“He has sent me to proclaim liberty to captives” – Luke 4:18

{I apologize up front here for the excessive length of my post today, but I feel those who can take time will be enriched by these texts}

Part I: Franciscum et Benedictum

I would like to begin by noting here something important that happened yesterday in Rome. Pope Francis referred for the first time to the “voice of Benedict XVI,” and especially to Benedict’s core message regarding the Western “crisis of truth.” Francis took his stand with firmly with Benedict, while at the same time further enriching his own insistent “Franciscan” call to our Church for a new “poverty of spirit” by offering a concomitant critique of Gospel-poverty’s antithesis, “spiritual poverty”:

But there is another form of poverty! It is the spiritual poverty of our time, which afflicts the so-called richer countries particularly seriously. It is what my much-loved predecessor, the dear and venerated Benedict XVI, called the ‘dictatorship of relativism’ which makes everyone his own criterion and endangers the coexistence of peoples.

And that brings me to a second reason for my name. Francis of Assisi tells us we should work to build peace. But there is no true peace without truth!

There cannot be true peace if everyone is his own criterion, if everyone can always claim exclusively his own rights, without at the same time caring for the good of others, of everyone, on the basis of the nature that unites every human being on this earth.

One of the titles of the Bishop of Rome is Pontiff, that is, a builder of bridges with God and between people.

My wish is that the dialogue between us should help to build bridges connecting all people, in such a way that everyone can see in the other not an enemy, not a rival, but a brother or sister to be welcomed and embraced!

My own origins impel me to work for the building of bridges.

As you know, my family is of Italian origin; and so this dialogue between places and cultures a great distance apart matters greatly to me, this dialogue between one end of the world and the other, which today are growing ever closer, more interdependent, more in need of opportunities to meet and to create real spaces of authentic fraternity.

In this work, the role of religion is fundamental. It is not possible to build bridges between people while forgetting God. But the converse is also true: it is not possible to establish true links with God, while ignoring other people.

Hence it is important to intensify dialogue among the various religions, and I am thinking particularly of dialogue with Islam.

At the Mass marking the beginning of my ministry, I greatly appreciated the presence of so many civil and religious leaders from the Islamic world.

And it is also important to intensify outreach to non-believers, so that the differences which divide and hurt us may never prevail, but rather the desire to build true links of friendship between all peoples, despite their diversity.

Fighting poverty, both material and spiritual, building peace and constructing bridges: these, as it were, are the reference points for a journey that I want to invite each of the countries here represented to take up.

But it is a difficult journey, if we do not learn to grow in love for this world of ours.

Here too, it helps me to think of the name of Francis, who teaches us profound respect for the whole of creation and the protection of our environment, which all too often, instead of using for the good, we exploit greedily, to one another’s detriment.

Part II: Preaching to Prisoners

In honor of Pope Francis’ stunning decision to celebrate the Mass of the Lord’s Supper on Holy Thursday in a juvenile prison, Casal del Marmo, I thought it would be appropriate to re-print Pope Emeritus Benedict’s homily at the same prison in Lent of 2007.

To me, the power of celebrating the liturgical memorial of the institution of the Sacramental Sacrifice of Passover Freedom in a prison is extraordinary. Francis is certainly thus far a pope of wows.

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Chapel of the Merciful Father

Fourth Sunday of Lent, 18 March 2007

Dear Brothers and Sisters,
Dear Boys and Girls,

I have willingly come to pay you a Visit, and the most important moment of our meeting is Holy Mass, where the gift of God’s love is renewed: a love that comforts us and gives us peace, especially in life’s difficult moments.

In this prayerful atmosphere I would like to address my greeting to each one of you: to the Hon. Mr Clemente Mastella, Minister of Justice, to whom I express a special “thank you”; to Mrs Melìta Cavallo, Department Head of Justice for Minors, to the other Authorities who have spoken, to those in charge, to the operators, teachers and personnel of this juvenile penitentiary, to the volunteers, to your relatives and to everyone present.

I greet the Cardinal Vicar and Auxiliary Bishop Benedetto Tùzia.

I greet in particular, Mons. Giorgio Caniato, General Inspector of the Prisons Chaplaincy, and your Chaplain, whom I thank for expressing your sentiments at the beginning of Holy Mass.

In the Eucharistic celebration it is Christ himself who becomes present among us; indeed, even more: he comes to enlighten us with his teaching — in the Liturgy of the Word — and to nourish us with his Body and his Blood — in the Eucharistic Liturgy and in Communion.

Thus, he comes to teach us to love, to make us capable of loving and thereby capable of living.

But perhaps you will say, how difficult it is to love seriously and to live well! What is the secret of love, the secret of life? Let us return to the Gospel [of the Prodigal Son].

In this Gospel three persons appear: the father and two sons. But these people represent two rather different life projects. Both sons lived peacefully, they were fairly well-off farmers so they had enough to live on, selling their produce profitably, and life seemed good.

Yet little by little the younger son came to find this life boring and unsatisfying: “All of life can’t be like this”, he thought: rising every day, say at six o’clock, then according to Israel’s traditions, there must have been a prayer, a reading from the Holy Bible, then they went to work and at the end of the day another prayer.

Thus, day after day he thought: “But no, life is something more. I must find another life where I am truly free, where I can do what I like; a life free from this discipline, from these norms of God’s commandments, from my father’s orders; I would like to be on my own and have life with all its beauties totally for myself. Now, instead, it is nothing but work…”.

And so he decided to claim the whole of his share of his inheritance and leave. His father was very respectful and generous and respected the son’s freedom: it was he who had to find his own life project.

And he departed, as the Gospel says, to a far-away country. It was probably geographically distant because he wanted a change, but also inwardly distant because he wanted a completely different life.

So his idea was: freedom, doing what I want to do, not recognizing these laws of a God who is remote, not being in the prison of this domestic discipline, but rather doing what is beautiful, what I like, possessing life with all its beauty and fullness.

And at first — we might imagine, perhaps for a few months — everything went smoothly: he found it beautiful to have attained life at last, he felt happy.

Then, however, little by little, he felt bored here, too; here too everything was always the same.

And in the end, he was left with an emptiness that was even more disturbing: the feeling that this was still not life became ever more acute; indeed, going ahead with all these things, life drifted further and further away.

Everything became empty: the slavery of doing the same things then also re-emerged. And in the end, his money ran out and the young man found that his standard of living was lower than that of swine.

It was then that he began to reflect and wondered if that really was the path to life: a freedom interpreted as doing what I want, living, having life only for me; or if instead it might be more of a life to live for others, to contribute to building the world, to the growth of the human community….

So it was that he set out on a new journey, an inner journey.

The boy pondered and considered all these new aspects of the problem and began to see that he had been far freer at home, since he had also been a landowner contributing to building his home and society in communion with the Creator, knowing the purpose of his life and guessing the project that God had in store for him.

During this interior journey, during this development of a new life project and at the same time living the exterior journey, the younger son was motivated to return, to start his life anew because he now understood that he had taken the wrong track. I must start out afresh with a different concept, he said to himself; I must begin again.

And he arrived at the home of the father who had left him his freedom to give him the chance to understand inwardly what life is and what life is not. The father embraced him with all his love, he offered him a feast and life could start again beginning from this celebration.

The son realized that it is precisely work, humility and daily discipline that create the true feast and true freedom.

So he returned home, inwardly matured and purified: he had understood what living is.

Of course, in the future his life would not be easy either, temptations would return, but he was henceforth fully aware that life without God does not work; it lacks the essential, it lacks light, it lacks reason, it lacks the great sense of being human. He understood that we can only know God on the basis of his Word.

We Christians can add that we know who God is from Jesus, in whom the face of God has been truly shown to us. The young man understood that God’s Commandments are not obstacles to freedom and to a beautiful life, but signposts on the road on which to travel to find life.

He realized too that work and the discipline of being committed, not to oneself but to others, extends life.

And precisely this effort of dedicating oneself through work gives depth to life, because one experiences the pleasure of having at last made a contribution to the growth of this world that becomes freer and more beautiful.

I do not wish at this point to speak of the other son who stayed at home, but in his reaction of envy we see that inwardly he too was dreaming that perhaps it would be far better to take all the freedoms for himself.

He too in his heart was “returning home” and understanding once again what life is, understanding that it is truly possible to live only with God, with his Word, in the communion of one’s own family, of work; in the communion of the great Family of God.

I do not wish to enter into these details now: let each one of us apply this Gospel to himself in his own way. Our situations are different and each one has his own world. Nonetheless, the fact remains that we are all moved and that we can all enter with our inner journey into the depths of the Gospel.

Only a few more remarks: the Gospel helps us understand who God truly is. He is the Merciful Father who in Jesus loves us beyond all measure.

The errors we commit, even if they are serious, do not corrode the fidelity of his love. In the Sacrament of Confession we can always start out afresh in life. He welcomes us, he restores to us our dignity as his children.

Let us therefore rediscover this sacrament of forgiveness that makes joy well up in a heart reborn to true life.

Furthermore, this parable helps us to understand who the human being is: he is not a “monad”, an isolated being who lives only for himself and must have life for himself alone.

On the contrary, we live with others, we were created together with others and only in being with others, in giving ourselves to others, do we find life.

The human being is a creature in whom God has impressed his own image, a creature who is attracted to the horizon of his Grace, but he is also a frail creature exposed to evil but also capable of good. And lastly, the human being is a free person.

We must understand what freedom is and what is only the appearance of freedom.

Freedom, we can say, is a springboard from which to dive into the infinite sea of divine goodness, but it can also become a tilted plane on which to slide towards the abyss of sin and evil and thus also to lose freedom and our dignity.

Dear friends, we are in the Season of Lent, the 40 days before Easter. In this Season of Lent, the Church helps us to make this interior journey and invites us to conversion, which always, even before being an important effort to change our behaviour, is an opportunity to decide to get up and set out again, to abandon sin and to choose to return to God.

Let us — this is the imperative of Lent — make this journey of inner liberation together.

Every time, such as today, that we participate in the Eucharist, the source and school of love, we become capable of living this love, of proclaiming it and witnessing to it with our life.

Nevertheless, we need to decide to walk towards Jesus as the Prodigal Son did, returning inwardly and outwardly to his father.

At the same time, we must abandon the selfish attitude of the older son who was sure of himself, quick to condemn others and closed in his heart to understanding, acceptance and forgiveness of his brother, and who forgot that he too was in need of forgiveness.

May the Virgin Mary and St Joseph, my Patron Saint whose Feast it will be tomorrow, obtain this gift for us; I now invoke him in a special way for each one of you and for your loved ones.

Petrine Authority

The other day, I was responding to a seminarian’s question about the nature of the power of the Papacy in the Church, and I quoted from Pope Francis’ Inaugural Mass homily where he made the point that the true nuclear reactor (my image) of any Petrine power is to be found in the Cross. We then unpacked that statement and its rich and varied meaning. The next day I read this quote from Francis Cardinal George, OMI, who, while still in Rome, offered a striking read of this “cruciform power”:

I am writing this from Rome, just a few days after the election of Pope Francis. There is and will continue to be much discussion about him and the Church. Often this discussion starts with statistics about how many U.S. Catholics disagree with Church teaching on sexual morality.

But I am in Rome. Two thousand years ago, children were killed here in their mother’s womb and newborn babies were abandoned on hillsides if their fathers didn’t want them. Homosexual relations caused little surprise. Divorce was rampant. There’s nothing new about sin.

Peter didn’t tell the Christians here that they should act in ways acceptable to the Emperor or to the general population. He had the keys given him by Christ; he, with all his weakness, was a rock. St. Peter was crucified outside the center of Rome by the authorities of his day, as Jesus, his only master, was crucified a few decades earlier outside Jerusalem.

Pope Francis is Peter’s successor. His faith will confirm ours, and it will be the faith of the apostles and of the saints of all the ages, the faith that conforms our minds and hearts to the mind and heart of Jesus Christ, who is the same “yesterday, today and forever.”

“Contradiction is not a sign of falsity, nor the lack of contradiction a sign of truth.”

― Blaise Pascal

Our Misérables Pope: miserando atque eligendo

As I have been prayerfully reflecting on Pope Francis’ expressed wish to see a “poor Church and a Church for the poor,” I had a flash insight Sunday morning that connected his aspirations with the Gospel-like vision of poverty and redemption found in the musical, Les Misérables.

In fact, you might say that Les Mis offers a sort of dramatic and redemptive theology of poverty steeped in mercy that addresses socio-economic injustice, the role of virtue in genuine reform and the power of evangelical poverty in those chosen by God to bring Jesus’ glad tidings to the poor. I think here especially of the Christ-figure that the Bishop was in the musical/movie, and even of the more striking resemblance between Pope Francis’ style and that of the historical bishop [N.B. maroon words are always hyperlinked] that stood behind the Les Mis character. (See also this clip on the Bishop)

If you get to watch the movie again, see if you also can perceive in it a dramatized “Franciscan” program for ecclesial reform and evangelizing fire in a Church whose load has been lightened and whose face by Christ’s has been brightened.

Or, just maybe, you will see that I have too much time on my hands to even think of such things.

In any event, any viewing of Les Mis can only leave you enriched.

Spousal Prayer

{I want to begin this blog by promoting the ’cause’ of a woman I came to know in Iowa that I consider to be truly saintly: Sr. Pat Scherer. And here I mean by saintly holiness in work boots. She gave most of her consecrated religious life to the service of the ‘least among us’ (especially immigrants) in a spirit of bright joy and feisty humility that left me forever changed. In fact, she opened me to an abiding affection for Sudanese St. Josephine Bakhita, to whom she was deeply devoted. You may not have known Sr. Pat, but let me say she is a worthy candidate for this award — click here if you want to see and agree}

Okay, on to today’s topic…

I have to say that Deacon Jim Keating at IPF in Omaha is one of the most human of theologians I have ever known, and everything that comes out of his theological mind is veritable gold. I remember when Bishop Pates in Des Moines and I interviewed Dr. Keating on the radio, the Bishop remarked during the break: You can tell he prays.

If you are someone who likes to listen to podcasts, Discerning Hearts has a trove of Keating audio files that are worth downloading. Click here.

But today I am writing about Dr. Keating specifically because I just found out that his latest book is out, and its on one of his favorite subjects: marriage. The book’s core thesis is that marital intimacy, which includes the sharing of the whole of one’s life with one’s spouse, includes the sharing on one’s relationship with God in prayer. In fact, inasmuch as marriage is a sacrament its very essence is a mutual giving of divine grace that, in the ideal, draws each spouse deeper into intimacy with God. Spousal prayer, in this sense, unlocks the latent power of the sacrament to become grace-dealing in marriage and family life; and becomes a source of redemptive healing and transformation. And let me say that this book’s wisdom not just for spouses, but it’s also a very useful source for preachers and pastors whose vocation is to cultivate the life of prayer in married couples.

Read this summary and consider getting a copy:

Spousal Prayer: A Way to Marital Happiness affirms that the sharing of hearts is a necessary commitment in both marriage and in prayer. If we can learn what the key elements of sharing the heart are, and equally what the key elements of receiving the heart of another are, then we will know the greatest of intimacy in both prayer and in marriage.

The mingling of the love of spouse with the love of God has always been the foundation for a life of marital peace, creativity, and vibrancy, not to mention sanctity. In fact, we cannot even understand what marriage is unless we look at how Christ loved His Bride, the Church, till the end (cf. Jn 13:1). For the baptized, Christ has joined His love for the Church to the Sacrament of Marriage.

Each couple is called to allow Jesus to bring them into this great love of His. The couple is not supposed to do all the “work” of love, but rather is called to let Jesus gift them with His own spousal love. In other words, couples should let Jesus live His spousal love for the Church over again in their own love for one another. They do this by simply asking Him in prayer to do so, and by sharing their deepest needs and desires with Him. Marriage is not a “self-help” relationship; it is a deep partnership with Christ.

St. Joseph the Great

St. Joseph’s solemn feast is today! It’s a day of exuberant and Lent-defying celebration for the whole Church, especially as Pope Francis celebrates his Inaugural Mass. And it’s a special joy for men everywhere who have the distinct privilege of being fathers, yes!, but also of being guardians of God’s beloved daughters.

St. Joseph, Spouse and Abba

St. Joe rocks. Foster father of God’s Son and spouse of the God-bearer.

When I ponder the fact that he bore the fearsome role of being the earthly image for Jesus of the heavenly Father, it fills me with wonder and awe. When Jesus first said Abba, he meant Joseph. And, as with all fathers, the vocation of Joseph was to provide for Jesus as seamless a transition from father to Father as possible. Joseph was a craftsman, working by the sweat of his brow and teaching Jesus the dignity of doing the same. He was a just man, a man who walked in dark and pilgrim faith, the protector of and provider for his family and a man of humble silence.

All that said, what stands out to me most, especially in our time, as most remarkable is that he was placed as guardian of his bride’s God-sealed virgin chastity, which he secured, no doubt, by the furious virtue his own heroic chastity. The joyful burden that this must have placed on him to love the Tota Pulchra, All-Beautiful woman in purity of body and soul must have been immense.

But his singular call to such manly virtue toward the Virgin Mary is by no means unique to him.

All men are called by the eternal Father to guard women’s chastity by guarding first their own, and here I mean *chastity* in the broadest sense of placing one’s red-blooded erotic desire in service of the full truth of human sexuality as it exists in its God-given meaning. And for men, this can be a cause for great, great heroism. In fact, I am absolutely convinced that men who commit themselves to this work of chaste-guardianship can become, though much prayer and fraternal support, great saints of post-modernity in suffering its often great demands in the face of a super-eroticized culture.

Here I would also add that men who indulge in pornography, extra-marital sex, abusive/using sex or contraception have gravely compromised the guard-post God entrusted to them and have failed to be men of St. Joseph. To such men the Church of Jesus Christ, son of Mary, says: repent and pray fervently to this patron of heroic chastity!

And yes, obviously women have their own distinctive, essential and unique role in this guardianship of chastity, but as it’s St. Joe’s day I am speaking of men, as a man.

Last thought

St. Teresa of Avila had a special devotion to him, and argued that Joseph, the man of listening silence, was a special patron of the “interior life,” that life of seeking God in the deepest center of our heart. And let me also recommend to you Bl. John Paul II’s inspiring Apostolic Exhortation on St Joseph here.

I’ll let St. Teresa finish my thoughts today:

I wish I could persuade everyone to be devoted to this glorious saint, for I have great experience of the blessings which he can obtain from God. I have never known anyone to be truly devoted to him and render him particular services who did not notably advance in virtue, for he gives very real help to souls who commend themselves to him. For some years now, I think, I have made some request of him every year on his festival and I have always had it granted. If my petition is in any way ill directed, he directs it aright for my greater good.

Holiness or Criticism? I choose Franciscum.

Henri De Lubac once wrote that the difference between St. Francis and Martin Luther is the difference between a reform aimed at holiness and a reform aimed at criticism. In choosing Bergoglio, the cardinals seem to have opted for the former. — John Allen Jr.

What an insightful remark. And let me say that in a time where these two reform paradigms loom large and vie for dominance in our Church, I for one am glad to see in this case the saint prevailing over the cynic. Though both have a role.

Bergoglio chose St. Francis of Assisi’s name, it would seem, to point to this saint as the needed paragon of Gospel poverty in a time of worldly excess, of charity in a time of hatred, of trust in a time of fear, of outward apostolic mission in a time of inward ecclesial navel-gazing, of conciliation in a time of vitriol, of zeal in a time of apathy, of prayer in a time of distraction, of service in a time of selfishness, of chastity in a time of unchastity, of inner freedom in a time of addiction, of peace in a time of violence, of hope in a time of despair, of love of God above all things in a time of love of all things above God. I dare not tire you further with this lengthy litany, but I think you get the point.

St. Francis’ model of reform was unambiguously this: before you look to incite God’s revolution, make certain you’ve allowed yourself to become its first about-turn. As the Latin proverb as it, Nemo dat quod non habet, ‘You can’t give what you don’t have.’

In fact, St. Francis’ saint-counterpart in the Eastern Church, St. Seraphim on Sarov, made this point succinctly: “Acquire inward peace and thousands around you will be saved.”

As Fr. George Rutler phrases it in his book on ecclesial reform, every crisis in the Church is, at core, a crisis of saints (or lack thereof). Saints are not only living, authentic and compelling witnesses to the Gospel, but they are wellsprings of divine life bubbling up in the midst of a parched world. Saints transform human deserts into divine oases by refusing to leave the Gospel untried, unrisked, unspoken. Each saint manifests and sparkles with the truth, goodness and beauty of God according to his or her absolute uniqueness, which is why truly life’s greatest tragedy is to have not become the saint God created you to be. The manifestation of divine glory — of God’s attributes of peace, justice, charity, kindness, purity and mercy that were themselves made fully manifest in Christ crucified — is impoverished by even one human being’s failure to singularly refract the Light from Light.

The mission of the Church, which is to capture the world’s attention and turn it toward the Face of Christ, succeeds only inasmuch as the Church mirrors that Face; and she mirrors that Face only by first facing that Face aright in prayer-made-flesh, drenched in the Gospels, fruiting in holy lives awash in cruciform deeds of charity and justice.

Francis, patron saint of Church Renovation, was all of this in spades, and his life and charism set in motion a reformation that to this day burns undimmed.

Chestertonian Francis

G.K. Chesterton, in his must-read biography of St. Francis, describes personal sanctity as a prescription for reform:

Every saint is a sort of man before he is a saint; and a saint may be made of every sort or kind of man; and most of us will choose between these different types according to our different tastes….The Saint is a medicine because he as an antidote. Indeed, that is why the saint is often a martyr; he is mistaken for a poison because he is an antidote. He will generally be found restoring the world to sanity by exaggerating whatever the world neglects, which is by no means the same element in every age. Yet each generation seeks its saint by instinct; and he is not what the people want, but rather what the people need.

In the same book, Chesterton offers a vivid portrait of St. Francis’ freshly minted and wildly radical post-conversion visage that shows just how potent this antidote had to be in the face of the ills of his age:

A young fool or rascal is caught robbing his father and selling goods which he ought to guard; and the only explanation he will offer is that a loud voice from nowhere spoke in his ear and told him to mend the cracks and holes in a particular wall. He then declares himself naturally independent of all powers corresponding to the police or the magistrates, and takes refuge with an amiable bishop who is forced to remonstrate with him and tell him he is wrong. He then proceeds to take off his clothes in public and practically throw them at his father; announcing at the same time that his father is not his father at all. He then runs about the town asking everybody he meets to give him fragments of buildings or building materials, apparently with reference to his old monomania about mending the wall. It may be an excellent thing that cracks should be filled up, but preferably not by somebody who is himself cracked; and architectural restoration like other things is not best performed by builders who, as we should say, have a tile loose. Finally the wretched youth relapses into rags and squalor and practically crawls away into the gutter. That is the spectacle that Francis must have presented to a very large number of his neighbors and friends.

Maybe this celestial irruption is the very form of sanctity our Pontiff is hoping will arise in the midst of the Church to proffer our ailing world a fresh dose of the Medicine of Immortality that subsists in the Catholic Church. Maybe we need a few such soberly intoxicated saints.

Maybe.

Fire-Casting

I will leave you with an oft cited quote from Swiss theologian Hans Urs von Balthatsar that elaborates on de Lubac’s point about St. Francis and punctuates in exclamatory form my own hope for the future-church:

And the saints are humble, that is to say, the mediocrity of the Church does not deter them from expressing once and for all their solidarity with her, knowing well that without her they could never find their way to God. To bypass Christ’s Church with the idea of making their way to God on their own initiative would never occur to them. They do battle with the mediocrity of Christ’s Church not by protesting but by enkindling and encouraging the better. The Church causes them pain, but they do not become embittered and stand aside to sulk. They form no dissident groups but cast their fire into the midst. Your genuine saint never points to himself; he is no more than the reflection. It is the Master Flame that counts.

St. Patrick, slave of Ireland

St. Patrick’s call to evangelize the Irish is a wild and absolutely unique story. Born in Britain, he was captured as a young man by Celtic pirates, enslaved as a shepherd in Ireland and, after having risked his life to regain his freedom, said “yes” to a divine call to return to his captors in order to preach the Gospel to them.

Patrick had stunning evangelical success as Christianity swept across Ireland in a short time, and it is a near-miracle of history that the ex-slave Bishop shepherded the notoriously brutal Celtic slave trade industry into an abrupt end.

Among the many characteristics of Patrick that marked the Irish soul, his earthy and no-nonsense humility stands out. Just take a moment to read this brief selection from his autobiographical Confession:

I am, then, first of all, countryfied, an exile, evidently unlearned, one who is not able to see into the future, but I know for certain, that before I was humbled I was like a stone lying in deep mire, and he that is mighty came and in his mercy raised me up and, indeed, lifted me high up and placed me on top of the wall. And from there I ought to shout out in gratitude to the Lord for his great favours in this world and for ever, that the mind of man cannot measure.

Therefore be amazed, you great and small who fear God, and you men of God, eloquent speakers, listen and contemplate. Who was it summoned me, a fool, from the midst of those who appear wise and learned in the law and powerful in rhetoric and in all things? Me, truly wretched in this world, he inspired before others that I could be– if I would– such a one who, with fear and reverence, and faithfully, without complaint, would come to the people to whom the love of Christ brought me and gave me in my lifetime, if I should be worthy, to serve them truly and with humility.

Therefore may it never befall me to be separated by my God from his people whom he has won in this most remote land. I pray God that he gives me perseverance, and that he will deign that I should be a faithful witness for his sake right up to the time of my passing.

And if at any time I managed anything of good for the sake of my God whom I love, I beg of him that he grant it to me to shed my blood for his name with proselytes and captives, even should I be left unburied, or even were my wretched body to be torn limb from limb by dogs or savage beasts, or were it to be devoured by the birds of the air, I think, most surely, were this to have happened to me, I had saved both my soul and my body. For beyond any doubt on that day we shall rise again in the brightness of the sun, that is, in the glory of Christ Jesus our Redeemer, as children of the living God and co-heirs of Christ, made in his image; for we shall reign through him and for him and in him.

St. Patrick, Apostle of Ireland, pray for us.

Join me in prayerfully listening to the Lorica (Breastplate) of St. Patrick:

Blessed are the Poor, S.J.

Pope Francis paying his hotel bill at Domus Paulus VI, the clergy lodging that was his pre-Conclave hotel

In the spirit of this new pope’s sudden storming of the Vatican with St. Francis of Assisi’s radical spirit of simplicity and Gospel poverty, it seems to me (by logical deduction, not prophecy) that his personal witness will soon be translated into a clarion call to the universal Church: repent and live more simply, frugally, justly and charitably. In other words, the message Benedict XVI taught with stark clarity for eight years, Papa Franceso, Il Poverello, is about to translate into prophetic thunder: radical orthodoxy must be accompanied equally by radical orthopraxy, i.e. “faith without works is dead.”

And this voice of thunder will not simply be a call to live a personal lifestyle of Gospel poverty. It will also be a call to the Church everywhere to be a Church first and foremost “of and for” the poor.

Francis Cardinal George argued in his book, The Difference God Makes, that such a re-prioritizing of the Church’s mission on the ground can go a long way toward healing  our fractious present state by privileging an orthodoxy that makes a difference for those Jesus came to identify himself with:

Being “simply Catholic” means starting with the poor. That’s the evangelical touchstone. You take a group that starts with the poor, and then you know that there’s evangelical motivation. There’s no power or anything else, because these people don’t have power. They identify with the poor, and then they say, things have to change for the poor. We have to see that the poor are better served in the name of Christ. The church will follow along, if they know that you’re changing the way that the world looks at the poor.

Here’s my recommendation: prepare for the Pope Francis’ imminent implementation of what Pope Benedict called “God’s revolution” and buy, prayerfully read and take seriously the late Fr. Thomas Dubay’s deeply challenging masterpiece on the call for all to Gospel Simplicity: Happy Are You Poor: The Simple Life and Spiritual Freedom

Use it to study for the coming Exam.

Pope Innocent III Dreaming of Saint Francis Holding Up the Church

Supple Souls

Here’s a spectacular flourish of language from the ever-inimitable Fr. George Rutler (that gave rise to many other thoughts!):

Perfectionists are easily scandalized by what is not good. Saints are scandalized only by what is not glorious. We may say in cliché, “nobody’s perfect,” but the fact is, saints are perfect, and they are precisely so because they do not try to be good, better, and best. The more they are transfigured by the Light, the more they seem to themselves bad, worse, and worst. Perfectionists resent the weaknesses that saints boast of: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor. 12:9). The perfectionist misses this whole point and so, like the narrow kind of Pharisee, he casts a cold eye on the failings of humans, as if the failings abolish the humanity. The saints, having seen the glory on the mountaintop, do not gaze at themselves, but “see only Jesus” who, rather than transforming them into goodness, transfigures them into glory.

It’s just as Fr. Tom Hopko once said pithily,

Christianity’s first about God before it’s about anything else. Faith is about God’s mercy in Christ poured out — God crucified, God’s blood spilled, a dead corpse hanging cursed on a Tree for our salvation, risen from the grave and pouring out his Spirit on all flesh. It’s God’s work that we receive first and foremost. It’s when Christians forget that obvious but easily overlooked point — and make Christianity about what we do, moralizing and intellectualizing ideas, and not about crying out to God for mercy on behalf of all humanity– it’s then that everything goes wrong.

An elderly priest once said this to me:

When I was young and wonderfully zealous, I tried to do all that was possible for the Kingdom; but I soon tired. When I matured, I did what I could for the Kingdom; but felt restless. Now, in my old age, I do only what is essential; and that, son, is simply to be supple in the Hands of God at every moment and in every circumstance. And that’s life’s hardest lesson to learn — to allow your love to come from first being loved.

Again, Blessed Teresa of Calcutta:

At the moment of death we will not be judged according to the number of good deeds we have done or by the diplomas we have received in our lifetime. We will be judged according to the love we have put into our work.

Lastly, a line from a homily at my home parish soon after Bl John Paul II’s death:

It was that final blessing of Pope John Paul in the window of the Apostolic Palace on this Easter Sunday that was, for me, his supreme act of power. It was power flowing from his weakness, animated by his love of the Shepherd whose Vicar he was; animated by the love of the Shepherd who became weak to make us strong in love.

Bl. John Paul II’s final Easter blessing, 2005