St. Charles Borromeo, Bishop

Charles Borromeo was born into an aristocratic and immensely wealthy Italian family. The Borromeos lived in a magnificent castle and enjoyed all the privileges and comforts that accompanied their noble position. Charles was an accomplished young man who excelled in athletics, music, and the arts, and he was accustomed to a life of elegance, fine entertainments, and considerable luxury. His mother belonged to the illustrious Medici family, and one of his uncles was Pope Pius IV. Through his family connections, Charles was destined for a prominent position in the Church. 

At just twenty-three years of age, his uncle appointed him a cardinal and entrusted him with numerous important ecclesiastical responsibilities. He was also appointed papal legate to Bologna, the Low Countries, and the Swiss cantons, as well as to several religious orders.

When Charles' father died, many expected him to abandon his ecclesiastical responsibilities, marry a young noblewoman, and assume leadership of the Borromeo family. Instead, Charles made a very different decision. He recognized that God was calling him to a life of priestly service. He devoted himself more seriously to prayer, study, and the spiritual life, and eventually received ordination to the priesthood. Not long afterward, he was appointed Archbishop of Milan, a great city whose people had been without the regular presence of a bishop for more than eighty years.

Charles took his responsibilities as a bishop with extraordinary seriousness. He understood that his office was not a privilege to be enjoyed but a sacred duty to be fulfilled. He worked tirelessly to reform the clergy, improve religious education, establish seminaries for the proper formation of priests, and restore discipline and reverence throughout his diocese. He was particularly concerned that priests should live holy lives and faithfully instruct the people entrusted to their care. His work was an important contribution to the Catholic renewal following the Council of Trent.

Although Charles had once enjoyed the luxuries of aristocratic life, he now embraced a life of personal austerity and extraordinary charity. When a terrible famine struck in 1570, he organized relief efforts and provided food for approximately 3,000 people every day for three months. Six years later, a devastating plague swept through Milan and the surrounding region. Charles organized his priests, religious communities, and lay volunteers to care for the sick and dying. He personally visited those afflicted, arranged for food and medical assistance, and provided shelter for thousands who had been abandoned or left without the necessities of life. He spent his personal fortune in these efforts and even incurred enormous debts rather than allow the suffering people of his diocese to go without help.

Charles was also a man of profound penitence and prayer. On one occasion, he ordered a public procession of atonement and led it himself, wearing sackcloth, with a rope around his neck, his feet bare and bleeding, and a cross upon his shoulder. He wished to call his people to repentance and to offer himself in prayer and sacrifice for their spiritual welfare.

After years of exhausting pastoral labour, penance, and self-sacrifice, Charles Borromeo died in 1584 at the age of forty-six. At the time of his death, he was dressed in sackcloth and ashes and held a picture of Jesus Crucified in his hands. His final words were, "See, Lord, I am coming, I am coming soon."

St. Charles Borromeo reminds us that holiness is not measured by wealth, position, or worldly honours, but by fidelity to Christ and loving service to others. His life challenges us to use whatever gifts and resources God has entrusted to us for the good of our neighbour and the glory of God.

Keep, O Lord, thy Church by the continual protection of Saint Charles Borromeo: that as his zeal for thy flock did render him glorious; so his intercession may ever make us fervent in thy love; through Jesus Christ thy Son our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, ever one God, world without end. Amen.

St. Martin de Porres, Religious and Confessor

St. Martin de Porres was born into difficult circumstances in Lima, Peru, in 1579. His mother, Ana Velázquez, was a formerly enslaved woman of African descent, while his father, Juan de Porres, was a Spanish nobleman. His parents were not married, and Martin and his younger sister were raised primarily by their mother after their father abandoned the family. 

Because of their mixed ancestry, the children experienced the prejudice and discrimination that were deeply ingrained in colonial society. They were regarded as belonging to one of the lowest social classes, and their family lived in considerable poverty. Yet the circumstances of his birth would become part of the remarkable witness of a man whose life demonstrated that true greatness is found not in social standing, but in holiness.

At the age of twelve, Martin was apprenticed to a barber-surgeon, a profession that combined the cutting of hair with the treatment of wounds and the administration of basic medical care. He learned these skills well, and they would provide him with the means to serve others throughout his life. His work brought him into contact with the sick and suffering, and he developed a profound compassion for those who were poor, neglected, or unable to obtain medical assistance.

As a young man, Martin sought admission to the Dominican Order in Lima. Conscious of the prejudice associated with his racial background and considering himself unworthy of religious life, he entered initially as a donado, or lay helper, performing menial duties in the monastery. He worked in the kitchen, laundry, and infirmary, accepting every task with humility and without complaint. After nine years, however, his extraordinary holiness, charity, and spirit of prayer moved the community to invite him to make full religious profession as a Dominican lay brother.

Martin's life was characterized by intense prayer and penance, but his spirituality was never separated from practical charity. He spent long hours caring for the sick, nursing the dying, feeding the hungry, and assisting those who came to the monastery seeking help. He treated everyone with the same tenderness and respect, regardless of race, social position, or personal circumstances. He was instrumental in establishing an orphanage and devoted himself to the care of enslaved Africans who had been brought to Peru. He also managed the distribution of the monastery's alms, displaying remarkable practical ability and generosity.

His responsibilities eventually extended to serving as procurator for the priory and the city, where he was entrusted with the purchase and distribution of necessities. His work encompassed everything from blankets, clothing, and candles to food and medicine. Yet he never regarded any task as beneath him. When the monastery fell into financial difficulty, Martin offered himself to be sold into slavery, saying, "I am only a poor mulatto. Sell me. I am the property of the order. Sell me." His words revealed the extraordinary humility and self-forgetfulness that characterized his life.

Alongside his ordinary duties, God gave Martin remarkable mystical gifts. Accounts of his life describe ecstasies in which he was lifted from the ground, miraculous cures, bilocation, and an extraordinary knowledge of things beyond his natural understanding. His love extended even to animals. He cared for stray cats and dogs and showed unusual kindness toward the mice and rats that troubled the monastery kitchen, insisting that they too deserved consideration.

Many of his fellow religious sought his spiritual counsel, recognizing in him a wisdom that came from profound union with God. Yet Martin continued to think of himself as a poor and unworthy servant. He was also a close friend of St. Rose of Lima, another Dominican tertiary renowned for her holiness.

St. Martin de Porres died on November 3, 1639. His life remains a powerful testimony to the transforming grace of God. In a society divided by race and social standing, he demonstrated that every human person possesses dignity and deserves compassion. His holiness reminds us that the way to heaven is found through humility, prayer, and loving service to others. He was canonized by Pope St. John XXIII in 1962 and is honoured as the patron saint of social justice, racial harmony, and those who work for the poor and sick.

O God, who didst lead Saint Martin de Porres by the way of humility to heavenly glory: grant that we may so follow the example of his holiness; that we may be worthy to be exalted with him to heaven; through Jesus Christ thy Son our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, ever one God, world without end. Amen.

Praying for the Departed

One of the most beautiful practices of our Catholic faith is that of having Holy Mass offered for the repose of the souls of our departed loved ones. It's a practice rooted in the earliest centuries of Christianity, when the faithful remembered the dead in their prayers and gathered to offer the Holy Sacrifice on their behalf.

The Church teaches that those who die in God's grace and friendship, but are not yet completely purified, undergo purification before entering the fullness of God's presence. This purification is called Purgatory. Because the souls undergoing this purification can no longer gain merit for themselves, our prayers and the spiritual benefits of the Mass are of particular importance to them.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church reminds us that from the beginning Christians have honoured the memory of the dead and offered prayers for them, above all the Eucharistic Sacrifice, so that they may be purified and attain the beatific vision of God (CCC 1032).

There is no greater prayer we can offer for someone who has died than the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. In the Mass, the one perfect sacrifice of Jesus Christ on Calvary is made present. Through this sacrifice, we commend the departed to the infinite mercy of God, asking that the merits of Christ's Passion be applied to their souls and that they may be brought more quickly into the joy of heaven.

Having Masses offered for our departed loved ones is much more than an act of remembrance. It is an act of faith, charity, and continuing love. Although death separates us physically, we remain united in the Communion of Saints. Our love for those who have died finds one of its greatest expressions in prayer for their souls.

So we should always remember our departed parents, spouses, children, relatives, and friends, requesting Masses for them, not merely on the anniversary of their deaths, but throughout the year. It's a precious spiritual gift, and perhaps the greatest act of charity we can offer to those who have gone before us.

All Souls Day

There are people whose absence we feel deeply - members of our families, dear friends, and those who have touched our lives in ways we will never forget. We remember their faces, their voices, the kindnesses they showed us, and the love we shared with them.

On All Souls Day, the Church gives us a special time to remember these beloved departed, not simply with affection and longing, but with the assurance of Christian hope. We commend them to God's mercy and pray that they may enjoy the fullness of eternal life in His presence.

The Church teaches that death does not end our relationship with those who have gone before us. Through Christ, we remain united with them in the Communion of Saints. The Church consists of the faithful on earth, the souls being purified in Purgatory, and the saints who already rejoice in Heaven. These are the Church Militant, the Church Expectant, and the Church Triumphant, united in one Body of Christ.

On All Souls Day, we particularly remember the Church Expectant. These are the souls who have died in God's friendship but still need to be purified of the effects of sin. This purification, which we call Purgatory, is not a second chance at salvation, nor is it a place of condemnation. Rather, it is the final preparation of those who are assured of heaven but must first be made perfectly holy. Nothing imperfect can enter into the presence of God, and Purgatory is the merciful completion of that purification.

Our prayers for the departed are an important expression of Christian charity. The Church has always encouraged the faithful to pray for those who have died, offer the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass for their repose, and obtain indulgences for them. Even a simple prayer offered in their memory is an act of love. We entrust them to God's mercy, asking that they may enjoy the Beatific Vision and see Him face to face.

All Souls Day also reminds us of our own mortality. Our earthly life is temporary, and we should live each day with eternity in view. The time we have been given is an opportunity to grow in holiness, practice charity, seek forgiveness, and prepare ourselves for the day when we too will stand before God.

We remember the departed not only on November 2nd, but throughout the year. We pray for them, we have Masses offered for them, and we are assured that the bonds of love in Christ are stronger than death.

O God, the Creator and Redeemer of all them that believe: grant unto the souls of thy servants and handmaids the remission of all their sins; that as they have ever desired thy merciful pardon, so by the supplications of their brethren they may receive the same; through Jesus Christ thy Son our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, ever one God, world without end. Amen.

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Indulgence for the Holy Souls in Purgatory

One of the spiritual works of mercy is to pray for the Faithful Departed, who can do no more for themselves. There are plenary indulgences assigned to this season, outlined in the Enchiridion, which you may obtain for the Holy Souls in Purgatory:

1. A plenary indulgence, applicable only to the souls in purgatory, may be obtained by those who, on All Souls Day, piously visit a church, public oratory, or for those entitled to use it, a semi-public oratory. It may be acquired either on the day designated as All Souls Day or, with the consent of the bishop, on the preceding or following Sunday or the feast of All Saints. On visiting the church or oratory it is required that one Our Father and the Creed be recited.

2. You may make a visit to a Cemetery or Columbarium. A plenary indulgence is applicable to the souls in Purgatory when one devoutly visits and prays for the departed. This work may be done each day between November 1 and November 8.

To obtain a Plenary Indulgence, one must fulfill the following requirements:

1. Make a Sacramental Confession,
2. Receive Holy Communion,
3. Offer prayer for the intention of the Holy Father.

All these are to be performed within days of each other, if not at the same time.

"Behold, a great multitude..."

St. John the Divine was nearly a hundred years old when he was exiled to the island of Patmos. It was there that he had his great vision: “I looked, and behold, a great multitude which no man could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and tongues, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, ‘Salvation belongs to our God who sits upon the throne, and to the Lamb!’”

This was his vision of all the saints, and they were standing there because of everything that has gone before. Their holiness is the fruit of all the events in Christ's life, from His Conception and Nativity, to the Resurrection and the Ascension and Pentecost – all those things happened to make saints.

Saints aren’t born; rather, they’re made. We are all born with the potential to become saints. The only difference between those who aren’t saints and those who are, is the difference between people who repent and confess after sinning, and those who refuse to repent and so purposely continue in their sin.

Because one of the purposes of the Church is to make saints, so the characteristics of the saints are the characteristics of the Church. In the Creed we confess that we believe “One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church.” These words which define the Church, also define the saints.

The saints are One because they are united with one another through their union with Christ. We call this the Communion of Saints. Although saints live in different centuries, come from different nations, and follow different paths in life, they belong to one family in Christ. Death doesn’t divide those who are united in Him.

The saints are Holy because they have allowed God's grace to transform their lives. The very word “saint,” from the Latin sanctus, means holy. Their holiness didn’t come from their own strength or perfection, but from Christ working within them. Through the sacraments, prayer, repentance, and daily faithfulness, they allowed God to make them more like His Son.

The saints are Catholic, meaning universal. Their holiness isn’t confined to one nation, culture, or period of history. We celebrate men and women, young and old, rich and poor, from every nation and every walk of life. Their circumstances are different, but their faith is one. Their lives remind us that the call to holiness belongs to everyone.

And the saints are Apostolic. They received the faith handed down from Christ through the Apostles, and they faithfully passed it on through their teaching, witness, and example. Their holiness was never merely a private achievement; it becomes a blessing to the whole Church and to the world.

So as we remember the saints, we shouldn’t regard them simply as remarkable people whose lives we admire from a distance. They are examples of what God's grace can accomplish in ordinary human lives. Their holiness is an invitation to us.

We ask their prayers and follow their example, so that we also might grow in holiness and take our place among that great company, united in Christ as His One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic people.

When We Forget Mercy...

One Sabbath when Jesus went to dine at the house of a ruler who belonged to the Pharisees, they were watching him. And behold, there was a man before him who had dropsy. And Jesus spoke to the lawyers and Pharisees, saying, "Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath, or not?" But they were silent. Then he took him and healed him, and let him go. And he said to them, "Which of you, having a son or an ox that has fallen into a well, will not immediately pull him out on a Sabbath day?" And they could not reply to this.

- St. Luke 14:1-6

The Pharisees, an important Jewish religious group during the time of Jesus, emphasized the strict observance of the Law of Moses, the traditions of the elders, ritual purity, and the importance of religious devotion in daily life. They believed in the resurrection of the dead, angels, and divine judgment. They were sincere in their devotion, but they were frequently criticized by Jesus for their hypocrisy and their tendency to emphasize outward religious observance over inward holiness and mercy.

Our Lord frequently had interaction with Pharisees, and in this Gospel account He had been invited by a man of some importance, and there were other Pharisees there.

Apparently this wasn’t simply a social gathering. When Jesus arrived, He was met with silence. It was obvious that they were there to watch Jesus. They had no desire to learn from Him, but rather, to find fault. That is evidenced by the scene itself: before them stood a suffering man, yet their concern was not for him. It was for the preservation of their interpretation of the Law – what could and could not be done on the Sabbath.

Our Lord met their silence with a simple question: “Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath, or not?” Their silence exposed just how hard their hearts were. They knew that compassion was good, but their understanding of religion had become so rigid that they could not acknowledge goodness or the need for mercy, even when it was right in front of them.

Jesus did not allow their silence to hinder His mercy. He healed the man and sent him on his way, and in doing that He revealed the true purpose of the Sabbath. It was never intended to be a burden, but a gift. It is a day set apart for God, whose very nature is love.

Here is a reminder for us all: it is possible to be faithful in religious observance, mindful in matters of doctrine, and obedient to the commandments, yet still fail to recognize Christ in those who suffer. True holiness never separates faithfulness to God from charity toward our neighbour.

The Sabbath belongs to the Lord, Who is mercy itself. If our worship doesn’t shape our hearts, making us more generous, more compassionate, and more ready to serve, then it can become (to use the words of St. Paul) “a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal."

It is possible to be so occupied with defending what defines holiness that we forget to practice the love which makes us holy.

Under His Wings: The Tender Mercy of Christ

At that very hour some Pharisees came, and said to him, "Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you." And he said to them, "Go and tell that fox, `Behold, I cast out demons and perform cures today and tomorrow, and the third day I finish my course. Nevertheless I must go on my way today and tomorrow and the day following; for it cannot be that a prophet should perish away from Jerusalem.' O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, killing the prophets and stoning those who are sent to you! How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you would not! Behold, your house is forsaken. And I tell you, you will not see me until you say, `Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!'"

- St. Luke 13:31-35

It was inevitable that the road from Nazareth would find its way to Jerusalem. The announcement of the Incarnation was the beginning of the journey which would culminate in the Crucifixion and the Resurrection.

There is something deeply moving in the words of our Lord as He looks toward Jerusalem. “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, killing the prophets and stoning those who are sent to you…” The city that should have welcomed the prophets and received the Messiah has repeatedly resisted those whom God has sent to it. With this history of repeated rejection, Jesus speaks with sorrow and compassion. How much He wants to gather His people to Himself, even when they refuse His love!

When the Pharisees warn Jesus that Herod is looking to kill Him, our Lord answers without wavering. He will continue His work of healing, casting out demons, and proclaiming the Kingdom of God. Neither threats nor political power will turn Him aside from the mission entrusted to Him.

He knows that His journey leads toward Jerusalem and ultimately to the Cross. So He continues onward, obedient to the Father's will and determined to accomplish our salvation.

And so that tender lament: “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, killing the prophets and stoning those who are sent to you…” The repetition of the city's name reveals the anguish of a Heart filled with love. Jesus sees the sins of Jerusalem, but He also sees its desperate need for mercy.

His image of a hen gathering her brood beneath her wings is one of such simple tenderness. Beneath her wings, her vulnerable young find shelter and protection from danger, and so Christ desires to gather us into the safety of His presence, where we find forgiveness, grace, and peace.

But the Lord laments, “And ye would not,” revealing the solemn reality that we can resist the grace God offers us. He calls us through holy Scripture, through the unbroken teaching of His Church, and through the persistent voice of conscience, yet pride, distraction, and attachment to sin so easily prevent us from hearing His invitation.

How often do we repeat Jerusalem's mistake? We look for comfort and security in our own strength while neglecting the One who alone can give us eternal life. We hear His commandments but we hesitate to obey. We receive His mercy but then, too often, refuse to forgive others.

But Christ continues to call us. His desire for our salvation is constant, and His mercy is always greater than our sins. It’s up to us to abandon our pride, repent of our sins, and trust ourselves entirely to His loving care.

O Lord Jesus Christ, whose heart yearns for our salvation, grant that we may never resist Thy gracious call. Gather us beneath the wings of Thy mercy, defend us from sin, and lead us faithfully to everlasting life. Amen.

St. Simon and St. Jude, Apostles

Our Lord chose His apostles, twelve men with differing backgrounds and gifts. St. Simon and St. Jude are among those about whom the New Testament tells us comparatively little, yet their names have been honoured together for centuries. Their feast on October 28 recalls the courage of those who carried the Gospel beyond the familiar world of Galilee and Judea. The traditional images of these two apostles, bearing the instruments of their martyrdom, remind us that the faith proclaimed by them was sealed by their willingness to suffer and die for Christ.

St. Simon the Zealot is distinguished from Simon Peter by the title Zealot, which suggests his fervent devotion to the Jewish faith, although the precise meaning of the designation remains uncertain. After being called by Christ, Simon became one of the Twelve, witnessing our Lord’s ministry, passion, and resurrection. Ancient tradition associates him with missionary journeys in Egypt and Persia.

In religious art, St. Simon is usually shown holding a large saw. This is the traditional symbol of his martyrdom, indicating how he was put to death because of his refusal to abandon his faith in Christ. Although the New Testament does not record the circumstances of his death, the saw has become his distinctive attribute, reminding the faithful of his steadfastness even in the face of terrible suffering.

St. Jude, also called Thaddeus, must be distinguished from Judas Iscariot who betrayed our Lord. St. Jude is traditionally honoured as the patron saint of hopeless and desperate causes, and his intercession is sought by Christians enduring seemingly impossible difficulties.

He is frequently depicted holding a medallion bearing the face of Christ. This represents an ancient tradition concerning the Image of Edessa, according to which Jude carried an image of Our Lord to King Abgar, who sought healing. He may also be shown with a flame above his head, recalling the descent of the Holy Spirit upon the Apostles at Pentecost. He also carries a club or halberd, recalling the traditional account of his martyrdom.

According to ancient tradition, Simon and Jude preached together in Persia, where they confronted pagan worship and proclaimed Jesus Christ as Lord. Their preaching aroused opposition, and both Apostles suffered martyrdom. Tradition commonly holds that Simon was sawn in half, while Jude was killed with a club or halberd. The precise circumstances cannot be established with historical certainty, but their enduring veneration bears witness to the Church’s memory of their heroic faith.

Their feast calls us to imitate their apostolic courage. We may not be required to suffer martyrdom, but every Christian is called to bear witness to Christ through prayer, charity, fidelity, and holiness of life. St. Simon and St. Jude remind us that no labour undertaken for God is wasted, and that even in our darkest trials, Christian hope rests securely in the faithfulness of our Lord.

O ALMIGHTY God, who hast built thy Church upon the foundation of the Apostles and Prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the head corner-stone: Grant us so to be joined together in unity of spirit by their doctrine, that we may be made an holy temple acceptable unto thee; through the same Jesus Christ thy Son our Lord. Amen.

Simple Images, Profound Truth

Jesus said, "What is the kingdom of God like? And to what shall I compare it? It is like a grain of mustard seed which a man took and sowed in his garden; and it grew and became a tree, and the birds of the air made nests in its branches." And again he said, "To what shall I compare the kingdom of God? It is like leaven which a woman took and hid in three measures of flour, till it was all leavened."

- Luke 13:18-21

Our Lord Jesus Christ frequently used simple everyday images to teach profound truths.  He compares the Kingdom of God to a mustard seed. He pictures leaven hidden in a measure of flour. Both images show something small and seemingly insignificant that actually possesses the power to bring about remarkable change.

The mustard seed begins as the tiniest of seeds, yet grows into a great shrub where birds find shelter. So it is with the work of God in our lives. A small act of charity, a quiet prayer, a word of encouragement, or a simple sacrifice offered in love may appear unimportant at the time, yet God can use these things to accomplish far more than we imagine.

The image of leaven teaches us something equally important. Hidden within the flour, it works silently until the whole measure is transformed. God's grace often works in us in this way. We may not immediately perceive its effects, but through prayer, the sacraments, and faithful obedience, Christ gradually transforms our hearts.

Too often we're tempted to search for dramatic signs of spiritual progress, and yet God most often accomplishes His greatest work through ordinary acts of faithfulness.

We should never discount small beginnings. The Kingdom grows wherever Christ is welcomed and His grace is permitted to work. It's then that we become instruments of that grace, when we cooperate by allowing His love to transform us and eventually, through us, the world around us.

Christ's Mercy

In the Gospel (St. Luke 13:10-17) Jesus encounters a woman in the synagogue who has suffered for eighteen years, bent over and unable to stand upright. Without being asked, He calls her to Himself, lays His hands upon her, and sets her free. Her immediate response is to glorify God.

It’s a beautiful picture of the compassionate heart of our Lord. He sees the suffering that others may overlook, and He recognizes the dignity of those whom society has grown accustomed to ignoring. For eighteen years, this woman has endured her affliction. Yet Jesus doesn’t consider her condition to be hopeless or her suffering to be unimportant. He calls her a “daughter of Abraham,” making it clear that she is one of God’s beloved children.

As St. Luke recounts it, the synagogue ruler is concerned that the healing has taken place on the Sabbath. Jesus, however, points out the inconsistency of a religious observance that neglects mercy. He puts it in everyday terms that people could readily understand: if an animal can be released to drink on the Sabbath, surely a woman bound by suffering can be released from her affliction.

It’s easy to become preoccupied with rules, routines, and outward appearances – which can be important – but not while overlooking the needs of those around us. True holiness never separates obedience to God from love of neighbour.

In a way, each one of us needs to ask Christ to straighten whatever bends our spirits beneath the burden of our sin, or fear, or resentment, or discouragement. And as He shows us His mercy, we can become instruments of that same mercy to others, glorifying God through lives marked by compassion and love.

Called To Love

 

“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it, You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments depend all the law and the prophets.”

-St. Matthew 22:37-40

Our Lord Jesus Christ makes it clear to us: we cannot claim to love God if we do not love our neighbour. On these two commandments -- the love of God and the love of neighbour -- the entire Law and the Prophets depend. They are like twin hooks that hold up the entire Law of God. So Jesus teaches that the entire law of God can be boiled down to two simple commandments:

Love God with your whole being. Love those whom God puts in your path as you love yourself.

St. Paul wrote to the Romans: "He who loves his neighbour has fulfilled the law…” Love does no wrong to a neighbour; therefore love is the fulfilling of the law. In that way, the Law comes down to one word: Love.

People often misunderstand what love is. They think of it as a particular feeling. But Jesus teaches us that love is not just a feeling. Love is an orientation of the will in action toward another. To love is to be turned inside out - turned toward someone outside of yourself - toward God, toward your neighbour.

As St. Paul wrote to the Corinthians, "Love is patient and kind; love is not jealous or boastful; it is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things."

Jesus has linked love of our neighbour with our love of God. We love God by loving our neighbour, even when it is not convenient. The cup of water we give to someone who is thirsty, we have given to God. The food we give to the hungry, we have given to God. So if we have neglected to give the cup of water or the morsel of food where it is needed, and it is within our capability to do so, then we have denied it to God.

We are a people called to love. Not the squishy-fuzzy-warm feeling kind of love, but a manly and active love, a love that does the right thing. When we love, it is because we have first been loved by God in Christ Jesus. His death and resurrection free us to love God and to love our neighbour. No longer do we love just because we have to; we love because now we are actually able to love.

We love because God has loved us in Christ with the greatest love we will ever know - the crucified love of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.

Our Lady, Queen of Palestine

Each year on October 25, members of the Equestrian Order of the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem, together with Catholics throughout the Holy Land, honour the Blessed Virgin Mary under the title of Our Lady, Queen of Palestine. The title expresses the Church’s confidence in Mary’s maternal intercession for the land sanctified by the earthly life, death, and Resurrection of her Son.

The devotion originated during a period of considerable uncertainty in the Holy Land. Following the First World War and the dissolution of the Ottoman Empire, the region came under British administration through the Mandate for Palestine. Political tensions and social unrest caused widespread concern, particularly for the Christian communities whose roots in the land reach back to apostolic times.

In 1920, the Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem, Archbishop Luigi (Louis) Barlassina, invoked the protection of the Blessed Virgin Mary under the title Queen of Palestine. Desiring to establish a lasting centre of prayer and charity, he founded a sanctuary at Deir Rafat, a village west of Jerusalem. The complex, established in 1927, included a church, monastery, and orphanage. It became a place where the faithful could seek spiritual consolation and entrust the needs of the Holy Land to the Mother of God.

In 1933, Archbishop Barlassina instituted October 25 as the feast of Our Lady, Queen of Palestine, with the approval of the Holy See. Deir Rafat subsequently became an important destination for pilgrims, and the devotion spread among Catholics both in the Holy Land and throughout the world.

The title Queen of Palestine must be understood in its historical and religious context. At the time the devotion developed, Palestine was the established geographical and official name of the territory under the British Mandate. The title was not intended as a political declaration or as an endorsement of any particular national movement or territorial claim. Rather, it expressed the Church’s devotion to Mary and her special relationship with the land where the mysteries of our salvation unfolded: Nazareth, Bethlehem, Galilee, Judea, and Jerusalem.

The name therefore reflects the terminology of its historical period and the spiritual significance of the Holy Land. It does not determine questions of sovereignty, national identity, or modern political boundaries. Its purpose is devotional and pastoral: to commend the land and all its inhabitants to Mary’s maternal care and to pray for peace among its peoples.

The title has a particular significance for the Equestrian Order of the Holy Sepulchre, whose mission is to support the Latin Patriarchate of Jerusalem and sustain Christian life in the Holy Land. On January 21, 1994, Pope St. John Paul II formally proclaimed Our Lady, Queen of Palestine, Patroness of the Order.

Her feast is thus both a celebration of Marian devotion and a call to prayer, charity, and practical solidarity with the Christian communities of the Holy Land. Under Mary's protection, the Knights and Dames are encouraged to serve the Church and work for reconciliation and peace among all who inhabit this sacred land.

Please pray for the Christians of the Holy Land.

O Mary Immaculate, gracious Queen of Heaven and Earth, we are prostrate at your feet, sure of your goodness and confident in your power.

We beg you to look kindly on the Holy Land, which, more than any other country, belongs to you since you have honored it by your birth, your virtues and your pain, and that it is here where you gave the Savior of the World.

Remember that you were made Mother and dispenser of graces. Deign to grant special protection to your earthly homeland to dispel the darkness of the error, so that the sun of eternal justice may shine on it and that the promise, fallen from the lips of your divine Son to form one flock under the guidance of one shepherd, may be fulfilled.

Obtain us to serve the Lord in righteousness and holiness, every day of our lives, so that by the merits of Jesus, with your maternal protection, we can pass from the earthly Jerusalem to the splendors of the heavenly Jerusalem.

St. Anthony Mary Claret

Known as the “spiritual father of Cuba,” St. Anthony Mary Claret was one of the most remarkable Catholic missionaries of the nineteenth century. A preacher, religious founder, social reformer, author, publisher, royal chaplain, and archbishop, he devoted his life to bringing souls to Christ. His apostolic journey took him from his native Spain to the Canary Islands and Cuba, and eventually to Madrid and Paris. He also participated in the First Vatican Council, where he distinguished himself as a zealous defender of the Catholic faith.

Born in Spain in 1807, Anthony began his working life as a weaver in the textile mills of Barcelona. Always eager to improve himself, he studied Latin and learned the printing trade, skills that would later prove invaluable in his apostolate. Ordained a priest at the age of twenty-eight, he hoped to enter religious life, but ill health prevented him from pursuing his desire to become either a Carthusian monk or a Jesuit. Instead, he discovered his vocation as a missionary preacher, becoming one of the most celebrated evangelists in Spain.

For ten years, Anthony threw himself into the demanding work of a missionary, traveling from town to town throughout Catalonia and the Canary Islands, preaching parish missions and conducting retreats. He went wherever souls needed to be awakened to the Gospel, often preaching several times a day and spending long hours hearing confessions. His sermons called sinners to repentance, urged lukewarm Catholics to renew their faith, and reminded the faithful of the eternal importance of their salvation. He preached with such fervor that crowds gathered wherever he went, drawn by his simplicity, conviction, and evident love for Christ. The Holy Eucharist was at the heart of his spiritual life, while his devotion to the Immaculate Heart of Mary shaped his preaching and his desire to lead others to holiness.

Recognizing that his missionary work needed to continue beyond his own lifetime, Anthony founded a congregation of missionary priests in 1849. These priests, known today as the Claretians, would carry the Gospel to communities far beyond Spain.

In 1850, Anthony was appointed Archbishop of Santiago de Cuba, where he found a diocese in urgent need of spiritual renewal. He did not remain at his desk issuing instructions. Instead, he set out among his people, traveling through towns and rural districts, preaching, hearing confessions, administering the sacraments, and instructing the faithful. He visited neglected communities and sought to bring the Church’s ministry to people who had long been deprived of adequate pastoral care.

His zeal was matched by a concern for the material welfare of those entrusted to him. He defended the dignity of those who were enslaved, insisted that couples living together outside marriage regularize their unions through Christian marriage, and encouraged poor families to establish small farms so they could provide for themselves rather than remain dependent upon powerful landowners. These reforms won him the affection of many ordinary people but aroused bitter opposition among those whose interests were threatened. His commitment to the Gospel would eventually cost him dearly. An assassin hired by his enemies attacked him with a knife, leaving him seriously wounded. Yet Anthony responded with remarkable Christian charity, forgiving his assailant and helping to have his death sentence commuted to imprisonment.

Recalled to Spain, Anthony reluctantly accepted appointment as chaplain to Queen Isabella II. Even in this position, he continued his apostolic work. Throughout his life, he understood the power of the printed word to spread the faith beyond the reach of the spoken sermon. He founded a religious publishing house, an important Catholic publishing venture in Spain, and wrote or published approximately two hundred books and pamphlets. Through these works he sought to instruct the faithful, defend Catholic teaching, and bring the truths of Christianity into homes and communities throughout the country.

When revolution forced the royal court into exile in 1868, Anthony accompanied it to France, where he continued preaching to Spanish-speaking communities. His missionary spirit remained undiminished by political upheaval, declining health, or the hardships of exile.

At the First Vatican Council in 1870, Anthony vigorously defended the doctrine of papal infallibility. His holiness and conviction impressed his fellow bishops, and Cardinal James Gibbons of Baltimore reportedly exclaimed, “There goes a true saint!” Frail in health but steadfast in faith, Anthony died in exile at Fontfroide, France, on October 24, 1870, at the age of sixty-three.

The life and ministry of St. Anthony Mary Claret reminds us that evangelization demands courage, perseverance, and practical charity. Whether preaching to crowded churches, traveling through neglected communities, defending the dignity of the oppressed, or spreading the faith through the printed word, he sought to bring every aspect of human life under the transforming light of Christ.

O God, who for the evangelization of peoples didst strengthen the Bishop Saint Anthony Mary Claret with admirable charity and long-suffering: grant, through his intercession, that, seeking the things that are thine, we may earnestly devote ourselves to winning our brethren for Christ; who liveth and reigneth with thee, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, ever one God, world without end. Amen.

St. John of Capistrano

Few men of the fifteenth century displayed the courage, zeal, and restless energy of St. John Capistrano. He was a man who moved from the halls of government to the austerity of a Franciscan monastery, and from the pulpit to the battlefield, always driven by a single purpose: the salvation of souls and the defense of the Christian faith. His life unfolded during an age of war, plague, and division within the Church, and through it all he became one of Europe's most influential preachers.

John was born in 1386 at Capistrano, in the Italian province of Abruzzi. His father was a German knight who died when John was still young. Gifted with intelligence and ability, John studied law and eventually became governor of Perugia. In 1416, when war broke out between Perugia and the rival Malatesta forces, he attempted to negotiate peace. His efforts failed, and he was taken prisoner. Following his release and the death of his wife, he reconsidered the direction of his life. He entered the Franciscan Order, was ordained a priest, and embraced a life of prayer, austerity, and penance.

John became a disciple of St. Bernardine of Siena and quickly gained a reputation as a powerful preacher. Beginning his preaching ministry around 1420, he traveled extensively to call people to repentance and renewed faith. At that time the Church was struggling through the aftermath of the Western Schism, during which rival claimants had contested the papacy, while the devastation of the Black Death had left European society deeply shaken. Religious division and widespread spiritual uncertainty made his ministry especially important.

As an itinerant preacher, John traveled throughout Italy, Germany, Bohemia, Austria, Hungary, and Poland, drawing enormous crowds. He encouraged reform within the Church, established communities devoted to Franciscan renewal, and worked to reconcile those separated by religious disputes. He also wrote numerous theological works defending Catholic teaching against the errors of his time. Accounts of his ministry described miraculous healings by God after John offered a simple prayer and made the sign of the Cross.

Following the fall of Constantinople to the Ottoman Turks in 1453, John preached in support of a Christian defense against further Ottoman expansion. In 1456, Pope Callixtus III commissioned him to assist in the campaign to defend Belgrade. Though already seventy years old, John joined the Christian forces and became an inspiring spiritual leader among the soldiers. The successful defense of Belgrade in July 1456 helped halt the Ottoman advance into southeastern Europe.

Exhausted by the campaign, John died on October 23, 1456, only a few months after the victory. His life had been marked by extraordinary energy, uncompromising penance, and tireless devotion to the salvation of souls. Canonized in 1724 by Pope Benedict XIII, St. John Capistrano is remembered as a courageous Franciscan preacher who placed his gifts entirely at the service of the Church.

Almighty God, who willest to be glorified in thy saints, and didst raise up thy servant St. John of Capistrano to be a light in the world: Shine, we pray thee, in our hearts, that we also in our generation may show forth thy praise, who hast called us out of darkness into thy marvelous light; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

My morning with a saint...

Each year at the time of the commemoration of Pope St. John Paul II these experiences come back to my mind.

It was in November of 1983 that I was in Rome, taking part in the meetings which would result in the Book of Divine Worship, which serves as a foundation of the Anglican Use liturgy in the Catholic Church.

It was my first time in Rome. I had been ordained as a Catholic priest only a few months before. Those were rather heady days for a young priest, walking each morning from the Casa del Clero to the Vatican offices where we were working.

On my first morning in Rome, I wanted to find an altar where I could say Mass. There was a concelebrated Mass at the Casa, but I was ready for an adventure, so I headed on foot to St. Peter’s Basilica. I knew I needed to get there early, and I knew I should head immediately to the sacristy. Beyond that, I was completely ignorant about making arrangements for celebrating Mass there.

Arriving in the sacristy, and after being overwhelmed by my walk through the basilica, I was fortunate that the man at the desk was patient (and by Vatican standards, even somewhat merciful). He directed me to the vesting area, summoned an altar boy for me, and before long I was following the young server down the long corridor out into the basilica.

In my mind I can still hear the murmur of Masses being said at altar after altar, some with small congregations, others with a solitary priest. Eventually I was taken to one of the many side altars, and I began the celebration of the Mass, my first in Rome.

It was strangely comforting to hear the low hum of the other Masses proceeding, as I made my way through the liturgy. Everything seemed to be at a concentrated level as I began the Eucharistic prayer. At the consecration of the Host, when I genuflected, my eyes happened to catch the inscription on the front of the altar: S. Gregorius Magnus. It was overwhelming for me as I continued with the Mass, knowing that I was celebrating Holy Mass at the tomb of Pope St. Gregory, who had sent St. Augustine to England.

After Mass, as I made my way out of the basilica, reality returned with the work at hand. All of us serving on the special commission spent a brief time getting to know one another, and the discussions began. Although I threw myself into the work, and felt the excitement of participating in something historic, the recurring thought came to me that I would very much like to attend the upcoming Wednesday general audience with the Pope. It was a few days before that when I began to drop subtle hints, but the work was keeping us very busy. One of the kindly bishops also serving in the group knew what I was thinking, and he spoke to me during one of our breaks. He expressed his regret that our work would keep me occupied during the Wednesday audience, and then he said something which seemed rather mysterious. “On Thursday morning, if you will be in the Piazza San Pietro just to the right of the obelisk at 5:00 a.m., there will be a surprise for you,” he said.

I couldn’t imagine what he meant, but I was there by 4:00 a.m. because I could hardly sleep with the anticipation of this mystifying appointment I was keeping. It was still dark as I was saying the rosary, with the moon hanging over St. Peter’s Basilica, and when 5:00 a.m. came, I caught sight of a sliver of artificial light coming from an opening door off to my right. Being summoned to the open door by a guard, a most wonderful pilgrimage began at the bottom of a long flight of stairs.

I still was unaware of what was waiting for me – perhaps a glimpse of some great art treasure, I thought, or maybe a private visit to the basilica – whatever it was to be, it was still a mystery to me. We reached a landing on the staircase, and entered an elevator. The elevator went up a few floors and then stopped. When we exited, we were asked to turn to the right and go down another corridor. After walking several yards, I happened to glance to my left through some open doors. The mystery was solved.

There in front of me was the Holy Father’s private chapel. A familiar white-cassocked figure was kneeling before the altar, and the realization of where I was nearly took my breath away. After being escorted into the sacristy, I was told to vest for Mass. My mind was in a blur as I put on the vestments, and when I was ready I was taken to my place in the papal chapel, which was at a kneeler right next to the Holy Father himself.

There were only a few of us there – the Sisters who served in the papal household, a couple of priests, and a bishop. We spent a good deal of time in silent prayer before the Mass began, and at first I was distracted by the thought that I was kneeling immediately next to the Vicar of Christ. Soon, however, the Holy Spirit took over and I found that I was able to enter deeply into prayer. From time to time a deep sigh would come from the Holy Father, and I was reminded of St. Paul’s words to the Romans, when he wrote about “sighs too deep for words.”

After nearly a half-hour of prayer, it was time for the Mass to begin. The Pope’s vestments had been laid on the altar, and after he was vested we began the liturgy. I remained at my place during the Liturgy of the Word, but after the altar was prepared at the Offertory, I joined the Holy Father at the altar. At the time of Holy Communion, he held the paten from which I received a portion of the Host, and when he had received from the chalice he passed it to me. Certainly every time we receive Holy Communion it is a special encounter with God, but I must say that it was a unique experience for me to receive the Body and Blood of Christ while standing next to the Vicar of Christ, having concelebrated with him in his own chapel.

At the conclusion of the Mass, we spent a good amount of time in thanksgiving. It was once again my privilege to kneel next to the Holy Father for this, and I had much for which to be thankful – but there would be more.

Having been escorted to a reception room, there was now the opportunity to speak briefly with the Pope. When I was presented to him, he took my hands in his, and then made what could only be described as an extraordinary statement. “I know you,” he said to me. The puzzled look on my face, and my faltering question, “How, Holy Father…?” prompted him to continue. He went on to describe how my dossier had been given to him. Because mine was the first case of a married former Episcopal priest to be considered for the position of being the canonical pastor of a parish (rather than simply a parish administrator or chaplain) it was decided that such approval should be reserved to the Pope himself, rather than simply being processed through the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith as others were.

With my eyes widening, Pope John Paul II described to me how my dossier was placed on his desk. He then told me how he had some uncertainty about approving a married man as an actual pastor, so he placed the dossier in his desk drawer. He then got it out again, only to put it back in the drawer. “Finally,” he said, “I once more put it on my desk, and I prayed, and the Holy Spirit told me to say ‘yes’.”

Surely that must count as the most astonishing thing I had ever heard, that the Vicar of Christ was having a conversation about me with the Holy Spirit, Who then urged him to give his approval for my ordination and appointment as pastor of Our Lady of the Atonement Church. If I hadn’t heard the story from the lips of the Pope himself, I would never have believed such a thing.

When I regained my voice, I asked the Holy Father if I could take his blessing back to my family and to the people of the parish. He threw his arms around me and drew me close while he said, “With all of my heart, I bless you and your people!” And what a blessing that has been throughout the years.

After all this, it is hardly possible to imagine there would be more, but there was yet another “once in a life-time” experience that morning. The Pope called upon one of the priests in his household to take me to “the chapel.” This confused me, because we had just come from his private chapel; however, I dutifully followed the priest, and we went off in a completely different direction down a long corridor, until we came to a large set of doors. He unlocked them and directed me in, saying to me, “Take as long as you like. I’ll wait for you out here.” He then shut the doors and left me alone without telling me where I was. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light, and as I looked around me I immediately knew where I was standing. I was in the Sistine Chapel.

The unexpected experience of being in a place so famous was, for a moment, disorienting. To look up at the magnificent ceiling (even though it was before the restoration), and to be able to explore the chapel all by myself, thinking about the papal elections which had taken place there, was overwhelming. I spent quite a bit of time taking it all in, offering thanks to God for such a blessed experience, and then I remembered the priest outside the door, patiently waiting for me.

He helped me find my way back to the stairs which I had climbed earlier that morning, and when I went through the doors leading into Piazza San Pietro, it was filled with the usual bustle of a day in Rome. It was all I could do to stop myself from rushing up to the first person I saw and asking him to guess where I’d just been! Instead, I headed across the Piazza to the office where we were working on the Book of Divine Worship, and I continued on the project which was the reason for my being there.

But I have to say, it had been quite a morning.