October 2006 Archives

"There is nothing that I will not do for sinners."

The Blessed Virgin Mary, the Queen of All Saints is also the Mother of Mercy and the Refuge of Sinners. There is nothing that she will not do to help a fallen sinner rise from his sin. There is nothing that she will not do to draw a sinner to the Heart of her Son.

Though sinless from the moment of her conception, Mary is not repulsed by sinners; on the contrary, she is drawn to sinners. God has given her a Heart full of pity for sinners. Mary will pursue a sinner to the very gates of hell, pleading for him and pleading with him to stretch out his hand to hers. Only in the light of glory will we see the immense number of sinners rescued by the Mother of God and brought, by the ministrations of her mercy, to great holiness.

There are, I think, certain sinners whom it pleases Our Lord to reserve for his Mother. In some way, He entrusts them to her Heart and leaves them in her hands. Sinners who accept this particular disposition of the Mercy and Wisdom of God will necessarily become saints. In heaven they will shine with a particular glory reflected from Mary's Immaculate Heart.

This perhaps is why Saint Bernard, Saint Alphonsus, the Curé of Ars and so many other saints, when confronted with hardened sinners, abandoned them into the hands of Mary as their final recourse. What no preacher can do, what no tears can obtain, Mary does and Mary obtains. While the Blessed Virgin Mary is the Queen of All Saints, she is even more the Queen of those whom she herself delivered from bondage to sin. There is nothing in the Virgin Mary that is not wholly at the service of the Mercy of God.

I preached this homily two years ago in 2004 for All Saints Day during the Year of the Eucharist. I would want to say the very same things again this year, so I thought of sharing the text with the readers of Vultus Christi.

Communion with the saints in this life means being poor in spirit, it means living with outstretched hands, confident that He who promises the kingdom of heaven will give it according to the measure of our emptiness, and of our desire. The Eucharist is the sacrament of the hospitality of God offered freely and without measure to the poor in spirit.

Communion with the saints means weeping as the saints wept, knowing that every tear of ours is counted in heaven, and seeking, even in the midst of tears, the face of Christ the Comforter. The Eucharist is the sacrament of our comfort, the unfailing consolation of the saints.

Communion with the saints means going gently through this life, trusting that more is gained through meekness than through might. The Eucharist is the power of those without power. The Eucharist is the strength of the gentle, the triumph of the meek, the inheritance of the humble.

Communion with the saints means suffering in one’s soul hunger and thirst for the true, the beautiful, and the good, hunger and thirst for the pure joy of a right relationship with God and with others. The Eucharist is the sacrament of justice, bringing justice to every place and to every heart. It is the wellspring of righteousness, the communication of all that is true, all that is beautiful, and all that is good to those who approach it hungering and thirsting for God alone.

I have fond memories of sitting in my parish church as a lad and reading the commentary on the liturgy of All Saints Day by Pius Parsch in The Church's Year of Grace, one of my favourite books at the time. Parsch described the glory of First Vespers of All Saints with reliquaries glistening on the altar amidst clouds of incense: a foretaste of the liturgy of heaven.

Later on, in Blessed Abbot Marmion's book, Christ in His Mysteries, I read the chapter entitled, "Christ the Crown of All the Saints." Listen to what Dom Marmion says: "When we celebrate the Feast of All Saints, we ought to repeat to ourselves the words that St. Augustine heard: Cur non poteris quod isti, quod istae? What reasons have we for not tending to holiness? Oh, I know well what each one is tempted to say: 'I have such or such a difficulty, I have such or such a trial to contend with, I cannot become saint.' But be sure that all the saints have met with such difficulties, such trials, and much greater ones than yours. Thus then none can say, 'Holiness is not for me.'"

ENTRANCE ANTIPHON

GR
Let us all rejoice in the Lord,
celebrating a festival day in honour of all the Saints:
at whose solemnity the Angels rejoice,
and give praise to the Son of God.
V. Rejoice in the Lord, you just:
praise befits the upright (Ps 32:1).

TUESDAY OF THE THIRTIETH WEEK OF THE YEAR II

Ephesians 5:21–23
Psalm 127:1–2, 3, 4–5 (R. cf. 1a)
Luke 13:18–21

All Hallows Eve

Today is All Hallows Eve: this evening at First Vespers we will cross the threshold into the festival of Angels and Archangels; Thrones and Dominions; Principalities and Powers and heavenly Virtues; Cherubim and Seraphim; Patriarchs and Prophets and Holy Doctors of the Law; Apostles and Martyrs of Christ; Confessors and Virgins of the Lord; blessed Hermits and all other Saints of God.

The Liturgical Preview of Heaven

Do you remember the Angel who spoke to Saint John on Patmos, saying, “Come, I will show you the Bride, the spouse of the Lamb” (Ap 21:9)? In the Spirit he carried the Apostle away to a great, high mountain, and showed him “the holy city Jerusalem coming down out of heaven from God, having the glory of God, its radiance like a most rare jewel, like a jasper, clear as crystal (cf. Ap 21:10–11). This is exactly what the liturgy of All Saints Day will do for us in a mystical way, that is, by means of sacramental signs. All Saints Day is the liturgical preview of heaven.

Festival of the Bride of Christ

All Hallows is the festival of the Bride of Christ. Saint Paul describes the sacrificial love of the Bridegroom Christ for His Bride, the Church: “He loved her and gave Himself up for her, that He might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, that He might present the Church to Himself in splendour, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish” (Eph 5:25–27).

Tomorrow is the last day of this month of the Holy Rosary. What are the fruits of the Rosary in the life of one who perseveres in praying it? They are, I think, among others, the twelve fruits of the Holy Spirit enumerated in the Catechism: charity, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, generosity, gentleness, faithfulness, modesty, self–control, and chastity.

The Rosary is a sure means of abiding in communion of mind and heart with the Blessed Virgin Mary. Where the Holy Mother of God is, there too is the Holy Spirit. One who, praying the Rosary, over and over again repeats Ave, Maria is, by the repetition of that greeting, imploring the overshadowing of the Holy Spirit.

It pleases the Holy Spirit to fashion the saints through the Blessed Virgin. Mary is the minister, the dispensatrix, the mediatrix of the Holy Spirit's gifts. It is a matter of record that where Mary is absent, there is nought but sterility and hardness of heart. Where Mary is present, on the other hand, there is spiritual fecundity and compunction. Where Mary is present, there the Holy Spirit is mysteriously and prodigiously active.

If you would open the door of your heart to Mary, pray her Rosary. She will enter in and with her will enter the Holy Spirit. "And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and she exclaimed with a loud cry, 'Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! And why is this granted me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?'" (Lk 1:41–43).

MONDAY OF THE THIRTIETH WEEK OF THE YEAR II

Ephesians 4:32—5:8
Psalm 1:1–2, 3, 4 and 6 (R. cf. Eph 5:1)
Luke 13:10–17

I Want to Be a Saint

Saint Paul would have us be nothing less than “imitators of God” (Eph 5:1). This is the Apostle’s way of presenting the universal call to holiness. You will never become saint unless you want to be a saint. It is indispensable to say to oneself frequently, “I want to be a saint.” That is, after all, what God wants for each of us. One who says, “I want to be a saint” is simply aligning his own will with the glorious will of God. “For this is the will of God, your sanctification” (1 Th 4:3).

Holy Resolve

If, at least once a day, you say to yourself, “I want to be saint,” a number of things will happen. You will begin to adjust your perspective on life. You will set your priorities in order. Things that you judged important will become unimportant, and things that you judged unimportant will become important.

Our Gaze Bent on Him

Say to yourself, “I want to be a saint,” and you will begin to see all the time and the energy you have wasted on the pursuit of trivial things. Saint Teresa of Jesus says, “O Lord, all our ills come from not fixing our eyes on Thee: if we looked at nothing else but where we are going we should soon arrive, but we fall a thousand times and stumble and go astray because we do not keep our gaze bent on Him Who is the ‘Way’” (The Way of Perfection, Chapter 16, 8).

THIRTIETH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR B

Jeremiah 31:7-9
Psalm 125: 1-2, 2-3, 4-5, 6
Hebrews 5:1-6
Mark 10:46-52

God Is Light

When, in the beginning, our First Parents opened their eyes, they were bathed in the light of the Face of God. Adam and Eve were created in the most blessed of natural states: purity of heart. “Blessed are the pure in heart,” says Our Lord, “for they shall see God” (Mt 5:8). Before the fall, which darkened their minds and clouded the vision of their souls, Adam and Eve knew an immense and perfect happiness in beholding the radiant beauty of the Face of God. “God is light,” says Saint John, “and in Him is no darkness at all” (1 Jn 1:5).

Darkness

After having lived in the Light, Adam and Eve fell into the darkness; but the memory of the Light has left its traces in every human heart. In all of us there is a nostalgia for the Light which never fades, for the sun which never sets, an indescribable yearning for uncreated Light. You may experience it as an ache, as a sense of incompleteness.

The Gladsome Light of the Face of Christ

The darker the obscurity around us, the more deeply do we experience that there is within us a relentless straining toward the Light, the instinct to stretch the wings of our souls and, like the eagle, fly unblinking into the sun. Within the heart of each one of us, the finger of God’s right hand has inscribed an indelible, a sweet and painful longing for what Saint Peter calls his “wonderful light” (1 P 2:9): the gladsome light of the Father shining on the Face of the Son.

Quaerite Faciem Eius Semper

This is the very meaning of today’s poignant Introit: Laetetur cor quaerentium Dominum, “Let the hearts that seek the Lord rejoice: seek the Lord and He will strengthen you; constantly seek His Face” (Ps 104:3–4). Quaerite faciem eius semper! The chant melody soars and expands over the word eius: “His.” It is the liturgy’s way of signifying that abiding joy and unfailing strength shine from the Face of Christ and no other. It is the liturgy’s way of making us repeat again and again, “His Face, His Face.”

The Aves of the Rosary are a stream of living water that irrigate and purify the heart. One who perseveres in the prayer of the Rosary will begin to experience, through the intercession of the all–pure Mother of God, the beatitude pronounced by Our Lord: "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God" (Mt 5:8). The Rosary, a humble path of ceaseless prayer, is a sure means to purity of heart. It is a way of "hastening to the springs and of drawing from the wells."

Hasten to the springs, draw from the wells.
In God is the wellspring of life,
A spring that can never fail.
In his light is found a light that nothing can darken.
Desire that light which your eyes know not!
Your inward eye is preparing to see the light.
Your inward thirst burns to be quenched at the spring.

Saint Augustine, Commentary on Psalm 41:2

My very dear Poor Clares at Bethlehem Monastery in Barhamsville, Virginia have inaugurated a splendid website and blog. Mother Abbess is the keeper of the blog and I hope that she will continue to let her light shine.

The vocation of the Poor Clares is to reflect as in a mirror the radiance of the Face of Christ, the Poor One, the Crucified, the Beauty of Heaven and of Earth. This they do by seeking Him ceaselessly in the Scriptures, in the adorable mystery of the Eucharist,
and in the communion of life together.

The Barhamsville Poor Clares have a profound love of the sacred liturgy. Lectio divina and daily adoration of the Most Holy Eucharist are integral to their life. They hold a very special place in my priesthood and in my heart.

ENTRANCE ANTIPHON

MR
Let the hearts that seek the Lord rejoice:
seek the Lord and he will strengthen you;
constantly seek his face.
V. Give thanks to the Lord and call upon his Name:
make known his deeds among the peoples (Ps 104: 3-4, 1).

COLLECT

Almighty and everlasting God,
give us the increase of faith, hope, and charity;
and, that we may worthily obtain what you promise,
make us love that which you command.
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
God, forever and ever.

Today is the patronal feast of the Right Reverend Father Don Simone Maria Fioraso, O.Cist., Abbot of Santa Croce in Gerusalemme in Rome.

Don Simone a native of Milan, received the abbatial blessing on September 14, 2005. His abbatial arms bear the words of Saint Bernard, Respice stellam; voca Mariam, "Look to the star, call upon Mary."

O you, whoever you are,
who feel that in the tidal wave of this world
you are nearer to being tossed about among the squalls and gales
than treading on dry land:
if you do not want to founder in the tempest,
do not avert your eyes from the brightness of this star.

When the wind of temptation blows up within you,
when you strike upon the rock of tribulation,
gaze up at this star,
call out to Mary.

OCTOBER 28
FEAST OF SAINTS SIMON AND JUDE, APOSTLES

Ephesians 2: 19-22
Psalm 18: 2-3, 4-5
Luke 6:12-16

Jude at the Mystical Supper

Today’s Gospel tells us that Simon was one of the twelve disciples whom Jesus called to himself and named Apostles; Saint Jude too was among the Twelve. Saint Jude has a cameo appearance in Saint John’s Gospel at the moment of the Last Supper. Picture Saint Jude listening to Jesus with rapt attention. The question Jude puts to Jesus is far from superficial. It suggests that he was an intelligent man capable of listening with the ear of the heart and long accustomed to pondering the deep things of the Spirit.

Jude’s Question

We, for our part, can be grateful to Saint Jude for the question he asked his Master. Our Lord’s answer is full of light. “Judas (not Iscariot) said to him, ‘Lord, how is it that you will reveal yourself to us, and not to the world?’ Jesus answered him, ‘Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them’” (Jn 14:21-23).

The Indwelling Trinity

Thus is the mystery of the indwelling God revealed to the Apostle Jude. What is the mystery of the indwelling God? It is the abiding presence of the Father loving the Son, and of the Son loving the Father in the hearts of those who love Jesus and hold fast to his words. These few verses from the Gospel of Saint John are sufficient to make the Apostle Saint Jude, more than anything else, a patron of the interior life: the life of undivided attention to the words of Jesus, the life of adoring attention to the indwelling Trinity. I should very much like to listen to the heavenly conversations between the Apostle Jude and Blessed Elizabeth of the Trinity.

I returned last night from the Heaven on Earth Conference held at the Liturgical Institute at the University of Saint Mary of the Lake in Mundelein, Illinois. It was a wonderful experience. I rejoiced in the presence of priests zealous for the beauty of the House of the Lord and in the participation of brilliant young Catholic architects, many of them from the University of Notre Dame.

Before doing anything else today, I want to post the Propers for the feast of Saints Simon and Jude, Apostles. The painting of Saint Jude is found in a votive chapel dedicated to the Apostle in the Kirche St. Judas Thaddäus in Heisterbacherrott, Germany

ENTRANCE ANTIPHON

MR
These are holy men
chosen by the Lord for their unfeigned charity;
to them he gave everlasting glory.

COLLECT

O God, who,
through your holy Apostles,
granted that we should come to the knowledge of your Name;
at the intercession of Saints Simon and Jude,
graciously give constant growth to your Church
by the increase of peoples who believe.
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
God, forever and ever.

I leave today for The Liturgical Institute in Mundelein, Illinois where I will be giving a conference on — Are you ready for this? — the "theology of church acoustics."

The conference is entitled: Heaven on Earth: Building or Renovating Your Church. The Institute describes it as "a theological and practical conference about envisioning the church building as a sacrament of heaven. Includes sessions on understanding traditional architecture, choosing a church architect, finding craftspeople, acoustics and music, the nature of the image, fundraising, and a beginning–to–end walkthrough of a completed church project."

I will not be posting anything on Vultus Christi while in Mundelein. Here, though, is a bit of my conference for those of you who are wondering what I am going to say

Ausculta

Is there a theology of church acoustics? Acoustics, derived from the Greek akouo, to hear, is not all that far removed from the very first word of the Rule of Saint Benedict, ausculta, “listen,” or “give heed.” “Listen, my son, to the instruction of your Master, turn the ear of your heart to the advice of a loving father” (RB Pro:1). The sacred liturgy, insofar as it springs from the mystery of the Word, calls for a unique quality of listening and engages at the deepest level man’s capacity for hearing. Could it be then that church acoustics have more to do with hearing than with speaking, more to do with listening to the word than with projecting it, more to do with enhancing silence than with enhancing sound?

The Sound of the Church

Being a theologian and not an acoustician, I will not venture into the more technical aspects of how a church might best be constructed for the transmission of sound. I must, however, argue straightaway that the acoustical quality of a church must figure into the very construction of the building, into its materials, size, dimensions, proportions, shape, and furnishings and not be left as an afterthought. “Now that we have constructed our church, let us look into fitting it with a good sound system.” Wrong! The church building is, in itself, the primary sound system with the living Church, hierarchically ordered, providing the sound.

Space for the Resonance of the Word

The Cistercian artisans of the twelfth century understood that a church building is, first of all, virginal space for the resonance of the Word. The abbatial churches of the Cistercian reform had a certain Marian quality about them; they were constructed to be indwelt sacramentally by the living Word. They were characterized by a certain noble austerity and by what, for want of a better term, I choose to call “spatial chastity.” One engaged in designing a church does well to meditate the mystery of the Annunciation. The suitability of a church building is measured, first of all, by its capacity to provide optimal resonance for the Word of God.

On Saturday the family gathered to celebrate the 25th birthday of my eldest nephew, Sean Patrick Cable. Sean, or Sean—o as I call him affectionately, is the first–born of my sister Donna and her husband Wayne.

Pizza (or Apizz' as we say in New Haven dialect) was Sean's choice for the evening. Sean's sister, Lauren Elizabeth, made a delicious cake for the occasion and the birthday boy himself baked cookies for his guests.

Sean attended my ordination twenty years ago, entertaining himself very well during the long celebration and presenting himself afterwards for a first priestly blessing.

Sean is a graduate of Quinnipiac University. He teaches little ones in a pre–school in Woodbridge, Connecticut. The munchkins love him. Happy Birthday, Sean—o! May the next quarter of a century be rich in blessings for you.

Benedictine/Cistercian Oblates are layfolk (and also diocesan priests) living their particular vocations to the single life, Holy Matrimony, or Holy Orders in communion with a particular monastery or monastic congregation. The Statutes of the Oblates of the Congregation of the Benedictines of Jesus Crucified explain the Oblate's vocation and articulate its exigencies. I am happy to present them here for the readers of Vultus Christi. My own monastery of Santa Croce in Gerusalemme in Rome has an active Oblateship.

STATUTES OF THE OBLATES OF THE CONGREGATION
OF THE BENEDICTINES OF JESUS CRUCIFIED

CHAPTER I: THE OBLATE

1. The Benedictine tradition sees Oblation as an act intimately tied to the altar of the monastery and to the mystery of the Eucharist (cf. RB 58:20-21; 59: 1-2). Oblation is a free act of self-offering to God, patterned after the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, Priest and Victim, from the altar of the Cross. “I appeal to you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship” (Rom 12:1).

The Benedictine Oblate, drawn to the altar by the Holy Spirit, lives from the altar, in communion with a particular monastic community, for the sake of the whole Body of Christ, that is the Church.

The Church recognizes Oblation as a special bond expressing communion between individual Christians and a particular monastery or monastic Congregation (cf. CCL, can. 303; can. 677 §2).

When fatigue and melancholy and stress seem to leave one's soul prostrate, and when every other form of prayer seems impossible, one should pick up one's Rosary and very simply begin to tell one's beads. There is no need to produce pious ideas or reflections. It is enough to hold the beads and repeat the prayers, gently, gently recalling the mystery at the beginning of decade and leaving the rest to the Holy Spirit who "helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought" (Rm 8:26).

One who is faithful to the prayer of the Rosary knows that while the lips pronounce the names of Mary and of Jesus, over and over again, "the Spirit himself intercedes for us with sighs too deep for words" (Rm 8:26). The Rosary is the small, low door by which little children enter into the immense prayer of the Spirit who "intercedes for the saints according to the will of God" (Rm 8:27).

I have come to love this photo of the children of Fatima holding their beads. In this, I can imitate them. Even when I am incapable of doing anything else, I can still reach for my beads and begin to say the words. The Holy Mother of God is quite content with such childlike efforts. Her response is magnificently disproportionate to this mere token of my desire to pray well.

Father Jean Lafrance wrote that one who cannot pray well can at least pray much. The Blessed Virgin's word for little Francisco, that he would have to pray "many Rosaries," continues to inspire me. One who prays "many Rosaries" is opening his soul to the all–powerful supplication of the Mother of God and to the sweet groanings of the Holy Spirit on his behalf. There is no surer or shorter way to the "adoration in spirit and in truth" (cf. Jn 4:24) that the Father desires.

Proud parents Michael and Kerry Guidone are Benedictine Oblates of the Monastery of the Glorious Cross in Branford, Connecticut. Before the birth of little Michael Mario, Michael and Kerry asked for the Blessing of Expectant Parents; after his birth, Kerry asked for the rite of the Churching of Woman After Childbirth, a sacramental dating back to the fourth century. Essentially, the rite is an office of thanksgiving. The new mother, returning to church forty days after giving birth, is greeting at the door of the church by the priest. Holding a lighted candle in one hand and the end of the priest's stole in the other, she is led to the altar where, kneeling, she receives a special blessing and offers thanksgiving to God for the birth of her child. The text of the rite, as given by Father Weller in his Roman Ritual, follows:

BLESSING OF A MOTHER AFTER CHILDBIRTH

1. After giving birth to a child a mother may wish to give thanks to God in church for a safe delivery, and to obtain the Church's blessing. This has long been a devout and praiseworthy practice. The priest, vested in surplice and white stole (assisted by a server who carries the aspersory), goes to the threshold of the church. The woman kneels there, holding a lighted candle.

The very fact that the priest goes to meet her and escort her into the church is in itself a mark of respect for the mother, and puts one in mind of a bishop who meets a royal personage or anyone of high rank when the latter comes to a cathedral to attend a solemn function. The rest of the rite speaks for itself; but it may be pointed out that Psalm 23, which the priest recites over the woman, is a psalm of majesty, praise, and gratitude.

The priest sprinkles her with holy water, saying:

P: Our help is in the name of the Lord.
All: Who made heaven and earth.

He then says the following antiphon and begins Psalm 23 which is alternated with the assembly. In some places the Magnificat is recited in place of Psalm 23.

Antiphon: This woman shall receive a blessing from the Lord and mercy from God, her Savior; for she is one of the people who seek the Lord.

TWENTY–NINTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR B

Isaiah 53:10-11
Psalm 32:4-5, 18-19, 20-22
Hebrews 4:14-16
Mark 10:35-45

Good Friday Revisited

Today’s Liturgy of the Word is a flashback to that of Good Friday when we heard both the First Reading from the prophet Isaiah and the Second Reading from the Letter to the Hebrews. Both texts are inexhaustible. Hearing them again today is an opportunity to encounter the mystery beneath the words, the mystery of the suffering Christ, image of the Father.

Saint Thérèse and Her Father

Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus and of the Holy Face, reflecting on Isaiah’s prophecy of the Servant, related it to the humiliation of her own father’s suffering. When Thérèse was seven years old she had a vision of a man in the garden, dressed like her father, but going about with his head veiled. Only later did she realize that this was a mysterious prophecy of her father’s mental illness. Profoundly affected by her father’s suffering, Thérèse lived it as an opportunity to deepen her understanding of the humiliation of Christ in His Passion. Thérèse made some profound connections: she related her father in his sufferings to the humiliation of Christ in His Passion, and related the humiliation of Christ in His Passion to the Fatherhood of God.

The Holy Face

The violence against the Face of Christ in His Passion was, at the deepest level, an attempt by the Evil One to disfigure the Fatherhood of God. Our Lord says, “He who has seen me has seen the Father; how can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father in me?” (Jn 14:9–10). From the beginning, the Evil One has sought to discredit the Fatherhood of God by sowing suspicion and doubt in the hearts of His children. The cruel disfiguration of the Face of Christ with blows, bruises, spittle, and thorns was the Evil One’s mad attempt to vilify the Father.

Our stblogs server was knocked out by a power failure last Friday evening. Take heart, we are back and running again! Father Jeff, I especially regret that I was unable to blog for the feast of your beloved founder, Saint Gaspar de Bufalo, on Saturday.

Much has happened in three days. On Saturday, my three year old nephew, Michael Colin Kirby, rode a two wheel bicycle for the first time. Yes, two wheels without training wheels! From the sidelines, little sister Mary (18 months) cried, "Me too! Me too!"

On Sunday, Benedictine Oblates Michael and Kerry Guidone received the blessing after childbirth — the Churching of a Woman traditionally given forty days after giving birth — in thanksgiving for their beautiful new son, Michael Mario. More on that later.

Today, the great–grand–niece of Blessed Columba Marmion came to Mass at the monastery and presented me with treasures from Dom Marmion's beatification: the Mass booklet, a green silk scarf with his image on it, a medallion, and several of his books. I have been devoted to Blessed Columba Marmion for many years and consider Mary Marmion's visit a sign of his continued intercession for me.

FRIDAY OF THE TWENTY–EIGHTH WEEK OF THE YEAR II

Ephesians 1:11–14
Psalm 32:1–2, 4–5, 12–13 (R. 12b)
Luke 12:1–7

Blessed Elizabeth of the Trinity, a Carmelite who died in 1906 at the age of twenty–six read the very same text from Saint Paul that we heard in today’s First Reading, and it transformed her life. She read it and knew beyond any doubt that although Saint Paul addressed his letter to the Church at Ephesus in the first century, it became, when she read it, a message addressed directly to her soul. Elizabeth understood that God had destined her to become “the praise of his glory.”

The young Carmelite discovered the text, through the liturgy. Elizabeth was no Latinist, but this she understood! Four words seemed to her written not in ink but in fire: in laudem gloriae eius, “to the praise of his glory” (Eph 1:12, 14). These words jumped off the page and lodged themselves in her heart. Such was the impact of these words on Elizabeth of the Trinity that she began to call herself by a new name: Praise of Glory. This became her secret name of grace: the name that, for Elizabeth, summed up the will of God for her and his design on her relatively short life.

We are obliged, I think, to ask ourselves two very hard questions. Why is it that when the saints read the Sacred Scriptures, the words pierce their hearts and bring about a radical transformation of their lives? And why is it that when we read the same Sacred Scriptures, we are so often unmoved, indifferent, and unchanged by them? I leave it to each of you to reflect on these questions and find your own answers. For myself, I know that if Scripture leaves me unchanged — unconverted — it is because of the hardness of my heart. It is because I do not approach the Word of God with humility, compunction, and unconditional surrender to its transforming virtus, its divine power.

I told you that once, when I had to pass through a heavy storm, I found myself before my sacramental Love and my soul flew in spirit to embrace that Infinite Love exposed on the altar for the adoration of the people. Then I heard my Savior speak this sweet message: “My son, he who embraces me, embraces thorns.” Do you believe, my daughter, that my soul fails to understand that our Jesus is a sea of infinite sweetness? Certainly, I have understood that, but God made me understand something further with the words: “He who embraces me, embraces thorns.” Just as our good Jesus willed that his life on earth should be passed always in the midst of the thorns of pain, sufferings, fatigues, privation, agony, contempt, calumny, sorrow, nails, thorns, and a most bitter death on the cross, so he made me understand that in embracing him, I would have to live my life in the midst of pain. Oh! how my heart exulted and embraced every sort of pain. But I have been unfaithful.
(Saint Paul of the Cross, Letter 54, 29 August 1737)

Saint Paul of the Cross (1694–1775) has long been a favourite of mine. (I rather suspect that Terry over at Abbey–Roads feels the same way about him.) He is depicted in this painting just as Saint Bernard of Clairvaux is often shown: in the embrace of Jesus Crucified, with the instruments of the Passion round about him. Paul of the Cross frequently quotes Saint Bernard's writings on the Passion of the Lord.

The Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary are a contemplation of the Face of Christ in His sufferings. "There is no beauty in Him, nor comeliness: and we have seen Him, and there was no sightliness, that we should be desirous of Him. Despised and the most abject of men, a man of sorrows, and acquainted with infirmity: and His countenance was as it were hidden and despised, whereupon we esteemed Him not" (Is 53:3–3).

One who prays the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary daily, or at least frequently, will grow in the spirit of compunction. Blessed Abbot Marmion says that compunction is "an habitual feeling of regret for having offended the divine goodness." He also says that, "While making us conscious of our offences, compunction gives us also a keen realization of the divine pardon. It is thus a source of peace and confidence — a source likewise of joy, humble but profound."

The Sorrow Mysteries are, in effect, a form of lectio—meditatio—oratio—and contemplatio on Isaiah's prophecy of the Passion of Christ. They are also a way of interiorizing the prayer of the suffering Christ given us in Psalms 21, 30, and 68.

We will be celebrating the Votive Mass of the Most Precious Blood today, without however forgetting Saint Paul of the Cross, founder of the Congregation of the Passion. In the following text, Saint Paul of the Cross is counseling a lady who, after having made her confession, was beset with doubts. He recommends confident recourse to the Blood of Christ over all else.

"You fear that you have not made good confessions because of lack of sorrow and purpose of amendment, and that you did not confess correctly. However, you tell me that you did what you could to confess your sins as they are in God’s sight. At least that was the way you wished to set them forth.

I have given you these words as examples. They will serve to cast out these fears that come from little confidence in God. Use them with a gentle spirit."

The painting depicts New Amsterdam (Manhattan) circa 1668.

David and Mary Ann went on pilgrimage last week to the Shrine of the North American Martyrs in Auriesville, New York, about three hours away from here. Auriesville is the site of the martyrdom of Saint René Goupil on September 29, 1642, of Saint Isaac Jogues on October 18, 1646, and of Saint John de La Lande on October 19, 1646. The New Haven Colony had been founded by John Davenport and Theophilus Eaton only eight years before, in the spring of 1638, two years after the ordination of Isaac Jogues to the priesthood.

Captured by the Mohawks in 1642, Isaac Jogues was forced to follow them to their winter hunting grounds, where he did the hard work of the squaws and slaves. After his labours, he wandered about the forest, chanting psalms or praying before the symbols he had carved into a tree: the Holy Name of Jesus and the sign of the Cross.

It was during this captivity that Saint Isaac wrote the following magnificent text. I thank David for having brought it to my attention.

Another joy today! My cousin Carlo de Lellis and Nora, his wife, called from Sepicciano (Piedimonte Matese, Provincia di Caserta) to inform me that their beautiful daughter Sissi will be graduating from Law School in Rome at the end of the month. This lovely photo of Sissi was taken on the occasion of a dinner in Sepicciano.

Sissi will practice penal law in Rome before beginning studies for the magistratura. The family is very proud of her.

Carlo and Nora have completely restored the main part of the Palazzo Onoratelli built by my enterprising ancestors in the 1600s. A wonderful house with smiling baroque angels adorning the facade!

I had two encounters today that made me very happy. The first took place after Mass. I was in the sacristy removing my vestments when a smiling lady entered and, with a delicious Irish brogue, introduced herself as Mary Marmion. Yes, Marmion — as in Blessed Columba Marmion, the Irish Benedictine Abbot whose writings have so influenced me for the past forty years . Mary Marmion Corden, a native of County Louth, Ireland, now living in Connecticut, is the great–great–grandniece of Blessed Abbot Marmion. Irish Sister Mary Marcella, O.S.B. joined us for a chat. I had the privilege of blessing Mrs. Corden, invoking the intercession of Blessed Columba Marmion, of course.

The second encounter took place in my favourite neighbourhood bakery, Bread and Chocolate on Whitney Avenue in Hamden, Connecticut. Bread and Chocolate is owned and operated by Jaime and Alejandra Zapata. I was standing at the counter talking with Jaime when a woman sitting in the restaurant heard me mention Rome. She identified herself as Jewish and said that she had visited Rome, seen Saint Peter's, the Vatican Museums, etc. Susan Berman then introduced me to her mother, an absolutely radiant older lady who immediately said to me, "I am a Holocaust Survivor."

She related something of her story. Until the Nazis forbade Jewish children to attend non–Jewish schools, her parents sent her to a Catholic Convent School. Later, she was obliged to attend an all–Jewish school at some distance from her home. She remembers seeing a great synagogue destroyed. After the Krystallnacht in 1938, she and her sister were sent to England as part of the famous Kindertransport. Her parents and youngest sister perished near the Polish border. I was astonished at the vivacity and wisdom of this lady: she said that world still had not learned its lesson, even after the Shoah, and spoke to me of the situation in Darfur. "The Lord bless her and keep her: the Lord make His Face to shine upon her, and be gracious to her: The Lord lift up his countenance upon her, and give her peace" (Num 6:24–26).

Saint Isaac Jogues was known for his long hours of quiet prayer while journeying and for the recitation of the Rosary with his companions. The Rosary is a prayer for our hours of solitude, for times of waiting, for moments of uncertainty and disquiet. In these circumstances the Rosary becomes an anchor of hope tossed into the depths of God's wisdom and providence.

The Rosary stills the tumult within and allows the soul to hear the "still, small voice" (1 K 19:12) of the Lord. "And when Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance to the cave" (1 K 19:13). The Rosary is an initiation into what Pope John Paul II called, "adoring silence."

We must confess that we all have need of this silence, filled with the presence of Him who is adored: in theology, so as to exploit fully its own sapiential and spiritual soul; in prayer, so that we may never forget that seeing God means coming down the mountain with a face so radiant that we are obliged to cover it with a veil (cf. Ex 34:33), and that our gatherings may make room for God's presence and avoid self–celebration; in preaching, so as not to delude ourselves that it is enough to heap word upon word to attract people to the experience of God; in commitment, so that we will refuse to be locked in a struggle without love and forgiveness. This is what man needs today; he is often unable to be silent for fear of meeting himself, of feeling the emptiness that asks itself about meaning; man who deafens himself with noise. All, believers and non - believers alike, need to learn a silence that allows the Other to speak when and how he wishes, and allows us to understand his words.

John Paul II, Orientale Lumen, art. 16

"My confidence is placed in God who does not need our help for accomplishing his designs. Our single endeavor should be to give ourselves to the work and to be faithful to him, and not to spoil his work by our shortcomings" (from a letter of Isaac Jogues to a Jesuit friend in France, September 12, 1646, a month before he died).

ENTRANCE ANTIPHON

GR
These are they who are come out of great tribulation
and have washed their robes
and have made them white in the Blood the Lamb (Ap 7:14).
V. Praise the Lord, all you nations:
praise Him all you peoples (Ps 116:1).

MR
The blood of the holy martyrs
was poured out upon the earth for Christ;
therefore they have won rewards everlasting.

COLLECT

O God, who, by the work
of Saints John, Isaac, and their companions,
and by the outpouring of their blood,
willed to manifest the blessed hope of your eternal kingdom,
mercifully grant through their intercession,
that, in our own day,
the faith of Christians may strengthened.
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
God, forever and ever.

The image of the North American Martyrs is by Catholic illustrator Ted Schluenderfritz.

OCTOBER 18
SAINT LUKE, EVANGELIST

2 Timothy 4: 10-17a
Psalm 144: 10-11, 12-13ab, 17-18 (R: cf. 12)
Luke 10:1-9

The Evangelist

Saint Luke comes to us today as the evangelist of the Holy Spirit, as the evangelist of the little and of the poor, the evangelist of the Virgin Mary, and of the holy angels. He comes to us as the iconographer of the healing Christ, the physician of our souls and bodies. He comes to us as the advocate and friend of the women disciples of the Lord, and as the witness of the Acts of the Apostles and of the life of the infant Church. He comes to us as the poet of the Magnificat, the Benedictus, and the Nunc Dimittis, as the evangelist of the sacred liturgy, the one who closes his Gospel with the radiant image of a joyful Church semper in templo benedicentes Deum, “continually in the temple blessing God” (Lk 24:52).

Iconographer of the Holy Mother of God

According to an old tradition, Saint Luke, in addition to being a physician (Col 4:14), was a painter. It is recounted that Saint Luke depicted the Virgin Mother with the Infant Christ in three icons. He showed them to her. The Mother of God looked at them with joy and then blessed them, saying, “May the grace of Him to Whom I gave birth be within them.” The iconography of Saint Luke himself makes for a fascinating study; he is nearly always portrayed painting the Blessed Virgin and her Son. Paintings of a saint painting!

I have always thought of the Rosary as a particularly Lukan prayer. So many of the mysteries are drawn from Saint Luke's Gospel. It is Saint Luke who gives us the Gospel of the Holy Spirit; the Gospel of the Blessed Virgin Mary; the Gospel of the liturgical canticles sung by the Church at morning, eventide, and nightfall; the Gospel of the Angels; the Gospel of mercy.

But there is more. According to tradition, Saint Luke was an iconographer. I very much like this painting of Luke painting! He seems to have just completed his image of the Virgin Mother with the Infant Christ. An Angel looks on approvingly. Could it be Saint Gabriel, the Archangel who figures so prominently in the first chapters of Saint Luke's Gospel? The Evangelist is showing us his painting and inviting us to contemplate the Mother and the Child. The Rosary is just that: a contemplation of the Face of Christ and of the Mother who presents Him to the eyes of the soul.

I was very happy to receive Steven's comment today on the Rosary and the difficulties it sometimes presents, even to folks who are well along in the ways of prayer. The Rosary grows with the one who prays it. It is like the manna in the desert that accomodated itself to the taste of each one. There are seasons in each man's life with God and one's way of praying the Rosary changes with these seasons. The Rosary is especially valuable in times of dryness; it becomes a way of inviting Mary into one's desert.

ENTRANCE ANTIPHON

MR
How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him
who publishes peace, who announces good,
who preaches salvation (Is 52:7).

COLLECT

Lord God, who chose Saint Luke
to reveal the mystery of your special love for the poor
by preaching and by writing,
grant, that those who, even now, glory in your name,
may continue to be of one heart and one mind,
and that all nations may come to see your salvation.
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
God, forever and ever.

Padre Luca Maria Zecchetti, O.Cist. celebrates his onomastico today. Don Luca, a native of Milano, is the prior of Santa Croce in Gerusalemme. He possesses seemingly boundless energy and needs it as the director of the famous children's singing group, Le Matite Colorate. He is gifted with a magnificent voice and uses it well for the glory of God and the joy of all who hear him. Don Luca also looks after the abbey's postulants and novices. Recently he undertook a journey to our new foundation, the Monastery of Santa Cruz in Guadalajara, Mexico. Join with me today in praying for him and in wishing him a happy feastday.

Does Don Luca look unhappy to you? If you are interested in an expression of Cistercian–Benedictine life that unites the traditional monastic observances with the service of the Church, write to me.

Frumentum Christi sum,
dentibus bestiarum molar,
ut panis mundus inveniar.

I actually sang part of my homily this morning. Yes, I did. I couldn't help myself! I opened my Graduale and sang today's incomparable Communion Antiphon, Frumentum Christi sum, for all to hear. The melody "grinds" the word molar, and then soars over the word panis. The chant melody is a mystical exegesis of the text. It is what I have been arguing for years: sung theology!

The image I chose today, an 18th century Latin American retable, does not depict Saint Ignatius of Antioch, but it does suggest something of his longing to become "purest bread" for Christ's Holy Oblation. Read below what I had to say about identification with Christ, Priest and Victim.