Recently in Personal Musings Category

Michael Dennis Kirby
March 20, 1959 -- November 25, 1998

Michael's Statue

When I was growing up, there was a statue of Saint Vincent de Paul in the bedroom of my younger brother Michael, and it was his statue.

Little Michael had shortened Saint Vincent de Paul's rather long name to “Saint-Vincenty.” He met “Saint Vincenty” when he was taken to the Hospital of Saint Raphael in New Haven, Connecticut for a surgical procedure on his arm. He couldn’t have been more than five years old at the time. Saint Raphael’s was staffed by the Sisters of Charity of Saint Elizabeth (Convent Station, NJ), spiritual daughters of Saint Vincent.

The Saint Who Loved Children

A lifesize statue of Saint Vincent de Paul figured prominently in the hospital. The statue depicted him with three poor children; one child was in his arms and the two others were huddled in the folds of his cloak. For some reason, little Michael was very taken with this saint who loved children, and wanted to have a statue of his own.

Mom and Dad found exactly the right statue at the Saint Thomas More Book Shop on Chapel Street in New Haven, and bought it for him. For many years “Saint Vincenty” watched over Michael from atop a chest of drawers, becoming chipped and battered, but no less loved.

How did a seventeenth century French priest become a comforting presence in the life of a little boy in New Haven, Connecticut? There were, of course, the obvious mediations: the Hospital of Saint Raphael and the impressive statue. But none of this would have happened had Saint Vincent de Paul not opened his heart to the Word of God, to the Charity of Jesus Christ, and to the voices of the little and the poor.

Images of the Saints

How important a Catholic work it is to make images of the saints available to little children. Holy Images -- what Adé Béthune, following Saint Leo the Great, called "sacred signs" -- can powerfully influence their lives, and stimulate their imaginations to pursue the good, the true, and the beautiful. Every little boy should have his favourite saint, and an image of him (or her) close at hand.

Twenty-nine years ago today, a few young men prayed this Act of Consecration together in the crypt of the Basilica of Montmartre in Paris. I was among them. Our Lord is faithful, faithful even in the face of all our weaknesses, and infidelities, and betrayals. In the end, if we persevere in believing in His fidelity, His merciful love will triumph in our lives, and He will do in us and for us all that we, of and by ourselves, were unable to do.

Lord Jesus, we come to this holy place, to this Mount of Martyrs,
as so many saints have done,
to adore Thee, to thank Thee for the wonders of Thy love,
to implore Thy mercy and, above all,
to offer ourselves to Thy Heart. . . .

Lord Jesus, we seek Thy Face;
we consecrate ourselves to Thy Sacred Heart,
praying Thee so to unite us to Thyself
that Thou wilt live, and suffer, and pray
in us and through us
for the glory of the Father and the salvation of the world.

Lord Jesus, unite us to Thy faithful and perfect "Yes" to the Father,
that was consummated upon the Cross.
Thus wilt Thou unite us to the Holy Sacrifice offered throughout the world,
and give us to discover anew the hidden fecundity of the Cross.

Lord Jesus, we are certain of being heard
because we come to Thy Sacred Heart through the Heart of Mary
whom Thou didst give us from the Cross to be our Mother.
Mary is the faithful Virgin, Our Lady of Compassion,
standing with Thy Beloved Disciple at the foot of the Cross.
Let us know how close to us she is, and how present in our life.

Relinquishing Control

What does it mean to pray for someone or something?
If I pray to obtain control over someone or something, I am wasting my time.
Prayer is the expression of my desire to relinquish all control over persons, things, and circumstances into the merciful and loving hands of God.

Adoration of the Divine Will

If I pray to have some power over persons, things, or the course of events, my prayer is futile; it is, in some way, an anti-prayer.
Prayer is the struggle to let go of every desire to have power over others, over things, and over the course of events.
Prayer is adoration of the Divine Will in all its manifestations.

The Lord's Doings

At Vespers this evening I chanted the utter perfection of all that God does: Magna opera Domini, exquirenda omnibus, qui cupiunt ea (Psalm 110:2). Knox translates: "Chant we the Lord's doings, delight and study of all who love Him." And then, in the following psalm, singing of the just man, I read, Ab auditione mala non timebit. Paratum cor eius, sperans in Domino (Psalm 111:7). "No fear shall he have of evil tidings; on the Lord his hope is fixed unchangeably." Both verses enchanted me . . . and instructed me.

How Do I Pray?

How often do I bring to prayer a problem to be resolved, a person I would like to see changed, a suffering that I want to forestall? I tell God how best to resolve the problem. I advise Him on how best to change the person who is the object of my intercession. I bargain with Him in order to avoid the suffering that I fear: a suffering that may well be imaginary and that, more often than not, is merely the projection of an anguish lurking somewhere in my subconscious.

In Manibus Tuis

It is right to bring persons, things, and events to prayer, but the purpose of prayer is not to wrest control from the hands of God in order to assure that I get my own way, but, rather, to surrender all control in an act of childlike trust in the mercy, wisdom, and power of the Father. I remember the exhilaration I once experienced while standing in the middle of the choir singing the Offertory Antiphon, In te speravi. It contains the line, Tu es Deus meus, in manibus tuis tempora mea, "Thou art my God, my destiny is in Thy hands" (Psalm 30:16). The liturgy is an infallible school of what is essential in prayer.

The Rosary

There is another form of prayer that is admirably suited to "letting go," and that prayer is the Holy Rosary of Our Blessed Lady. It is as if each Ave, recited with one's gaze fixed on the face of the Blessed Virgin, relaxes one's hold over things, be it real, or imagined, or even desired, in such a way as to make it easier to relinquish everything into the hands of God. I have been praying my Rosary before the icon of Our Mother of Perpetual Help during this her Novena. "Hold on to me just as the little Jesus holds on to my thumb," she seems to be saying, "and let go of all the rest."

Images

Today's feast of Saint Catherine brought to mind how she has moved about in my life at various times. Having grown up in a city graced with a magnificent Dominican church, I knew of Saint Catherine from having seen her in a stained glass window. As a little boy I was profoundly affected by pictures, especially "holy pictures." Images engraved themselves in my memory. I remember having seen Saint Catherine crowned with thorns, and clutching the cross. In my "Lives of the Saints for Children" there was a romantic picture of Christ the King of Glory appearing in the sky over a young Catherine's head. If I recall rightly, her little brother was with her.

The Fire of Love

I must have read about Saint Catherine in my Missal or in The Church's Year of Grace by Pius Parsch, one of my favourite books from about age ten on. Years passed. I entered the monastery. One day I began reading the autobiographical notes of Cardinal Charles Journet. He described his own encounter with Catherine. He related how she erupted into his life as a seminarian, irrigating the dessicated theology of the "manuals" then in use, with a river of fire and of blood. Seminarians at the time were not allowed to read the mystics. They were deemed distractions from "serious theology." The young Abbé Journet read Saint Catherine of Siena in secret. She saved him from the banalization of the Mystery and invited him to surrender not only his mind to the light of God, but also his heart to the Fire of Love.

In the Train to Lourdes

Several years later I was in a train going from Paris to Lourdes. Across from me in my compartment was an elderly Dominican Father engrossed in reading and in telling his beads. I had just finished saying part of the Office, when the Dominican smiled and offered me a "holy picture" from his own breviary. It depicted Saint Catherine of Siena reciting the breviary with Our Lord as they walked side by side. The elderly Dominican turned out to be Père Henri-Marie Manteau-Bonamy, the famous Mariologist.

Praying With Christ

There again, the image from Père Manteau-Bonamy's breviary affected me deeply. I don't know what has become of it. Someday perhaps I shall find it between the pages of a book. The truth it portrayed still challenges and comforts me. When I pray the Divine Office alone in my tiny domestic oratory, I softly sing my verse and then read the following one silently, allowing Our Lord to sing it. Thus do we form a single choir, a single body praising the Father together in the Holy Spirit. I never pray the Office alone. Christ is always present, singing His part, sustaining my weakness, and making my poor prayer all His. Had Père Manteau-Bonamy never given me that "holy picture" of Saint Catherine reciting the breviary with Our Lord, I would not, I think, be praying in quite the same way all these years later.

Was anyone else struck by the Holy Father's allusion, in today's Regina Caeli message, to the "Marian dimension" of Pope John Paul II's death on the First Saturday of the month? "Many notice," he said, "the singular coincidence, that brought together in itself the Marian dimension — the First Saturday of the month — and the dimension of Divine Mercy." This discreet allusion to Our Lady of Fatima and to her role in the life and in the piety of John Paul II is, to my mind, very significant.

I recall what Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger wrote in 2000:

I would like finally to mention another key expression of the “secret” which has become justly famous: “my Immaculate Heart will triumph”. What does this mean? The Heart open to God, purified by contemplation of God, is stronger than guns and weapons of every kind. The fiat of Mary, the word of her heart, has changed the history of the world, because it brought the Saviour into the world—because, thanks to her Yes, God could become man in our world and remains so for all time. The Evil One has power in this world, as we see and experience continually; he has power because our freedom continually lets itself be led away from God. But since God himself took a human heart and has thus steered human freedom towards what is good, the freedom to choose evil no longer has the last word. From that time forth, the word that prevails is this: “In the world you will have tribulation, but take heart; I have overcome the world” (Jn 16:33). The message of Fatima invites us to trust in this promise.

Wednesday, April 2nd, will be the anniversary of the death of the Servant of God Pope John Paul II in 2005. Friday, April 4th, will be the anniversary of the death of Blessed Francisco Marto in 1919, and of Saint Gaetano Catanoso, the Apostle of the Holy Face, in 1963. Saturday, April 5th, will be the First Saturday of the month. I'm looking forward to a very special week.

Saint Patrick's Day Secularized

I wanted to buy a few cards for Saint Patrick's Day to send to family and friends both in Ireland and in the U.S. The cards I saw in local shops were entirely secular, apart from a few sentimental "Irish Blessing" motifs. Many were in poor taste. Some were downright offensive. Even our local Celtica shop had precious little in the way of images of Saint Patrick. I irked the chirpy sales lady by saying that her so-called Saint Patrick's Day cards were . . . heathen!

Remembering Adé

My mentor of thirty-five years ago, Catholic artist Adé Béthune, found her vocation when Dorothy Day asked her to make some good images of the saints. Adé's saints appeared in the pages of the Catholic Worker. They were later printed as greeting cards and holy pictures. Conception Abbey's Printery House has some decent Saint Patrick's Day cards. There may be other sources too. Terry N. would know. For the most part what I saw today was . . . heathen!

To Preach or Not to Preach

I was sorely tempted not to preach this morning. Preaching seven days a week is a huge investment of time and energy; at the same time it is an inestimable grace. I believe that the Word of God sanctifies the preacher's heart and his lips so often as he delivers it in the grace of the Holy Ghost.

A Necessity Lieth Upon Me

All the same, there are days when everything in me wants to slack off. And then I hear Saint Paul saying, "For if I preach the gospel, it is no glory to me, for a necessity lieth upon me: for woe is unto me if I preach not the gospel" (1 Cor 9:16) — and so I "preach the word, being instant in season, and out of season: reproving, entreating, and rebuking in all patience and doctrine" (cf. 2 Tim 4:2).

The Grace of Holy Preaching

A stellar French Dominican of the last century used to say that the grace of la sainte prédication, holy preaching, was given to the preacher in proportion to the spiritual desire and openness of his hearers. Most priests have experienced this. There are situations in which the grace of the Word seems blocked by an almost perceptible resistance to it in the assembly. There are also situations in which the grace of the Word flows abundantly under the anointing of the Holy Spirit, causing the preacher's heart to "overflow with a goodly theme."

A Cast of Characters

On any given day, I am faced, while I preach, with a poor disgruntled soul who mutters disapproval in a stage whisper or noisily turns pages. That hurts. And it's rude. Another uses the time of the homily to read the commentary in Magnificat. (Shouldn't the editors write something about not reading Magnificat during the homily, at least when one is seated under the priest's nose?) Especially discouraging to me is the defiant sour puss whose entire body is a study in passive aggression. Nearly every day I see one or two dear souls who doze while I speak. That doesn't really annoy me. Sleepiness is a weakness that I fully understand. There are also those who register a benign indifference. I can cope with that. And, thank God, there are a few who listen attentively, giving the occasional indication that something has touched their hearts.

Visited by the Word

This morning I battled with the temptation not to preach. The devil uses all his tricks to silence a preacher of the Word: discouragement, wounded self-love, a sudden onslaught of inexplicable weariness, the fear of rejection, and the insinuation that it is all useless. The power of the Holy Name of Jesus, today's glorious feast, triumphed over my reluctance and fears, and so I preached in spite of myself. As I was walking to my car after Mass, a lady with a lovely smile stopped me and said, "Father, thank you for your words today." By the light shining in her eyes, I knew that the Word had visited her. And I gave thanks.

I offered the Sunday Vigil Mass in a suburban parish last Saturday in order to help out a friend and brother priest. Father is very dedicated and I have immense esteem for him. The observations that follow are no reflection on him. He inherited a difficult situation and hasn't yet completed his first year in the parish. But, like the prophet Jeremias, I am "weary with holding in." Disclaimer: the images below are in no way related to the place or persons mentioned in this rant. Any resemblance is purely coincidental.

Chatter

The first thing that disconcerted me was the idle chatter in church before Mass. It was like being in a theatre waiting for the lights to dim and the curtain to go up. People seated in little groups around the church held exchanged news and joked with absolutely no regard for the presence of the Blessed Sacrament, the sacredness of the place, or the few faithful who were actually trying to pray. I knelt in the back of the church surrounded by prattle on all sides and felt an immense sadness in my heart. The words of the Mass of the Sacred Heart came to mind: "I looked for one that would grieve together with me, but there was none; and for one that would comfort me, and I found none" (Ps 68:21). Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament was alone among his own: ignored and treated with ingratitude and indifference in His own house. The chatter resumed immediately after Mass.

The Place

The unfortunate architecture of this particular church does not easily lend itself to recollection or to a spontaneous focus on the presence of our Lord. In spite of the large crucifix above the tabernacle, there is something about the building that is inimical to prayer. But there is more: the faithful seem to have lost any awareness of the Real Presence of Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament. There is no "eucharistic amazement." One does not find there the hush ordinarily commanded by an experience of the sacred.

Reverence

Not that long ago there was still a lively sense of reverence among Catholics. People would sign themselves with Holy Water upon entering the church. They would genuflect before entering the pew, then kneel in adoration for a few moments. It was not uncommon to see people lighting candles before Mass or visiting the side altars and the shrines of their favourite saints. Some folks would pray the rosary quietly. Others would read over the Mass of the day in their missals. All of this has been swept away. When Pope John Paul II proclaimed the "Year of the Eucharist" his stated aim was the recovery of "Eucharistic amazement" — call it reverence, awe, or the spirit of adoration — in the whole Church. Instead of things improving in the average parish, they seem to be getting worse.

A number of factors have contributed to this desolate situation. I will enumerate a few of them:

1) The loss of any notion of sacred space. I think this is directly related to the removal of the Communion Rail or other effective delineation of the sanctuary of the church. Time to rally 'round the rood screen again! The Tractarians were right.

2) Mass "facing the people." This, more than anything else, undermined and continues to undermine the faithful's experience of the Mass as a Sacrifice offered to God in adoration, propitiation, thanksgiving, and supplication. The altar has become the big desk of the clerical CEO behind it: The Presider. It has become a stage prop for the "performing priest," complete with The Microphone.

3) Holy Communion in the hand. I see it every time I offer Mass in a parish church: the casual approach prevails. If one receives the Holy Mysteries like ordinary bread and a sip of ordinary wine, one begins rather sooner than later, will-nilly, to think of them as mere bread and wine.

4) No bells. Instead of ringing a sacristy bell to announce the beginning of Mass, the organist leaned into His Microphone and said, "Let us stand to greet Father Kirby." Sorry. That is not what the Entrance Procession is about. It is a humble, joyful, and orderly movement into the Holy Place, a crossing-over from chronos (worldly, stressful, clocked time) to kairos (the heavenly, tranquil, timeless moment of God), an entering into the adorable presence of the God who is like a consuming fire, a making-ready for the inbreaking of the Kingdom of Heaven. A bell says it better.

Same thing during the Eucharistic Prayer. People need to be warned of the imminence of the most sacred moment of the Mass, even when the Eucharistic Prayer (Canon) is prayed aloud and in the vernacular. A bell does the job quite nicely. And another thing: saying the whole Eucharistic Prayer aloud and in the vernacular does not automatically guarantee "full, conscious, and actual participation" in the Holy Sacrifice. Silence, on the other hand, at least for certain parts of the Eucharistic Prayer, effectively opens a door onto the Holy Mysteries.

5) Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion. Alas, they are not extraordinary. They are ubiquitous and, I think, superfluous. Does expediting the distribution of Holy Communion really constitute grave necessity? In the church where I offered Mass last Saturday there were four Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion, all of whom were women. Three were wearing casual slacks and one was showing cleavage. They could have been serving lemonade at the parish garden party. It was frightfully inappropriate.

Could there not be properly instituted acolytes for the service of the Holy Mysteries where such are needed? These would be adult men — few in number — suitably vested in amice, alb, and cincture and, most of all, schooled in reverence, attention, and devotion, and carefully trained for the service of the sacred liturgy.

This brings up yet another issue? Where have all the men gone? At last Saturday's Mass, the four Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion, the Server, and one Lector were all women. I am not a misogynist. But honestly, this situation does nothing to foster priestly vocations.

6) The Music. Dare I call it that? Oh, the music! Show-tuney, trite, tired, and sickeningly sentimental with the organist/crooner singing into His Microphone. Might we not try singing the Mass itself: the Ordinary and the Propers? More than anything else celebrants must begin taking their sacerdotal obligations seriously by learning to cantillate the dialogical parts of the Mass, the orations, the Preface Dialogue and Preface, and the other elements that belong uniquely to them as priests.

I am not a gloomy person by nature, but last Saturday's Mass left me very sad indeed. "For if in the green wood they do these things, what shall be done in the dry?" (Lk 23:31).

What do these Catholic bloggers do when they meet? Pray. Sing. Talk. Eat. Pray. Sing. Talk. Eat. Did I mention the singing? This photo of Father Jeffrey Keyes, C.PP.S. of Rifugio San Gaspare, Richard Chonak of Catholic Light, and myself was taken in the entrance garden of the little church of the Monastery of the Glorious Cross, O.S.B. in Branford, Connecticut.

Yesterday we sang the beautiful Ordinary XII (Pater cuncta), together with the Introit Salus autem and the Alleluia Te martyrum from the Mass of SS. Pontian and Hippolytus. Mass at the Monastery of the Glorious Cross is at 11:50 on weekdays and at 11:00 on Sundays and Solemnities. When I am not serving as chaplain the times of Mass may vary, so call ahead.

The monastery church had to be designed in an existing space. The building is the former Connecticut Hospice. The low ceiling posed real problems. We opened it up with two light wells: one directly over the altar, and another directly over the place where Holy Communion is distributed. The low walls surrounding the sanctuary were another challenge. They contain all sorts of pipes and wiring and could not be removed. We integrated them into the design to form a very effective delineation of the the sanctuary. The Benedictine nuns are in two choirs to the right and left of the sanctuary. The lay faithful have chairs and kneelers facing the sanctuary.

The crucifix came from the workshops of the Nuns of Bethlehem and of the Assumption. The icons of the Saviour and of the Mother of God are by a Benedictine of Jesus Crucified in France.

We are presently holding a Novena of Masses for the happy repose of the souls of all those who died in the monastery building while it was The Connecticut Hospice.

Yes, I do celebrate Holy Mass ad orientem. The wrought iron gates in front of the tabernacle are closed during the Holy Sacrifice and remain open outside of Mass. The conical chasuble of red wool is the work of Vincent Crosby. He explains the conical form of the chasuble:

The chasuble originated in the everyday dress of the Roman citizen at the beginning of the Christian era. It was known as the paenula, the outer garment that entirely enveloped the figure and hung in radiating folds. It had a cone-like or conical shape. To free the hands it was necessary to gather up the material into graceful folds across the forearms.

For the artist, it is a more interesting garment to design because unlike the more static “gothic” chasuble, the conical chasuble changes as it responds to the human body. It is also a more rewarding garment to wear because of the beauty of its folds.

Space for Grace

So, is it sufficient to want chastity, to ask for it, and to wait for it? Yes. But if you really want it, after asking for it, you will need to make room for it in your life. This will lead you to make certain detachments. Some things — perhaps a lot of things — will have to go into Savonarola's bonfire of the vanities or, at least, into the dumpster. The gifts of God are for those who wait for them with empty hands.

Doing Something

It is important to pose concrete gestures. Make your desire for continence real and, in some way, physical. Fasting, abstinence, and vigils belong to the classic repertoire of Christian asceticism. They do not produce chastity nor do they guarantee it. They merely dispose one to receive it humbly as a grace graciously given by God.

The Little Way

Privilege the Little Way. Do not be anxious to meet self-imposed deadlines. Dismiss the desire to set up standards that, being unrealistic, are really traps. Proceed humbly but resolutely. Remain at peace. It is not necessary to do everything at once; it is necessary to do something, to do one little thing at a time. After a while you will surrender to the mysterious rhythms of Divine Grace and, as Saint Benedict says, your heart will be opened wide "to run in a sweetness of love that is beyond words" (RB Pro:49).

The Egg and the Ox

Getting rid of things linked to certain sinful patterns of thinking and acting makes room for Divine Grace. Detachment, even from small things, can be the first step toward inner liberation from sin. The response of God is magnificently disproportionate to the smallest token of one's desire to receive His gifts in poverty of spirit. Saint Louis Marie Grignion de Montfort used to say with a bit of peasant humour: Pour un oeuf, Dieu donne un boeuf, that is, "in exchange for an egg, God gives an ox!"

Our Lady

Ask the Blessed Virgin Mary to show you what things you need to liquidate. She will counsel you every step of the way. Often, her inspirations will come to you during the rosary. Mary will lead you gently but firmly, pointing out the things that need to disappear from your life. "He that hearkeneth to me," she says, "shall not be confounded, and that work by me shall not sin" (Eccl 24:30).

Anoint Thy Head

Above all, keep a sense of humour. Laugh at yourself. Do not dramatize. Do not go all sour on life's simple joys. Be grateful for all things beautiful. Celebrate important moments with roses and wine. Practice a bracing mortification, but do not play at being the ascetic. "But thou, when thou fastest anoint thy head, and wash thy face; that thou appear not to men to fast, but to thy Father who is in secret; and thy Father who seeth in secret, will repay thee" (Mt 6:17-18).