Mark 10:45

Tag: Gospel

  • Stained Glass Images of God: Friday of the 29th Week of Ordinary Time

    Romans 7:18-25a; Luke 12:54-59

    As a young man I spent several years attending a church that I thought had the most beautiful stained glass windows. I used to love sitting there early in the morning or late in the afternoon, watching how the sunlight made those images so warmly luminescent. I never liked going there at night when most of the lights were out. In the darkness the images appeared so lifeless, dull, and indistinct.

    Those memories came to mind as I thought about today’s readings. Every person conceived in original sin knows firsthand that struggle between light and darkness within ourselves. We have been given both knowledge of the light – what St. Paul calls “the law of God” – and the darkness of concupiscence, or the tendency to do evil – what he calls the “law of sin.” The saints are no different. Stained glass images may depict them as solemn, haloed people in pious postures, but they were flesh and blood just like we are. They felt all the same joys and sorrows and they knew the frustration of feeling trapped in a seemingly endless cycle of knowing the right yet so consistently doing the wrong. It was one of the greatest saints known to us, St. Paul himself, who wrote of this frustration, Miserable one that I am! (Romans 7:24)

    In today’s gospel, Jesus points out why we’re miserable. It is our failure to read the signs of the times and to settle with our opponent. The opponent may be the devil, and it is convenient to blame him, but many times we don’t need his help; we are our own worst enemy. And our enemy knows us very well. When we’re caught up in the darkness of sin and feel its misery, he fools us into thinking that all we need to feel better is more of what made us sick to begin with. This was portrayed perfectly by C.S Lewis in his novel The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Remember how Edmund craved the Turkish Delight? He couldn’t eat enough of it yet the more he ate the worse he felt, the more addicted he became, and the easier he was for the witch to manipulate. Our Turkish Delight may be money, power, or control. We think, “If only I can get more, I will be satisfied,” only to find upon getting it that the emptiness we longed to fill is still there, maybe worse than before. Like those stained glass windows in the dead of night we become lifeless, dull, indistinct images of God. Who couldn’t sympathize with St. Paul as he asks, Who will deliver me from this mortal body? (Romans 7:24)

    Of course, he knew the answer for he says, Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord (Romans 7:25). St. Paul knew that even the darkest night gives way to dawn. What makes a saint a saint is not that they rid themselves of their concupiscence but that they did as Christ taught; they settled the matter on the way. Their repentance set the example for us in three ways. First, they made a firm resolution to turn from the darkness of sin and live in the light of Christ. This happens in Confession when we pray an Act of Contrition, telling God that we are sorry for what we have done not only because we fear his judgment but because our sins have offended him, who is all good and deserving of all our love. Second, the saints amended their lives, which again is obeying the voice of Christ who through St. John the Baptist urged us to show fruits of our repentance (Matthew 3:8). Third, because they knew that they would never in this life be free of concupiscence, the saints spent the rest of their lives cultivating the virtue of hope. They have come to realize once and for all that the redeeming light of Christ is the only sure hope against the ever-looming darkness of sin.

    king-1841529_640That is the image I think of now when I think of saints. Not images set in glass that glow with the sunlight, but people who now and forever glow with the radiance of the one true Light – Christ, the Morning Star who never sets.

    Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord.

  • Know Jesus, Know Peace: Thursday of the 29th Week in Ordinary Time

    Romans 6:19-23; Luke 12:49-53

    Shopping at a nearby grocery store recently I couldn’t help but notice all the Christmas merchandise on display. When I spotted an ornament that said Peace on Earth I was reminded of Jesus in the readings we will soon hear – the prophet Isaiah speaking of the coming Prince of Peace; angels singing of peace on Earth; Luke telling of the whole world being at peace.

    What a stark contrast to today’s gospel, where Jesus says that he has come not to establish peace but division. We might wonder what happened; isn’t this the same Jesus who blessed peacemakers (Matthew 5:9) and so lovingly bid his disciples peace (John 16:33; John 20:19, 21)?

    Yes, but a bit more depth is called for. It is true that Isaiah called the Messiah the Prince of Peace but he also called him a stumbling block (Isaiah 8:14). At his birth the angels did sing of peace but just days later Simeon called him a sign that would be contradicted (Luke 2:33-34). Jesus did bless the peacemakers but he also said that he came to give sight to the blind and to remove it from those who see (John 9:39). Paul said that Jesus is peace (Ephesians 2:14), but Jesus said he is the peace the world cannot give (John 14:27).

    The world cannot do so because the peace of Christ is not merely the lack of war, it is a fruit of the Spirit; the union of wills binding us to each other and to God. Like all fruit, peace takes time to develop and requires trust, patience, and humility. Still, the reward is worth the wait for this is the peace that brings life in abundance and is why Christ came; to reconcile us to the Father by putting the enmity between us to death on the cross, restoring us to right relationship with the Father.

    Our Lord’s words in the gospel must be understood in this context. When he speaks of fire we should think of his love. As from a single flame come light and heat, so from the heart of Christ come mercy and justice. On all who dwell in the darkness of sin and the shadow of death fall the two sides of true peace: the light of his mercy that shines like the dawn and the healing rays of his justice that purify us like silver in a refiner’s fire. And when he speaks of division we should think of pride, for this is what keeps us separated from God and each other. Pride breeds the shame that keeps us in darkness and away from the penetrating light of Christ, as well as the fear of admitting our faults that keeps us away from the healing grace of Confession.

    In calling out these things Christ identifies the battle that rages within each of us: Remain free of God and enslaved to sin, or be free of sin and enslaved to God. The first leads to discord, the second to peace. The choice of peace seems so obvious but as Paul implies in the first reading it is notoriously difficult. Of the many obstacles, the primary one is ourselves. We are our own worst enemy and daily die the death of a thousand cuts; little things that edge us into the darkness. For example, in our free time when we could say a prayer we choose to surf the internet. When we could pick up the phone and reconcile with a long lost brother, sister, parent, or child, we wait for them to call first. When we could volunteer at the food pantry, homeless shelter, or nursing home, we sit back and watch TV.

    knight-2565957_640To win this combat and know the peace of Christ we need the armor of the virtues; prudence, to discern where our good lies; temperance, to know when we should move on; justice, to understand that the love we give our neighbor and God is the love we owe them; and fortitude, to constantly yield our will to that of Christ, for only his is the love that casts out all fear, not only restoring us to right relationship with the Father, but reconciling us with each other.

    In the end, the choice to fight the battle is ours. Peace on Earth can remain a Christmas slogan or be a lived reality. The first costs nothing, requires nothing, and yields nothing; the second costs all we have, requires all we are, and yields eternal life.

    It comes down to this: No Jesus, no peace; know Jesus, know peace.

  • Rich in What Matters to God: St. Isaac Jogues and Companions, Martyrs

    Luke 12:13-21

    In the 17th century, Fr. Isaac Jogues and his companions were among the French Jesuit missionaries who ministered to the Huron, Iroquois, and Mohawk tribes in Canada and New York. To the natives they were “the Black Robes” and were seen at first as curiosities and perhaps nuisances; however, over time their gentle, loving, and helpful demeanor won over many Hurons.

    The Hurons’ enemies, the Iroquois and Mohawks, were not as open-minded. Eventually, Fr. Jogues was taken captive by the Mohawks in upstate New York. Despite mutilating and breaking his body, his captors could not break his spirit. He was the prisoner who acted as though he was free; so implacably kind, so resolutely loving in the face of abuse that he became known as “the Indomitable One.” Slowly, he began to win them over. An elderly Mohawk even adopted him as her nephew.

    When afforded an opportunity to escape, Father regained his freedom but did not enjoy it. In France he seemed to have achieved celebrity status, which he found distasteful. He quickly requested and received permission to return to Canada and New York, where he was soon assigned as ambassador to the Mohawks.

    Although Father was anxious about this assignment, he left his fate in Christ’s hands. For a time the Mohawks were cordial and Father ministered to them. Sadly though, when the crops failed and illnesses set in among the tribe, he was blamed and again made a prisoner. While most of the Mohawks wanted him treated humanely, a small and hostile minority did not. Fr. Jogues suffered martyrdom at their hands at the age of 39 on October 18, 1646.

    antique-233285_640In Luke’s gospel, Jesus said this night your life will be demanded of you; and the things you have prepared, to whom will they belong? Thus will it be for the one who stores up treasure for himself but is not rich in what matters to God.

    Father’s life of missionary service stands as a great testament to these words. In terms of possessions, he died with nothing; in what matters to God, he was the richest of men. Slowly, kindly, patiently, and lovingly he had amassed a fortune by preparing the hearts of these native people, for he knew that they all belonged to God, even the one who would demand and take his life.

    Of this last point we have proof. Sometime after his death, a captured Mohawk warrior was identified by witnesses as Father’s killer. There was not enough hard evidence to convict him, so the missionaries had to set him free. However, the man told them that he had heard Father Jogues preach around the campfire and now wanted to be baptized. When asked what his Christian name would be, he said that he wanted to take the name of the “Indomitable One.” The warrior died not long after being baptized “Isaac Jogues.”

    We will have the mind of St. Isaac Jogues, so totally patterned after the mind of Christ, when we can picture the two men named Isaac Jogues meeting in heaven, and can imagine the joy.

    St. Isaac Jogues, pray for us.

  • The Power of One: Feast of St. Luke, Evangelist

    The next time you are tempted to think that one person cannot make much of a difference, consider:

    One man singlehandedly wrote a quarter of the New Testament. His is a two-volume work; the first a detailed gospel and the second the only account we have of how the Church developed in her earliest years.

    His gospel is packed with rich, unique characters: Zechariah and Elizabeth, parents of John the Baptist, Simeon and Anna in the Temple, the penitent woman who washes the feet of Jesus with her hair, the widow of Nain, the ten lepers, the good thief, and the travelers on the road to Emmaus. Women are accorded an unheard-of place of honor. First and foremost is his mother; told by the angel that she is to be mother of the Son of God, Mary is the only person to appear at his birth, his death, and the coming of the Spirit at Pentecost. Other prominent women featured include Mary Magdalene, Martha and Mary, and those who supported his ministry out of their own resources.

    He also uniquely portrays our Lord. Son of God and son of Adam, Jesus has a special compassion for the poor, the outcast, and the sick, and an equally special dislike of Herod. His Jesus is also kinder and more compassionate to his family and the Apostles than either Mark or Matthew; the family are those who hear the word of God and do it and the Apostles have his prayers, even at the Last Supper for Peter, who he knows will deny him. In his passion Jesus agonizes to the point of blood yet still has the presence of mind to heal a servant’s ear. Most movingly, on the cross he forgives his persecutors and promises the good thief Paradise. Finally, after his resurrection he appears on the road to Emmaus and stuns back to life the faithfulness of those two downhearted disciples who failed to recognize him until the breaking of the bread.

    Apart from these unique characters and perspective, the evangelist has a wonderful sense of story. He made sure to include some of our Lord’s most memorable parables: The lowly guest, the great banquet of the king, the lost sheep, the lost coin, the unjust steward, Lazarus and the rich man, the Good Samaritan, and of course the Prodigal Son. More than that, he crafted in beautiful prose the vignettes that form many mysteries of the holy Rosary (including much of the Hail Mary prayer itself): the Annunciation, the Visitation, the Presentation, the finding of Jesus in the Temple, and the descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. His mastery of Greek, unparalleled in the Scriptures, is on full display in such prayers as the Benedictus of Zechariah, the Magnificat of Mary, and the Nunc Dimittis of Simeon. Every day around the world, millions of people recite these – probably from memory – as part of the Divine Office of the Church.

    As if all this weren’t enough, this same man then goes on to give us yet more of what no one else has: the story of the early Church. From Pentecost on he tells the amazing story of the spread of the gospel throughout Judea, Samaria, and to the ends of the earth – including Rome. In sometimes intimate detail he gives us both the beginning of St. Peter’s ministry and virtually all of St. Paul’s, writing the story at times as a fellow traveler, from Paul’s mystical encounter with Christ on the road to Damascus, through his victories and failures in ministry, all the way to his ultimate destination, the seat of the Empire – Rome.

    Overall, the span of his work is breathtaking; it is a complete narrative that stretches from before Christ’s birth, through his ministry, passion, death, resurrection, and ascension all the way into the development and growth of the early Church.

    italy-2472027_1920There is much more we could say on this, the day we remember him, but it would only belabor the point, which is that none of his work would have been possible unless this man had given himself completely over to the will of the Father, in devotion to our Lord Jesus Christ, through the power and inspiration of the Holy Spirit. But he did, and this masterpiece was the result.

    Remember the power of one; not one person alone but one who has conformed himself to being in union with the will of God. There is a plan and we all have a part to play in it. So let us each take the time to meditate on how God is calling us, then submit to his will and do it. This is what changes the world.

    St. Luke, pray for us.

  • What Faith Demands: Memorial of St. Ignatius of Antioch, Bishop and Martyr

    Romans 3:21-30; Luke 11:47-54

    Although the Hebrew bible and Christian Old Testament are very similar with regard to the books they contain, they are structured quite differently. In the Old Testament the prophets come at the end, just before the New Testament. Placing them there emphasizes the prophets’ role as looking forward to the coming of Christ. In the Hebrew bible, however, the prophetic books come much closer to the Torah, or the first 5 books of the bible. This placement emphasizes the prophets’ role of looking back, reflecting on the Law and urging people to live it out in their daily lives.

    This role of reflection and exhortation made the prophets very much the conscience of Jewish society. The voice of the voiceless, the champion of the downtrodden, they spoke the word of God in words of men. While this made the prophets popular to some, the feeling was not universal; others, like the powerful and influential who were threatened by the cries for justice, found them irritating and troublesome. This is why in the gospel today Jesus refers to the blood of the prophets (Luke 11:50); at least a few tyrants thought the best way to deaden the social conscience was to kill those speaking it.

    But God is not so easily dismissed; for every voice silenced, another made itself heard. This was most perfectly the case for Christ, whose voice not only echoed through the prophets but rang through the hills and valleys of Israel in his earthly ministry and continues to ring in the words of the Scriptures he gave the world.

    In the first reading, St. Paul reflects on the foundation of equality preached by the prophets, as regards both sin and righteousness. As he reminds us, sin is no one’s private property; it is the shared condition of all humanity. But the remedy for it also equally applies; slave and king alike share in the righteousness bestowed as the gift of the Father, given through the blood of his Son, in the love that is the Holy Spirit. This is the love Christ most wants us to have for it is the life of God himself (1 John 4:16), given that we may have life in abundance (John 10:10).

    Of course, the abundant life requires listening to the prophetic voice within that urges a selfless life of God first, others next, and ourselves as servants of all. Like the scribes and Pharisees in today’s gospel it is tempting to want to silence that voice in favor of the comfort and complacence of the status quo. But in his merciful love Jesus assumed the role of prophet to forcefully remind them – and us – that every time we fail to be the voice of the voiceless, champion of the downtrodden, or justice for the oppressed, every time we hear his law of love in our hearts but refuse to live it out in our lives, we keep ourselves from God and worse, keep others away as well.

    colosseum-1234144_640St. Ignatius of Antioch understood this. The depths of divine love moved him to be one of those of whom Christ said, I will send to them prophets and apostles… (Luke 11:49a). Sent to oversee the Christian faithful as bishop of Antioch, Ignatius tirelessly preached the truth of the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist as well as the necessity of accepting the faith as it was handed down by the Apostles. Ignatius had such deep faith in Christ that he chose to remain with him despite the conclusion of that same verse: … some of them they will kill and persecute (Luke 11:49b). Preferring to die rather than betray Christ, Ignatius was brought to Rome and martyred around the year 115.

    We as disciples must be ready for the acceptance and rejection that our role as prophet brings. This is what faith demands, for it is not faith in ourselves or our ability to move hearts but in the One who has justified, commissioned, and sent us, and in whose name we do all that we do. Let us pray that like St. Ignatius of Antioch we never lose heart in the face of persecution or rejection, but rather redouble our efforts at living out the gospel, that through us many are called to the repentance and salvation that only Christ can offer.

    St. Ignatius of Antioch, pray for us.

  • Increase Our Faith: 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time

    Habakkuk 1:2-3; 2:2-4; 2 Timothy 1:6-8, 13-14; Luke 17:5-10

    People sometimes speak as though there are saints and then there is everybody else. I know; I’ve done it. Somebody says, “You know, you’re a good person,” and I reply, “Well, thanks, but I’m no saint.” We might begin to think that saints are people of superhuman faith who go around rebuilding the Church, baptizing thousands, levitating, going into ecstasy, healing the sick, and finally converting thousands through their own martyrdom.

    And although many people have done exactly those things, the readings today remind us that saints are ordinary people who know what it means to have their faith tested; to get frustrated, to need encouragement, and even to ask God for an increase in faith. We just heard the prophet Habakkuk cry out to God, clearly frustrated and bewildered because God had not put an end to the violence and misery all around. We should be able to sympathize with him; we pray week after week, year after year for an end to violence in the world, yet it continues. Why doesn’t God stop it? Next, the Apostle Paul tells Timothy to stir into flame the grace of his ordination, for he’s going to face his share of hardship. Don’t we too know how it feels to face hardship yet still be asked to keep on giving? Then in the gospel the apostles ask our Lord to increase their faith and little wonder, for Jesus had just told them that if your brother wrongs you seven times in one day and returns to you seven times saying, ‘I am sorry,’ you should forgive him (Luke 17:4). I don’t know about you but on a bad day forgiving the same offense even twice can be a struggle; seven times is going to take some real moral fiber.

    But the readings don’t stop there; they also show God’s responses. Habakkuk is told that fulfillment will come and it won’t disappoint; have faith and wait. In other words, be patient and don’t lose hope. As hardship looms, Paul says to Timothy: Take as your norm the sound words that you heard from me, in the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus (2 Timothy 1:13). That is, hold on to what you’ve been taught; Christ gave us the plan and he is our strength. Finally, Jesus talks about strength in two ways. First, he speaks of faith as powerful enough to uproot a mulberry tree. As the Apostles knew, that’s a lot of power. Mulberry trees are hard to pull; their roots are thick, wide and dense. Second, he talks about a servant who labors outside all day but still must serve when he comes inside. He’s talking about the power of fidelity to our call. Jesus reminds us that servants don’t stop being servants depending on where they are or what time it is. When I was ordained, Christ didn’t tell me that I’m a servant only when I’m wearing my vestments; I am called to serve God’s people, period. Similarly for you; all of us who are baptized in Christ receive a new garment; we put on Christ and we can’t just take him off. We are servants of God and each other; our attitudes and our behavior are to reflect that every hour of the day, every day of the week.

    This story of the servant is only found in the gospel of Luke and I think there is a good reason for that. Luke sees Jesus as that servant. Consider: The servant worked in the field, plowing or tending sheep. Jesus did both; he spent his entire ministry planting the seed of the gospel until the harvest was abundant (Luke 10:2) and called himself the Good Shepherd (John 10:11). Then when Jesus “went in” for dinner for the last time with his disciples, he remained a servant, washing the apostles’ feet (John 13:5). As the servant provided the dinner for his master, so at the Last Supper Jesus instituted the Eucharist, feeding his apostles the bread of life (Luke 22:19). Finally, as the servant said that he had done what he was obliged to do, so the Good Thief looked at the dying Jesus and said, this man has done nothing wrong (Luke 23:41, RSV). Then after his resurrection he walked with two disciples, opening the Scriptures until they felt their hearts burn within them. Finally, the flame of the Spirit was poured upon the apostles (Acts 2:3), strengthening them to proclaim the gospel in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth (Acts 1:8).

    cropped-awake-o-sleeper-graphicThis is the strength that has inspired the saints throughout the centuries. Every saint knows what it means to wonder as Habakkuk wondered how and when God will fulfill his promises, but they also know what it means to offer themselves as the instruments through which that promise is fulfilled. Every saint knows what it means to face hardship or to be with others as they face them, but like Timothy and Paul they also know what it means to possess the grace to endure and to support others who need to endure. Finally, every saint knows what it means to feel as if their own faith is inadequate to uproot their mulberry tree full of weaknesses. But they also know what it means to surrender themselves totally to the power of the One who nailed those weaknesses to his own tree and cast them once and for all into the ocean of his infinite mercy.

    This is the consolation that speaks in the silence of God’s replies to every prayer. What makes a saint is not that they understand the mind or the providence of God but that they never allow their incomprehension, frustration, or anger overwhelm the great promise of the cross; that faith overcomes and will always triumph over fear. Thus could Augustine rightly say that every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future.

  • The Mystical Encounter: St. Francis of Assisi

    Galatians 6:14-18; Matthew 11:25-30

    In the gospel, Jesus said that no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him (Matthew 11:30).

    Sometimes the Son chooses to make the Father known in a dramatic way. Recall His encounter with St. Paul on the road to Damascus. Other times He is much more subtle; such was His encounter with the man we know and celebrate as Francis of Assisi.

    Francis has born around the year 1181 and baptized as Giovanni di Bernadone. His father Pietro, probably the wealthiest merchant in Assisi, renamed him Francesco in honor of his profitable business dealings with France. He no doubt wanted his son to take after him but by all accounts the boy really did not; except perhaps in his grandiose dreams, for Francesco enjoyed envisioning himself as a great Knight of Assisi: Dashing, popular, the life of every party, full of wine and song, surrounded by friends and, of course, ladies in waiting.

    It was in pursuit of his dreams that God first came to him. When Francesco was about 23, he set out on his quest to fight as a knight for Pope Innocent III. On the way, he fell ill and while recovering heard a strange voice ask, “Francesco, who can do more for you, the lord or the servant?” He answered, “The Lord.” The reply came, “Then why do you leave the lord for the servant, a rich lord for a poor man?” Sensing the voice of God, he asked, “Lord, what would you have me do?” to which the voice said, “Return home and you will be told what to do.” Soon after, Francesco returned home.

    While he did not hear the voice again, God had a much more subtle and unexpected revelation in store.

    The next year Francesco once again found himself on a journey; not as a warrior this time, just a young man on routine business. On the road he saw someone coming toward him. As they neared each other, it became evident that the man was a leper. In the words of Francesco’s first biographer, Thomas of Celano: “So greatly loathsome was the sight of lepers to him at one time, he used to say, that, in the days of his vanity, he would look at their houses only from a distance of two miles and he would hold his nostrils with his hands.” Nevertheless, on this day as this man approached, Thomas wrote that Francesco was somehow “made stronger than himself” and even kissed the man. Francis left that encounter feeling like a changed man.

    There are many versions of that meeting and by now it’s difficult if not impossible to determine exactly what happened. It might have been an embrace; the leper may have kissed Francis in thanks for alms given; there are many possibilities. Regardless, I believe that this was the moment Francis first met Christ – not only in the leper but in himself.

    Only God dwelling and alive within us has the power to make us stronger than ourselves. Only through the eyes of grace can we see as Francis came to see that in fact we are the lepers, sin is the disease; we are that man hobbling along the road of life, suffering, ragged, in need of healing in the hospital of the Church, the refuge and sanctuary for all the afflicted.

    The treatment is penance. Its words are easy to say but as we have all learned, including Francis, its actions require dying to self; in the words of St. Paul, being crucified to the world and the world to us. The wounds of Christ given to Francis later in life are the most perfect outward sign of this inner reality.

    So deeply was Francis affected by that encounter on the road, so great was its impact upon him that even as he lay dying, he dictated this first:

    This is how the Lord gave me, brother Francis, the power to do penance. When I was in sin the sight of lepers was too bitter for me. And the Lord himself led me among them, and I pitied and helped them. And when I left them I discovered that what had seemed bitter to me was changed into sweetness in my soul and body. And shortly afterward I rose and left the world.

    cropped-st-francis-1758485_1280.jpgOf all the things he might have chosen to begin with, Francis wanted to teach that the best and most mystical encounter we can have with Christ comes not from a voice on a sickbed or even a leper on the road but from the encounter with our own sinfulness. Only when we allow the Lord to lead us from the pain of penance through the conquest of our fears can we too rise and leave the world; not to abandon it, but that we may be Christ to it.

    St. Francis of Assisi, pray for us.

  • What’s In A Name? Feast of Saints Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael, Archangels

    Revelation 12:7-12ab; John 1:47-51

    It is said that one morning, perhaps in the year 1884, once Pope Leo XIII had finished saying Mass and was leaving the altar, he suddenly stopped. According to witnesses, it was as if he was in a trance; he stood motionless for several minutes and his face turned ashen in color. When he regained his composure the Pope went to his office, asked to be left alone, and began writing. It took him only a short while to produce what became a new prayer to St. Michael the Archangel, which he ordered to be recited after all Low Masses everywhere.

    Only the Holy Father knows what he experienced during the vision; all we have is conjecture. Some say he heard Satan confronting Christ with threats to destroy the Church; others that he saw a terrible vision of dark angels attacking the Church. Whatever it was, Pope Leo left the chapel convinced that demonic forces were gathering and the next 100 years would be a great trial for the Church and the world. From our vantage point of history we see how right he was. The fingerprints of Satan are all over the 20th century: World wars, civil wars, weapons of mass destruction, bloodthirsty tyrants; millions upon millions of lost lives and, as if that isn’t enough, millions more killed in the wombs of their mothers.

    Thanks be to God who has not left us to battle such grave evil alone but has given us good and holy angels like the three whose feast we now celebrate.

    knight-3003641_640The Archangel Michael, whose name means Who is like unto God?, is the prince of angels. We read in Revelation why Holy Father Leo sought his intercession; it is Michael who leads the heavenly angels in the ultimate battle against Satan and his demons and teaches them why there are none like unto God. Apart from reciting the Pope’s prayer following Mass, let us also ask St. Michael’s intercession for all those who so often find themselves in harm’s way such as soldiers, first responders, and emergency workers. Let us also ask his intercession for ourselves during times of temptation as well as those who have fallen or are in danger of falling away from practice of the faith.

    The Archangel Gabriel, whose name means God is my strength, is the great messenger of Christ. In the book of Daniel he speaks of the coming Messiah; to Zechariah he announces the birth of John the Baptist, forerunner to the Messiah; above all, he is chosen to greet and announce to the Blessed Virgin Mary the great mystery of the Incarnation. Let us ask the intercession of Gabriel on behalf of all those who are charged to carry the message of salvation to others, and ask him to intercede for us, that we may more and more be effective messengers of the Messiah ourselves.

    Finally, there is the Archangel Raphael, whose name means God has healed. He appears in Scripture in only one place: the Old Testament book of Tobit. Full of Messianic undertones, the book tells of a loving father who sends his only son accompanied by a holy spirit (Raphael) to rescue a bride tormented by a demon. During their travels Raphael heals Tobit’s blindness; for this reason many who suffer with diseases of the eye ask his intercession. Let us also ask St. Raphael’s intercession for all those who are in any way blind, morally or spiritually, examining our own inner vision first.

    I am no Pope Leo XIII, but I suggest that we make a habit of praying to these powerful archangels. Something like this:

    St. Michael, Prince of Angels, protect me as I face the many dangers of this world;

    St. Gabriel, strengthen me that I may worthily proclaim Christ to others;

    St. Raphael, ask Our Lord to heal the blindness that keeps me from seeing His Face in everyone I meet.

    Heavenly Father, grant me the grace of the Apostles, that I too may see heaven opened and all the holy angels ascending and descending on the Son of Man: Your only Son, our Lord, Jesus Christ who reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God forever and ever. Amen.

    Sts. Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael, pray for us.

  • To the Land of the Rising Sun: St. Lorenzo Ruiz

    Zechariah 8:1-8; Luke 9:46-50

    The readings from Zechariah and Luke may not be a study in contrasts, but they certainly point in different directions. On the one hand, the reading from the prophet Zechariah paints an ideal picture. Jerusalem is restored and at peace; the elderly sit and watch as children play in her streets; God dwells among his people. The gospel, on the other hand, presents us with a different picture; it hints at pride and mistrust among the Apostles; first they dispute who is the greatest in the kingdom, then they attempt to stop the good work done by an outsider in the name of Christ.

    Light can be shed on these contrasting images as we contemplate the life and example of a saint whose memorial we celebrate today. San Lorenzo Ruiz was born around the year 1600 in the Philippines. Raised as a good, practicing Catholic, he married, fathered three children, and worked as a gifted calligrapher. His life was forever altered when, under mysterious and murky circumstances, he was falsely accused of murder. Forced to flee his native country, he learned of a Dominican mission to the Orient and volunteered to serve. During the voyage, Lorenzo learned that the destination was the country of Japan.

    Let us reflect for a moment on a verse from the prophet Zechariah: Lo, I will rescue my people from the land of the rising sun (Zechariah 8:7). Speaking through the prophet, God revealed his plan to rescue Israel from the kingdom of Persia, which was known as the land of the rising sun. A thousand years later in the time of San Lorenzo, the missionaries planned to continue evangelizing in the islands of Japan, known then (and now) as the land of the rising sun.

    They knew there would be trouble. To the Japanese authorities, the missionaries were unwelcome outsiders who were to be brutally put down. Soon after landing, they were captured, imprisoned, and tortured. It is said that when his captors asked if he would renounce his faith to save his life, San Lorenzo responded, “I am a Christian and I shall die for God, and for him I would give many thousands of lives if I had them.” He was martyred not long after this.

    Lo, I will rescue my people from the land of the rising sun. These consoling words spoken by God through Zechariah were also spoken by God through the lives of San Lorenzo Ruiz and his companions who brought the gospel to the land of the rising sun. While there were those who preferred the darkness enough to kill the light-bearers, they could not kill the light, for Christ is the light that the darkness cannot overcome.

    We should not speak of the darkness as if it were always outside ourselves; the Apostles’ behavior shows that darkness exists inside as well. Our own sinfulness works against our efforts to live and preach the gospel. Regardless, the example of San Lorenzo Ruiz demonstrates that when we resolve to put our faith in God’s ability to work in us, through us, and despite us, we will be successful.

    good-morning-695024_640As Christ commissioned San Lorenzo and his companions, so he commissions us. We are the light of the world; not the light of the rising sun but the light of the risen Son.

    San Lorenzo Ruiz, pray for us.

  • A Healthy, Happy Life: Memorial of St. Vincent de Paul

    1 Corinthians 1:26-31; Matthew 9:35-38

    What leads to a healthy, happy life? In the 1930’s, researchers at Harvard selected nearly 300 students and collected data about their personal and social lives for nearly 80 years to try and answer that question. They found that the most powerful influence on these men’s health was how happy they were in their relationships with family, friends, and communities. As one researcher said, “Taking care of your body is important, but tending to your relationships is a form of self-care too. That, I think, is the revelation.”1

    The life of St. Vincent de Paul bears witness to that finding. When he was the same age as the men who began the study, Vincent was a moody, temperamental, lonely young priest who had pursued his calling with mixed motives. While he did love Christ and saw the priesthood as the path to holiness he, like many poor people, also saw it as the path to a better standard of living. His ambition was to rise to bishop as soon as possible (or be the beneficiary of a will), save as much as he could, retire early and return home.

    That ambition unrealized after several years, Vincent found himself spiritually adrift, directionless, and alone in Paris. There, two things happened that changed his life forever. First, he was assigned pastor of a poor rural parish. He expected the material poverty of his parishioners but the depth of their spiritual poverty shocked him. Second, he met a visiting bishop named Francis de Sales. In him Vincent found a kindred spirit, someone he could really connect with. A deep friendship formed. Of all the things he learned from Bishop de Sales he was especially moved by the idea that all people, whatever their station, are called to holiness. Until that moment Vincent assumed like most people that the devout life was reserved for those with a religious vocation.

    These experiences opened his eyes, brought him out of his self-centered shell and gave him the direction he needed. Vincent devoted the rest of his life to care of the poor and the formation of priests. On behalf of the poor, he went to the wealthy, the people of influence, and those in organizations, seeking to provide large-scale, long-term material assistance. He founded an order, the Vincentians, and co-founded another, the Daughters of Charity, to provide for their sacramental and spiritual well-being. For men in priestly formation, Vincent focused on the spiritual life. He did not want them to be as he had once been: Complacent, insulated, seeking only their own holiness. He knew that the priest’s path to holiness was the path of Christ; out in the world feeding and tending the lambs as did the Good Shepherd who knew his flock and whose flock knew him.

    In reality, the Harvard study on happiness confirmed what the Church has long known. Happiness lies in our relationships – with God, with each other, and with the world. In the first reading St. Paul urged us to consider our calling, so let us examine ourselves. We claim to love God but do we do so on our own terms, allowing fear or worldly concerns to take priority? We claim to love each other but do we tend to reserve our time, favors, and affection for a chosen few and pass others by as if they don’t exist? We claim to love all people but do we fail to reach out to those in need, refuse to give of ourselves when it’s inconvenient, or condemn those who disagree with us? The love that is the foundation of all healthy relationships casts aside fear, treats each member of the Body with the same regard, and wishes none to die but all to come to repentance and knowledge of God. It gives totally and without condition. That is the love of Christ.

    positive-2257693_640 St. Vincent de Paul didn’t begin any better than we, but he ended as well as we can ever hope to. What led him to a healthy, happy life? His relationships to God, his peers, and his flock. How does that help us? At least three ways. First, our relationship with God is at its best when we remember that He dwells not only above but also within each one of us; second, that when we reach out in love to others God is reaching them through us; and third, that we are both sheep and shepherd; the call to holiness is not only a call to take up our cross and follow Christ but to take up our staff and bring others to Him by the example of our lives.

    Consider your own calling, brothers and sisters. The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few.

    St. Vincent de Paul, pray for us.