Saturday, March 31, 2018

Reflections on the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ - Part VII


by Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira
Thirteenth Reflection
“And taking Him down, he wrapped Him in fine linen, and laid Him in a sepulcher that was cut in stone, wherein no man had yet been laid.” (Luke 23:53)

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Lord Jesus, I contemplate Your body taken down from the cross, Your humanity seemingly crushed, and Your infinitely precious blood shed during Your Passion. Oh, Man of sorrows, your soul and body suffered as much as a man could suffer.

As long as this world exists, You will be our model of suffering with all its nobility, strength, gravity, sweetness, and sublimity. This is a model of suffering not only considered rationally, but also from the infinite perspective of faith; a suffering understood theologically, as a necessary penance and an essential means of sanctification.

Through the infinite merits of Your Most Precious Blood, grant our minds the necessary clarity to understand the role of suffering in our lives and grant us the strength required to truly love it.

It is only by understanding the role of suffering and the mystery of the Cross that humanity can save itself from the tremendous crisis it undergoes. It is just this understanding of suffering that can save from eternal punishment those who, even at the moment of death, reject Your invitation to accompany You on the Via Dolorosa.

Multiply on Earth souls who love the Cross. This is the marvelous grace we ask of You this Holy Week in the twilight of our civilization.



A Way of the Cross CD & Booklet and Our Lady of Sorrows Prayer Card

The Way of the Crossand Our Lady of Sorrows prayer card
Prof. Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira’s meditations on the fourteen Stations of the Cross, especially adapted to our days. A beautifully illustrated booklet with an audio CD included. Comes with Our Lady of Sorrows prayer card
To order click on image

Why Mary is called "the moon"

For this reason she is called "the moon"
 

that as the moon is between the sun and the earth,
and reflects upon the latter what she receives from the former,
so Mary receives the celestial influences of grace from the divine Son, 

to transfuse them into us who are upon the earth. 

St. Alphonsus Maria de Liguori

Reflections on the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ - Part VI


by Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira
Eleventh Reflection
“At about the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying: ‘Eli, Eli, lamma sabacthani?’ that is, ‘My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?’” (Matthew 27:46)

Our Lord shouted from the height of the Cross. That heart-wrenching cry was due to the extreme sense of abandonment in which, seemingly, God had left the Word Incarnate. The soul of the Redeemer suffered a spiritual agony caused by the lack of divine comfort.

However, the most excruciating pain was caused by the consideration of the sins He had before Him. He not only saw the sins of the people around Him and those of all who had abandoned Him, but also the offenses against God that would be committed in the future.

Because the Incarnate Word could see everything, this foresight also made Him suffer in His Via Dolorosa, His Sorrowful Road. The whole of history passed before His exhausted gaze clouded with blood, in a body where life was ebbing away. Certainly the Divine Savior was overwhelmed by the vision of the immense and universal disorder of our days, and this led Him to that anguished cry: “My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?”

Divine Providence has ordained that we witness today’s tragic scene. In doing so, the Redeemer of human kind invites us to open our eyes and examine this situation head on just as He, in the Garden of Gethsemane, measured all the horrors of His Passion.

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Twelfth Reflection
“One of the soldiers with a spear opened His side: and immediately there came out blood and water.” (John 19:34)

Our Lord had already died when the soldier, known as Longinus, pierced His side. In this way, Our Lord’s Sacred Heart shed the last drop of blood, the last drop of water, for our salvation. What extreme mercy! What extreme goodness! What extreme compassion!

All the blood in the Body of Our Lord Jesus Christ was shed, to show that He gave us everything. He did this without holding back a single drop, because of His immense desire to save us. One drop of His blood would have sufficed to save the world, yet He shed all His blood to the point that the last drops were mixed with water. He wanted to hold back nothing in order to redeem us.

My God, how many times have I pierced the Heart of Jesus like the lance of Longinus? It could have been through grave sin; but certainly through my chronic habit of indifference, which is the reason I do not change, I do not progress nor do I want to progress. I see others progressing, but I can’t be bothered.

According to tradition, Longinus was blind in one eye. A bit of the water gushing from Our Lord’s side fell on his blind eye, which was healed, and he later became a saint. Who knows, maybe I will also receive this grace of becoming a saint. Oh Lord, at the moment of Your death, I beseech You to grant me this grace.

St. Guy of Pomposa

Guy was born near Ravenna in northern Italy to parents who took great pride in him. Primarily to give them pleasure, he was meticulous in his dress and personal appearance. Still, one day during a festival, realizing the vanity of this way of being, and taken with deep compunction, he stripped himself of his fine garments and gave them all away to the poor.

To his parents’ further mortification, their son donned shabby garments and departed for Rome, where he received the tonsure.

On his return, he placed himself under the direction of a hermit named Martin, who lived alone on a small island in the River Po. After three years of directing Guy, the hermit sent him to the Abbey of Pomposa to learn the ways of monastic life.

There Guy so advanced in virtue that he quickly rose to high office, and was elected abbot. Such was his reputation and so many flocked to the abbey that he was obliged to build another. Even his father and his brother joined the monastery.

At certain times of the year Abbot Guy would retire into solitude a few miles from his monastery and there would submit his body to severe austerities. Particularly during the forty days of Lent the austerities were such as to resemble tortures, and yet, he was extraordinarily tender toward his monks who were devoted to him.

Guy did not escape the persecution which often comes to those seeking holiness. For unknown reasons, the Archbishop of Ravenna had developed a hatred for the holy abbot and determined to destroy his monasteries. When Guy learned of the imminent attack, he fasted for three days, joined in this mortification by the entire community of monks. When the archbishop arrived with his soldiers, he was met by Guy with such humility and respect, that he was overwhelmed and asked the abbot's pardon.

Towards the close of his life Guy again withdrew to his solitary hermitage. The Emperor Henry III, who had come to Italy to consult with the holy abbot, summoned him to Piacenza. Though he was unwilling to do so, the aged abbot obeyed, taking a tender farewell from his brothers whom he said he would see no more. Attacked by a sudden illness in Borgo San Donnino near Parma, he died three days later.

Both Parma and Pomposa claimed his relics, but the emperor settled the dispute by having his body translated to the Church of St. John the Evangelist at Speyer in Germany.

Friday, March 30, 2018

Reflections on the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ - Part V


by Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira
Ninth Reflection
“And when they came to the place which is called Calvary, they crucified Him there.” (Luke 23:33)

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Prior to the crucifixion, we can imagine the infinite beauty of Our Lord, the beauty of His physique and the luminosity of His Sacred Face, where the aesthetic principles of the universe resided. The grace of His gestures, the elegance of His bearing, the sobriety of His manners and goodness must have exerted a strong attraction. When He spoke, who could imagine the tone of His voice, its inflections and unique capacity of expression?


But when He was nailed to the cross, He was deformed, without beauty, and one massive, bloody wound. This great victim was innocence itself. He had never sinned. He was the personification of virtue. He never had the need to make up for anything, but nonetheless, did so without measure.

Why?–because of the gravity of our sins. We should feel deep sorrow and regret at the sight of Him, the Innocent One Who bore sins with the sinner. He Who was most pure, most sacred, carried them for me! This should stir us to a great trust. One who was redeemed at such a price need only ask to obtain the necessary grace to practice virtue and the good that will lead him to Heaven.

Today, Our Lord’s pains are caused by the blasphemies and scorn against the Catholic Church, as well as the worship of the idols of a pagan society: egalitarianism, sensuality, revolt, impurity, murder, theft, adultery. Which of God’s commandments are not transgressed today? What is my attitude in face of this situation?

Facing my sins and the insufficiency of my atonement, I must kneel, strike my breast, and firmly resolve to sin no more.

Tenth Reflection
“When Jesus therefore had seen His mother and the disciple standing whom He loved, He said to His mother: ‘Woman, behold thy son.’ After that, He said to the disciple: ‘Behold thy mother.’ And from that hour, the disciple took her into his home.” (John 19:26-27)

Saint John the Evangelist was at the foot of the cross also representing a sort of summit. His love had reached a high point. He was the beloved disciple.

On Holy Thursday, he had rested his head on Our Lord’s breast and heard the pulses of the Sacred Heart of Jesus then beating with love for all mankind. Later that night, just as the other apostles, he had slept and fled. However, he was the virgin Apostle, the beloved Apostle, and virgin souls, even in deplorable situations, find the means and strength to fulfill their duty.

On the other hand, God protects virgin souls. God attracts virgins to Himself. Thus, not only did Saint John have the honor of being the disciple of love, but also of being present at that summit of love when Our Lord died on the Cross. In this way he represented all the Apostles and rescued the Apostolic College from complete disgrace.

Furthermore, in this zenith of love he received the ultimate reward, because there can be no greater gift than for a person to receive Our Lady as a present. When Our Lord said, “Woman, behold your son,” and then to Saint John, “Behold your mother,” he received a priceless gift.

Good thief paradox

A dying man asked a dying man for eternal life.
A man without possessions asked a poor man for a Kingdom. 
A thief at the door of death asked to die like a thief and steal Paradise.
 
One would have thought a saint would have been the first soul
purchased over the counter of Calvary by the red coins of Redemption.
 

But in the Divine plan it was a thief
who was the escort of the King of kings 
into Paradise.

Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen

St. Leonard Murialdo

Leonard Murialdo was born in 1828 into a wealthy, but religious, family in Turin, Italy. The eighth child in a large family, he was only four years old when he lost his father.

During his adolescent years, Leonard went through a profound spiritual crisis and an interior conversion during which period he discovered his vocation to the priesthood. He received an excellent education and seminary formation, completed his studies in philosophy and theology at the University of Turin, and was ordained a priest in 1851.

As a seminarian he had begun assisting his cousin, Don Roberto Murialdo, at the Guardian Angels Oratory in Turin and it was through him that he came to work closely with two other saints: St. Joseph Cafasso and St. John Bosco. For a time, at the latter’s request, the young priest took charge of the Oratory of St. Louis, one of Don Bosco’s educational centers for boys at the edge of the city.

He went on to take charge of a college for young working men founded by another exemplary priest, Don Giovanni Cocchi, and although taking on the daunting assignment hesitantly, and only “provisionally”, he remained at this post for the next thirty-seven years. Partly to fund the college, he founded the Pious Association of St. Joseph. From Turin this association spread throughout Italy and then to America. Leonard also founded agricultural centers for young delinquents, another field in which he was an innovator.

He was a great proponent of true social justice, and was ecclesiastical assistant to the Catholic Workers’ Union, a forerunner of Catholic Action. He was equally dedicated to the spread of piety, particularly devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus and to the Blessed Virgin Mary.

He died on March 30, 1900 and his remains rest in the Church of St. Barbara in Turin.

Thursday, March 29, 2018

Reflections on the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ - Part IV


by Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira
Seventh Reflection
“Then he delivered Him to them to be crucified. And they took Jesus, and led Him forth.” (John 19:16)

In former times the cross was a humiliating, painful way of executing criminals. Thus, the word “cross” meant the same as “shame,” just as the word “handcuffs” today make us think of prison, condemnation and rebellious prisoners. In those days the cross recalled the idea of a criminal so wicked and depraved that only through death by crucifixion could his crime be atoned for properly.

The cross was thus a symbol of torment and disgrace. By nailing Our Lord Jesus Christ to the cross, the intention of those who condemned Him to death was not only to kill Him, but to kill Him in the most shameful and dishonorable manner possible, so as to completely ruin His reputation and glory.

What a contrast: He, the condemned, was in fact, the Judge of that most severe punishment. Though apparently defeated, Jesus was the only Victor. The cross is the wood of defeat, shame, and pain, but it is also the wood of glory. Whoever is crushed by the cross is the winner. Whoever wins without the cross is the loser.


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Eighth Reflection

“And bearing His own cross, He went forth to that place which is called Calvary, but in Hebrew Golgotha.” (John 19:17)

Each one of us has a cross to carry. Each one of us would like to be something he is not, to have something he has not, to be able to accomplish something he cannot. We need to let go of being what we are not, having what we have not, and accomplishing what we cannot; this is the way for all of us.

May Our Lord give us a love of our cross just as He had for His. Instead of bearing the Holy Wood with disgust, our Redeemer embraced and kissed it because He was fulfilling His mission on earth. Our cross consists in fulfilling our mission. Let us embrace it tearfully, but lovingly. And let us say, “I will never cease to ask for strength, and I will thus carry my cross to the height of my Calvary!”

Our Lord bore every pain as though He were a king going to his coronation. He did this with dignity, with serenity, steadfastly, and without hesitation. Nothing was spared Him, whether physically or spiritually. He entered into the depths of suffering with the resolution of a hero, thus appearing before the justice of the Eternal Father resplendent with pain. This is how He saved the human race: with each step, the worst happened to Him, yet He accepted everything, entirely, without asking for any delay. He never asked anyone to pity Him. The suffering was such, that, at times, His strength failed, but He immediately arose and went on.

This thought helps me overcome my faint-heartedness! If I wish to meet Our Lord Jesus Christ in His sublime beauty and sanctity, I must embrace my own cross, too.

Form Jesus in ourselves

Our wish, our object, our chief preoccupation must be
to form Jesus in ourselves, to make
His spirit, His devotion, His affections, His desire, and His disposition
live and reign there.

St. John Eudes

St. Rupert of Salzburg

Rupert’s origins are obscure, though there are strong indications that he was a Frenchman, and, according to a certain tradition, a scion of the old Frankish Merovingian family – and certainly a contemporary of Childebert III, king of the Franks.

Rupert was already a bishop and known for his great virtue, when he was invited by Duke Theodo of Bavaria, himself still a pagan, to evangelize his people. Although the Gospel had already been preached in Bavaria, its people were, for all intents and purposes, but nominally Catholic, as pagan practices and Arian heretical beliefs persisted in their midst, adulterating the purity of the Christian doctrine.

Rupert and his companions were warmly received in the ancient town of Ratisbon. The Duke Theodo presently received Baptism and with him a number of his nobles.

With no serious opposition to the missionaries’ work, Christianity flourished under the apostolate of Bishop Rupert and his companions who proceeded to confirm the faith of some, to evangelize many, Christianize pagan temples, and build churches. In the course of his work the saintly bishop worked countless miracles.

In his generosity, Theodo gave Rupert the region of Juvavum, present-day Salzburg in Austria, for his apostolic see. Returning to France, the abbot-bishop convinced another twelve men, as well as his niece St. Erentrudis, to join him in his mission. With his niece he founded a Benedictine monastery for women in Nonnberg, and with the twelve men a Benedictine monastery for men, St. Peter at Salzburg. The saint spent his life dedicated to the work of not only evangelizing and guiding his flock, but also of civilizing his people. He also did much to promote the salt mines in the region for which he renamed the city Salzburg.

Rupert died in Salzburg around the year 710. Many churches in the region are named after this Apostle of Austria and Bavaria, and the first Abbot-Bishop of Salzburg.

And He Stole Heaven

He hung on a cross that day, writhing in pain and discomfort, the infamous highwayman.

On his left hung another man, covered in the matted blood of his wounds. Yet, with the exception of a few intermittent words, there was no sound from him.

As time passed, the thief became more and more engrossed in the silent crucified beside him, and less and less in his own plight.St Dismas Picture

Indeed life is ironic, mused Dismas, this man who had lived in the open, and was acclaimed as a healer and even as a king, now hung beside him who had spent his life lurking and hiding.
And now they were lifted up, both on a high parallel. He could see the roof tops of the city, he could see the highways he had stalked, and he could see the way they had walked. Now he looked down on those gathered around this place of execution, the Roman soldiers, the Pharisees, the curious, the friends of the man beside him…and a young man supporting a lady directly beneath them...

And then he knew her; that upturned face, that maidenly majesty now wracked by sorrow, her tear-filled eyes fastened on the man on his left–Yes, he knew that face.

As the wheels of time rolled back in his mind,  his heart gave a jolt as he remembered that blessed day in the desert, decades ago, when a young family making its way to Egypt, sought refuge for the night in his family’s hovel. The man was strong and kind, the woman was the fairest his child’s eyes had seen, and she carried a golden haired babe, as if nothing in the universe was more precious.

He remembered the lady’s gaze on him, her beautiful eyes full of concern for the leprous sores on his young body. Then she and his mother talked. And next, he was being bathed in the same water the lady had just washed her infant son.

And then the sores were gone.  His mother wept for joy, and kissed the lady’s hands, and the baby’s feet. And even his robber-father was moved, and offered the strong man and his family the best in the house.
Now, in one revealing flash, he knew the identity of the wounded man on his left.  He looked again at the lady, and her eyes, those same sweet eyes of old, were on him once more.
He felt his heart quiver, as the power of gratitude filled his being and softened his criminal soul.  And then came tears, rivers of tears.  When he could speak, he turned to the left,

“Lord, remember me when You come into Your kingdom.”

And the Lord turned his face to him, His divine eyes on him, and he heard the most beautiful voice he had ever heard, a voice at once full of pain and full of strength, full of sweetness and full of majesty, a judge’s voice, and a father’s voice,

“Amen, amen I say to you, today you shall be with me in paradise.”

By Andrea F. PhillipsBased on: A Legend of St. Dismas and Other Poems,
Copyright by P. J. Kenedy and Sons. 1927, p. 18.

Wednesday, March 28, 2018

Reflections on the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ - Part III


by Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira
Fifth Reflection
“Then Pilate took Jesus, and scourged Him.” (John 19:1)

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Pilate thought that, by scourging Jesus, he would satisfy the Jews and so be able to set Him free. This is how the weak always think: compromise, give in to evil so as to appease it. However, this only makes things worse.
The torturers bound His hands and brought Him to the pillar amidst blows, shoves, and laughter. His meekness, goodness, and willing unwillingness to defend Himself contrasted with the brutal, senseless, and cruel hatred. Oh foolish illusion that by tying His hands He would be immobilized! It would be enough for Him to say, “Cords, loosen,” and they would fall to the ground! Had He so wished, the cords could have also become serpents to attack His evildoers.

What is extraordinary is that He gave Himself up to be scourged. We can imagine His sweet groans. His Most Holy Body writhing in pain, His adorable flesh torn by the whip. This was the flesh of the God-Man! He stood, full of dignity, meek and without protest, conversing with the Eternal Father within Himself.

We can also imagine at that moment the Son of God, Supreme Governor of all events, thinking about the blessed civilization that would one day be built on the merits of His Passion. Alas, He also saw that at a certain moment the Christian nations would turn against Him and would be dominated by an anti-civilization. Because this world would deny a personal God, it would also deny man’s personhood and individuality.

In this flattened anti-civilization, mankind would affirm total equality, thus becoming enslaved to a rebellious communist utopia. This utopia would deny property, and therefore justice; would deny the family, and therefore purity; would deny religion, and therefore all that is sacred; would deny tradition, and therefore history. By inverting all values, this anti-civilization would produce a great chaos, a great vacuum in which the former-Christian peoples would drown. This anti-civilization is the tyranny of matter, of the machine, of anonymity, and of atheism — in a word, the reign of Satan.

Our Lord could have lamented like the prophet David: “What profit is there in my death . . . ?” (Psalm 30:9) What profit is there in my blood, which I shed so generously and so abundantly?


Sixth Reflection
“And the soldiers weaving a crown of thorns, put it upon His head; and they put on Him a purple garment.” (John 19:2)

Our God, crowned with thorns! Does this not prove that God’s royalty is the royalty of pain? Let us accept suffering: suffering from humiliations; suffering from injustice; suffering from the untiring effort to do good; suffering from self-denial. To take suffering out of Christianity is to insult Christ Who accepted a crown of thorns. To be Christian and to be afraid of suffering for God is to reduce God to a mere banker who satisfies our every whim, or to a simple servant who serves us at our bidding. To eliminate suffering from Christianity is to remove its backbone.

Are we only fair-weather friends? Indeed, it is not Christian to be afraid to sacrifice ourselves for Christ, our greatest Friend. Let us not commit the felony of abandoning Jesus on Calvary. Let us not strike a blow to His face, wounded for love of us, by sinning. Let us not be heartless hyenas, but rather “meek, and humble of heart” as He. (Matthew 11:29)

Reflections on the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ - Part II


by Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira
 Third Reflection
“And when morning was come, all the chief priests and ancients of the people took counsel against Jesus, that they might put Him to death.” (Matthew 27:1)

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The Jewish people yearned for the coming of the Messiah. However, when He did come, they persecuted Him. He performed miracles and the people applauded. But the priestly class, which was the highest political class, was afraid: “Who is this Man that has won the people’s enthusiastic favor? What will happen to our power? He is a danger to us!”

In a method often used today, the persecution began with calumnies and twisted questions designed to trap, questions contrived in the laboratory of insincerity.

The first and greatest of all revolutions broke out during Holy Week. A revolution is, by definition, a revolt of those who should love and obey but, instead, choose to rebel against legitimate authority. Our Lord possessed every possible degree of power and authority over the human race. The mission of the Jews was to acknowledge Him as the God-Man and submit to His sweet rule. They did the opposite. They neither acknowledged Him, nor admired or submitted to Him. And this disposition of soul was due to bad will and envy. They did not want His Law because they were corrupt and Our Lord taught austerity. They revolted and killed Him. The revolution of Holy Week was the greatest of revolutions because rebellion against such high authority cannot happen again.

May the thought of our scorned Redeemer fill us with adoration and compassion for Him, as well as indignation against the revolution that led to His crucifixion.


Fourth Reflection
“And they brought Him bound, and delivered Him to Pontius Pilate the governor.” (Matthew 27:2)

Pilate was a governor without a backbone. Although he knew the multitude would not resist the Roman soldiers, and therefore could count on an easy, brilliant victory, he absolutely did not want to use force to do what was right and just.

Instead, Pilate entered into dialogue with the mob and proposed, “Whom do you want me to release: Barabbas, or Jesus that is called Christ?” (Matthew 27:17)

Barabbas was a notorious head of a seditious band of rogues. He was the worst possible criminal, filled with dishonor and evil. Jesus was the utmost symbol of dignity and represented the best in the Jewish people. He was a descendent of David, the most eminent figure of the Old Testament. He had done only good to everyone.

Centrist that he was, Pilate thought that the Jews would never prefer Barabbas to Jesus. He did not understand that when men do not follow Jesus, they necessarily choose Barabbas. Pontius Pilate only condemned Him because of the political maneuvering of the priests. They told him, “If you release this man, you are not Caesar's friend.” (John 19:12) It would have been easy for Pilate to defend himself against this accusation. However, faced with the possibility of losing his office as governor of Judea, Pilate cowardly had Jesus killed.

As a result of his vile ambition, Pontius Pilate committed the greatest injustice of history.

The Weight of the Holy Cross



In a sunny town of Andalusia, Spain, preparations for war were underway. Don Mancio, the lord of the castle, led his men out to fight the Moors. That winding train of Spanish warriors going forth to battle for the Christian cause was a scene to behold: helmets reflecting the sun, plumes tossing in the air, magnificent Arabian steeds reeling in anticipation of battle.
Don Mancio’s home could still be seen through the trees and olive groves. As he rode, the knight thought of the wife and child he left behind. It was four years since he had brought his noble bride to that home, and his son was now three years old. But the hour of pain, the hour of trial, had sounded, and how fairly both had stood the test.

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The medieval portico at the castle gate framed the scene in his mind’s eye: Don Mancio’s wife stood in the opening, young, fair, and full of dignity, her pale face showing signs of her profound grief. She held her son’s hand amid the folds of her dress while the child looked up at his mother and father with the big, wide, and steady eyes of innocence, which see all and understand much. He knew that something very important was happening.
Don Mancio, clad in chain mail, hugged his wife and son one last time. Then off to fight the infidel Moor for his Lord Jesus Christ and his beloved Spain!
“‘Tis well:” his young wife had said, holding back her tears. “My knight goes forth to battle for the Cross, and for no earthly prince’s paltry strife. God bless you, Mancio; may He keep you safe. And if you fall in His good cause, Jesus, Your will be done.”
And so Don Mancio had set out for battle, and such was the picture that remained with him
“Alas:” he thought, “it may be I shall never see them again! Good God and Lord:” he prayed, “keep them in Your care!”
The day finally dawned upon the battlefield and Don Mancio’s Spanish blood seethed in his veins at the sight of the waving crescent. His red cross burned upon his chest, and his sword, raised in the air, was ready to meet the scimitar. And then the great clash came, Christian and Moor in bloody strife.
The fighting was fierce, and by nightfall many a Christian warrior had met the God of battles face to face. Many others, Don Mancio among them, had been taken prisoner by the ruthless Moors. The captives escaped death only to meet the cruel torments of prison.
As the slave ship carried them away to the deserts of Africa, Don Mancio watched the disappearing coast of Spain and thought of that last scene under his castle’s gate, wondering what would become of his wife and child.

Captivity and a Divine Friend
In Africa, Don Mancio toiled day after day under the burning sun and the merciless Moor. But he bore his lot manfully, and patiently. It was only then that he came to know that mysterious joy that only a few men know: the joy that patient suffering can bring forth. Few know its taste because few bear its agonizing pain with a willing heart for Him who died to show the way to joy through the thorny paths of woe.
For ten years Don Mancio suffered under the lash and the weight of chains. And during all those years not a single word came from home.
The daily toil, the stripes, the lash, the scanty food, and everything else, were far easier to bear than this total silence from home. This slow starvation of the heart, this burning need to hear at least a word about his loved ones... but, nothing. Were they alive, were they in Spain, or had they moved away? Did they think him dead? Had they learned of his fate? These burning questions racked his brain.
Alone in his captivity, he found only one kind Friend, and he learned to love Him in suffering as he had never done in comfort. That Friend he saw every day as he passed out of the city gate to the fields of toil. Hanging above the city gate was a life-size crucifix of our Sweet Lord that had been stolen by the Moors from some beautiful Spanish church they had ruined. There it hung in scorn for the purpose of receiving the foul spittle, the stones, and the insults of all the heathen passers-by.
Don Mancio’s blood boiled in his veins.
“Oh,” he thought, “if only my hands were not in chains and my sword were hanging by my side! How I would avenge my Savior’s honor!”
But, alas! There was nothing he could do.
In his heart he vowed a solemn promise:
If by God’s will he gained his freedom, never would he rest until he had rescued that crucifix and set it in a shrine where love and honor would wipe out the shame of all those years of insult and scorn.
This was his dream by night, his thought by day, while those sad features of the Crucified grew into his heart, imprinting themselves as they had once before on the veil of Veronica.
Thus passed the dark night of his terrible imprisonment. Ten full years now. Little did he know that the dawn was near.
Nevertheless, his darkest hour was still to come, his test of fire before he could see the light.
At times, from across the sea came Spanish missionaries, men of courage and zeal to minister to the poor captives, braving death and danger.
Some brought gold sent by the prisoners’ families to redeem them from the Moorish chains. But gold or no gold, the missionaries always brought the comfort of the Faith in the form of absolution and, O joy, the balm of the Holy Eucharist to those starving souls.
So, once in a while, when word spread through the camps that a missionary was in their midst, Don Mancio felt glimmers of hope kindling within him. Perhaps, perhaps his wife had found the means to rescue him. Don Mancio watched and waited, but in vain.
To him no rescue came. Only the questions came: Was he forgotten? Was his young wife dead? Year after year had gone by, and not a word from her. He knew the ransom was large, he knew. But at any cost, for any sacrifice, she would raise it. Ah! She must be dead! Or, perhaps she didn’t even know the place of his captivity, for none of the ransomers that had come had known Don Mancio or his family. None had come from his region of Andalusia.

Ransom…
But at last, one day his name was mentioned! A ransomer had arrived asking for Don Mancio. And this is the story he told: Until now his wife had learned no tidings of his fate. At times she had thought him surely dead on the battlefield. But on and on she had toiled and investigated and, above all, had suffered and denied herself and her son almost the very means of life so as to raise a ransom for him in case he was ever found. And, lo! chance had revealed his dungeon, and now the ransom was here.
So, just one more night in chains and tomorrow he would be on his way home to Spain!

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That night Don Mancio laid his head on his hard cot and felt nothing of its hardness. A few more hours, he thought, a few more hours and his ransom would be laid on the scale and his way home assured! Tomorrow the slave-master will receive his price in gold! Don Mancio’s heart beats fast, his eyes brightened, he saw his wife, his son, heard their words of welcome, felt their arms around him. Was it a dream? How many times have such dreams mocked his loneliness with visions of home? But this time it was no mocking dream, he had seen the Franciscan friar who brought his ransom. Yes, tomorrow, tomorrow he would be free!
Suddenly, a thought crossesed his mind like a lightning bolt. The crucifix! In his imagination he sees that sacred form hanging from the iron cross above that infamous gate. He sees that sacred countenance looking down on him, that face which had grown into his heart to the point that it had been engraved there. It had been dimmed for a moment by his new-found bliss, but it was still the Master and Ruler there. He seemed to hear an infinitely majestic and sweet voice: “Mancio, will you forget Me in your joy? Will you go back and leave Me?”
“O my God! what can I do? I have no money — none! When I go, my heart’s first sacred business will be Your ransom.”
“‘When I go.’ But can you go and leave Me?”
Then before him flashed a thought that quivered in his heart like the thrust of a sword.
“My ransom money! That would buy the Cross!”
But could he face that fearful life in prison again and rob his wife and child of happiness?
“Oh, my God! You cannot ask this sacrifice!”
But again that voice asked, “Will you go and leave Me?”
Don Mancio knew no sleep that night. A fearful battle raged in his soul. Two loves met face to face, the love of home and kin and the love of Jesus crucified. “O Lord,” he sobbed, “I am not willing, save me from myself by Your own bitter Passion, by Your Cross, have pity on me. Let this chalice pass.”
But that voice–that awful pleading voice-yet repeated in the depth of his soul, “Will you go and leave Me here alone?”
Within his heart a louder voice answered: “Can you remain and send in your stead that crucifix, that heavy iron cross, to crush the heart that awaits you, that counts the days and hours? Think of her lonely widowhood, of the days and nights she has spent weeping. Will you revive them all? Ah, pity her, if not yourself!”
Yet again that other voice, weaker and fainter now, but still distinct: “He that loves father or mother more than Me is not worthy of Me!”
“O God:” Mancio cried, “have pity! Spare me! Let this chalice pass!”
Then, in that dread hour his anguished soul beheld a lonely garden and in that garden a God-Man sweating blood. He, too, had known the cost, the bitter cost of bringing grief on all who loved Him. He, too, had endured this heartache and had shrunk before the pain. Slowly, Mancio’s grief grew tranquil in the light of that mysterious agony of God
“My God, my God! I cannot, I will not go and leave You in Your shame.”
As dawn broke, he rose up invigorated, the battle was over. The dawn of that day he should have been free. Today the ransom money would be paid, but not for him. He would still be a slave, yet he was not sad. He was strangely peaceful. Did not Our Lord say that His cross brings forth joy? It is the joy known only to brave souls like Mancio’s:
“For whosoever will save his life shall lose it, and whosoever shall lose his life for my sake and the gospel shall save it” Mark 8:35–sometimes ever here below.
The marketplace was crowded. The busy murmur of voices filled the air. Moor and Christian, master and slave, thronged to witness a strange scene. The news had spread that one of those whose ransom had arrived from Spain just yesterday had given up his hoped-for freedom and exchanged himself for that old crucifix that for so long had hung in scorn above the gate.
He must surely be mad, this Christian nobleman, to send his wife a worthless piece of iron in his place while he remains a captive till his death! It is said that the Moor demands for that huge iron cross its weight in silver ducats and that he will take no less. The massive cross is all wrought in iron and life-size!
Lo! They come to weigh it now! Christians and Moors crowd round to see; the Moors with jeers, the Christians with astonishment, edification, and prayers. What sort of man is this who would thus sacrifice himself to share the heavenly folly of the Cross?!
“Think well, my son,” says the Franciscan father, as strong men slowly lower the heavy cross on the scales. “Think well, my son; the ample store of money I have brought to ransom you will scarcely meet the weight of that large crucifix. Your wife has spent long years in gathering it, and it may be more long years, if ever, before she can send a similar sum again. Have you measured the full cost?”
For one brief moment a thick mist formed up before Don Mancio’s eyes, but quietly yet firmly he answered, “My Father, I have measured the cost and I am ready.”
“Be it so, my son.”

On the scales the heavy cross was laid, and one by one the silver coins fell. Men held their breath, counting the ducats as they rang against each other in the silent air, but still the heavy cross lay motionless. “One, two, three, twelve, twenty, the Father counted, praying all the while that these would be enough to outweigh the cross.
But when, when has it ever been known that our dear Lord and Master did not pay back a hundred-fold every act of love? Just thirty silver pieces had fallen on the scale when, lo! The scale that held the crucifix rose high in the air as the other scale went down. O miracle! The cross had been out-weighed by just thirty silver ducats! He who long ago had been sold for thirty pieces of silver, today wished to be ransomed for the same sum to set His servant free.
Mancio, too, is ransomed, for there still remains an ample number of coins to satisfy the Moor. Mancio’s Lord, his only Friend during his years of captivity, will not go and leave him here a slave.
Both the Ransomed and the ransomer are free.


 Written and Illustrated by A.F.Phillips

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My Soul Is Heavy Even to Death



The following is an excerpt of Mary Bassett's 1557 translation of Saint Thomas More's  "History of the Passion", which he wrote in Latin during his imprisonment in the Tower in 1534-35.

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For the blessed and tender heart of our most holy Savior was cumbered and panged with manifold and hideous griefs, since doubtless well wist he, that the false traitor and his mortal enemies drew near unto him, and were now in manner already come upon him; and over this that he should be despitefully bounden, and have heinous crimes surmised against him, be blasphemed, scourged, crowned with thorns, nailed, crucified, and finally suffer very long and cruel torments.
Moreover much did it disquiet him, that he foresaw the fear and dread which his disciples should fall in, the mischief that should light on the Jews, the destruction of the false traitor Judas, and last of all, the unspeakable sorrow of his dear beloved mother. The storms and heaps of so many troubles coming upon him all at once, as doth the main sea when it violently breaketh down the banks over the land, sore oppressed his most holy and blessed heart.
Some man may haply here marvel how this could be, that our savior Christ, being very God equal with his almighty Father, could be heavy, sad, and sorrowful. Indeed, he could not have been so, if as he was God, so had he been only God, and not man also. But now seeing he was as verily man as he was verily God, I think it no more to be marveled that inasmuch as he was man he had these affections and conditions in him, such I mean as be without offence to God, as of common course are in mankind, than that inasmuch as he was God he wrought so wonderful miracles.
For if we do marvel that Christ should have in him fear, weariness, and sorrow, namely seeing he was God, then why should we not as well marvel that he was hungry, athirst, and slept, since albeit he had these properties, yet was he nevertheless God for all that? But hereunto peradventure mayst thou reply and say: albeit I do now marvel no more that he could so do, yet can I not but marvel still why he would so do. For what reason is it that he which taught his disciples in no wise to fear those that could but kill only their bodies, and when that was done had no further thing in their power wherewith they could do them harm, should now wax afraid of them himself, namely since against his blessed body they could no more do, than it liked his holy majesty to permit and suffer them?
Over this seeing (hereof we be well assured), that his martyrs joyfully and courageously hasted them toward their death, not hesitating even then boldly to rebuke and reprove the tyrants and their cruel tormentors, how unseemly might it be thought that Christ himself being, as a man might say, the chief banner-bearer and captain of all martyrs, should, when he drew near to his passion, be so sore afraid, so heavy, so wonderfully unquieted and troubled.
 Had it not been meet that he which did all things himself before he taught the same, should in this point especially in his own person, have given other men example to learn of him, for the truth's sake cheerfully to suffer death; lest such as in time to come would be loath and afraid to die for the defense of the faith, might happily, to excuse their own faint and feeble hearts, bear themselves in hand, that they did none otherwise therein than Christ had done before them. And so doing yet should they both not a little dishonor so good and worthy a master, and besides that much discourage other folk, to see them in so great fear and heaviness.

The unlimited power of prayer

Prayer is powerful beyond limits when we turn to the Immaculata
who is queen 
even of God's heart. 

St. Maximilian Kolbe

St. Tutilo

Tutilo was an Irish man who, while visiting the renowned Benedictine Abbey of St. Gall in present-day Switzerland, delayed his departure – and stayed his whole life.

Said to have been a large, powerful, handsome and quick-witted Irishman, Tutilo was also genial in that he was a teacher, an orator, a poet, an architect, a painter, a sculptor, an accomplished illuminator, a musician, even a mathematician and astronomer. His numerous talents and gifts led to his being much in demand and, by permission of his abbot, he fulfilled many artistic commissions outside the monastery. One of these was his sculpture of the Blessed Virgin Mary for the Cathedral at Metz, considered to be a masterpiece.

He was a member of the abbey at the zenith of its influence throughout all of Europe. Many of the Gregorian chant manuscripts that survive to this day, and some of the most authentic, are undoubtedly Tutilo’s own work.

Of all his many talents, the one Tutilo loved the most was music. According to tradition, he could play and teach all of the instruments in the monastery and had a fine musical voice.

King Charles had a great admiration for the gifted monk and remarked that it was a great pity for so much talent to be hidden away in a monastery. But the saint himself shrank from publicity and when obliged to go to the great cities he strove to avoid notice and compliments. All he wanted was to use his gifts for the service of God. Though Tutilo was the epitome of today's "Renaissance man", sanctity was his real crown.

Tuesday, March 27, 2018

Reflections on the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ - Part I


by Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira
 First Reflection
“Jesus, knowing all that would happen to Him, went forth, and said to them: ‘Whom do you seek?’ They answered him: ‘Jesus of Nazareth.’ Jesus said to them: ‘I AM He.’ As soon as He had said to them: ‘I AM He’; they went backward, and fell to the ground. Again, He asked them: ‘Whom do you seek?’ And they said, ‘Jesus of Nazareth.’ Jesus answered, ‘I have told you that I AM He.’” (John 18:4–8)

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When Our Lord was arrested, He did two seemingly contradictory things. On the one hand, He spoke in such an authoritative voice that His listeners fell to the ground. On the other hand, He stooped to pick up Malchus’ ear, severed by Peter’s sword, and reattached it to the man’s head. He Who terrified also consoled. The same One Who speaks forcefully replaces the severed ear. Is there not some teaching here?

Our Lord is always infinitely good. He was good to those who sought Him that night as Jesus of Nazareth, and also good when replacing Malchus’ ear. If we desire to be good, we should learn to imitate Our Lord’s goodness. We should learn from Him that there are moments when it is necessary to know how to energetically hurl the enemies of the Faith to the ground, as well as to know when it is necessary to show compassion to those who want to hurt us.

Why did Our Lord say, “I AM He”? Was it only to physically shake those who wanted to arrest Him? Why do such a thing when He would, a little while later, voluntarily give Himself up? The reason is that if He spoke so loudly to the ears, it was only so He could speak even more loudly to the hearts.

We do not know if those men ultimately profited by the grace they received, but the fear they certainly felt when falling at the sound of the Master’s voice was just as valuable as when that same voice shouted, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute Me?”

Our Lord spoke loudly to the ears. Though they fell to the ground, the same voice that struck the bodies and deafened the ears raised the souls that were prostrate by opening the ears of the spirit that were deaf. Sometimes it is necessary to speak forcefully in order to heal.

Second Reflection
“Then Simon Peter, having a sword, drew it, and struck the servant of the high priest, and cut off his right ear. And the name of the servant was Malchus.” (John 18:10)

The Redeemer acted differently with Malchus. When He replaced his ear, cut off as a result of Saint Peter’s zeal, Our Lord certainly wanted to grant him a temporal good. However, by healing his ear, Our Lord wanted, above all, to open the ear of his soul. So, He Who had healed the spiritual deafness of a few with the forcefulness of His Divine voice, cured the same spiritual deafness of Malchus with words of sweetness, and a physical miracle.

We live in an epoch of terrible spiritual deafness. If there was ever a time when mankind needed to listen to God’s voice, ours is such a time; but ours is also an era that certainly has the hardest of hearts.

The Divine Master shows us that, if we want to cure our own spiritual deafness, as well as our neighbor’s, He is the only one who can do so, as mere human means are useless.

Let us be one with the blind man of the Gospel who shouted to Our Lord, “Domine, ut videam!” -- “Lord, that I may see!”

Let us take advantage of the celebrations of Holy Week to ask Him to help us to hear, “Domine, ut audiam!” -- “Lord, that I may hear!” We don’t know how Our Lord will heal our spiritual deafness—nor does it matter. Let us fulfil His Divine will whether He speak with the terrible voice of reprimand and punishment or with the sweet voice of consolations. What really matters is that we beseech Him, “Lord, that I may hear!”

Let us at least listen wholeheartedly to Our Lord’s voice and, by sincerely opening our souls to the graces He grants us, bring about within ourselves the fullness of the kingdom of Jesus Christ, which the enemies of the Church hope to banish from the face of the earth.

Courage

Courage, my soul,
through prayer we can do all that is asked of us.
The Heart of Jesus is there:
let us knock.

St. Bernadette Soubirous

St. John of Egypt

John of Egypt was born in present-day area of Asyut and was trained as a carpenter. At the age twenty-five he submitted himself to the direction of a hermit who spent several years training him in the virtues of obedience and self-denial.

John came to love obedience and obeyed unquestioningly no matter how unreasonable the task thrust upon him. At the command of his spiritual director, he once spent an entire year watering a dry stick, thrust into the mud, as if it were a flowering plant.

As a reward for his humility and prompt obedience the Lord granted John extraordinary gifts such as the gift of prophecy, the power of reading thoughts, and miracles.

After spending four or five years visiting various monasteries, John retired to the top of a steep hill in which he opened three small cells: one for a bedroom, one for a workroom and living room, and another for an oratory. He then walled himself in leaving a small window through which he received necessaries and spoke to visitors.

During five days of the week he conversed with God, but on Saturdays and Sundays he received visitors, men only – no women – who wished to consult him on spiritual and temporal matters. He predicted future military victories to Emperor Theodosius the Great.

Though he founded no religious community he is considered as a father of ascetics.

Shortly before his death he was visited by Palladius to whom he prophesied that he would become a bishop. Palladius left an interesting account of their meeting.

The holy recluse died at the age of ninety. Three days before his death he shut the small window to his cell, and demanded to be left alone. He was found dead in a position of prayer.

Monday, March 26, 2018

At The Hour Of Our Death

Very worried, Saint John lost no time
in visiting the Blessed Virgin
to tell her of Lillian and
her great danger...
After the Holy Ghost had descended in the form of fiery tongues on the Apostles on Pentecost day, Saint Peter stepped out before a great crowd and spoke with so much fire, unction, and wisdom that five thousand at once asked for holy baptism.
In that crowd was a poor, young woman, listening with all her soul. Her name was Lillian.
Lillian was poor and humble, and busied herself with her household chores. A short time after that great day when she had heard Saint Peter preach, Lillian fell ill. Her malady gradually worsened and soon, exhausted and weakened, she took to her bed.
The devil, who is a very big coward, had been watching her very closely: “Ha, ha!” he thought. “Now that she is so weak and sickly I may prompt her to sin and, perhaps, even steal her new Faith from her.”
You see, my friends, the devil is very resentful of all who possess our holy Catholic Faith, for that Faith gives them the means to reach heaven and see the good God. This, the devil will never be able to do. .
In her weakened state, the poor girl did consent to a few sins. Now, we all know that when we commit sins we become weaker, making it much easier for the devil to tempt us even more.
So the devil now took on the appearance of a woman, approached Lillian’s sickbed, and began to talk to her about the new Church that had just been founded: “You, know,” said the woman (who was really the devil), “you shouldn’t listen to what those disciples of that Man who just died on a cross have to say. They are deceiving you. All those things they are telling you are lies. You should stay away from them. If you don’t, the same priests and judges who crucified their Teacher will punish you.”
On and on went the devil, spinning his tale, until the young girl was nearly convinced that she should give up her newly acquired Faith. Still, she asked, “But what about that lady whom I have seen with the Christians and who is so beautiful, so good, so kind and patient?”
“Oh,” replied the devil, “wouldn’t you know. She is the worst of them all! Don’t be deceived by her looks and her supposed kindness and patience!”
Hearing all this, young Lillian believed the fiend and gave up her Faith. At the same time, her health failed once and for all, and she was soon at death’s door.
Hearing of her condition from a neighbor, one of the seventy-two disciples of Our Lord Jesus visited her.
Finding her so very sick, he tried to talk to her and help prepare her for the approaching end. But she would not listen to him. The more he tried to talk, the more she stopped her ears and asked him to leave her house.
Realizing that the girl was in great danger, the disciple immediately looked for the Apostle Saint John to tell him about Lillian’s plight. Saint John quickly made his way to the girl’s house and, on entering, beheld the poor creature lying on her bed surrounded by legions of demons.
On seeing Saint John, the demons retired, but, still, there was nothing the Apostle could do to convince Lillian to return to her Faith. The girl could not be reached. As soon as Saint John left, all of the devils came right back, tormenting the poor girl and making sure that she remained in their clutches.
Very worried, Saint John lost no time in visiting the Blessed Virgin, who was then living in Jerusalem, to tell her of Lillian and her great danger. Our Lady was much concerned and immensely sorry for this simple soul whom the devil was trying to snatch from her Son.
Now, our great Lady had, among all her gifts, the ability to see with the eyes of her soul all that happened with her Son’s Church. Gazing with these interior eyes, she could see the poor young girl on her bed, suffering terribly and surrounded by hideous devils. Retiring to her chamber, she prostrated on the floor, and begged God to save that tormented soul.
After having prayed, the holy Lady called one of the angels that always accompanies her and bade him go to the young girl to try his mightiest to return her to her senses. The angel obeyed immediately, and was soon back.
“My Lady, I return from the task of assisting this girl in her mortal danger, as thou, Mother of Mercy, had commanded me. Alas, so hard is her heart that she will not listen to me. I have fought against the demons but they resisted, saying that, by right, this soul belongs to them because she gave herself to them willingly. God has not enabled me to fulfill thy will. I am sorry, my Lady, but I cannot give thee this consolation.”
The loving mother was quite saddened at this news but, being truly our mother, she would not give up on this poor girl. Once more, with her face to the ground, she beseeched God Our Lord to deliver this poor soul from the devil’s clutches.
Our Lord, however, seemed not to hear her. Sometimes He did this only to hear His sweet mother’s voice calling to Him longer. Besides, He was sure she would do the right thing.
Even though her Son said nothing from heaven, the Blessed Lady knew that she had to help. Whenever a charitable act had to be done, no one was as eager as the Blessed Virgin, our Mother, to accomplish it.
Turning to Saint John then, she said: “Come with me, my son. I am myself going to help this young dove who is so deceived.” Closing the door of the Cenacle behind them, they made their way to the girl’s house, which was not far from there.
As soon as they had gone but a few paces, several angels appeared before them and blocked their progress. The holy Mother asked them why they did this, and they answered: “There is no reason that we should allow you to walk, my Lady, when we can carry you.” Saying this, they made a throne of shining clouds and, seating the great Lady upon it, they carried her right to Lillian’s bedside.
Lo, as soon as the Blessed Lady appeared in the room, the devils made such haste to leave that that they tripped over each other in their flight! The powerful Queen commanded them to return to hell and to remain there until she gave them permission to come out. So ordered, they could do nothing but give in to her command.
This kindest of mothers then approached the girl and, taking her hand and calling her by name, spoke to her sweetest words of life. Immediately, the girl felt better and refreshed.
“My Lady,” she said, “a woman came to me and told me that the disciples of Jesus were deceiving me and that I had better separate myself from them and from thee. She said that if I accepted their way of life, great misfortune would befall me.”
The Queen answered: “My daughter, she who seemed to you a woman was your enemy, the devil. I come in the name of the Most High to give you eternal life. Return, then, to His true Faith, and confess Him with all your heart as your God and Redeemer. Adore Him and ask Him to forgive you your sins.”
“All this,” the girl answered, “I believed before, but the woman told me it was all very bad and that they would punish me if I should ever confess it.”
The heavenly teacher replied: “My daughter, do not fear this deceit; remember that the only punishments to be really feared are those of hell, to which the demon wants to take you.”
The poor girl was soon crying and most sorry for what she had done. She begged the good Lady to continue to help her and to bring her back to the Church.
The Blessed Mother then sent for Saint John to administer the Sacraments to the dying girl. Repeating the acts of contrition and love and invoking Jesus and Mary, the girl died happily in the arms of the good Mother.


Adapted by Michelle Taylor for Crusade Magazine’s “Family Series” from a story told by Venerable Mary of Agreda in The Mystical City of God

Keep it simple

There is no danger
if our prayer is without words or reflection
because the good success of prayer depends neither on words nor on study.
It depends upon the simple raising of our minds to God,
and the more simple and stripped of feeling it is,
the surer it is.

St. Jane Frances de Chantal

St. Braulio of Zaragoza

St. Braulio of Zaragoza

Braulio was a brilliant scholar and a pupil of St. Isidore, who founded a university in Seville, Spain. He eventually became a mentor to his mentor, and went on to advise not only ecclesiasts but kings.

At the death of his brother, Bishop John of Zaragoza, Braulio was nominated as his successor, a dignity he accepted. As bishop, he labored with zeal for his people, and also to extirpate the last vestiges of Arianism, still festering among them despite the conversion of King Recaredo.

He took part in the Council of Toledo, and was charged by the same council to write a response to Pope Honorius I who had accused the Spanish bishops of pastoral negligence. His defense was both dignified and convincing.

The good bishop spent many a night in prayer in the Church of Our Lady of the Pilar, which houses a miraculous statue delivered to St. James, the first apostle of Spain, by Our Lady herself.

He abhorred luxuries of all kinds, wore a hair shirt beneath the vestments of his office, and led a simple, austere life. An ardent preacher and a keen apologist, Braulio's deep sincerity was as convincing as his clear arguments. His generosity to the poor was only matched by the care he took of his flock.

Towards the end of his life he was afflicted by the loss of his sight, a heavy cross for anyone but especially burdensome to a scholar. As death approached, he gave up his spirit to his Lord while reciting the Psalms.

Sunday, March 25, 2018

Why Doesn't God Answer My Prayer?


Question:  I pray and pray, but I feel as if God is not listening. We always had a good, peaceful family life, but these last years have been tough. We don’t seem to be getting along and our finances have taken a turn for the worse.
I am so anxious about this situation that, not having anyone to turn to, I turned to God.
But God seems to remain deaf to me. Why is that? In addition, what do I say to certain people, agnostics and atheists, who laugh at prayer, saying it is nonsensical and only a figment of the imagination with no real value?

Answer:  God is faithful to His promises, and God promised to answer our prayers. “And I tell you, ask, and it will be given you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For every one who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened” (Luke 11:9–10).
If God promises to answer our prayers, He will do so infallibly. But in prayer there are two sides: he who asks and He Who gives.
Our part is to ask. How must we ask?
Saint Alphonsus Liguori, a Doctor of the Church, teaches in his book Prayer, the Great Means of Salvation that prayer must be persevering and humble.
So many times we hear people saying: “Oh, I used to ask God for this and that and the other, but He never gave it to me. Now, ten years later, how glad I am that He didn’t!”
One thing is certain: God will not fail to answer a humble and perseverance prayer. Whether He chooses to grant what we ask immediately or make us wait, we must trust that He, regardless of appearances, is doing us good. What we think is good and what He thinks is good may be two different things: “My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor your ways My ways” (Isa. 55:8), but here is where we must abandon ourselves to His beneficent will. Our part is to be patient, calm and, above all, faithful, because this is the time for testing and later will come the time for full enjoyment.

Answering Atheists and Agnostics
As for atheists and agnostics, their skepticism proceeds from the fact that they, respectively, deny God’s existence or deny men’s capacity to know God.
In this case, we can only express our regret over their ignorance of this Supreme Being, our omnipotent Creator and loving Savior.
We may direct them to a few sources that may help in their search for the truth of His existence. Atheism and agnosticism can only be sustained in ignorance or ill will because the evidence of God’s existence is overwhelming.
Moreover, God will not hide Himself from those who seek Him sincerely and unconditionally.
Another consideration pertaining to non-believers is this: If God were to grant us absolutely everything we ask at a moment’s notice, such people might start believing purely out of self-interest.
They would look at God as a wand-wielding wizard. And God Our Lord is infinitely more than that. He wants us to know, love, and serve Him for Himself so that He can treat us as children and heirs and grant us unending happiness in Heaven.
"My impression is that the Rosary is of the greatest value not only according to the words of Our Lady of Fatima, but according to the effects of the Rosary one sees throughout history. My impression is that Our Lady wanted to give ordinary people, who might not know how to pray, this simple method of getting closer to God."  Sister Lucia, one of the seers of Fatima.

Mother of Penitent Sinners

Neither in heaven nor on earth can I find one who has more compassion for the miserable, or who can aid me more than you.
EXAMPLE: It is narrated by Belluacensis that in Ridolio, a city of England, in the year 1430, there lived a young nobleman named Ernest, who gave all his patrimony to the poor, and entered a monastery, where he led so holy a life that he was greatly esteemed by his superiors, particularly for his special devotion to the most holy Virgin.
It happened that a pestilence prevailed in that city and the citizens had recourse to that monastery to ask the prayers of the monks.
The abbot ordered Ernest to go and pray before the altar of Mary, and not to quit it until she had given him an answer. The youth remained there three days, and received from Mary, in answer, some prayers, which were to be said. They were said, and the plague ceased.
It happened afterwards that this youth became less ardent in his devotion to Mary; the devil assailed him with many temptations, especially to impurity, and to a desire to flee from the monastery; and having neglected to recommend himself to Mary, he resolved to take flight by casting himself from the wall of the monastery; but passing before an image of the Virgin which stood in the corridor, the mother of God spoke to him, and said: “My son, why do you leave me?”
Ernest was overwhelmed with surprise, and, filled with compunction, fell on the earth, saying: “My Lady, behold, I have no power to resist, why do you not aid me?” and the Madonna replied: “Why have you not invoked me? If you had sought my protection, you would not have been reduced to this; from this day commend yourself to me, and have confidence.”
Ernest returned to his cell; but the temptations were renewed, yet he neglected to call upon Mary for assistance. He finally fled from the monastery, and leading a bad life, he went on from one sin to another, till he became an assassin. He rented an inn, where in the night he murdered unfortunate travelers and stripped them of all they had.
One night he killed, among others, the cousin of the governor of the place, who, after examination and trial, condemned him to the gallows.
But during the examination [court trial], a young traveler arrived at the inn, and the host, as usual, laid his plans and entered his chamber to assassinate him: but on approaching the bed, he finds the young man gone and a Christ on the cross, covered with wounds, in his place.
Our Lord, looking compassionately at him, said: “Is it not enough that I have died once for thee? Dost thou wish to slay me again? Do it, then; lift thy hand and kill me!” Then the poor Ernest, covered with confusion, began to weep, and exclaimed: “Oh Lord, behold me ready to return to thee, who hast shown me so much mercy.”
He immediately left the inn to go back to the monastery to do penance; but the officers of justice overtook him on the way. He was carried before the judge and in his presence confessed all the murders he had committed.
He was at once condemned to death, without even being allowed time for confession. He commended himself to Mary. He was hung upon the gallows, but the Virgin prevented his death.
She herself released him, and said to him: “Return to the monastery; do penance; and when you shall see in my hand a paper containing the pardon of thy sins, then prepare to die. Ernest returned, and having related all to the abbot, did great penance.
After many years, he saw in the hand of Mary the paper containing his pardon; he then prepared for his last end, and died a holy death.

PRAYER: Oh Mary, sovereign queen, and worthy mother of my God, most holy Mary! Finding myself so vile, so laden with sin, I dare not approach thee and call thee mother.
But I cannot let my miseries deprive me of the consolation and confidence I feel in calling thee mother. I know that I deserve to be rejected by thee, but I pray thee to consider what thy son Jesus has done and suffered for me; and then cast me from thee if thou canst.
I am a poor sinner, who, more than others, has despised the divine Majesty; but the evil is already done.To thee I have recourse: thou canst help me; oh, my mother, help me. Do not say that thou canst not aid me, for I know that thou art omnipotent, and dost obtain whatever thou desireth from thy God.
If then thou sayest that thou canst not help me, at least tell me to whom I must have recourse for succor in my deep distress. With St. Anselra, I will say to thee, and to thy Son: Have pity on me, oh thou, my Redeemer, and pardon me, thou my mother, and recommend me to pardon; or teach me to whom I may have recourse, who is more compassionate than you, and in whom I may have more confidence.
No, neither in heaven nor on earth can I find one who has more compassion for the miserable, or who can aid me more than you.
Thou, oh Jesus, art my father, and thou, oh Mary, art my mother. You love those who are the most wretched, and you seek to save them. I am worthy of hell, and of all beings the most miserable; you need not to seek me, neither do I ask you to seek me; I present myself to you with a sure hope that I shall not be abandoned by you. Behold me at your feet; my Jesus, pardon me; my Mary, help me.


“Stories of Mary” are taken from the Glories of Mary, translated from the Italian of St. Alphonsus Liguori; New Revised Edition, P.J. Kennedy & Sons. Copyright 1888 by P.J. Kennedy

Benefits of prayer

Virtues are formed by prayer.
Prayer preserves temperance. Prayer suppresses anger.
Prayer prevents emotions of pride and envy.
Prayer draws into the soul the Holy Ghost,
and raises man to Heaven.

St. Ephrem the Syrian

St. Lucy Filippini

Lucy was born in 1672 in Tarquinia in Tuscany. Orphaned early in life, she was raised by her aristocratic aunt and uncle.

Her early inclination to piety was strengthened by a great seriousness of purpose and her remarkable gifts attracted the attention of the Cardinal-Bishop of the diocese, Marcantonio Barbarigo, who persuaded the young lady to take advantage of an institute for training teachers in Montefiasconi. Lucy excelled in the institute and won all hearts by her modesty and charity, her intense conviction of spiritual things, her common sense and her courage.

At the teachers' institute, Lucy met Blessed Rose Venerini, whose educational experience Cardinal Barbarigo had likewise recruited. In Montefiascone the two holy women trained schoolmistresses and co-founded the Maestre Pie or the Pious Matrons. Together they trained girls in the art of running a good home, weaving, embroidery, reading and Christian doctrine. Their work prospered. Both shared a tremendous gift for effective communication.

In 1707, at the express desire of Pope Clement XI, Lucy went to Rome and founded the first school of the Maestre Pie. The school flourished and children flocked to it from all over the region. Though only able to remain in Rome for six months, when Lucy left the Eternal City she was known as the “Maestra Santa”, the Holy School Mistress.

Unfortunately, the task sapped Lucy’s strength and she became seriously ill in 1726. Though she had good medical care, she never quite regained her health and died a most holy death on March 25, 1732, the day she had predicted.

Saturday, March 24, 2018

What brings us to Heaven?

Contradictions bring us to the foot of the Cross,
 and the Cross, to the gate of Heaven.


St. John Vianney

St. Irenaeus of Sirmium

Sirmium, then the capital of Pannonia, is in present-day Serbia. Apart from his position as bishop, Irenaeus seems to have been a man of local importance. Arrested during the terrible persecution of Diocletian, Irenaeus was brought before the governor, and commanded to offer sacrifice to the gods. At his refusal, he was stretched on the rack, but did not relent. His mother, wife (at that time the laws of celibacy were different) and children hung about his neck begging him to save himself and not to abandon them.

Steeling himself against their entreaties, the holy prelate maintained silence, and was again imprisoned, willingly submitting himself to the cruelty of the torments by which the pagans hoped to shake him. Publicly interrogated a second time – once more without effect – Bishop Irenaeus was sentenced to death by drowning for disobedience to the imperial edict.

At his protest that death by drowning was unworthy of a confessor of Christ, he begged to face the cruelest torments. He was finally beheaded.

Friday, March 23, 2018

How do we touch the most responsive chord in the Sacred Heart of Christ?

When we appeal to the throne of grace
we do so through Mary,
honoring God by honoring His Mother,
imitating Him by exalting her,
touching the most responsive chord in the Sacred Heart of Christ
with the sweet name of Mary.

St. Robert Bellarmine