note to anyone who happens to skim this blog once in awhile that I will be in Europe from May 5th to June 4th of this year - though I will not be able to write as much, the good news is that I would like to try to take you all, if only in a virtual manner, to some pilgrimage sites I have lined up for the trip.  I will be posting photos of these places and reflections as time permits.

On the menu, as it were:

1.  Climbing Croagh Patrick, the mountain where St. Patrick himself climbed to the summit and spent 40 days and nights in intense prayer. 

2.  The city of Siena, wherein the incorrupt relic of St. Catherine of Siena's head is kept.

3.  The Grande Chartreuse monastery in the French Alps, famed for the Carthusian Order featured in the excellent film, Into Great Silence.

4.  And finally, a brief stop in Lisieux to see the town in which St. Therese lived. 

I hope to be able to write reflections on all these places and post some photos of them.  Stay tuned.

St. Symeon the New Theologian: The World is Death

"I am overpowered by a shadow and yet I see truth,

which is nothing other than a firm hope.

What sort of hope?  That which eyes have not seen.

What is it?  Life which everyone longs for.

But what is life if not God the creator of all things?

Yearn for Him and hate the world!

The world is death, for what does it have that is not transient?"1

1 - St. Symeon the New Theologian, Hymns of Divine Love, 57

A Short Prayer Pierceth Heaven

"And right as the meditations of them that continually work in this grace and in this work rise suddenly without any means, right so do their prayers. I mean of their special prayers, not of those prayers that be ordained of Holy Church. For they that be true workers in this work, they worship no prayer so much: and therefore they do them, in the form and in the statute that they be ordained of holy fathers before us. But their special prayers rise evermore suddenly unto God, without any means or any premeditation in special coming before, or going therewith.

And if they be in words, as they be but seldom, then be they but in full few words: yea, and in ever the fewer the better. Yea, and if it be but a little word of one syllable, me think it better than of two: and more, too, according to the work of the spirit, since it so is that a ghostly worker in this work should evermore be in the highest and the sovereignest point of the spirit. That this be sooth, see by ensample in the course of nature. A man or a woman, afraid with any sudden chance of fire or of man's death or what else that it be, suddenly in the height of his spirit, he is driven upon haste and upon need for to cry or for to pray after help. Yea, how? Surely, not in many words, nor yet in one word of two syllables. And why is that? For him thinketh it over long tarrying for to declare the need and the work of his spirit. And therefore he bursteth up hideously with a great spirit, and cryeth a little word, but of one syllable: as is this word 'fire,' or this word 'out!'

And right as this little word 'fire' stirreth rather and pierceth more hastily the ears of the hearers, so doth a little word of one syllable when it is not only spoken or thought, but privily meant in the deepness of spirit; the which is the height, for in ghostliness all is one, height and deepness, length and breadth. And rather it pierceth the ears of Almighty God than doth any long psalter unmindfully mumbled in the teeth. And herefore it is written, that short prayer pierceth heaven.

And why pierceth it heaven, this little short prayer of one little syllable? Surely because it is prayed with a full spirit, in the height and in the deepness, in the length and in the breadth of his spirit that prayeth it. In the height it is, for it is with all the might of the spirit. In the deepness it is, for in this little syllable be contained all the wits of the spirit. In the length it is, for might it ever feel as it feeleth, ever would it cry as it cryeth. In the breadth it is, for it willeth the same to all other that it willeth to itself.

In this time it is that a soul hath comprehended after the lesson of Saint Paul with all saints--not fully, but in manner and in part, as it is according unto this work--which is the length and the breadth, the height and the deepness of everlasting and all-lovely, almighty, and all witting God. The everlastingness of God is His length. His love is His breadth. His might is His height. And His wisdom is His deepness. No wonder though a soul that is thus nigh conformed by grace to the image and the likeness of God his maker, be soon heard of God! Yea, though it be a full sinful soul, the which is to God as it were an enemy; an he might through grace come for to cry such a little syllable in the height and the deepness, the length and the breadth of his spirit, yet he should for the hideous noise of his cry be always heard and helped of God.

See by example. He that is thy deadly enemy, an thou hear him so afraid that he cry in the height of his spirit this little word 'fire,' or this word 'out'; yet without any beholding to him for he is thine enemy, but for pure pity in thine heart stirred and raised with the dolefulness of this cry, thou risest up--yea, though it be about midwinter's night--and helpest him to slack his fire, or for to still him and rest him in his distress. Oh, Lord! since a man may be made so merciful in grace, to have so much mercy and so much pity of his enemy, notwithstanding his enmity, what pity and what mercy shall God have then of a ghostly cry in soul, made and wrought in the height and the deepness, the length and the breadth of his spirit; the which hath all by nature that man hath by grace? And much more, surely without comparison, much more mercy will He have; since it is, that that thing that is so had by nature is nearer to an eternal thing than that which is had by grace."1

1 - The Cloud of Unknowing, ch. 37-38.  Translation from the Christian Classics Ethereal Library.

Contemplating the Finding of the Child Jesus in the Temple

There was a time when I contemplated the mystery of the finding of the child Jesus in the temple that my focus was held solely on the anxiety that the Virgin Mary and St. Joseph must have felt at having lost their child.  I meditated on the panic they must have felt, and even how on earth He could have been lost in the first place - surface elements of the mystery itself.

However, when praying the rosary the other day, it came to me that there is an element of this mystery that I have been missing the whole time - that of the young Jesus in the temple amongst the wise men.  The Scriptures say that Jesus sat "among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions.  Everyone who heard  him was amazed at his understanding and his answers." (Luke 2:46-47)

I often say that "theology is simply philosophy with answers", and here I see this in action.  The very Word, the Son of God Himself sits among the wise men with the answer, which is Himself. They are astounded by His questions and His answers, and their own wisdom becomes minute, nothing in the face of Wisdom itself, "the Wisdom, in, by and through whom all are wise who are wise"1. 

I see in this mystery that Christ Himself is the answer, the fount of all knowledge, Wisdom itself, the final goal of which is knowledge and contemplation of God, the Holy Trinity without beginning or en, where we "contemplate Him in His Essence and most perfect Being"2.  "How great is that light from which shines out every truth that lightens the reasoning mind!"3

We see, when contemplating this mystery, that "the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God" (1 Cor. 3:19).  All of the wisdom of these men in the temple was answered and fulfilled by Christ who sat their discoursing amongst them.  Every question that was brought forth was answered. 

So it is that we must, if we wish to know the truth of all things, sit at the feet of the divine Master, He Who is Wisdom, Love, and Truth itself. 

1 - St. Augustine, The Soliloquies, I:3
2 - St. Alonso de Orozco, Mount of Contemplation, XII
3 - St. Anselm of Canterbury, Proslogion, XIV

What Are You Doing With Your Time?

A good friend once asked me, in response to my thoughts on many prayers throughout the day and not knowing when I could have the time for them all, "What are you doing with your time?"

This question has been at the back of my mind for some time now - truly, what am I doing with my time?  When I could be praying, when I could be applying myself to works of mercy, when I could be engaged in focusing more on my life in Christ, what am I doing instead?  What has distracted me?

Often enough, I find it is my own slothfulness that gets in the way; though prayer is truly a wonderful thing, it seems as though the mind wishes to "put it over there" for a time - after all, God is not going anywhere.  But then, what is more important?  God must be the center of our lives, and we should imitate the early Christians where "all the words of Christ entered deeply into the fabric of daily life."1

So when I am not praying, I must ask myself what has distracted me, what has stolen my heart away from its primary gaze which should always be on God?  Some might say our daily work; I say, let this be a prayer too.

And yet, the problem of the busy nature of the modern world can begin to distract us severely.  But then again, one can always retreat into the inner cell of the heart to pray in secret while doing anything.  Though it is helpful and good to have a set time and place for prayer that is conducive to raising our minds to God, this is obviously not always possible.

Instead, we must pray while we drive to work, while we make dinner, while we are surrounded by the noise of the modern world, while we are active during the day, and while we lay ourselves down at night - in other words, constantly, thus forming our lives into one continuous prayer - "life is for all men a serious matter, and it ought not to be spent recklessly."2

Therefore, whatever it is that is distracting me away from prayer must be put aside, even if that only means a retreat into the heart.  Because of this secret cell that we all carry within us, we are able to overcome every distraction, and pray not only when we wish to or feel like it, but always.

1 - Fr. Matthew the Poor, The Communion of Love, 25
2 - Elisabeth Leseur, "Living the Spiritual Life"

The World Must Be Our Monastery and the Heart Our Cell

From the film, Into Great Silence

The world must be our monastery.  As Christians, we are not called to escape from the world - as St. Paul says, "the world is crucified to me, and I to the world" (Gal. 6:14).  St. John Chrysostom tells us the meaning of these words - "What he here calls the world is not the heaven nor the earth, but the affairs of life, the praise of men, retinues, glory, wealth, and all such things as have a show of splendor. To me these things are dead. Such an one it behooves a Christian to be, and always to use this language. Nor was he content with the former putting to death, but added another, saying, and I unto the world, thus implying a double putting to death, and saying, They are dead to me, and I to them, neither can they captivate and overcome me, for they are dead once for all, nor can I desire them, for I too am dead to them. Nothing can be more blessed than this putting to death, for it is the foundation of the blessed life."1

In essence, we are to live in the world, but not according to it.  This is precisely what it means, to me, to make the world our monastery.

Too often, and forgivably so in my opinion, the monastery and the convent all appear to those of us on the outside as little paradises, and no doubt in many ways they are.  But let us consider too that they are filled with fellow humans just like us, with all their faults and failings, and interpersonal struggles with each other.  As Abbot Tryphon, Orthodox priest and author for The Morning Offering once wrote, if one can't make it in the world with others, then they certainly won't survive in the monastery (not a verbatim quote obviously).  I imagine he's right.

I think many of us are familiar by now with the anecdotes found within, say, the writings of St. Therese of Lisieux, where she spoke of everyday annoyances and the like in the convent, how one sister "could not stop fidgeting"2, how "one kept on splashing [her] with dirty water"3, and the like.  One can see that the same irritations of everyday life that we all experience in our own lives are not somehow gone in this kind of life.

So it is in our own lives, for those of us who live in the thick of the trappings of the world.  Having been called by Christ, and engrafted into Him by virtue of Holy Baptism, we must carry Him in the cell of our own hearts, and proceed to treat the world as our monastery.  There is no reason why we may not do this.

For myself, I consider how my dayjob as a dairy worker can be my monastery where my work can become a prayer.  The dairy becomes the place where I pray, my co-workers are my brothers and sisters, and more and more each day, I realize how I must shine the light of Christ in this place and live out my vocation as a disciple of Christ even in the most menial of work.

Whether called by God, by another to a deeper interior life, or by necessity such as a illness or sudden calamity, as St. John Cassian relates4, those of us in the world too are called to make the world that we live in our own monastery by virtue of such callings.  The world, the things of this world, all of this is to be secondary to Christ.  This is how we cultivate our own monastery, how we may "abide in that mountain which has filled the whole world"5, which is the Church.

The cell itself is the heart, wherein we commune with God in silence and in adoration - where we pray "to Him in secret with all warmth of spirit and with living faith"6, where we find the strength and love to transform the world around us by our turning our hearts to Christ, and by allowing Him to dwell within us.  By doing this, we can always remain undisturbed by the crashing waves of the world that beat upon us - in this way, we always have a place to rest and to be with the one who loves us beyond all love.  "Purify your heart of every human passion, humble yourself to the earth, and pray."7

1 - Homily VI on Galations
2 - Story of a Soul, X
3 - ibid.
4 - Conferences, 3:4
5 - St. Augustine, Homilies on First John, I:8
6 - St. Dimitri of Rostov, The Inner Closet of the Heart, qtd. in The Art of Prayer: An Orthodox Anthology, pg. 46
7 - St. Pio of Pietrelcina, qtd. in Fr. Charles Mortimer Carty, Padre Pio: The Stigmatist, pg. 243

Reason For Less Posts Lately

Hi all,

As anyone who reads this blog knows, my posts are usually much more frequent than they have been lately.  The reason for this is that my keyboard has been taken ill, and it is nearly impossible to type as of late.  Hopefully, in the next few days my new replacement keyboard will be here. 

Thank you again to all who take the time to peruse this poor sinner's blog. 

ICXC NIKA

Jason.

The Agony in the Garden

"Such is the message of the Cross to each one of us.  However far I have to travel through the valley of the shadow of death, I am never alone."1

"From Bethlehem to the Cross He was abandoned by the world that surrounded Him, repudiated, persecuted, finally accused, condemned and crucified.  Such is man's attack upon Him, upon God Himself"2.  When I contemplate the mystery of the Agony in the Garden, I see all of the persecution and hardship that Christ endured coming to a headway, a point wherein it is all culminated. 

How terrifying it would be if it was we who were called, knowingly, to die in such a manner!  "And especially at that moment, when the combat of death was close at hand and the sheep which the devoted Shepherd had embraced with tender affection were about to be dispersed and left abandoned, the imagination of death was so horrible to Christ's sensible nature that he said 'Father, if it be possible, let this chalice pass from me' (Matt. 26:9)."3

For myself, I have always taken comfort in the mystery of the Agony in the Garden, that Christ took upon Himself all of the terror, worry, and hopelessness of that situation, knowing full well that many would reject Him still, that for centuries onwards he would still be held up in derision and mocked and jeered at by the world.  He still is today.  

So what are to learn from this mystery?  Many things, more than could ever be put down in a bit of brief writing here.  But one central thing comes again and again to me when pondering this mystery - that we are to take heart, to take courage.  As St. John of Kronstadt tells us: "Unite your soul to God by means of hearty faith and you will be able to accomplish everything.  Do powerful, invisible, ever-watchful enemies wage war against you?  You will conquer them.  Are these enemies visible, outward?  You will conquer them also.  Do passions rend you?  You will overcome them.  Are you crushed with sorrows?  You will get over them.  Have you fallen into despondency?  You will obtain courage.  With faith you will be able to conquer everything, and even the Kingdom of Heaven will be yours"4.

1 - Met. Kallistos Ware, The Orthodox Way, ch. 4

2 - Karl Barth, Dogmatics in Outline, 15

3 - St. Bonaventure, The Tree of Life, 18

4 - My Life in Christ, qtd. in G. P. Fedotov A Treasury of Russian Spirituality

Remembering to Pray for the Dead

One thing I always forget as a Catholic is to pray for the dead.  The Church Suffering (those in purgatory) seem so often forgotten, and yet how often do I myself pray for the souls in purgatory at all?  Hardly ever.

This is odd, for I know that if I die in a state of grace and friendship with God, it will most certainly, in my case, be my destination.  And I know that, for myself, I would dearly wish for those still alive to pray for my soul if I was there.

But perhaps this is all based on a kind of medieval fear that is rooted in imagery rather than reality.  St. Catherine of Genoa, the famed mystic, tells us that "No tongue can express, no mind can understand, how dreadful purgatory is.  Its pain is like that of hell..."1.  And yet, she also adds that "any soul with the least stain of imperfection accept[s] it as a mercy, not thinking it of any moment when compared with being kept from its Love"2.

Regardless, St. John Chrysostom urges us to "help those who have died and to offer our prayers for them"3.  And if God has ordained it so that our prayers are an act of mercy and compassion for the souls in purgatory, then we should engage in such prayers, for "suffering has ended for the blessed, but not love"4.  This same love, Love itself, is what purifies those same souls; that is, "the purgatory of God's burning love"5. 

Now, I of course do not know of the effects of the prayers for the dead in my own life, but rather only by reading of it in the Scriptures and the accounts of the saints.  What I do know is this - that if our prayers aid them in their sufferings and console those of the Church Suffering, then there is no reason why we should not daily pray for them.  Which one of us would refuse the prayers of the Church Militant for our own souls if we are the ones languishing there instead?  I would think none. 

1 - Treatise on Purgatory, ch. 9
2 - ibid.
3 - Homilies on 1 Corinthians, 41:5
4 - St. Catherine of Siena, Dialogue, 82
5 - St. Catherine of Genoa, Treatise on Purgatory, ch. 1

Submitting to the Will of God in Everyday Life

"...I now see clearly that, if there is any path at all on which I can approach You, it must lead through the very middle of my ordinary daily life."1

Last Saturday morning, nay, the entire work week was essentially comprised of everything that sends me hurtling straight for the confessional.  Since I was a child, I have never been that "balanced" when it comes to what I love and what I do not love doing.  So one can imagine that the normal, everyday grind of the work week is not exactly something I love.

But the other day, my workplace was a disaster, and I had gotten to the point of absolutely fed up.  In this particular spiritual arena, I fall multiple times into sin, and this was no exception.  I was so angry from a entire work week of screw-ups, angry customers, poor work ethic, and all the rest of it, that I decided to simply take a walk and cool off.

Dawn and twilight are two of my favorite times - the sun not being fully risen or fully set is beyond beautiful to me.  After having grabbed a bit of breakfast, I went for a walk down a wooded path still relatively untouched by development.

The silence of the morning, randomly punctuated by an occasional chirp or song from the local birdlife, has a soothing effect on the soul.  I began to pray as I walked, in between sips of some orange juice, and asked forgiveness of God for my impatience towards others, my uncharitable language, and all the rest.  And then it hit me that all of this struggle and frustration was simply because of one thing: I was not submitting to the will of God in my everyday life.

For me at least, serving God in my life is not something I picture as working in a cold dairy putting milk on a shelf.  Serving God in my life is not dealing with rude customers who seem to have no other desire than to vent their own frustrations and anger on me for lack of anyone else to do so to.

But the words ring in my ears: "Nothing in life is accidental.  He who believes in accident does not believe in God"2.  God is in charge.  So, I thought, perhaps that unworked skid of stock left undealt with is there for a reason - perhaps I am to work it without complaint, to go the extra mile.  Perhaps I am being taught not to jump to conclusions about others.  Or perhaps it is a test to see whether or not I will lose my temper over it.  But it is there because God wills my day to be like this.  I need to learn patience, I often say to myself; and is this not God teaching me the very thing?

When I took my crucifix out of my pocket and gazed upon it for a little bit, it came to me that I am resisting, through my little everyday actions, being nailed to the cross with Christ by submitting my will to His, by allowing Him to guide my every action, even right down to the little and mundane everyday things.  As the saying goes, if I am unable to be faithful in little things, how can I be faithful in the big things?  "These little sacrifices bring great peace of soul,but I often let the chance of making them slip by"3.

1 - Karl Rahner, Encounters With Silence, VI
2 - Fr. Alexander Yelchaninov, Fragments of a Diary
3 - St. Therese of Lisieux, Story of a Soul, X

10 South American Saints Every Catholic Should Know

In honor of our new Holy Father from Argentina, Pope Francis, the following is a list of 10 South American saints every Catholic should know.  I have often remarked that South America seems to be a continent that is never talked about much, and the same seems to have gone for many of its saints.  Aside from one or two, many of these saints are new to me as well.

A quick note - some might notice that such saints as St. Francis Solanus and St. Peter Claver are missing.  This is because I only chose saints and blesseds who were born in South America, excluding major evangelizing saints from other countries who had a tremendous effect on the countries there (St. Peter Claver and St. Francis of Solano were both from Spain, for example).

1.  St. Narcisa de Jesus (Ecuador)

Now here is a fascinating figure.  Much like St. Catherine of Siena who seems to have inspired a great part of the spiritual life of many women saints, St. Narcisa was a laywoman whose life was marked by much of the same devotional and penitential aspects as that of St. Catherine.  Indeed, a line can be drawn fro St. Catherine down to St. Rose of Lima, then to St. Maryane de Jesus de Paredes to St. Narcisa - all of these saints lived as tertiaries of religious orders (Dominican and Franciscan), and lived lives of extreme penance and charity to others.

St. Narcisa lived the same form of life, albeit she remained a laywoman throughout it.  Her life was marked by sanctity at a very young age, and her time was often spent in prayer under a guava tree that is a pilgrimage site to this day.  Later on, she spent much time in caring for abandoned children and the impoverished, before finally entering a Dominican convent as a consecrated virgin laywoman, and spending the rest of her life there.  Her acts of mortification were much along the same lines as St. Rose of Lima and St. Maryanne de Paredes, and she spent eight hours a day in prayer.  Upon her death, her body was found to be incorrupt.  

2.  St. Alberto Hurtado (Chile)

It seems to me that St. Alberto is a perfect living corrective to the misinterpretation of "social justice" that has come into the Church as of late, something which I really feel that Pope Francis is going to correct as we speak.

St. Alberto Hurtado was a father to the poor, and actively was involved in bringing the Gospel of Christ into the realm of hard labor, trade unions, and everyday work that would barely garner enough wages to scrape together a living.  He brought Christian values into the world of labor unions, fought to restore the Church from within by calling for better catechesis, and founded shelters lumped under the name of Hogar de Christo (Home of Christ) for taking care of poor and abandoned children.

3.  St. Marianne de Jesus de Paredes (Ecuador)

I first heard about St. Marianne when I was studying the life of St. Rose of Lima.  In much the same way, St. Marianne lived a reclusive life as a Franciscan tertiary (rather than a Dominican tertiary like St. Rose).  Her life is a hard one to approach, let alone even begin to understand due to the mortifications she inflicted on herself.

The "Lily of Quito" and first canonized saint of Ecuador, St. Marianne was known as a saint before her death by the locals.  Only leaving her home to attend Mass, St. Marianne's life was filled with some of the most extreme penances ever known, much along the same lines of Bl. Henry Suso.  She was blessed with many spiritual gifts, including the ability to read consciences, ecstacies, and the ability to heal others through merely making the sign of the cross over them. 

4.  Bl. Mercedes de Jesus Molina (Ecuador)

Known as the "Rose of Baba and Guayaquil" in her home country, Bl. Mercedes was a contemporary of St. Narcisa de Jesus.  After having suffered the shock of a bad fall from a horse, her life quickly became one of penance and pious devotion to Christ.  She spent most of her life taking care of abandoned children, although she also helped the Jesuits in missionary work amongst the Native populations.  She also founded the order known as the Sisters of Mariana de Jesus (named after the saint above). 

5.  St. Rose of Lima (Peru)

“If only mortals would learn how great it is to possess divine grace, how beautiful, how noble, how precious. How many riches it hides within itself, how many joys and delights! No one would complain about his cross or about troubles that may happen to him, if he would come to know the scales on which they are weighed when they are distributed to men.”1

St. Rose of Lima's ardent love of the Crucified is something that I can barely even begin to comprehend.  Much like many saints in the Christian West, her life was lived in complete devotion to the Passion of Jesus.

Living life as a Dominican tertiary, St. Rose of Lima spent her days living in a shack in a garden. Her entire life was marked visions and mystical experiences, as well as extreme mortifications, and yet, as with so many who engaged in such penances, was known for her charity and love of the poor, whom she supported through her embroidery work and gardening.

6.  St. Frei Galvao (Brazil)

Formally known as St. Anthony of Saint Ann, St. Frei Galvao was an educated Franciscan, devoted son of the Blessed Virgin, and confessor and spiritual director to a collective of lay recluses known as the "Recollection of St. Teresa".

He was known for all kinds of mystical elements in his life, and was one of those saints known for bilocation, as well as levitation and the reading of consciences.  Strangely enough, he is also associated with paper rolled into little pills that allegedly have been associated with several miraculous cures of terminal and/or incurable diseases, with the words "After childbirth thou didst remain a Virgin: O Mother of God, intercede for us" written on the paper.

7.  Bl. Laura of St. Catherine of Siena (Colombia)

Bl. Laura's life seems to have been an extremely full and busy one - originally an elementary school teacher, she began to serve as a missionary to the Native populations in her country.  With a handful of companions, she ministered to the Natives, fought racial discrimanation against them, and is known today as a defender of Native rights there.  She also founded a religious order known as the Congregation of Missionary Sisters of Immaculate Mary and of Saint Catherine of Siena (quite the mouthful!).

Interestingly enough, she is due to be officially canonized by Pope Francis on the 12th of May this year!

8.  St. Teresa of the Andes (Chile)

A true spiritual daughter of St. Therese of Lisieux, St. Teresa of the Andes was of the same order, the Discalced Carmelites, and was even inspired to enter the religious life by reading St. Therese's autobiography, Story of a Soul.  Like the Little Flower, she wrote many letters of correspondence with others concerning the Christian life which are beyond rapturous in their mystical content.

As with St. Therese, she died at the very young age of nineteen, just a few months after having entered the Carmelite order.

9.  Bl. Ceferino Namuncura (Argentina)

Bl. Ceferino is one popular blessed amongst the peoples of Argentina.  Born of the indigenous Mapuche people of the region, Bl. Ceferino was almost a kind of South American version of a St. Dominic Savio, though he outlived that young saint by a few years.

Educated under the care of the Salesians of St. John Bosco, the famous priest and visionary, Bl. Ceferino grew in virtue and holiness, eventually visiting Pope St. Pius X and studying for the priesthood.  Unfortunately, the "Lily of Patagonia" succumbed to tuberculosis and died at the tender age of nineteen.

He is the first beatified indigenous South American, and his reputation as a beloved member of his people and of God's Holy Church continues to this day.  

10.  St. Paulina (Brazil)
  
Brazil's first canonized saint, St. Paulina's life of virtue began at a young age, and was lived in spite of the heavy cross of suffering diabetes for most of her life.  Living in a time before it was really treatable, she ended up having to go through two amputations and succumbed to blindness near the end of her life.  And yet, through all of this, she soldiered on in service to the poor and sick, founding the Little Sisters of the Immaculate Conception, and also taking on the care of elderly slaves and their children who were unable to work. 

To this day, she is known as the unofficial patron saint of those suffering with diabetes.

1 - From here.

Of Knights in Shining Armor and Pope Francis

A part of me wanted the new Holy Father to come storming out of the conclave in a burst of triumphant glory, ready with hammer of heretics in hand, ready to restore the Church, ready to fix everything, to reform the reform, and all the rest.  Instead, a very different figure emerged from the conclave.

Our new Holy Father Pope Francis I's motto and choice of name are very interesting - "miserando atque eligendo", translated as "lowly and yet chosen". He asked the audience to pray for him.  I hear he rides the bus, lives simply, eats simply, and the like.  This really got me thinking.

I remember learning at a very young age how shocking Jesus was even to His own disciples as the Messiah.  They expected him to ride in as a knight in shining armor and fix everything - overthrow the Romans, do away with the hypocrisy of the Pharisees, and set up a literal kingdom right then and there.  The people who followed Him expected this.

Instead, he allowed Himself to be put to death in the most heinous way imaginable.  He submitted the entire way and was put to death like a common rabble-rouser.  No riotous overthrow of the existing order in a visible coup, just a life of humility and love.

This got me thinking about what I had hoped to see right from the get-go from the Holy Father.  Granted, I know little about him - but in my mind, I thought it would be Cardinal Burke who would come thundering out of the conclave and would set all aright.  This lets me know my own selfish nature - it was all about who did I want for a pope, not who did God desire and ordain to govern His Holy Church.  I wanted someone to simply come in and clean house, restore and rebuild over night, and then we could all go forward and be Catholic.

What is funny is that I imagine that I would be one of the first sinners swept out in such a spring cleaning.  I am not a perfect Catholic, only a loyal one.

But I am hopeful in the humility of Pope Francis, the new Vicar of Christ.  As our Lord says, "whoever humbles himself will be exalted" (Matt. 23:12).  Very few, I think, had the humility of the Seraphic Father himself, St. Francis of Assisi.  And the mere fact that the Holy Father has taken the name of St. Francis gives me high hopes for the rebuilding of the Church. 

He is Also a God of Mercy

"Oh, supreme delicacy of thoughtfulness!  Should we have been able to imagine that wonderful mercy if we had not seen it come to us in wretchedness?  Should we have been able even to conceive of that unknown compassion toward us if the impassibility which is everlasting had not come to us in the Passion?"

-St. Bernard of Clairvaux1

It's funny how, for me, God began as a buddy figure watching over me, and then somehow morphed into a tyrannical nightmare just waiting to pop out of the sky and blow everyone to Hell.  I'm not exaggerating - this was the way I grew up.  Years later, I am still trying to recover from these views.

I am one of those people who cannot help but be overcome by the glory of God, His creation that surrounds as a gift to be enjoyed and taken care of, and just how "other" God is in every way, and yet how infinitely close He is to us.

But I still struggle with God's Justice - I am frightened of it, perhaps because I know what it is I deserve in the end, perhaps because I am always acutely aware of my own sins and failings, and what the wages of these sins are.  I struggle all the time with forgetting almost completely that God is infinitely merciful. 

And yet the Lord says to us, "As I live, saith the Lord God, I desire not the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way, and live" (Ezekiel 33:11), and if "he do penance for his sin, and do judgment and justice, and if that wicked man restore the pledge, and render what he had robbed, and walk in the commandments of life, and do not unjust thing: he shall surely live, and shall not die" (Ezekiel 33:14-15). 

What consoling words for me these are!  We all have a chance to turn from our wickedness, to amend our lives - "Consider that I have set before thee this day life and good, and on the other hand death and evil" (Deut. 30:15), says the Lord - "For thou art the God, even the God of them that repent; and in me thou wilt shew all thy goodness; for thou wilt save me, that am unworthy, according to thy great mercy (Prayer of Manasses). 

Of course, God's mercy does not give us license to sin; we are not to presume upon His mercy, and then go forth into a life of licentiousness.  No, we are to live in God's mercy, trusting in it rather than presuming upon it.  No matter how hard our fall into sin might be, we must trust in the Divine Mercy of God, always, lest we fall into despair.

Let us pray, "Most merciful Lord, turn my lukewarmness into a fervent love for you... My Lord and my Creator, you bear with me and nourish me - be my helper"2, for the "Son of God directs a merciful gaze upon people"3. 

1 - On Humility and Pride, III:12
2 - St. Anselm of Canterbury, "Prayer to Christ"
3 - St. Hildegard of Bingen, Scivias, III:20

The Saint Who Drank From a Skull

Picture yourself wearing the meanest of medieval garments, exhausted from self-discipline and long prayer through the night, no doubt emaciated from a diet of nothing but the coarsest and dirtiest bread crusts received from beggars in exchange for your own fresh bread, your only drink being water from a human skull.

Such descriptions are in accord with what I have read of the life of the mystic whose feast day it is today - St. Frances of Rome.  Married for most of her life before losing everything in the style of Job, St. Frances' life was one of extraordinary mortification of herself along with selfless love towards others.  She founded a religious order known as a the Collatines or Oblates as well.

Now, perhaps it is incredibly difficult to understand the use of a skull for a cup, alongside her other extreme mortifications.  But if one looks closely at many images of the saints, one will notice often in the artwork the use of a skull somewhere.  In pictures of everyone from St. Jerome to St. Francis of Assisi, to photographs of the skulls of the Eastern Orthodox monks of Mt. Athos, the memento mori plays a very important part in the spiritual life of the saints.  In essence, it is a visible reminder that from dust we came, and to dust we shall return, a kind of briefer aesthetic version of Ecclesiastes that one could have on hand at all times to meditate upon.  This is at least why I have come to think that the saints are often seen with the image of a memento mori somewhere in their depictions. 

St. Frances of Rome, from what I have read, enjoyed the visible presence of her guardian angel at all times - during the night hours, she was able to read and pray by the light that the angel gave off.  Interestingly enough, it is related that "when she was betrayed into some particular defect, he faded from her sight; and when some light words were spoken before her, he covered his face in shame"1.

What is even interesting concerning her mystical experiences is that of all the saints, St. Frances' visions of Hell and its denizens were freqeunt occurrences.  In her visions, she describes the hierarchy in Hell, the workings of the fallen angels against man, and a whole of host of other vivid descriptions, proving indeed that "our wrestling is not against flesh and blood; but against principalities and powers, against the rules of the world of this darkness, against the spirits of wickedness in high places" (Eph. 6:12):

1 - Butler's Lives of the Saints, "March 9 - St. Frances of Rome", 1894 ed.

Endeavor To Be Crucified With Christ

I pondered this thought all day - "Endeavor to be crucified with Christ."

After morning prayer, this one sentence rang out in my mind.  What ever could it mean?  How are we to be crucified with Christ?

St. Paul wrote that "with Christ I am nailed to the cross" (Gal. 2:20).  To me, this refers to the meek obedience of Jesus - "He was led  as a sheep to the slaughter, and like a lamb dumb before his shearer" (Acts 8:32).  I have yet to see the feel-good spirituality that Christianity seems to have been made into - we are called to glory, yes, but this glory can only come by way of the cross.  This is why we need to count the cost before giving our lives to Christ - how many of us would if we saw the hardships that lie in wait ahead simply by our doing so?  For "they shall deliver you up to be afflicted, and shall put you to death: and you shall be hated by all nation's for my name's sake" (Matt. 24:9).  This prospect is something I struggle greatly with - I am a coward, and am easily overcome by fear.

St. Padre Pio tells us to "Remember: that a bad man who is ashamed of the wrong things he is doing, is nearer to God than a good man who blushes at doing the right thing"1.  And how many times am I this man?  How many sins of omission have I committed in simply refusing to bear the cross of Christ when it is presented to me in my daily life?

What I mean is this - we are to deny ourselves.  We are to go against our grain, that corrupted nature within us that fights us tooth and nail, that tells us not to take the time to help that person because we can't stand them or the instinct that tells us to complain and break down every time we encounter a hardship, and the like.  "Remember that when you entered religion, you proposed to express in yourself the life of the Crucified"2.

How does this expression take place?  We must climb the cross and allow ourselves to be crucified upon it with Christ; that is, to be humble, obedient, charitable unto death.  To give ourselves for the sake of the other, to never look back to the world that offers us so much comfort and pleasure, but to place our souls upon the rough wood of the cross, to allow the nails to be driven through our passions and sinful inclinations, and to allow ourselves to be fixed to the cross of Christ.

"You should surrender yourself and all that you have to me freely, and never take it back.  Everything that is not a necessity should remain untouched by you.  Then your hands are truly nailed to my cross.  Embark upon good works joyfully and perservere in them steadfastly.  Then your left foot is fastened.  Make your capricious spirit and distracted mind constant and firm in me.  Then your right foot has been placed on my cross.  Your spiritual and bodily powers should not be paralyzed in tepidity.  With my arms as a model they should be stretched out and twisted in my service.  In praise of my divine body your frail body should often grow weary and be powerless to fulfill its own desires.  Many an unexpected suffering will press you to me in the narrow confinement of my cross.  From this you will become lovable and the color of blood, as I am"3.  It is also "with the memory of the Lord's cross, [that] we shall manage to destroy the lairs of the wild beasts within us and the hiding places of the venomous serpents"4.

"As can be seen...our Faith is a suffering Faith; and in this suffering, something goes on which helps the heart to receive God's revelation"5.  But it is the very thought of the journey ahead upon the Royal Road of the Cross that frightens me.  I am terrified at the thought of any kind of suffering, and yet when my life as a Christian is without some form of suffering, I begin to wonder if I'm doing it wrong, so to speak.

And yet, again, when I am confronted with the prospect of the cross in some area of my life, do I not recoil from it like one would pull their hand back from a flame?  My life as a young man living in the western world is easy at worst, and the tiniest sign of suffering, the slightest inconvenience, and I am giving into my sinful nature once more, either through fear or impatience or some other vice.

All of this speaks to me of one thing - that being crucified with Christ is the process of denial of self and an obedient and humble submission to the will of God in one's life.  Does not St. Paul say that "I see another law in my members, fighting against the law of my mind, and captivating me in the law of sin" (Romans 7:23), and "the good which I will, I do not; but the evil which I will not, that I do" (Romans 7:19)?  Something within us fights against bearing the cross of Christ in any way it can - our predisposition to sin is awakened within us by all kinds of things, and we are always tempted to lay aside the cross, to come down from our cross, and supposedly save ourselves.


Scoff as others might at us as we are progressively crucified with Christ in our lives, we must realize that it is in this that we truly imitate the Lord and find our salvation in Him.

1 - qtd. in Fr. Charles Mortimer Carty, Padre Pio: The Stigmatist, pg. 242
2 - St. Teresa Margaret of the Heart of Jesus, qtd. in Fr. Gabriel of St. Mary Magdalene, Divine Intimacy, 93
3 - Bl. Henry Suso, Little Book of Eternal Wisdom, ch. 5
4 - St. John Cassian, Conferences, I:22
5 - Fr. Seraphim Rose, God's Revelation to the Human Heart, pg. 30

The Prayer of Dionysius the Areopagite

Exploring the Burning Bush

Image from Icon Reader.

There is tremendous mystery contained within the account of the burning bush in Exodus.  I have always been fascinated by this passage.

On the surface, the passage is quite familiar to me from my years growing up in the Adventist church.  I remember taking it all in a very surface way - there was a burning bush, God was in it somehow, and spoke to Moses from it, telling him to go and free his people from their slavery.  Fair enough.  But when I thought about it later on as a teen, it became no more than an account of a delusion sprinkled with mythical flourishes.

Now it is different to me.  In this account, God declares who He is - "I AM WHO AM" (Ex. 3:14).  Bl. John Duns Scotus, that eminent Franciscan theologian, says of this passage: "O Lord our God, when Moses thy servant asked Thee, the most true teacher, about thy Name, so that he might tell it to the Children of Israel, Thou, knowing what the intellect of mortals could conceive of Thee, didst answer: I AM WHO AM, thus disclosing thy Blessed Name.  Thou art true Being, Thou art total Being"1 - this "fixes the gaze primarily and principally on Being itself, saying that God's primary name is He who is"2.  

This is something to be pondered deeply - God's declaration of His name as "I AM WHO AM" is such a rich statement that I think it could be ruminated on forever.  I AM - in this is implied that with God, there is no past or future, only present - "Know that no one can escape My hands, for I am who I am, whereas you have no being at all of yourselves.  What being you have is my doing; I am the Creator of everything that has any share in being"3.  St. Jerome writes that "There is one nature of God and one only; and this alone, truly is"4.  Philo of Alexandria, the learned Jewish theologian, agrees when he writes that God is the one "to Whom alone existence belongs"5.

One interesting interpretation of the burning bush account comes from St. Gregory of Nyssa, who speaks on the Blessed Virgin Mary:

"From this we learn also the mystery of the Virgin: The light of divinity which through birth shone from her into human life did not consume the burning bush, even as the flower of her virginity was not withered by giving birth."6

But let us delve further.  Last night, a guest priest delivered a homily on how the Scriptures are too familiar to us Catholics.  Instantly, memories of reading the common Protestant accusation in the past of how Catholics were not encouraged to read the Scriptures and the like jumped into my head.  But then the priest continued - he said that we must read the Scriptures anew again, everytime we read them.  Too often, he said, it happens that we hear a particular passage in Scripture and simply say, "Oh yes, I remember that part," and block off any wisdom that might come from feeding upon the inspired texts.

This made me think - are not, then, the Scriptures themselves much like the burning bush?  They are, or should be, always new, always fresh, always vital and alive, never consumed into a heap of familiar ashes that blow away in humdrum winds.  They are what they are, they stand as they stand - timeless.

We should be able, every time we open the Scriptures, to understand them in ever deeper and new ways.  As a Catholic, I have learned that reading the Scriptures is not about picking out a verse or two here and there, but reading the Scriptures as a living organic whole.  Scripture itself is alive and always vital.

But there is more to be learned from the burning bush.  In a way, I see ourselves as being called to be like burning bushes - on fire because of God dwelling within us, and yet never consumed.  We are to be living flames, "lamps of fire!  In whose splendors the deep caverns of feeling, once obscure and blind, now give forth, so rarely, so exquisitely, both warmth and light to their beloved"7.

We are to be consumed by the love of God, and yet somehow never consumed but continually burning with it.  We are to be completely aflame, but never burnt to ashes and dust.

Just some thoughts on the burning bush.

1 - De Primo Principio, Ch. 1
2 - St. Bonaventure, The Soul's Journey Into God, V
3 - St. Catherine of Siena, The Dialogue, 18
4 - "Letter XV: To Pope Damasus"
5 - Vit. Mos., 1:14:75
6 - The Life of Moses, II;21
7 - St. John of the Cross, The Living Flame of Love, stanza 3

The Shining Faces of the Saints, East and West

"The wisdom of a man shineth in his countenance, and the most mighty will change his face."

-Ecclesiastes 8:1

When the subject of the Transfiguration was brought up last week, it was interesting to me to note that the homily at my parish was on not holding on to moments of bliss, of good memory, and the like.  What's funny is that that kind of interpretation has never crossed my mind before when it came to the subject of the Transfiguration.  This mystery has never spoke to me of holding on to a specific wonderful moment, but was instead a declaration of the divinity of Jesus Christ. 

To me, the Transfiguration is something that has been played out in the saints, especially of the East.  The most famous example in my view is from The Acquisition of the Holy Spirit, being a conversation held between St. Seraphim of Sarov and Nicholas Motovilov.  In the dead of winter, in the middle of the deep Russian forests, Motovilov was witness to St. Seraphim's face suddenly being transfigured:

"This grace of God, like a loving mother, has been  pleased to comfort your contrite heart at the intercession of the Mother of God herself.  But why, my dear, do you not look me in the eyes?  Just look, and don't be afraid!  The Lord is with us!

After these words, I glanced at his face and there came over me an even greater reverent awe.  Imagine in the center of the sun, in the dazzling light of its midday rays, the face of a man talking to you.  You see the movement of his lips and the changing expression of his eyes, you hear his voice, you feel someone holding your shoulders; yet you do not see his hands, you do not even see yourself or his figure, but only a blinding light spreading far around for several yards and illumining with its glaring sheen both the snow blanket which covered the forest glade and the snowflakes which besprinkled me and the great Elder."1

In perusing the life and writings of Bl. Henry Suso, the famed Dominican mystic and one of my personal favorite writers, I found this:

"Once, when the servant was preaching with great zeal in Cologne, a beginner was sitting there listening who had just recently turned to God.  When this suffering woman looked at him intently, she saw with her inner eyes that his face began to take on a pleasing brilliance.  Three times it became like the dazzling sun when it shines its brightest.  His face became thereby so limpid that she saw herself in it."2

Accounts of these kinds of things fascinate me - to me, they always confirm how the saints and blesseds live out various passages in the Scriptures in their own lives.

1 - The Acquisition of the Holy Spirit, ch. 7

2 - The Life of the Servant, ch. 44

Paul Tillich and a Sobering Thought

"The madness of the German Nazis and the cruelty of the lynching mobs in the South provide too easy of an excuse for us to turn our thoughts from our own selves.  But let us just consider ourselves and what we feel, when we read, this morning and tonight, that in some sections of Europe all children under the age of three are sick and dying, or that in some sections of Asia millions without homes are freezing and starving to death.  The strangeness of life to life is evident in the strange fact that we can know all this, and yet can live today, this morning, tonight, as though we were completely ignorant."

-from The Shaking of the Foundations, "You Are Accepted", 1949