Homilies: November 2012 Archives

O Bona Crux!

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November 30
Saint Andrew, Apostle

A Cross On the Threshold of Advent

The feast of Saint Andrew marks the threshold of Advent with the sign of the Cross. We are accustomed to thinking of the Cross in the context of Lent and Paschaltide. The advent of the Lord is, nonetheless, entirely illumined by the mystery of the Cross. An ancient responsory says, "This sign of the Cross shall be in heaven when the Lord comes to judge. Then shall the secrets of our hearts be made manifest" (Office of May 3rd, Invention of the Holy Cross). By showing us the Cross today, the liturgy points through Advent to Christ's passion, resurrection, and second coming. The whole economy of salvation bears the luminous imprint of the Cross.

Friend of God

The liturgy calls Saint Andrew "the good teacher and the friend of God" (Responsory). Saint Andrew is a good teacher because he preached the wisdom of God in the word of the Cross (cf. 1 Cor 1:18, 24). Saint Andrew is the friend of God because the wood of his cross bound him to Christ our God in an everlasting friendship, even as Christ Himself was bound to the Father and made over to Him once and for all by the sacrifice of the Cross.

O Wonderful Cross!

The Apostle Andrew does not mislead us with the "artificial sweeteners" of so many religious teachers, nor does he fill our minds with a preaching "emptied of its power" (1 Cor 1:17). In the end, Saint Andrew preached the cross by embracing it, and by stretching His body over its four arms. The liturgy sings that "When Andrew saw the cross, he cried, saying, 'How wonderful art thou, O cross! O cross, how loveable art thou! O cross, thy bright beams enlighten the darkness of the whole world! Welcome a follower of Jesus, that, as by thee He died to redeem me, so by thee also He may take me unto Himself" (Responsory).

Through the Cross

Saint Andrew's cross was not that of his Master in its form. Tradition is that Saint Andrew was put to death on an X-shaped cross. Though outwardly different from the cross of Jesus, Saint Andrew's cross became for him a sacrament of communion with Our Lord, a means of passing to the Father in the power of the Holy Ghost. On the First Sunday of Advent a single movement will run through the whole liturgy: out of self, and upward into the fullness of God. "Ad te levavi animam meam. . . . All my heart goes out to You, my God" (Ps 24:1). Today we see in Saint Andrew just how this movement is accomplished: through the Cross.

A Means of Passing Over to God

Outwardly our crosses do not have the form of the Cross of Jesus. Faith, however, sees in them a means of passing from ourselves to God. The cross of illness can be a means of passing over to God, provided that it is recognized and accepted as such. The crosses of weakness, of failure, of loneliness, depression, and loss can be for us sacraments of an encounter with God. The Cross allows us to experience God as the redeemer of all our failures, the companion of the lonely, the comforter of the depressed, the treasure of those who suffer loss. Apart from the Cross there is no way of knowing the healing mercy of God, no way tasting the sweetness of His love in bitterness, nor of passing out of darkness into His wonderful light.

O Precious Cross!

In today's Divine Office Saint Andrew sings to the Cross, something that, apart from a special grace of God, we are incapable of doing.

O bona crux! O precious cross, of a long time have I desired thee and now that thou art made ready for me, my soul is drawn to thee, and I come to thee in peace and gladness."

"I come to thee in peace and gladness." More often than not we come to our crosses in fear and heaviness of heart. Far from singing to them we approach them murmuring, or in the sullen silence of our unspoken resistances and inability to trust. Saint Andrew was able to sing a greeting to his cross; he was able to come to it in peace and gladness, because he recognized that by means of it he would pass over to God.

The Embrace of God

When, after the Liturgy of the Word, the priest ascends the altar for the Holy Sacrifice, he represents the entire assembly of the faithful and, in a certain sense, carries them in himself to the Cross. When the bread upon the paten and the wine mixed with water in the chalice are set forth upon the altar, we ourselves are set before God, ready to become His sacrifice, ready to pass by means of the Cross into the everlasting embrace of His mercy. What is done in mystery at the altar is carried out effectively in all of life. It is the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass that makes it possible to say to the Cross in whatever form it is prepared for us, "I come to thee in peace and gladness. In embracing thee I will know the embrace of God."


The painting by Albrecht Dürer depicts the afflicted Job and his wife.


The verb to afflict derives from the Latin affligere, meaning to cast down, to damage, harass, torment, crush, shatter, or oppress. Affliction is an unavoidable part of human existence in this valley of tears where we go mourning and weeping. Meditating on the texts and chants of today's Holy Mass, I discovered that running through them all is the motif of affliction, something to which every man can relate.

World, Flesh, Devil

Affliction generally proceeds from one of three causes, or from a combination of them. These causes are the world, the flesh, and the devil. The world is the universe and all it contains, including other people. The flesh is one's self, marked by original sin and by a history of actual sins. The devil is the Evil One against whom we pray in the Pater Noster: the prince of this world, and his allies.

Sometimes, as in the case of great saints such as Saint Anthony of Egypt, Saint John Mary Vianney, Saint Pio of Pietrelcina,. Mother Yvonne-Aimée, or Marthe Robin, the devil causes affliction directly. This diabolical affliction may be spiritual, psychological, or spiritual. It may be even taken the form of perceptible physical aggressions.


More often than not, however, the devil makes use of secondary causes. Being astute, he knows how to make use of the shattered bits in ourselves and in others to orchestrate afflictions of all sorts. Rarely does one experience affliction without some kind of underlying conflict, and the devil is the master producer of conflict. The devil often profits from what he finds in the world and in our fallen nature to bring affliction down upon our heads. His aim is not merely to cause affliction; it is to push souls, by afflicting them in various ways, into doubt, despondency, and despair.


Of one thing we can be certain. God does not afflict us. Our God is a God, not of affliction, but of comfort and consolation. Thus writes Saint Paul in 2 Corinthians 1:3-5.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort. Who comforteth us in all our tribulation; that we also may be able to comfort them who are in all distress, by the exhortation wherewith we also are exhorted by God. For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us: so also by Christ doth our comfort abound.

God comforts, He does not afflict. When God permits us to be afflicted it is to draw a greater good out of the affliction by allowing the one afflicted to participate, in some way, in the redeeming Passion of Jesus Christ. God, in Himself, is perfect peace and peace is the signature of all His operations and works. Following Saint Ignatius' rules for the discernment of spirits, one can unmask the afflictions of the Evil One, and place one's confidence in God who waits to give us peace.

When we suffer affliction, God stands ready to turn it into blessings for ourselves and for others. If necessary, He will even send us a consoling Angel from heaven, as He did for His Only-Begotten Son in the Garden of Gethsemani (Luke 22:43). The Holy Angels are ministers of divine consolation, close to the broken-hearted, the weary, and the downcast.


In today's Introit, God tells us that His thoughts concerning us are for our peace. The Lord is not the cruel conniver who seeks to afflict us, and so cause us to despair. He is the Giver of Peace, and the One who leads us out of the captivity of sin into the home He has prepared for us.

The Lord saith: I think thoughts of peace, and not of affliction: you shall call upon Me, and I will hear you; and I will bring back your captivity from all places. V. Lord, Thou hast blessed Thy land: Thou hast turned away the captivity of Jacob. (Psalm 84. 2) V. Glory be to the Father, to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end, amen. -- The Lord saith: I think thoughts of peace , and not of affliction: you shall call upon Me, and I will hear you; and I will bring back your captivity from all places. (Jeremias 29: 11,12,14)


In the Epistle, Saint Paul commends the Christians of Thessalonica for having held fast to the Word, even in the midst of afflictions.

And you became followers of us and of the Lord, receiving the word in much affliction, with joy of the Holy Ghost: so that you were made a pattern to all that believe in Macedonia and in Achaia. (2 Thessalonians 1:6-7)
Thou hast delivered us, O Lord, from them that afflict us: and hast put them to shame that hate us. V.: In God we will glory all the day: and in Thy Name we will give praise for ever. (Psalm 43. 8-9)

In this magnificent chant in the 7th mode, God is revealed as the One who delivers us from those who afflict us. The experience of His saving grace causes us to glory in Him and to praise Him. Affliction lasts but for a time; the mercy of the Lord endures forever.


The Alleluia Verse and the Offertory Antiphon make use of the same text. It is the prayer of one afflicted, a prayer that rises out of the depths of darkness and temptation.

Alleluia, alleluia. V. From the depths I have cried to Thee, O Lord: Lord, hear my prayer. (Psalm 129: 1-2) Alleluia.

Holy Gospel

In the Gospel, Our Lord presents two parables: that of the grain of mustard, and that of the leaven mixed into three measures of meal. Both parables speak directly to the present state of our monastery. We are very small and of little importance. Like the grain of mustard, and the grain of wheat in John 12:24, we are called to disappear into the earth and to die. Like the leaven hid in three measures of meal, we are called to be hidden. Our effect in the Church -- and in the priesthood -- will be proportionate to our hiddenness.

Eucharistic Hiddenness

In the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar, Jesus Christ is hidden: hidden, not only in the tabernacle, but hidden also beneath the humble appearances of the species of bread. The Sacred Host is the icon of the hiddenness to which we, as Benedictine adorers, are called. This hiddenness is an essential quality and condition of our vocation. Personally, I wonder if we -- if I -- am hidden enough. It is a questioned that must be asked in the light of Our Lord's Eucharistic Face; only there can it be answered.

Hidden Afflictions

The hidden life is not free from afflictions. Hidden afflictions, in fact, may be the most painful to bear. How many secret afflictions will be revealed in glory where they will shine with reflected brightness of the sacred wounds of Jesus?

Offertory Antiphon

From the depths I have cried out to Thee, O Lord; Lord, hear my prayer: from the depths I have cried out to Thee, O Lord. (Psalm 129:1-2)

Finally, there is today's Offertory Antiphon taken, as was the Alleluia Verse, from Psalm 129, the De Profundis. Composed in the second mode, this Offertory Antiphon is one of the most poignant of the whole Gregorian repertoire. It is the prayer of a soul brought low by affliction. Out of the depths rises the cry of a prayer that is real. It pierces the heavens and reaches the very heart of God. God is not indifferent to such prayers. He is, rather, touched by them, and moved to pity. Thus did he say to Moses:

I have seen the affliction of my people in Egypt, and I have heard their cry because of the rigour of them that are over the works: And knowing their sorrow, I am come down to deliver them out of the hands of the Egyptians, and to bring them out of that land into a good and spacious land, into a land that floweth with milk and honey. (Exodus 3:7-8)

God in the Midst of the Afflicted

The divine response to human affliction is to come down, to become close to the one afflicted. And this the mystery of the Most Holy Eucharist. It prolongs the great descent of the Incarnation in space and in history until the end of time. The Most Holy Sacrament is the mystery of a God come down to abide among the afflicted. Wheresoever the Most Holy Eucharist is present, afflictions become bearable, and the heaviest burdens are made lighter.

Haec est domus Domini

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The Dedication of the Lateran Basilica

Cross the threshold of the Lateran Basilica, enter the nave, stand in the midst of it and, with eyes wide open to things visible, contemplate the invisible: the mystery of the Church, Bride of Christ and Mother of His faithful. To do this, one need not take oneself off to Rome. It is enough, and more than enough, to enter into the wealth of antiphons, responsories, readings, hymns, and prayers that make up the splendour of today's liturgy.

God is in His Holy Place

The liturgy summons us to make a pilgrimage of the heart. It is full of mysterious archetypes: thresholds and doors, stones and ladders, pillars and gates, fires and storms, trumpet blasts and mountains, water and blood. All of these resonate to the great central affirmation of the liturgy of the Dedication of a Church: "God is in his holy place" (Ps 67:6).

When we cross the threshold of a dedicated church, we pass into a mystic enclosure containing the uncontainable. We pass over into the space and time of God: a space filled by Him whom the heavens themselves cannot encompass, a time transcending the mean measurements of clocks and calendars.

House of God and Gate of Heaven

Our God, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, the God of David and of Solomon, the God of Jesus Christ is not the distant God of a remote "there and then"; He is the God of "here and now." This is the wondrous realization that, dawning upon Jacob, caused him to cry out, "How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven" (Gen 28:17).


The Temple of His Body

Today the Church professes the abiding and objective presence of God in the new and indestructible Temple, which is the Body of our Lord Jesus Christ. Our Lord challenges his critics, saying: "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up"; Saint John, ever the theologian, takes great care to add for our sakes, "But he spoke of the temple of his body" (Jn 2:19-21).

The Body of Christ is our Temple. To be in the Temple is to be in Christ. There we are certain of finding the Father; there we are certain of being overshadowed by the Holy Spirit. There are we surrounded by "innumerable angels in festal gathering" and by "the assembly of the first-born who are enrolled in heaven" (Heb 12:22-23). To dwell in the Temple is to share in the mystery of Our Lord's priesthood, a priesthood which, like the Temple of his risen and ascended Body, endures forever. Baptized into Christ, we have crossed the threshold of the Temple. Even more, we are that Temple.


Divine Hospitality

The Temple of Christ's Body is not the stage of great spectacle. It is the home of the little and of the poor. There, beggar and priest, harlot and levite, mingle and touch, held in the embrace of the Divine Hospitality. The sound that fills the living Temple is the immense symphony of the poor, the maimed, the lame, and the blind (Lk 14:13), all clothed in their wedding garments -- garments royal and priestly -- woven by the Holy Spirit to adorn the Body of Christ in the presence of the Father. Here, the sacred is familiar, and the familiar, sacred. "Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, at thy altars, O Lord of hosts" (Ps 84:3-4).

The Gate of Heaven Upon Earth

Listen to Robert Hugh Benson (1871-1914), a son of the Archbishop of Canterbury and celebrated convert to Catholic Church. He describes the Church I love: the Church he came to love:

Her arms are as open to those who would serve God in silence and seclusion, as to those who dance before him with all their might. . . . There is nothing to fear for those who stand where we stand; there are no precipices to be climbed any more and no torrents to be crossed; God has made all easy for those He has admitted through the Gate of Heaven that he has built upon the earth; the very River of Death itself is no more than a dwindled stream, bridged and protected on every side; the shadow of death is little more than twilight for those who look on it in the light of the Lamb.


The 23rd Sunday After Pentecost

Holy Gospel of Jesus Christ according to Saint Matthew 9,18-26.

As he was speaking these things unto them, behold a certain ruler came up, and adored him, saying: Lord, my daughter is even now dead; but come, lay thy hand upon her, and she shall live. And Jesus rising up followed him, with his disciples. And behold a woman who was troubled with an issue of blood twelve years, came behind him, and touched the hem of his garment. For she said within herself: If I shall touch only his garment, I shall be healed. But Jesus turning and seeing her, said: Be of good heart, daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole. And the woman was made whole from that hour. And when Jesus was come into the house of the ruler, and saw the minstrels and the multitude making a rout, He said: Give place, for the girl is not dead, but sleepeth. And they laughed him to scorn. And when the multitude was put forth, he went in, and took her by the hand. And the maid arose. And the fame hereof went abroad into all that country.

The Prayer of a Father

Jesus is in the midst of speaking. He allows this certain ruler, called Jairus, to interrupt his discourse. Jairus enters the scene suddenly, almost breathlessly. He adores Jesus, that is to say that he falls down before Him. His prayer goes straight to the point. It is simple and artless: "Lord, my daughter is even now dead; but come, lay thy hand upon her, and she shall live." It strikes me that Jairus must have blurted out his prayer after having prepared it in his heart on the way to Jesus. He has even devised a little "sacramental rite" that includes the laying on of Jesus' hand.

God Arises, His Enemies Are Scattered

Jesus, rising up, follows him. The little phrase "rising up" prepares us for a manifestation of Our Lord's divinity. It tells us that He is about to act in a wonderful way. At the same time, Our Lord acts humbly in that, together with His disciples, he follows Jairus. Faith opens the way for Our Lord to act. Faith opens the procession. God in Christ makes Himself obedient to the faith of a man.

The Touch of Faith

There follows an interruption, a delay. Rather inconveniently, a woman long in distress approaches Jesus stealthily on His way. The procession could not have been going very quickly for this sick woman to steal in behind Jesus and touch His garment. It would seem that after obtaining Jesus' consent, there is no need to rush off to the house where Jairus' daughter lies dead.

Thy Faith Hath Made Thee Whole

The woman, having already decided how to obtain her healing -- another kind of "sacramental rite" -- tries to be discreet, to go unobserved. Her prayer is silent. She repeats within her heart what she has determined to do, saying, "If I shall touch only his garment, I shall be healed." Jesus, touched by her faith more than by her hand, addresses her, saying, "Be of good heart, daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole." The woman's healing, after twelve years of chronic suffering, is instantaneous. Such is the power of faith.

Restored to Life

When Our Lord arrives at the house of Jairus, He sees that, already, the pomp and din of mourning as the world mourns, are in full swing. He calls for silence and calm, announcing that the girl is not dead, but sleeping. And in saying this, he exposes Himself to the mockery and scorn of those who deal in the business of death. The flute-players, wailers, and professional mourners were not there purely out of sympathy for the bereaved; they were there to make some profit out of the girl's death. "An unpleasant business," they reason, "but someone must do it." They resent the arrival of Jesus. Death is threatened in the presence of Life.

When the profiteers of death have been exorcised -- put out of the house -- Jesus enters the girl's room. Rather than touch her, as Jairus asked, Jesus takes her by the hand, thereby giving her life, and breath. She rises from her bed, restored to health. The gesture is the very one seen in the icons of the Harrowing of Hell, where Christ seizes the hands of Adam and Eve to pull them out of death into the radiance of His life.

She Rose

Note the second use of the verb "to rise" in this account. Where Christ rises to act, others rise to life with Him. The devil, on the other hand, forever the fallen angel, causes others to fall into death with him.

Glory to the Prince of Life

What Jesus has done does not remain secret. The news is noised abroad. Like Lazarus, this girl, brought back from the icy grip of death, must have become a sign of contradiction, the subject of whisperings and curiosity. As for her father, what must his gratitude have been to Jesus, the Prince of Life?

1101 Tutti i Santi.jpg

Here (once again) is the homily I preached in French five years ago at the Monastère Saint-Benoît in Nans-sous-Sainte-Anne, France. Richard Chonak's fine translation follows. Thank you, Richard.

« Voici le peuple immense de ceux qui t'ont cherché ».

Oui, Seigneur Jésus, tous ils ont cherché ton Visage.
Tous, ils ont pris à cœur cette parole
que ton Esprit Saint a fait chanter le roi prophète :
« Mon cœur t'a déclaré : je cherche le Seigneur. . .
c'est ta Face, Seigneur, que je rechercherai.
Ne détourne pas de moi ton Visage » (Ps 26, 8-9).

Tous, ils sont devenus miroirs vivants de ta Sainte Face,
selon ce que dit ton Apôtre :
« Et nous tous qui, le visage découvert,
réfléchissons comme en un miroir la gloire du Seigneur,
nous sommes transformés en cette même image,
toujours plus glorieuse,
comme il convient à l'action du Seigneur, qui est l'Esprit » (2 Cor 3, 18).

Seigneur Jésus, la beauté de la gloire de tes saints nous ravit
parce qu'elle est le reflet sur leurs visages de la beauté de la gloire de ta Face !
Aujourd'hui tu nous révèles,
aujourd'hui tu nous redis le secret de toute sainteté :
la recherche de ta Face.

À quiconque cherche ta Face, Seigneur Jésus, tu la révèles,
et celui à qui tu révèles ta Face ne peut que l'adorer.
Cette adoration de ta Sainte Face est transformante,
C'est toujours le roi prophète qui nous donne de chanter chaque nuit :
« Sur nous s'est imprimé, Seigneur, la lumière de ta Face » (Ps 4, 7).

Parmi tous ces visages illuminés par la beauté de ta Face,
il y a un visage qui rayonne d'une splendeur qui fait pâlir le soleil.
C'est le visage de ta Mère, la toute belle, la toute pure.
Tu es toute belle, ô Marie, car sur ton visage nous voyons
le reflet éblouissant de Celui
qui est « le resplendissement de la gloire du Père
et l'effigie de sa substance » (Hb 1, 3).

Toi, la reine de tous les saints,
tu es le signe grandiose qui apparaît dans le ciel :
la Femme revêtue du soleil,
ayant la lune sous ses pieds,
et portant une couronne sertie de douze étoiles.

Je dois vous avouer, chères sœurs,
que dès que nous avons chanté l'antienne du Magnificat aux premières vêpres,
j'ai compris que la foi d'Abraham restait, en quelque sorte, inachevée,
tant qu'elle n'a pas trouvé en Marie sa plénitude.
Les fils et les filles d'Abraham, plus nombreux que les étoiles du ciel,
sont tous sans exception aucune, fils et filles de Marie,
de celle qui a cru « en l'accomplissement de ce qui lui fut dit
de la part du Seigneur » (Lc 1, 45).

C'est Marie qui entraîne tous les saints dans le chant qui, un jour,
déborda de son Cœur immaculé :
« Le Puissant a fait pour moi des merveilles » (Lc 1, 49).
Voici le chant de tous les saints.
Chacun le reçoit des lèvres de Marie pour le reprendre à son tour »
chacun avec sa voix, chacun avec son accent,
chacun avec la mélodie que lui inspire le Saint-Esprit.
C'est cela ce grand bruit qui remplit le ciel ;
c'est le chant de Marie repris par le chœur des saints.

Et qui sont ces saints, tous enfants de Marie ?
Ils sont les bienheureux de l'évangile que vous venez d'entendre.
À chacun des béatitudes correspond cette parole de Jésus crucifié,
ce testament d'amour confié au disciple bien-aimé : « Voici ta Mère » (Jn 19, 27).

Il me faut donc dire :
Vous, les pauvres de cœur, voici votre Mère,
la Vierge des pauvres telle qu'elle s'est manifestée à Banneux,
la Reine des anawim, de ceux qui attendent tout de Dieu.

Vous, les doux, voici votre Mère,
Marie, la bonne agnelle,
celle dont la mansuétude dépasse celle du roi David,
celle dont a douceur apaise tous nos conflits et calme toutes nos tempêtes.

Vous qui pleurez, voici votre Mère,
celle que l'Église, riche de l'expérience de deux millénaires,
appelle Consolatrix Afflictorum, la Consolatrice des Affligés.

Vous qui avez faim et soif de la justice, voici votre Mère,
la Mère de l'Eucharistie,
celle qui a donné de son corps et de son sang
pour que, de son sein virginal, fécondé par la puissance du Saint Esprit,
soient offerts au monde entier le Corps et le Sang du Christ
pour vous rassasier.

Vous les miséricordieux, voici votre Mère,
celle que l'Église, dans ce chant sublime qui s'élève des monastères de par le monde entier tous les soirs, appelle Mater misericordiae.
Marie ne s'effraie point à la vue de vos misères.
Elle les prend toutes dans son Cœur pour les tremper
dans l'huile et dans le vin du Saint Esprit.

Vous les cœurs purs, voici votre Mère,
l'Immaculée, la toute belle, celle qui opère dans le cœur dans pécheurs
des merveilles de pureté et de candeur.

Vous les artisans de paix, voici votre Mère, Regina pacis,
celle qui n'a jamais oublié le chant angélique qui a fait tressaillir les étoiles
en la nuit où elle a mis au monde le Prince de la Paix :
« Gloire à Dieu au plus haut des cieux, et paix sur la terre
aux hommes qu'il aime » (Lc 2, 14).

Vous les persécutés pour la justice, voici votre Mère,
la Regina Martyrum, celle dont l'âme fut transpercée d'un glaive de douleur.
Elle s'est tenue debout près de la croix de son Fils.
Elle a sondé toutes les amertumes et,
avec son Enfant crucifié, a bu le calice que le Père leur avait présenté.

Vous les insultés et les calomniés, voici votre Mère,
celle qui, rayonnante d'amour et de vérité, éclairera tous vos chemins.
C'est elle qui soutient les martyrs.
Rien de ce que vous souffrez ne lui est étranger.

Vous qui êtes dans la joie,
vous qui jubilez d'allégresse, voici votre Mère,
la Causa nostrae laetitiae.
Votre joie est la sienne, et sa joie à elle,
elle la déverse à flots dans les cœurs de tous les saints
jusque dans les siècles des siècles.

Sainte Marie, Mère et Reine de tous les saints,
nous voulons, comme l'apôtre Jean,
te prendre dès maintenant chez nous,
pour que tu nous apprennes les béatitudes
dont tu es l'icône parfaite.
Fais nous goûter au bonheur de tous les saints.
Et maintenant, accompagne-nous à l'autel du Saint Sacrifice.
Un jour, nous l'espérons fermement,
tu seras là pour nous accueillir au banquet qui déjà nous est préparé au ciel,
celui des Noces de l'Agneau.

About Dom Mark

Dom Mark Daniel Kirby is Conventual Prior of Silverstream Priory in Stamullen, County Meath, Ireland. The ecclesial mandate of his Benedictine community is the adoration of the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar in a spirit of reparation, and in intercession for the sanctification of priests.

Donations for Silverstream Priory