An Invitation to the Feast

Again Jesus spoke to the chief priests and elders of the people in parables, saying, “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a marriage feast for his son, and sent his servants to call those who were invited to the marriage feast; but they would not come. Again he sent other servants, saying, ‘Tell those who are invited, Behold, I have made ready my dinner, my oxen and my fat calves are killed, and everything is ready; come to the marriage feast.’ But they made light of it and went off, one to his farm, another to his business, while the rest seized his servants, treated them shamefully, and killed them. The king was angry, and he sent his troops and destroyed those murderers and burned their city. Then he said to his servants, ‘The wedding is ready, but those invited were not worthy. Go therefore to the thoroughfares, and invite to the marriage feast as many as you find.’ And those servants went out into the streets and gathered all whom they found, both bad and good; so the wedding hall was filled with guests. But when the king came in to look at the guests, he saw there a man who had no wedding garment; and he said to him, ‘Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding garment?’ And he was speechless. Then the king said to the attendants, ‘Bind him hand and foot, and cast him into the outer darkness; there men will weep and gnash their teeth.’ For many are called, but few are chosen."

- St. Matthew 22:1-14

A picture used frequently in the Scriptures to describe our relationship with God, and the eternal life He promises us, is the image of the feast – eating and drinking in the presence of God. In this portion of the Gospel our Lord Jesus Christ describes heaven as being like a wedding party thrown by a king. We hear a similar illustration in the Old Testament, when it refers to a great feast of meats and wines.

When the Bible speaks of a feast, it’s not just a matter of sitting down to eat. It’s always food combined with fellowship, eating in the company of one's fellow believers, and in the company of God. The message is this: that God is hosting a feast, and at the center of the banquet is His Son, the Lamb who was slain, but who lives.

In scriptural terms, the invitations to God’s feast were sent long ago. They were engraved by his own hand, and they were addressed by name to Abraham, to Isaac, to Jacob, to all God's people. God's invitation to feast with Him in His Kingdom was written on stone at Mount Sinai. It was written when He said to His chosen people Israel: "I will be your God, and you will be my people," and He extended the invitation over and over again through His prophets.

Israel was a people bound and bidden by God's promises, ancient promises that reached back through the centuries to that first Promise which God spoke after the Fall of our first parents. Actually, it was a promise to Satan, "I will put enmity between you and the woman..." And in that statement, God promised a Saviour, a Deliverer, One who would defeat death and the devil, and who would restore the lost relationship between God and His people.

God made His children a people of His promise. He promised Abraham a homeland and descendants as numerous as grains of sand on the seashore. He repeated His promise to Isaac and to Jacob. Within the adversity of slavery, and in a new way, God conceived His people in Egypt and gave them another birth through the waters of the Red Sea. He raised them in the wilderness and brought them to the promised land of Canaan where they grew and prospered. They were His chosen people - chosen for the great purpose of bringing forth His Son for the salvation of the whole world.

Time after time, God recalled His promises: “On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make a feast for all peoples," Isaiah tells us. God promised a feast of salvation, an eating and drinking that would take away death forever. The Passover lamb in Egypt was a foretaste of the feast to come, which would be God and man in communion, eating and drinking together.

In Christ, God had, in a mystical way, come to eat and drink with His people. In fact, actual eating and drinking were so much the mark of Christ’s ministry that His detractors said He was “a glutton and a drunkard.” He shared meals with Pharisees and prostitutes and tax collectors. He ate with the religious and with the nonreligious. He fed five thousand people in the wilderness, and on another occasion four thousand. All that points to the fact that Jesus came to be our Bread, our life-giving Food. He said very plainly, "I am the Bread of Life. He who comes to me shall not hunger, and he who believes in me shall never thirst."

In the parable the king was a gracious host. His table was rich. No expense was spared in preparing this feast for his son's wedding day. As Isaiah would have described it: "a feast of fat things full of marrow, with wine on the lees, well refined.” Who could say "no" to a meal like that?

According to the parable, many of the invited guests did say "no." Some were indifferent to the invitation. Others were too busy. One went to work on his farm; one went off to take care of his business. And others were even hostile in their rejection. They went so far as to kill the king's servants for even bothering them with the invitation.

Why did Jesus tell this parable? Because there are many today who still say "no" to God's “feast of fat things.” The time which should be for worship, the time that should be for God, they fill up with their own work, or with their own idea of leisure. Everyone has his excuse, but those excuses ring hollow when compared with the richness of what God offers. Think for a minute about how people react when there is a particular food that promises some fabulous health benefit - oat bran, or olive oil, or wheat grass, or soy protein - once the word gets out, the stores can't keep it on the shelves. Imagine if there was a food that could cure cancer, or heart disease. And imagine if there was a food and drink that promised to cure death.

There is such a food and drink. Jesus said, "He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day." If people took Christ at His word about that, the crowds would be lined up beyond one’s sight.

In the parable the king wants his banquet hall to be full. So he sends his servants into the town to invite everyone, "as many as you find,” he says, “the good and the bad." When the respectable refuse, he invites the disreputable and the despised. And this part of the parable is a picture of exactly what God did. When the religious people of Israel rejected Christ, then God went to the Gentiles. The king sent his servants into the highways and byways, into the alleyways and into the darkened doorways – and soon there was no one who wasn’t invited to the son's wedding feast. 

And that's the point of the parable. When God gives a feast, there isn't a single person who is left off the guest list – just as when Jesus died on the cross for us, no one was left out of the benefits of His death. It’s only indifference to that death, it’s only a stubborn refusal to be fed, that leaves people out of the feast, and then it's entirely their own fault. God's Will is to fill His banquet hall with guests. If they wind up weeping and gnashing their teeth in hell, it's because they have acted entirely against God's desire to save them. God has hosted a banquet, and He has invited the whole world.

And then, there's something that seems to be an odd part of story. When the king entered the hall packed with guests, he saw a man who wasn’t properly dressed for the occasion. This is where the parable can get difficult to understand... after all, remember that the king’s servants had been pulling people off the streets to come to this party. How could they be expected to have all the right clothes?

Let’s suppose for a moment that the king decided that he wanted a well-dressed crowd at his son's wedding. And suppose for a moment that this wedding banquet hall was rather like those restaurants that have coats and ties on hand for patrons who arrive without proper dress. Imagine that the king started handing out beautifully tailored suits and the finest dresses at the door to everyone who came to the party, but this one man says “No, never mind. I’ll keep my own clothes, thanks.” Now we can understand the king’s disgust when he sees him lurking at the corner table, still wearing a dirty t-shirt and ripped jeans.

This is what it will be like if we try appearing before God clothed in the filthy rags of our own attempts at righteousness, boasting of our own "good works,” and bragging about all the good things we've done for God all our lives.

God supplies the clothing. He covers us with the perfection of His Son. St. Paul teaches us: "For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ." God clothes us with Christ in our baptism. He wraps us in His righteousness. He covers us with His perfection. Christ is our wedding garment, and his seamless and spotless robe is our covering. Christ’s death is ours, and Christ’s life is ours. His perfect keeping of the Law is ours. God gives it all to us for free. We have put on Christ in our Baptism, and that is better than any designer clothes could ever be. So we dare not come to the Lord's banquet dressed in anything less than Christ. We come to the feast God's way, or no way at all.

So that brings us to the end of the parable. It is a parable of God's kingly love – the King who keeps His promises. It’s a parable of His lavish love – a love which prepares a rich feast of salvation. It’s a parable of God lovingly looking for us, with a love that goes into the highways and alleyways, inviting the good and the bad to come and be fed. It’s a parable of God’s singularly holy love – a love that doesn’t look upon our sin, but upon Christ with whom we are clothed.

At the end of the parable, everyone was invited to the party, but only those gathered from the streets ended up in the king's banquet hall. Salvation was won for everybody by Christ’s dying and rising – everyone was invited -- but it’s only some who take him up on the invitation to be clothed and fed by Christ.

"Many are called but few are chosen." That isn't an explanation; it's an observation. Another way of saying it is: “everyone is invited, but not everyone winds up at the table.” God’s feast of salvation is for everyone, but He won’t force anyone to eat and drink. If we miss out on the banquet and go hungry, we have only ourselves to blame.

Jesus Christ died for us, and He rose for us, and He gives us the spiritual clothing we need for the banquet, where He feeds us with His body and blood in His Church. That’s the banquet hall to which we’ve been invited. We’re invited to live our lives as honoured guests – and indeed, as members of the household. All we need to do is to respond to the invitation, and our place at the feast will be secure.

God's Divine Embrace

The most important event in our lives took place on the day of our Baptism, and it was strengthened on the day of our Confirmation. In those sacred moments, God claimed us as His own, and we were given the grace we would need to respond to His love.

Through the waters of Baptism, we were united to Christ, made members of His Body the Church, and given the gift of the Holy Spirit. In Confirmation that gift was strengthened, equipping us to live as faithful witnesses to the Gospel. We were embraced by God and invited into a relationship that is meant to last for eternity.

But what took place at that time must be renewed day after day. Our relationship with God is not something static, nor is it merely a memory of a past religious experience. It is a living relationship, one that requires our continuing response. Because of our sins, our indifference, and even our failure to act when love calls us, we can weaken our communion with Him. Yet God never ceases to call us back. He is always ready to forgive, to heal, and to repair and renew what has been damaged. He waits for us patiently, welcoming us home, but never forcing our love.

We see the depth of this divine love in the Incarnation. When the Blessed Virgin Mary gave her humble “yes” to the angel Gabriel, she opened herself to God's saving purpose. That same love led Jesus Christ to the Cross, where He gave Himself completely for the salvation of the world. From the beginning, God has been reaching out to us, offering us every opportunity to receive His grace and return His love.

God's embrace is never a coercion, but is an invitation. He desires that we freely choose Him, not just once, but throughout our lives. Each day presents us with opportunities to turn toward Him in prayer, to serve Him in our neighbours, to seek forgiveness, and to practise the charity Christ has taught us.

Our destiny is to live forever in the fullness of God's Kingdom, prepared for us from the foundation of the world. May we never take His embrace for granted, but respond to His unfailing love with hearts renewed in faith, hope, and charity.

A Simple Writing Desk

It has been said that John Henry Newman "wrote himself into the Church." If there is any truth in that, then it took place on this desk, where he wrote his Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine.

It was 1845, and he had been at Littlemore for the previous few years. He was undergoing spiritual suffering, and he was eating so little that he was described as "ghostly thin." He stood at this desk to write, the writing surface adjusted to be at a slight slope, and by the time he finished the work he knew he would enter the Catholic Church.

Is it possible to know something of the man simply from a piece of furniture? Objectively speaking, perhaps not; but I cannot deny the overwhelming sense of Newman's journey as I laid my hand on the surface of the desk where his own hand had laboured, and where his heart searched out and found its home.

It was on 9 October 1845 that John Henry Newman was received into the Church by Bl. Dominic Barberi. On 10 October 1845 an altar stone was placed on this very desk, and the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass was offered -- the Mass at which John Henry Newman received his first Holy Communion as a Catholic layman.

He never again used this desk as a place to write. He said he could not, knowing that it had been used for so great a Mystery as the Mass.

"The Parting of Friends"

On 25 September 1843, in the simple church dedicated to St. Mary and St. Nicholas which he had built at Littlemore, John Henry Newman preached his last sermon as an Anglican. It was titled “The Parting of Friends.” He then retired, living a quiet and cloistered life. After two years he was received into the Catholic Church.

His final sermon spoke of the steadfastness of God, and of how changes come into the lives of His children. He spoke on that occasion of the many great men and women in the scriptures whose circumstances were foreshadowings of that time when Christ’s work on earth would be complete, and He, too, would have to part from those who loved Him. The future Cardinal ended his final Anglican sermon with these words:

"And, O my brethren, O kind and affectionate hearts, O loving friends, should you know any one whose lot it has been, by writing or by word of mouth, in some degree to help you thus to act; if he has ever told you what you knew about yourselves, or what you did not know; has read to you your wants or feelings, and comforted you by the very reading; has made you feel that there was a higher life than this daily one, and a brighter world than that you see; or encouraged you, or sobered you, or opened a way to the inquiring, or soothed the perplexed; if what he has said or done has ever made you take interest in him, and feel well inclined towards him; remember such a one in time to come, though you hear him not, and pray for him, that in all things he may know God's will, and at all times he may be ready to fulfil it."

One of those who was in the congregation on the occasion, later wrote:

"How vividly comes back the remembrance of the aching blank, the awful pause which fell upon Oxford when that voice had ceased, and we knew that we should hear it no more. It was as when, to one kneeling by night, in the silence of some vast cathedral, the great bell tolling solemnly overhead has suddenly gone still… Since then many voices of powerful teachers may have been heard, but none has ever penetrated the soul like his."

Cardinal Newman’s voice did continue, and continues still. As Christ’s departure from the world was for the greater good of God’s divine plan of salvation, so John Henry Newman’s departure was for that great good of giving witness to the truth of the Catholic faith, and his voice continues to guide and comfort. Even more now, with his canonization, does Cardinal Newman intercede and lead others into the grace he himself experienced. The “parting of friends” has helped in the healing of Christ’s Body, the Church.

St. John Henry Newman, Priest and Doctor

John Henry Newman, the 19th century's most important English-speaking Catholic theologian, spent the first half of his life as an Anglican and the second half as a Roman Catholic, as a priest, popular preacher, writer and eminent theologian in both.

Born in London, England, he studied at Oxford's Trinity College, was a tutor at Oriel College and for 17 years was the Anglican vicar of the university church, St. Mary the Virgin.

After 1833, Newman was a prominent member of the Oxford Movement, which emphasized the links which the Church today must have with the Church at the beginning.

His study and research eventually convinced John Henry Newman that the Roman Catholic Church was indeed in continuity with the Church that Jesus established. He stopped his work in Oxford and retired to Littlemore. It was there, on October 9, 1845, that he was received into full communion as a Catholic. Two years later he was ordained a Catholic priest in Rome and joined the Congregation of the Oratory, founded three centuries earlier by St. Philip Neri. Returning to England, Newman founded Oratory houses in Birmingham and London and for seven years served as rector of the Catholic University of Ireland.

Cardinal Newman eventually wrote 40 books and 21,000 letters that survive. Most famous are his book-length Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine, On Consulting the Faithful in Matters of Doctrine, Apologia Pro Vita Sua (his spiritual autobiography up to 1864) and Essay on the Grammar of Assent.

When he was named a cardinal in 1879, he took as his motto "Cor ad cor loquitur" (Heart speaks to heart). He was buried in Rednal (near Birmingham) 11 years later. After his grave was exhumed in 2008, a new tomb was prepared at the Oratory church in Birmingham. but it was found that his remains had returned to the earth completely.

Three years after Cardinal Newman died, a Newman Club for Catholic students began at the University of Pittsburgh. In time, his name was linked to ministry centers at many public and private colleges and universities in the United States.

Pope Benedict XVI beatified Cardinal Newman on September 19, 2010, at Crofton Park (near Birmingham). The pope noted the cardinal's emphasis on the vital place of revealed religion in civilized society but also praised his pastoral zeal for the sick, the poor, the bereaved and those in prison. His canonization took place on October 13, 2019, and on November 1, 2025, Pope Leo XIV proclaimed him to be a Doctor of the Church.

From his writings:

"God has created me to do Him some definite service. He has committed some work to me which He has not committed to another. I have my mission. I may never know it in this life, but I shall be told it in the next. I am a link in a chain, a bond of connection between persons. He has not created me for naught. I shall do good; I shall do His work. I shall be an angel of peace, a preacher of truth in my own place, while not intending it if I do but keep His commandments. Therefore, I will trust Him, whatever I am, I can never be thrown away. If I am in sickness, my sickness may serve Him, in perplexity, my perplexity may serve Him. If I am in sorrow, my sorrow may serve Him. He does nothing in vain. He knows what He is about. He may take away my friends. He may throw me among strangers. He may make me feel desolate, make my spirits sink, hide my future from me. Still, He knows what He is about."

O God, who didst bestow upon thy Priest Saint John Henry Newman, the grace to follow thy kindly light and find peace in thy Church: graciously grant that, through his intercession and example, we may be led out of shadows and images into the fulness of thy truth; 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. Denis and Companions, Martyrs

St. Dionysius (Denis, as he is known to us) was born someplace in Italy, sometime during the 3rd century. In fact, for years he was confused with another Dionysius, the Aereopagite who was converted when St. Paul visited Athens.

As little as we know about St. Denis, it's evident that he had become known for living a virtuous and faithful life, because he was chosen by Pope Fabian (236-250) to be one of the missionary bishops to Gaul (modern-day France). It was a difficult mission. The Church of Gaul had suffered terribly under the persecution of the Emperor Decius, and these men were sent to do all they could to bring the Catholic faith to the people there. Denis was sent to the area of present-day Paris, along with his companions, the priest Rusticus and the deacon Eleutherius. When they arrived, they settled on an island in the Seine.

It was on this island that Denis built a church, and he and his clergy provided regular worship, with the Daily Offices and the Mass. He was a very powerful preacher, and there were many conversions to the faith. A great number of these converts came from local pagan religions, and when the pagan priests saw so many of their people being baptised, they started to make plans to get rid of the bishop Denis, along with his priest and deacon. They carried out their plan by going to the local Roman governor, Sisinnius, to convince him that what Denis was teaching was actually stirring up the people against the Roman Empire.

Sisinnius believed what these pagan priests told him, so he had Denis and his companions arrested. They were told to stop preaching, or they would pay with their lives. Denis and his companions had no intention of stopping, so they were tortured horribly. First, they were scourged and stretched on the rack; finally they were tortured with fire and then thrown to wild beasts. Before they were actually killed by the wild animals, they were dragged away and beheaded, and their bodies thrown into the river.

The bodies of the martyrs were retrieved by a holy Christian woman named Catulla. She buried them, and erected a small shrine to mark the graves. Over the years the people came to the site, asking for God's blessings through the intercessions of the three martyrs. Eventually this shrine was expanded and made more beautiful, and today it is a great basilica, one of the most famous churches in Europe. But it still marks the simple graves of these three brave men, who died willingly because of their love for the Lord Jesus Christ.

Over the years a tradition developed telling us that after his beheading St. Denis miraculously rose, picked up his severed head, and carried it several miles while continuing to preach about Christ, finally collapsing at the present site of the Basilica of St. Denis. This extraordinary image became a powerful symbol of the martyr's unwavering faith, making the point that even death could not silence his proclamation of Christ.

O God, who didst strengthen blessed Denis, thy Martyr and Bishop, with the virtue of constancy in his suffering, and didst vouchsafe to join unto him Rusticus and Eleutherius, for the preaching of thy glory to the heathen: grant us, we beseech thee, by their example, to despise the prosperity of this world, and to fear none of its adversities; 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.

Our Lady of the Rosary

The commemoration of Our Lady of the Rosary, also known as Our Lady of Victory, recalls an historic event which took place on October 7, 1571.

For some time the Muslims had attempted to conquer Europe, not only for political reasons, but also in an attempt to destroy the Church and impose Islam throughout the known world. On that clear October morning a huge gathering of ships appeared in the Mediterranean Sea, near the Greek port of Lepanto - 280 Turkish ships, and 212 Christian ships.

For years the Muslims had been raiding Christian areas around the Mediterranean and had carried off thousands of Christians into slavery. In fact, all of the ships gathered on that morning were powered by rowers – and the Muslim ships had nearly 15,000 Christian slaves in chains, being forced to pull the oars to guide the ships into battle. The Catholic fleet was under the command of Don Juan of Austria, but the Catholic fleet was at a great disadvantage in its power and military ability. This was a battle that would decide the fate of the world – either the Turks would be victorious and the Church destroyed, or the Catholics would be victorious and would put down the Muslim threat.

Pope St. Pius V knew the importance of victory. He called upon all of Europe to pray the rosary, asking for the intercession of Our Lady, that God would grant a Catholic victory. Although it seemed hopeless, the people prayed. Don Juan guided his battleships into the middle of the Turkish fleet; meanwhile, many of the Christian slaves had managed to escape their chains and poured out of the holds of the Muslim ships, attacking the Turks and swinging their chains, throwing the Muslims overboard. The combination of the attack by the Catholic fleet and the uprising of the Christian slaves meant that there was a great victory by the Catholics fleet over the mighty Turkish fleet.

We know today that this victory was decisive. It prevented the Islamic invasion of Europe at that time, and it showed the Hand of God working through Our Lady. At the hour of victory, St. Pope Pius V, who was hundreds of miles away in his Papal residence, is said to have gotten up from a meeting, went over to a window, and through supernatural knowledge exclaimed, "The Christian fleet is victorious!" and he wept tears of thanksgiving to God.

This day has been remembered throughout the Church, first as Our Lady of Victory, and then as Our Lady of the Holy Rosary – remembering the victory God granted, and also remembering the means by which that victory was achieved – that it was an intervention by God through the prayers offered by praying the Rosary... a necessary lesson for our own generation.

O God, whose Only Begotten Son by his life, death, and Resurrection, hath purchased for us the rewards of eternal salvation: grant, we beseech thee; that meditating upon the mysteries of the Rosary, our devotion may bud forth as the rose in honour of the Blessed Virgin Mary; and that we may so follow the pattern of their teaching, that we may finally be made partakers of thy heavenly promises; 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. Bruno, Priest and Founder

St. Bruno founded a religious order, the Carthusians, which is the most demanding, the most strict and the most difficult in which to live – and yet many young men choose it as a way of making a life-long sacrifice for the glory of God.

Born in Cologne, Germany, St. Bruno became a famous teacher at Rheims and an important official the archdiocese. It was a time when many clergy were living lives that were incompatible with their calling, and when Pope Gregory VII brought about reforms, Bruno completely supported it. In fact, he took part in getting his own scandalous archbishop removed from office – of course, the archbishop had his friends, and they made life very difficult for Bruno.

After all this, St. Bruno had the dream of living in solitude and prayer, and persuaded a few friends to join him in a hermitage, and eventually was given some land which was to become famous for his foundation "in the Chartreuse" which described the color of the countryside (yellowish green, and from which comes the word “Carthusian”). The climate, which was desert, mountainous terrain, and inaccessibility guaranteed silence, poverty and small numbers.

Bruno and his friends built an oratory with small individual cells at a distance from each other. They met for Matins and Vespers each day, and spent the rest of the time in solitude, eating together only on great feasts. Their chief work was copying manuscripts.

The pope, hearing of Bruno's holiness, called for his assistance in Rome. When the pope had to flee Rome, Bruno pulled up stakes again, and spent his last years (after refusing becoming a bishop) in the wilderness of Calabria.

He was never formally canonized, because the Carthusians avoided all occasions of publicity. Pope Clement extended his feast to the whole Church in 1674.

Almighty and everlasting God, who dost prepare mansions in heaven for them that forsake the world: we humbly entreat thy boundless mercy; that at the intercession of blessed Bruno, thy Confessor, we may be faithful to vows that we have made, and may obtain, to our eternal salvation, the rewards which thou hast promised to them that persevere unto the end; 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.

Bl. Marie Rose Durocher

Many of our greatest saints and holy people knew that they could raise others up by helping to educate them. Eulalie Durocher was one such person. Born on October 6, 1811, at Saint Antoine-sur-Richelieu in Quebec, Canada, she was the youngest of 10 children. Her parents valued education, and her mother, who had studied with the Ursuline Sisters in Quebec City, taught all of her children. Eventually young Eulalie attended a boarding school with the Notre Dame Sisters and began to dream of becoming a nun. She had always been a teenager who did not hesitate to visit the sick and poor in her village and spent much time in prayer at the local church. But poor health and the death of her mother when Eulalie was 18 seemed to mean that a vocation might not be possible. She stepped into her mother’s role, leading the household as best she could.

Her brother, who was a priest, asked Eulalie and their father to come live with him in his rectory so that Eulalie could be a housekeeper for the both of them. For 12 years she served in this role and also taught religion to the parish children while continuing to help the poor and organizing many volunteer activities in the parish. She saw how important education was for the people of Canada and finally, when the local bishop announced he was bringing a group of nuns over from France to live in their area, Eulalie made plans to join the congregation.

But the Sisters of Marseilles were unable to come to Canada. Knowing of her hopes, Montreal Bishop Ignace Bourget asked Eulalie Durocher to found a community of nuns herself in 1843. She and her friends, Melodie Dufresne and Henriette Cere, did so in Longueuil, beginning the Sisters of the Holy Names of Jesus and Mary. Under the name Mother Marie-Rose, Eulalie recruited nearly a dozen women for their community in the first year. The group was committed to teaching, and they taught in both English and French so that students could speak both languages. They built four convents and boarding schools with a free day school attached so that all children could receive the same education, regardless of their families' income. By 1849, they had 44 nuns in their group.

Mother Marie-Rose worked hard to make the schools and the congregation a success. Her hard work made her already poor health even more precarious, and at the very young age of 38 she died. Her legacy lived on; by the 1960s, her congregation had more than 277 convents in Canada, the United States, Africa, and South America, where they continue to teach today. Mother Marie-Rose was declared Blessed by Pope John Paul II on May 23, 1982.

[This account of the life and work of Blessed Marie-Rose Durocher is taken from the RCL Benziger Saints Resource.]

O LORD, who didst enkindle in the heart of Blessed Marie Rose Durocher the flame of ardent charity and a great desire to serve the mission of the Church as a teacher: grant us that same active love; that, answering the needs of the world, we may lead our brethren to the blessedness of eternal life; 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.

The Simple Gospel

Scripture is sometimes like a diamond mine. Its treasures are there, but they are not always discovered at first glance. A single verse may seem simple, familiar, or even ordinary until we take the time to examine it closely. Like a rough stone pulled from the earth, the Word of God often requires patience, reflection, and prayer before its brilliance becomes visible.

Just such a treasure is found in the Epistle to the Hebrews (2:9). There we read, “We see Jesus, who for a little while was made lower than the angels, crowned with glory and honor because of the suffering of death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for every one.”

In those few words is the summary of the Gospel, the good news that God has entered into our human condition. He has come into our lives, into every situation, into our every need.

How does He come? He comes by taking human flesh upon Himself, and becoming truly Man. He took our flesh and blood. He breathed our breath of life. He was, while He was here, a man with mankind. In fact, He actually chose to be below most of us, on a level with the most humble and helpless. He asked for no privilege as the Son of God. He went through everything that you and I have to endure. He did not exempt Himself from any burden of our mortality.

And throughout His earthly life, as each thing came in the course of the years, He accepted it. He grew up as we grow up. He came to be among us, not as some passing vision, not as someone strange or different, but He came to be “bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh.” He accepted what is part of the human experience. He accepted and experienced the pain and suffering that we all feel from time to time. He was willing to be man; a simple, plain man, unknown, unhonoured in the world, “made like in all things to his brethren.”

Because mankind is so precious in God’s sight, He came so that He might die as we do, and in dying, so to offer His death in sacrifice for us. And remember, too, that as He came for the good and the blessing of each of us, so He came for all those around us – for our friends and neighbours; for those whom we love, and for those whom we don’t especially like; for those from whom we are estranged, and for those against whom we might have done some wrong.

He came. He was incarnate and He died, not only for those who try to live in His grace and peace and hope; but He came, also, for those who are misguided; for those who are blinded by the things of this world. He came for the outcast and the forsaken and foolish. He came for those who are in ignorance. He came for all sinners, for criminals, for those against whom all doors seem to be shut.

He came for them all. For them He was “for a little while made lower than the angels.” He came to heal all mankind of the unutterable agonies that generations have suffered from war, from disease, from every torture. He came to alleviate all that has been endured throughout the ages by those faithful departed whom we remember by name at the altar.

And He has come for you, in whatever difficulty or tragedy you face. Christ our Redeemer embraces in His Sacred Heart every individual who has ever lived, or who ever will live – and He has pity. He remembers them in their distress. And even though we might not see all that He does, every single person is important to Him – whatever their sin, whatever their sorrow – each one as important to Him as I am, and as you are.

What a comfort it is to know that our Maker Himself came down among us, to share the nature of us all; to heal the wounds of all of us; to have compassion on the sorrows of all of us; to seek and to save the souls of each one of us. He knows our names, He knows every one of us from our mother’s womb. He is not ashamed to call us His brothers and His sisters, and because He was “for a little while made lower than the angels,” He is, in the words of one of the Church’s ancient liturgies, the “Succour of the succourless, the Hope of the hopeless, the Saviour of the tempest-tossed, the Harbour of the voyager, the Physician of the sick.”

What a simple message it is, and yet how profound, that He has Himself become all things to all men, He knows every one of us and our petitions, each household and its needs. And He pleads with us now, to turn our hearts towards Him and towards one another, to lay aside any high and arrogant thoughts we might have; to set aside our pride and our selfishness, our scorn and our little hatreds, and to bow before the great fact of His Incarnation, which is as real as our own existence.

He looks upon our human condition as His own. He is the unseen member of every family; He is the unseen partner in every marriage; He is the unseen companion of every single life. He holds out his arms from the cradle and from the cross: He is our teacher from the humility of His Infancy. He is our teacher from the pain and sorrow of His Crucifixion, and from this teacher comes the same lesson and call: “Come unto me, all ye that travail and are heavy-laden, and I will refresh you...”

And as He has invited us to come to Him, so we must invite Him to come to us: we must invite Him, and take Him into those difficulties we have in our everyday lives. We must invite Him, and take Him into marriages which are troubled; we must invite Him and take Him into our family decisions, and our business decisions, and our decisions about our children.

Christ will not force Himself into our lives, but He wants to enter through an open door. We must open our hearts to the healing presence of our Lord Jesus Christ, so that He who has “come to us,” might stay with us.

Bl. Francis Xavier Seelos

The priestly zeal of Francis Xavier Seelos took him to many places, but always with the same purpose; namely, to help people know the great love and compassion of God. And not only did he preach, but he put his words into practice, even to the point of risking his own life in caring for the sick and the dying.

Francis Xavier Seelos was born in southern Bavaria in the year 1819. He studied philosophy and theology in Munich as part of his preparation for the priesthood, but while still a student he became fascinated with the missionary work of the Redemptorists, which they were carrying out amongst the German-speaking immigrants in the United States. He arrived in America in 1843 and was ordained in the Redemptorist Church of St. James in Baltimore at the end of 1844. He was assigned for six years to the parish of St. Philomena in Pittsburgh, where he served as an assistant to St. John Neumann, who would become one of our great missionary bishops.

During the several years he was engaged in parish ministry throughout the state of Maryland, Fr. Seelos also had the responsibility of training Redemptorist students for the priesthood. In fact, during this time the Civil War broke out, and he went went to Washington, D.C. to appeal to President Lincoln that his students not be drafted for military service, although eventually some were.

For several years Blessed Francis Xavier Seelos preached in English and in German throughout the Midwest and in the Mid-Atlantic states. Eventually he was assigned to St. Mary of the Assumption Church in New Orleans, where he served faithfully as pastor. In 1867 he died of yellow fever, being only forty-eight years old, having contracted the disease while visiting the sick in his parish. He was described as a priest with a constant smile and a generous heart. He was beatified in 2000, and his cause for canonization is moving forward.

O God, who makest us glad with the yearly feast of blessed Francis Xavier Seelos, thy Priest and Confessor: mercifully grant that, as we now observe his heavenly birthday; so we may follow him in all virtuous and godly living; 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. Maria Faustina Kowalska

Linked forever to the annual Feast of Divine Mercy on the Octave Day of Easter, along with the Chaplet of Divine Mercy recited by many at 3:00 p.m. each day, is the name of St. Maria Faustina Kowalska.

Born in 1905, the third of ten children, she was baptized as Helena in the Church of St. Casimir in the little village of Świnice Warckie, located in the Polish provincial seat of Lodz.

She worked as a housekeeper before joining the Congregation of the Sisters of Our Lady of Mercy in 1925, taking the name of Sr. Maria Faustina, and then working as a cook, gardener and porter in three of their houses.

In addition to carrying out her work faithfully, serving the needs of the sisters and the local people, Sister Faustina also had a deeply spiritual interior life, which included receiving revelations mystically from the Lord Jesus, which she recorded in her diary at the request of Christ and of her confessors.

At a time when some Catholics tended to view God as a judge so strict that they might be tempted to despair about the possibility of being forgiven, it was through His revelations to St. Faustina that Jesus chose to emphasize His mercy and forgiveness for sins, as long as they were acknowledged and confessed.

In one of His revelations, our Lord said to St. Faustina, “I do not want to punish aching mankind, but I desire to heal it, pressing it to my merciful heart.” The familiar image of the Divine Mercy, revealed to St. Faustina, shows two rays emanating from Christ’s heart, which symbolize the blood and water poured out after Jesus’ death, representing the healing and sanctifying graces, especially of Baptism and the Eucharist, that flow from the Sacred Heart of Jesus toward mankind.

St. Maria Faustina died of tuberculosis in Krakow, Poland, on October 5, 1938. She was beatified in 1993 by Pope St. John Paul II and he canonized her seven years later.

O GOD who didst endue thy holy Virgin Saint Faustina Kowalska, with grace to witness a holy life: grant that we, after her example and aided by her prayers, may be found ready when the Bridegroom cometh, and enter with him to the marriage feast; through the same 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. Francis of Assisi

St. Francis of Assisi was baptized with the name Giovanni (John), but his father, who was a cloth merchant and who had lots of business in France, called him Francis. That's the name that stuck, although it's really a nickname.

Francis was born in 1182 in the town of Assisi, and because his father was rather successful, Francis was raised with a love of fine clothes and good times. He led the other young men of the town in enjoying good food and drink, singing, and dancing.

When Francis was twenty, he was taken prisoner in a war between Assisi and Perugia. For the year he was a prisoner, during which time he was very sick, he had some religious experiences which began to change him. After his release, he was praying in the decrepit little chapel of St. Damiano outside Assisi, and he heard a voice from the crucifix telling him, "Francis, repair my house, which is falling in ruins." He took the words literally, and he went quickly back to the city, sold his horse and some cloth from his father's shop, and came back to give some of the money to the priest at St. Damiano, and distributed some of it to the poor. Francis also, with his own hands, worked on repairing the little church.

His father was furious at Francis' spending money on churches and beggars, and hauled him before the bishop to bring him to his senses. As he stood before the bishop, Francis calmly took off all his clothes, gave them to his father (the astonished bishop quickly covered Francis with a cloak), and said that he was now recognizing only his Father in heaven, not his father on earth. His life from this time on was lived without money or family ties.

The 13th century was also a time when the Christian religion was taken very much for granted, and Francis felt the need to return to the original spirit of Christ. This meant living in poverty, and it also meant showing Christ's love to other people. A number of the young men of Assisi, attracted by Francis' example, joined him in his new way of life. In 1209 Francis and his companions went to Rome, where they presented their ideas to Pope Innocent III and received his approval.

They found themselves influencing more and more people, including a young lady named Clare, whom Francis helped to enter a monastery of nuns, and who later began the "second order" of Franciscans, the order for women. Francis travelled to the Holy Land. He also went to Rome in 1223 to present the rule of his order to the Pope, who approved it wholeheartedly. Francis returned to Assisi and began to spend more time alone in prayer, leaving the decisions about his organization to others.

While he was praying on Mt. Alvernia in 1224, he had a vision of an angelic figure, and when the vision disappeared Francis felt the wounds of Christ in his hands, side, and feet. He was careful not to show the stigmata to others, but several close friends reported after his death that Francis had suffered in his body as Christ had suffered on the cross. His last 2 years were lived in almost constant pain and near-blindness. He died in 1226, and two years later he was canonized.

O God, who dost ever delight to reveal thyself to the childlike and lowly of heart: grant that, following the example of blessed Francis, and aided by his prayers; we may count the wisdom of this world as foolishness and know only Jesus Christ and him crucified; who liveth and reigneth with thee, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, ever one God, world without end. Amen.

A Story of God's Vineyard

“My beloved had a vineyard on a very fertile hill. He digged it and cleared it of stones, and planted it with choice vines; he built a watchtower in the midst of it, and hewed out a wine vat in it; and he looked for it to yield grapes, but it yielded wild grapes.”

- Isaiah 5:1, 2

The Holy Scriptures – Old and New Testaments together – give us an account of the relationship between God and His people. We read in the Bible of God’s great love for His children, and we read of the rebellious spirit which causes punishment to come upon them from time to time. It’s the story of our salvation, it’s the story of a people seeking God, trying to love Him, sometimes succeeding, and sometimes failing.

The prophecy of Isaiah tells a story which is really a tragedy – “My beloved had a vineyard on a very fertile hill...” And so begins the account of the great love which God has for His people, and it sums up the whole drama of the relationship between God and His children. Isaiah paints a picture using this image of a vineyard planted with choice vines. A watchtower was built in the midst of it. A wine vat was put in it. And then the owner looked for it to yield a good harvest – everything was in place for it to produce good grapes, sweet, and abundant. But all He got from it was wild grapes – small, sour, an unusable crop.

The meaning of Isaiah’s story is clear. God had chosen a certain people to be the guardians of His promises, and this people was chosen to make God known to the whole world. God intended the Israelite nation to be representatives of His love and tenderness. But rather than producing the good fruits of faithfulness and peace, instead they produced sour fruit – unfaithfulness, jealousy, violence, even hatred. The end result would be their own destruction. The hedge surrounding them would be removed. The walls would be broken down and trampled. It would become a wasteland. It would be choked with weeds, and even the rain would not come upon it any more. This is how Isaiah told the story, through the inspiration of God Himself, as a warning to Israel.

In the Gospel according to St. Matthew (21:33-43), we hear the Incarnate God, our Lord Jesus Christ, telling a story – a parable – and He echoes what we heard from Isaiah. Our Lord tells of a vineyard, and the owner who planted it. He put a hedge around it. He dug a winepress, he built a tower. When our Lord told this already-familiar story to the chief priests and the elders of the Jews, they knew the reference He was making. They knew He was telling them that they were being unfaithful to God. Just as the tenants wanted to make the vineyard into their own, disregarding the fact that it already had an owner, our Lord was telling the Jewish leaders that they were using the law and prophets, not to give glory to God, but rather to bolster their own personal authority, and so were hiding God’s truth and love from others.

Jesus was being prophetic here. Just as happened in His parable, the chief priests had not only rejected the message of the prophets in the past, but they would also kill the Son – namely, Jesus Himself. And His warning to them was forthright. “The kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a nation producing the fruits of it.”

One of the things we know about Christ’s parables is that they have a universal application. Although He was speaking to the chief priests and elders of Israel, His message is for us, too. And it’s a serious message. Namely, that we are to listen to God’s truth as it comes to us through those who are appointed to bring it – and the source of the truth is Jesus Christ Himself. We are to use what our Lord has revealed to us to produce the fruits of the vineyard. We’re to use it to build up God’s kingdom, and to spread the good news of His love and salvation to the whole world.

This was what Israel had been chosen to do, and now we – as the New Israel – have been chosen for the same task. We are to devote our minds and our wills and our energy to the building up of God’s kingdom, and not looking for any return for ourselves. The job we have is pretty simple in its outline, but it’s not easy. Too often we fall into a selfish practice of our faith: “God, I want...God, I need...God please do this for me...” It’s an ancient temptation. We see it through the prophecies of Isaiah and the other great prophets; we see it in the chief priests and elders of the Jews to whom our Lord was speaking. It’s the temptation to try a fashion the Kingdom of God as our own personal domain, focusing our attention on what we want, on what we feel is important. We sometimes try, like the unworthy tenants in the Gospel story, to take the Lord’s vineyard for ourselves, serving ourselves under the guise of serving the truth.

How do we become faithful tenants of God’s vineyard? St. Paul gives us some guidance in his epistle to the Philippians (4:6-9). “Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things...” We should think: are those the ingredients in my conversations? Do people read those things in my own heart? And also he tells us, “in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made know to God.” This is the “bottom line” – that we have to seek out those things that are of God, and those things only, and act upon them, making them the basis of our prayer to God.

There is no room for selfishness in God’s kingdom. There is no room for personal gain in God’s kingdom. There is no room for “picking and choosing” in God’s kingdom. There is but one thing for us to do: to put ourselves in God’s care, and His care alone, so that He can plant His kingdom in us. And when we allow God to plant His Word in us – with all of the grace which flows from the Sacraments and from our life of prayer – He’ll have a great harvest. It will be a harvest of salvation for the world, the harvest of a people who want to serve God and His truth by living in accordance with His Will. This is the harvest that can fix broken lives, and that can heal broken families, and that can renew broken hearts.

Are things not as we hoped they would be in our own lives? The answer to that is for us to live in sync with God’s revealed truth. This is the paradox of the Gospel: that we’re free to be all that we should be, only when we’re obedient to God. It’s in obedience that we find freedom. We can have new life only insofar as our old lives of selfishness and self-centeredness are put aside. We’re not the owners of this vineyard; we are tenants. 

One of the fundamental spiritual mistakes we make is to think that we own the world. We are tenants, entrusted with the responsibility of caring for it, but everything that we have, everything we are, is on loan, and if we put ourselves at the center, we put our tenancy in jeopardy. So this is the great question for us today: "how am I using the gifts that God gave me for God's purposes? My money? My time? My talents? My creativity? My relationships?" It all has to be for God.

May we unite ourselves so completely with Christ that His death will bring us life, and that the creatures of bread and wine, transubstantiated at the Mass, might make us into a new creation; namely, men and women who desire only to love and serve the Lord.

The Transitus of St. Francis

Because it falls on a Sunday this year, the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi will not be celebrated liturgically. Certainly many of us will remember this beloved saint with various devotions, but the liturgy proper to the Sunday will take precedence.

One of the beautiful traditions that will no doubt be kept by Franciscans and others throughout the world is the Transitus of St. Francis of Assisi, observed on the evening of October 3. It commemorates the saint’s passing from this earthly life into eternal life with God. The word Transitus means “passing over,” expressing the Christian hope that death is not an end, but a passage into the fullness of life in Christ.

Francis approached his death with the same simplicity and trust that had characterized his entire vocation. Having embraced poverty, humility, and the Gospel, he desired above all to conform himself to Christ. As his earthly life drew to its close, Francis asked to be placed upon the bare earth, returning to the simplicity he had loved throughout his life.

He welcomed death as “Sister Death,” whom he had already praised in his Canticle of the Creatures. Before his death, Francis also gave his final blessing as a lasting sign of his love and spiritual fatherhood.

The Transitus invites us to contemplate our own mortality with Christian hope. Like St. Francis, we are called to live each day turned toward Christ, trusting that our final passage will lead us into the eternal joy of God’s presence.

This is a brief account of his final hours:

“On the eve of his death, the saint, in imitation of his Divine Master, had bread brought to him and broken. This he distributed among those present, asking God’s blessing upon Bernard of Quintaville, his first companion, and Elias, his vicar, as well as all the others in order. “I have done my part,” he said next, “may Christ teach you to do yours.” Then wishing to give a last token of detachment and to show he no longer had anything in common with the world, Francis removed his poor habit and lay down on the bare ground, covered with a borrowed cloth, rejoicing that he was able to keep faith with his Lady Poverty to the end. After a while he asked to have read to him the Passion according to St. John, and then in faltering tones he himself intoned Psalm cxli. At the concluding verse, ‘Bring my soul out of prison’, Francis was led away from earth by ‘Sister Death’, in whose praise he had shortly before added a new strophe to his ‘Canticle of the Sun’.”

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ALLELUIA, Alleluia. Francis, poor and humble, enters heaven rich and is welcomed with celestial hymns. Alleluia.

Our Father Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.

O God, you granted our blessed Father Francis the reward of everlasting joy: grant that we, who celebrate the memory of his death, may at last come to the same eternal joy; through Christ our Lord. Amen.