Lent III: Living Water

If you were to go about forty miles by road north of Jerusalem, you would come to the modern city of Nablus, which is the site of the ancient city of Shechem. There’s a practical reason why people have lived in this place for so many centuries, and that’s because of water – water which from the earliest days was drawn from what is known as Jacob’s Well.

To reach Jacob’s Well today you must enter a very beautiful Orthodox church. Near the front there are stone steps which descend below the altar. After making your way down, the well is there, just as it was on that day when Jesus came to it.

It was about noon. He was tired and thirsty from His travelling. As He rested at the edge of the well, a woman came to draw water. Now, that in itself was rather odd. Most women would have come to draw water in the cool early morning, before the sun rose too high in the sky. They would take their supply of water home with them so that they could get on with their day’s work, rather than waiting for the hottest part of the day to go to the well. But there was a reason for this particular woman to have come at noon, when she thought no one else would be around – and that reason was revealed in Christ’s conversation with her.

Jesus asks her for a drink. She’s amazed that He would ask her. In the culture of that day and time, no man would speak to an unaccompanied woman, much less would he ask her for something. And in addition to that, she was a Samaritan, and the Jews had nothing to do with the Samaritans because they considered them to be unclean half-breeds, unworthy of any contact whatsoever with God’s chosen people.

She asks Him, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” And it’s then that Jesus begins to get to the divine nature of this encounter. He says to her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him and he would have given you living water...” He spoke of a water which is more powerful, more satisfying than any natural water that could be drawn from this well, no matter how historic a well it might be.

She misses the point, probably because she has a mind which is more practical than it is curious. “Give me that water,” she says. She figures that if she didn’t get thirsty again, then she wouldn’t have to make the daily trek to the well. Our Lord, of course, sees that she hasn’t grasped what He’s talking about, so He goes immediately to the cause of her spiritual deafness. Getting right to the point, He brings up the reason why she has to come to the well at a time when others aren’t around. “Go call your husband,” He says. Then the truth about her life comes out. She has no husband, but she’s had five men whom she has called her husband, and the man she’s presently living with isn’t her husband. She didn’t need a road map to figure this out – there’s something unique about this Jew who had asked her for water, and it’s as though a light went on for her – she sees Him at last as He truly is; namely, the Christ. So she runs off to tell others about her discovery.

Those are the bare facts of the encounter, and it was a meeting unique to this Samaritan woman. And yet, there’s a kind of universality about it, because Christ’s encounter with every individual is an echo of this encounter with the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s Well.

As He asked her for a simple kindness, so He asks every one of us for a particular service through the specific vocation He gives to each of us. Each of us has been called by God to use what we have and what we are, to serve Him, to build up His Kingdom, to make Him better known to those around us.

And too often our response is as the Samaritan woman’s was. “Why would you ask me, Lord? Why would you single me out to do something for you? Why would you want me to tell others about my faith? Why would you want me to get involved in that charitable work?” Instead of being eager to respond, we act surprised, and we start excusing ourselves. “I couldn’t do that,” we tell ourselves. “I’m so busy.” “I’m too shy.” “There are others who would be better at it.” We’ve got all the excuses memorized. But remember what Jesus explained to the Samaritan woman? That if she knew who it was who was doing the asking, she would have responded immediately? We do know who’s doing the asking. And the Church tells us that God gives the necessary grace to those who respond to the vocation which is given. Remember, God never asks us to do something without giving us the means to do it.

At first the Samaritan woman was deaf to Christ’s words to her, and all too often, so are we. For her that day by Jacob’s Well, the most necessary thing was for her to see her own sinfulness before she could move on from there and tell others about Christ. And that’s an important part of our own encounter with Him. We need to acknowledge our sinfulness, and our complete dependence on God. That was the point of this conversation at Jacob’s Well, and that’s the point of Christ’s daily encounter with each of us: to help us see our need for Him, so that we can move on into the real life He has in store for us.

When we live for Christ, when we try to do His will in all things – that’s when we’ll have that well of water springing up in us – that water which is eternal life. We’re right in the middle of Lent. God has asked us to especially scrutinize our lives, to face up to our own sins and our own shortcomings, and with His grace, to do something about it. This is the time for us to confess our sins, to renew our devotion, to live in real humility, and to grasp hold of the life that God wants for us – a life which is infused with the Holy Spirit, a life which reflects the holiness to which we’re called, a life which is saturated with the living water of eternal life in Christ.

Because of what Jesus said to her at the well that day, the Samaritan woman came to know that He was, indeed, the Christ, the Son of the Living God. And when she grasped the knowledge, she told the world about it. That’s our job, too – to tell the world about Christ, through our words and our actions and the holiness of our lives. That’s our vocation – it’s a holy calling which will lead us, and those around us, to eternal life in Jesus Christ our Lord.

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Painting: "The Woman at the Well"

by Rolinda Sharples (1793-1838)

Photograph: Jacob's Well

St. Frances of Rome

Lest we forget that God's plan for us is always best, just look at the life of St. Frances of Rome. She was a child born into privilege in the latter part of the 14th century, with parents who had the means to give her a very comfortable life. Young Frances was keenly aware of society's poor around her, and she had the good desire to give herself to the alleviation of their suffering by entering religious life and dedicating herself to this mission. Her parents had other ideas, and apparently so did God.

A young nobleman was selected by her family, and Frances was expected to marry him. She threw herself into prayer, asking God to deliver her from what she saw as a terrible fate. In fact, she was so persistent in this that her confessor asked her a difficult but important question: "Frances, are you really praying to do God's Will, or are you trying to make God bend to your will?"

That simple question brought about a profound change in Frances. With some reluctance, she married the young nobleman, and to her surprise the marriage turned out to be very happy. They had three children, and she found that her husband was perfectly willing for her to carry out an apostolate to the poor. In fact, she discovered that her sister-in-law had the same desire to serve, and the two were able to work together and pray together, eventually inspiring others to join in their good works. The group of women became a quasi-religious community, and when Frances was widowed she was able to go and live with them, sharing a common life of work and prayer.

St. Frances also had the great comfort of being able to see her Guardian Angel, and she was careful in following the angelic guidance she received.

Frances came to realize that God had given her far more than she had asked for. She had a happy marriage, and she was able to fulfill her desire for religious life, too. That's the way it is with God. He always gives in abundance, albeit in unexpected ways. All we need to do is follow Him in love, and pray as our Lord Himself did, "...not my will, but Thine be done."

O God, who amongst other gifts of thy grace, didst honour blessed Frances, thy handmaid, with the familiar converse of an Angel: grant, we beseech thee; that by the help of her intercession, we may be worthy to attain unto the fellowship of the Angels in thy heavenly kingdom; 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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Painting: "St. Frances of Rome"
from the school of Federico Zuccaro, 18th century

St. John of God

St. John of God was born at the end of the 15th century. From the time he was a child he tended to be a very impulsive person. When he was prompted to do something, he usually stuck with it, no matter what – which is fine, if the prompting comes from God, but it can make life difficult if it is something from one's own imagination.

When he was only eight years old, John heard a someone talking about all the adventures there were out in the world, and so young John took it into his head to run away to seek his fortune. He never saw his parents again, but instead spent time on the road, begging his way from village to town, until he became very sick. A kind man and his family nursed him back to health, and John stayed with them, working as a shepherd until he was 27 years old. 

Feeling the urge to travel again, John joined the Spanish army, which was at that time in a war against France. As a soldier, he was hardly a model of holiness, taking part in the gambling, drinking, and the wild life along with his comrades. One day, he was thrown from a stolen horse near French lines. Frightened that he would be captured or killed, he reviewed his life and vowed impulsively to make a change.

He took on all sorts of physically hard work – unloading ship cargoes, building fortifications, anything he could find to earn a living. He would work hard all day, but then in the evening he would visit churches, and spend time reading spiritual books. Reading gave him so much pleasure that he decided that he should share this joy with others. He quit his job and became a book peddler, traveling from town to town selling religious books and holy cards. Finally, when he was 41 years old, he came to Granada where he sold books from a little shop.

After hearing a sermon on repentance, he was so overcome by the thought of his sins that the whole town thought he had become mentally disturbed. After hearing the sermon John rushed back to his shop, tore up any secular books he had, gave away all his religious books and all his money. With his clothes torn and constantly crying, he was the target of insults, jokes, and even stones and mud from the townspeople and their children.

Some friends took him to a hospital for the insane. Eventually, the priest who had preached the sermon that had affected John so much, came to see him, and told him that he had gone on like this quite enough, so John was moved to a better part of the hospital where he was free to move about. Although still a patient, he began to help the other sick people around him. In fact, this experience made him decide to start his own hospital for the poor and those who had no one to care for them. He had no money for a building, so he went to the poor and homeless wherever they were – in abandoned buildings or under bridges – and he called those places his hospital. He continued to beg for money, and eventually found a very poor house which gave him a location where he could bring the sick and nurse them.

One day he heard that the hospital where he had been a patient was on fire. He immediately ran there and found that no one was doing anything. He entered the building and carried out the patients one by one, and then went back in to get as much of the contents as he could. As the fire burned more fiercely, he fell through the weakened timbers, and everyone thought he was dead – but almost miraculously, he walked out of the flames, unhurt.

John was ill himself when he heard that a flood was bringing precious driftwood near the town. He jumped out of bed to gather the wood from the raging river. Then when one of his companions fell into the river, John without thought for his illness or safety jumped in after him. He failed to save the boy and caught pneumonia. He died on March 8, his fifty-fifth birthday, of the same impulsive love that had guided his whole life.

John of God is patron saint of booksellers, printers, heart patients, hospitals, nurses, the sick, and firefighters and is considered the founder of the Brothers Hospitallers.

O God, who didst cause blessed John, by the fire of thy love, to pass unhurt amid the flames, and through him didst enrich thy Church with a new offspring: grant, by the pleading of his merits; that our vices may be healed by the fire of thy charity, and that we may obtain thine eternal healing; 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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Painting: "San Juan de Dios salvando a los enfermos
de incendio del Hospital Real"
by Manuel Gómez-Moreno González (1834–1918)

Ss. Perpetua, Felicitas, and Companions

With the lives of so many early martyrs shrouded in legend, we are fortunate to have the record of the courage of Perpetua and Felicity from the hand of Perpetua herself, her teacher Saturus, and others who knew them. This account, known as "The Martyrdom of Perpetua and Felicity," was so popular in the early centuries that it was read during liturgies.

In the year 203, Vibia Perpetua made the decision to become a Christian, although she knew it could mean her death during Septimus' persecution. Her surviving brother (another brother had died when he was seven) followed her leadership and became a catechumen as well.

Her father was frantic with worry and tried to talk her out of her decision. We can easily understand his concern. At 22 years old, this well-educated, high-spirited woman had every reason to want to live -- including a baby son who was still nursing. We know she was married, but since her husband is never mentioned, many historians assume she was a widow.

Perpetua's answer was simple and clear. Pointing to a water jug, she asked her father, "See that pot lying there? Can you call it by any other name than what it is?" Her father answered, "Of course not." Perpetua responded, "Neither can I call myself by any other name than what I am -- a Christian."

This answer so upset her father that he attacked her. Perpetua reports that after that incident she was glad to be separated from him for a few days -- even though that separation was the result of her arrest and imprisonment. Perpetua was arrested with four other catechumens including two slaves, Felicity and Revocatus, along with Saturninus and Secundulus. Their catechist, Saturus, had already been imprisoned before them.

She was baptized before taken to prison. Perpetua was known for her gift of "the Lord's speech" and receiving messages from God. She tells us that at the time of her baptism she was told to pray for nothing but endurance in the face of her trials.

The prison was so crowded with people that the heat was suffocating. There was no light anywhere and Perpetua "had never known such darkness." The soldiers who arrested and guarded them pushed and shoved them without any concern. Perpetua had no trouble admitting she was very afraid, but in the midst of all this horror her most excruciating pain came from being separated from her baby.

The young slave, Felicity was even worse off, not only suffering from the stifling heat, overcrowding, and rough handling, but she was eight months pregnant.

Two deacons who ministered to the prisoners paid the guards so that the martyrs would be put in a better part of the prison. There her mother and brother were able to visit Perpetua and bring her baby to her. When she received permission for her baby to stay with her, she said "my prison suddenly became a palace for me." Once more her father came to her, begging her to give in, kissing her hands, and throwing himself at her feet. She told him, "We live not in our own power but in the power of God."

Meanwhile Felicity was also in torment. It was against the law for pregnant women to be executed. To kill a child in the womb was shedding innocent and sacred blood. Felicity was afraid that she would not give birth before the day set for their martyrdom and her companions would go on their journey without her. Her friends also didn't want to leave so "good a comrade" behind.

Two days before the execution, Felicity went into a painful labor. The guards made fun of her, insulting her by saying, "If you think you suffer now, how will you stand it when you face the wild beasts?" Felicity answered them calmly, "Now I'm the one who is suffering, but in the arena there will be Another with me, suffering for me, because I will be suffering for him." She gave birth to a healthy girl who was adopted and raised by one of the Christian women of Carthage.

There was a feast the day before the games so that the crowd could see the martyrs and make fun of them. But the martyrs turned this all around by laughing at the crowd for not being Christians and exhorting them to follow their example.

The four new Christians and their teacher went to the arena (the fifth, Secundulus, had died in prison) with joy and calm. Perpetua in usual high spirits met the eyes of everyone along the way. We are told she walked with "shining steps as the true spouse of Christ, the darling of God."

When those at the arena tried to force Perpetua and the rest to dress in robes dedicated to their gods, Perpetua challenged her executioners. "We came to die out of our own free will so we wouldn't lose our freedom to worship our God. We gave you our lives so that we wouldn't have to worship your gods." She and the others were allowed to keep their clothes.

The men were attacked by bears, leopards, and wild boars. The women were stripped to face a rabid heifer. When the crowd, however, saw the two young women, one of whom had obviously just given birth, they were horrified and the women were removed and clothed again. Perpetua and Felicity were thrown back into the arena so roughly that they were bruised and hurt. Perpetua, though confused and distracted, still was thinking of others and went to help Felicity up. The two of them stood side by side as all five martyrs had their throats cut.

Perpetua's last words were to her brother: "Stand fast in the faith and love one another."

O Holy God, who gavest great courage to Saints Perpetua, Felicitas and their Companions: grant that, through their prayers, we may be worthy to climb the ladder of sacrifice, and be received into the garden of peace; 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.

Second Sunday in Lent: Transfiguration

It was an astonishing sight for Peter, James, and John, when they saw the Lord Jesus Christ radiating His divine glory, talking with Moses and Elijah. He manifested His glory, the glory that was His as the only begotten Son of the Father - God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God.

His face shone like the sun. His clothing became blinding and brilliant, whiter than any bleach on earth could bleach them. His divine nature shone through His humanity, making it clear that our Lord Jesus Christ is at once true God and true man. But He isn't like two things that are mixed together to form a third thing. He isn’t a hybrid of God and man. He is neither a “super man” nor is He a lesser god. He is the God-man, the unique Person in whom the fullness of the Deity dwells in human flesh and blood. That's what the disciples glimpsed on the mountain that day. They saw Jesus in His glory as God shining through His humanity.

And this is an important point about Jesus. His divine nature is never without His human nature. So, when we say that Jesus is present in the Blessed Sacrament, we mean that He is present as the God-man.  Both His divine and human natures are present. Of course, there are some who deny this. They say that His presence is simply symbolic or spiritual – but what God has joined we must not separate. We must leave Jesus whole, and not try to pull Him apart. We cannot have a human Jesus sometimes, and a divine Jesus at other times. Either He is the God-man in the crib, on the Mount of Transfiguration, on the cross, at the right hand of the Father, and in the Blessed Sacrament, or else He is not the One who mediates between God and man. He touches our humanity and the Father's divinity, and He does it without dividing Himself.

In Christ, God was born of a virgin mother. In Christ, a man shone with the glory of God on the mountain. In Christ, God suffered on the cross. In Christ, a man reigns over all things at the right hand of the Father.

This means when Jesus deals with us, He deals with us according to our humanity, in a flesh and blood way. He comes to us under the outward signs of simple bread and wine. He speaks to us through words spoken by a human mouth which enter our hearts and minds by way of our physical ears. He uses things like water and oil to give us eternal life and healing. He deals with us in earthy and ordinary ways. He honours our humanity by becoming human and engaging us as human beings, as the creatures of God that we are. It is through the human flesh of Jesus that God has chosen to reveal Himself to us.

Jesus is the true Light that shines into the darkness of this world. He is the Light that shines into the darkness of death, the Light that shines into the darkness of everything that we fear.  It is the very same Jesus who was laid in a manger, who was carried in Simeon's arms in the temple, who was changed in appearance before His three disciples, who hung on the cross, who died and was buried, who was raised from the dead and now lives and reigns. It's all one and the same Jesus, whether He is gloriously gleaming like the sun or ingloriously dying in the darkness.

And at every single Mass we come into that same glorious presence of Jesus Christ together with the angels and the archangels and all the company of heaven. At every Mass we are setting foot on the mountain with Jesus. At every Mass we receive forgiveness, life, and salvation. At every Mass Christ comes to preach His Word of forgiveness to us and to feed us with His Body and Blood. At every Mass something greater than the transfiguration takes place. The same Jesus is present for us as He was for His disciples on the mountain. The only difference is that we cannot see Him as the apostles did that day.

Nor would we want to see Him, really. The sight of Jesus in His glory would be too much to bear. Peter was left talking about making booths. In the Book of the Revelation, St. John the Divine saw Christ in all His glory and fell at His feet like a dead man. As Scripture says, "no one may look on God and live." But Jesus is kind and gentle toward us. He reserves His full blast of glory for the Last Day.

For now, He comes hidden in humility. He is so hidden that sometimes people pass Him by without noticing. But the voice from the cloud draws our attention on where it needs to be: namely, on Jesus. "This is my beloved Son. Hear Him." As great as was this vision of Moses, Elijah, and Jesus in His glory, the center and focus is always Jesus alone. The voice of the Father declares Him to be His beloved Son, just as He did at His Baptism. He directs our ears to His voice. "Listen to Him." Listen to Him because He alone has the words of eternal life. Listen to Him because His words are Spirit and they are life. Listen to Him because He is God's word of undeserved kindness to us. In the former times God spoke by the prophets, by Moses and Elijah. But now in these last days, He has spoken to us by His Son Jesus Christ.

Where Jesus is, Moses and Elijah slip into the background. When Jesus speaks, Moses and Elijah become silent. With the Father's voice having spoken from the cloud, the gospel says that the disciples "saw no one but Jesus only."

Only Jesus. That's what the Mount of Transfiguration is all about. That's what the sacraments are all about. Only Jesus. Only He is God's beloved Son. Only He shines with the glory of God through human flesh and blood. Only He bore our sins in His own body nailed to the tree. Only He sits at the right hand of the Father to pray for us, to forgive us, to give us life in His Name. Only He reveals the glory of God to save us and deliver us.

And as Jesus has His way with us, we too are being transfigured, changed from the inside out, changed to be like Him. For now, that work is hidden under weakness. But on the Day when Jesus again appears in glory for all the world to see, He will change our bodies to be like His glorious body.

And what a Day of Transfiguration that will be! Our Lent will be changed to Easter. Our weakness will be transformed into strength. Every tear will be wiped away, and there will be no sorrow which is not turned to joy, as He brings about a “new heaven and a new earth,” restoring all things to Himself.

O God, who before the Passion of thy Only Begotten Son didst reveal his glory upon the holy mount: grant unto us that we, beholding by faith the light of his countenance, may be strengthened to bear our cross, and be changed into his likeness from glory to glory; through the same Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, ever one God, world without end. Amen.

Behold our Lord transfigured,

In Sacrament Divine;

His glory deeply hidden,

'Neath forms of Bread and Wine.

Our eyes of faith behold Him,

Salvation is outpoured;

The Saviour dwells among us,

by ev'ry heart adored.

No longer on the mountain

With Peter, James and John,

Our precious Saviour bids us

To walk where saints have gone.

He has no lasting dwelling,

Save in the hearts of men;

He feeds us with His Body,

To make us whole again.

With Moses and Elijah,

We worship Christ our King;

Lord, make our souls transfigured,

Let us with angels sing.

Lead us in paths of glory,

Give tongues to sing thy praise;

Lord Jesus, keep us faithful,

Now and for all our days.

Text: Fr. Christopher G. Phillips, 1990

Music: "Ewing" by Alexander C. Ewing, 1853

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Painting: "The Transfiguration of Jesus"

by William Brassey Hole (1846-1917)

St. Casimir

St. Casimir known to the people of Poland as "The Peace-maker," was the third of the thirteen children of Casimir IV, King of Poland. Casimir was devout from the time he was a little child, and was known for his life dedicated to prayer and penance. Although he was part of the royal family, he often made his bed on the ground, and he would spend much of the night in prayer and meditation, especially on the passion of Christ. He always wore very plain clothing, and under them he wore a hairshirt.

Because he lived constantly in the presence of God, Casimir always seemed serene and cheerful, and pleasant to everybody. He had a tremendous love of the poor, whom he saw as members of Christ's body, and he was known for giving his possessions away to relieve the suffering of the poor.

Throughout his life he had a great devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary, and he would often recite a long and beautiful hymn to the Virgin Mother – a hymn we know in English as "Daily, daily sing to Mary."

There came the time when the noblemen of neighboring Hungary became dissatisfied with their king.  In 1471 they went to King Casimir of Poland, the father of St. Casimir, to allow them to place young Casimir on the throne. At that time, Casimir hadn’t yet turned fifteen years old, and he really wanted no part of the plan, but in obedience to his father he set out towards Hungary at the head of an army.

As they got closer, Casimir’s soldiers heard that the King of Hungary had assembled a large and strong army, and so Casimir’s army began to desert and go back home. Casimir had been given no money by his father or the Hungarian noblemen, so he wasn’t able to pay his soldiers to stay. It became obvious that Casimir wasn’t going to be able to march into Hungary with any kind of an army at all, so on the advice of his officers, he decided to return home to Poland.

King Casimir was very angry with his son Casimir. He had wanted to see his son on the throne of Hungary, because that meant he could control that country, as well as be King of Poland. As young Casimir got closer to home, his father had troops meet him, and instead of allowing the young boy to go to his family in Cracow, his father imprisoned him in a dark, musty castle.

Young Casimir accepted that with great patience, and let his father know that he would stay in the castle dungeon forever, before he would ever take up arms again. His father finally released him, and Casimir returned to his life of study and prayer, but his life of penance and his time in the dungeon, meant that he developed a disease of the lungs, and he died when he was only twenty-six years old. He was buried at the Church of St. Stanislaus in Vilna. Many miracles were reported at his tomb, and he was canonized in 1521.

O God, who, amidst the pleasures of a temporal kingdom, didst endue thy blessed Saint Casimir with constancy to resist all temptations: grant, we beseech thee; that by his intercession, thy faithful people may learn to despise all things earthly, and to seek earnestly after all things heavenly; 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. Katharine Drexel

Katharine Drexel was born in Philadelphia in 1858, into a very wealthy and prominent family. She had an excellent education and traveled widely. As a rich girl, she had a grand debut into society. But her life was radically changed when she nursed her stepmother through a three-year terminal illness, and she saw that all the Drexel money could not buy safety from pain or death.

She had read a book about the plight of the American Indians, and how difficult their lives were. Once, when she was on a tour of Europe, she met Pope Leo XIII and she asked him to send more missionaries to Wyoming, where a family friend was the bishop. The pope said to her, "Why don't you become a missionary?" His answer shocked her into considering new possibilities.

When she returned to America, she visited the Dakota Indian tribe, met the Sioux leader Red Cloud and began her systematic aid to Native American missions.

She could easily have married. But after much discussion with Bishop O'Connor, she wrote in 1889, "The feast of Saint Joseph brought me the grace to give the remainder of my life to the Indians and the Colored." Newspaper headlines screamed "Heiress gives Up Her Millions!"

After three and a half years of training, she and her first band of nuns (Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament) opened a boarding school in Santa Fe. A string of foundations followed. By 1942 she had a system of African American Catholic schools in thirteen states, plus forty mission centers and twenty-three rural schools. Segregationists harassed her work, even burning a school in Pennsylvania. In all, she established fifty missions for Native Americans in sixteen states.

Two saints met when she was advised by Mother Cabrini about the "politics" of getting her order's rule approved in Rome. Her crowning achievement was the founding of Xavier University in New Orleans, the first university in the United States for African Americans.

At seventy-seven, she suffered a heart attack and was forced to retire. Apparently her life was over. But then came almost twenty years of quiet, intense prayer from a small room overlooking the sanctuary. Small notebooks and slips of paper record her various prayers, ceaseless aspirations and meditation. She died at ninety-six and was canonized in 2000.

- from various sources

O God of love, who didst call Saint Katharine Drexel to teach the message of the Gospel and to bring the life of the Eucharist to the Native American and African American peoples: by her prayers and example, enable us to work for justice among the poor and the oppressed; and keep us undivided in love in the Eucharistic family of thy Church; 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.

Dydd Gwyl Dewi hapus

Happy St. David’s Day, as the title of this post says. My Welsh ancestors would want me to make mention of our great patron for his feast day, which is March 1st. Following is an excerpt from an anonymous account of the saint:

Saint David, or Dewi Sant, as he is known in the Welsh language, is the patron saint of Wales. He was a Celtic monk, abbot and bishop, who lived in the sixth century. During his life, he was the archbishop of Wales, and he was one of many early saints who helped to spread Christianity among the pagan Celtic tribes of western Britain.

For details of the life of Dewi, we depend mainly on his biographer, Rhigyfarch. He wrote Buchedd Dewi (the life of David) in the 11th century. Dewi died in the sixth century, so nearly five hundred years elapsed between his death and the first manuscripts recording his life. As a result, it isn't clear how much of the history of Dewi's life is legend rather than fact.

However, sources tell us that Dewi was a very gentle person who lived a frugal life. It is claimed that he ate mostly bread and herbs - probably watercress, which was widely used at the time. Despite this supposedly meager diet, it is reported that he was tall and physically strong.

Dewi is said to have been of royal lineage. His father, Sant, was the son of Ceredig, who was prince of Ceredigion, a region in South-West Wales. His mother, Non, was the daughter of a local chieftain. Legend has it that Non was also a niece of King Arthur.

Dewi was born near Capel Non (Non's chapel) on the South-West Wales coast near the present city of Saint David. We know a little about his early life. He was educated in a monastery called Hen Fynyw, his teacher being Paulinus, a blind monk. Dewi stayed there for some years before going forth with a party of followers on his missionary travels.

Dewi travelled far on his missionary journeys through Wales, where he established several churches. He also travelled to the south and west of England and Cornwall as well as Brittany. It is also possible that he visited Ireland. Two friends of his, Saints Padarn and Teilo, are said to have often accompanied him on his journeys, and they once went together on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem to meet the Patriarch.

Dewi is sometimes known, in Welsh, as 'Dewi Ddyfrwr' (David the Water Drinker) and, indeed, water was an important part of his life. He is said to have drunk nothing else. Sometimes, as a self-imposed penance, he would stand up to his neck in a lake of cold water, reciting Scripture.

He founded a monastery at Glyn Rhosyn (Rose Vale) on the banks of the small river Alun where the cathedral city of St. David stands today. They had to get up very early in the morning for prayers and afterwards work very hard to help maintain life at the monastery, cultivating the land and even pulling the plough. Many crafts were followed, and beekeeping, in particular, was very important. The monks had to keep themselves fed as well as the many pilgrims and travelers who needed lodgings. They also had to feed and clothe the poor and needy in their neighborhood.

There are many stories regarding Dewi's life. It is said that he once raised a youth from death, and milestones during his life were marked by the appearance of springs of water. These events are arguably more apocryphal than factual, but are very well known to Welsh-speaking schoolchildren.

Perhaps the most well-known story regarding Dewi's life is said to have taken place at the Synod of Llanddewi Brefi. They were to decide whether Dewi was to be archbishop. A great crowd gathered at the synod, and when Dewi stood up to speak, one of the congregation shouted, 'We won't be able to see or hear him'. At that instant the ground rose till everyone could see and hear Dewi. Unsurprisingly, it was decided, very shortly afterwards, that Dewi would be the archbishop.

It is claimed that Dewi lived for over 100 years, and it is generally accepted that he died in 589. His last words to his followers were in a sermon on the previous Sunday. Rhigyfarch transcribes these as 'Be joyful, and keep your faith and your creed. Do the little things that you have seen me do and heard about. I will walk the path that our fathers have trod before us.'

“Do the little things” (“Gwnewch y pethau bychain”) is today a very well-known phrase in Welsh, and has proved an inspiration to many. On a Tuesday, the first of March, in the year 589, the monastery is said to have been 'filled with angels as Christ received his soul'.

Dewi's body was buried in the grounds of his own monastery, where the Cathedral of St. David now stands. After his death, his influence spread far and wide - first through Britain, along what was left of the Roman roads, and by sea to Cornwall and Brittany.

For those who might like to celebrate St. David’s Day with an authentic comestible, here is the recipe for cawl, which is the dish most commonly served for dinner on the farm during the winter months in the counties of South and West Wales. The broth would be served in basins or bowls, with bread, and the meat and vegetables served as a second course.

2 lb Best end of neck Welsh Lamb
1/2 lb Carrots
2 large Leeks
1/2 oz Flour
1 small Swede or Turnip
1 lb Potatoes
1 oz parsley
Salt and Pepper

Put the meat into the saucepan, cover with cold water, add salt and pepper, bring slowly to the boil and skin carefully. (This can be done beforehand, and the fat allowed to set on the surface. This makes it easier to skim off). Then add the carrots (cut in half), the swede (sliced) and the white of the leeks, and simmer gently for two to two-and-a-half hours. Add the potatoes (cut in flour) and continue to simmer for another 30 minutes. When the potatoes are almost cooked, thicken with flour and a little water. Lastly add the green of the leeks and parsley (chopped) and simmer for another 10 minutes and serve in basins while hot.

During Lent, this recipe for Caws Pobi (Welsh rarebit, also known as Welsh Rabbit, although it has nothing to do with rabbits) makes a great Friday night supper.

6 ounces strong Cheddar cheese;
1 tablespoon butter;
1-2 teaspoons Worcester sauce (to taste);
1 level teaspoon dry mustard;
2 teaspoons flour or cornflour;
4 tablespoons beer (about);
4 slices bread toasted on one side.

Put cheese, mustard, Worcester Sauce, butter and flour into saucepan and mix well, moisten with beer, but don't make too wet. Stir over gently heat until all is melted and become a thickish paste. Allow to cool a little while you make the toast. Spread mixture on untoasted side and put under hot grill until bubbling.

And finally, for something deliciously sweet and authentically Welsh, try some wonderful Bara Brith (Welsh fruitcake):

1 lb (450g) mixed dried fruit, such as raisins and currants
1 pint (300ml) tea
2 tbsp marmalade
1 egg, beaten
6 tbsp soft brown sugar
1 tsp mixed spice
1 lb (450g) self raising flour
honey to glaze

Soak the fruit overnight in the tea. Next day, mix in the marmalade, egg, sugar, spice and flour. Spoon mixture into a greased 2 lb (900g) loaf tin and bake in a warm oven 325°F, 170°C for 1 hour or until the center is cooked through. Check from time to time to see that the top does not brown too much, and cover with a sheet of foil or move down a shelf in the oven if necessary. Once cooked, leave the Bara Brith to stand for 5 minutes then turn out of the tin on to a cooling tray. Using a pastry brush, glaze the top with honey. Served sliced with salted butter and some tasty farmhouse cheddar.

But between bites, remember St. David’s words: Gwnewch y pethau bychain, Do the little things.

O Almighty God, who in thy providence didst choose thy servant David to be an apostle to the people of Wales, to bring those who were wandering in darkness and error to the true light and knowledge of thee: grant us, by his intercession, so to walk in that light; that we may come at last to the light of everlasting 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 Lenten Ember Days

This week we keep the Lenten Ember Days.  The Ember Days are four separate sets of three days within the same week — specifically, the Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday — within the circuit of the year, that are set aside for a modified fasting and prayer. They are known in Latin as the quattuor anni tempora (the "four seasons of the year"). There are those who say that the word “ember” is a corruption of the Latin "tempora" from the title, but it is as likely that it comes from the Old English word “ymbren” which means a “circle." As the year progresses and returns to its beginning, the ember days are part of the circle of the year. These days of prayer and fasting originated in Rome, and slowly spread throughout the Church. They were brought to England by St. Augustine with his arrival in the year 597.

These days are to be used to give thanks for the earth and for the good things God gives us - for our food, for the rain and the sunshine, for all the blessings of life through nature. And because of that, it is a time when we remind ourselves to treat creation with respect, and not waste the things God has given us.

Another important aspect of the Ember Days is for us to pray for those men called to be priests or deacons. We pray also for those who are already ordained – for all deacons and priests, for our bishop, and for the Holy Father. Of course, we pray for all this throughout the year, but the Ember Days bring all this to mind in a special way, so that we can concentrate our prayers during these four periods of time throughout the year.

Grant, we beseech thee, O Lord, to us thy humble servants: that we, who do refrain ourselves from carnal feastings, may likewise fast from sin within our souls; 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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Painting: "Spring" by Abel Grimmer (c.1570–c.1620)

Pater noster

"Pray then like this: Our Father who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name." 

- St. Matthew 6:9

Jesus gave His disciples the perfect prayer which addresses God as "Our Father." It’s probably the most familiar prayer in history, and yet its familiarity means that sometimes we don’t think about the words as much as we should when we say it. Even the first word is important, as it is in our English translation – “Our.” When Jesus taught this prayer, he set it very much in the context of “all of us together.” 

Certainly, God loves each one of us individually, and He deals with us individually, but He has called us individually to be part of His Body, the Church. Throughout the whole prayer, it’s prayed in the plural – and it’s a reminder to us that we are part of something much larger than ourselves, and what we do or neglect to do has an effect on others.

When we were baptized, that sacrament affected us individually, certainly – it took away the stain of original sin – but it also incorporated us into something; namely, the Church, the Body of Christ. 

When we were confirmed, each of us was sealed with the gift of the Holy Spirit. But it also made us active members of an army – the army of Christ - and we were given grace and power to join with others in fighting against sin, the world and the devil. 

When we receive Holy Communion, each of us individually receives the Body and Blood of Christ, but we receive it in communion with the Church throughout the world, and in union with the saints throughout the ages.

Even when we pray to God by ourselves, when we say the Amen, we say it with the whole Church – Militant, Expectant, and Triumphant.

The great poet, John Donne, wrote, “No man is an island entire of itself…” which is a reminder that what I do, what I say, or what I neglect to do or say, has to do not just with me, but also with all those around me.

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Pictured: The Lord's Prayer (Le "Pater Noster") 

by James Tissot (French, 1836-1902).

Out of the Wilderness

It is in this time of Lent when our Holy Mother the Church especially uses all her rich resources to bring us back to holiness, back to wholeness with Christ. She exorcises and reconciles; she pardons and blesses and anoints; she instructs and lays on hands; she worships and fasts, and does everything possible to touch us with Christ. She brings us to the very springs of eternal life.

Our human condition is summed up in Adam and Eve. They acted on their own decision and in their own strength, according to their own thoughts, apart from God. And so have we. As a result life around us has collapsed. People are fractured and broken, isolated and alone in their shame and guilt. The human soul, in its rebellion against God, has become addicted and trapped in its own sickness. Our Ancient Enemy, the Father of Lies and the Great Seducer, has captivated us.   And on our own we are powerless. Like the Prodigal Son, we long for the freedom of the sons and daughters of God. Our souls hunger for food that has substance to it.

But the Bridegroom is here, and the Bride of Christ, with her lamp lit and filled with oil, bids us rise to go out with her to meet Him. He comes to release us from our captivity, to bring Good News to us in our poverty, to give us sight, to restore our liberty, and to empower us to walk in the glorious freedom of the sons and daughters of God.

But in order that all of this might happen, we must first curb our arrogance, put bridle and bit to our pride, and acknowledge the hunger of our souls. Fasting, almsgiving, and prayer are the remedies that allow us to be emptied of arrogance and ego-centrism. They clear out the accumulated clutter in our souls, sweeping them clean and so making room once again for God's presence fully to dwell within us, bringing us out of our self-inflicted wilderness.

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Painting: “Man of Sorrows” by William Dyce (1806-1864)

First Sunday in Lent: Temptation

The serpent was more subtle than any other wild creature that the LORD God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God say, ‘You shall not eat of any tree of the garden’?” And the woman said to the serpent, “We may eat of the fruit of the trees of the garden; but God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, neither shall you touch it, lest you die.’” But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”

- Genesis 3:1-5

In the Scriptures we see two major accounts of temptation. First there was the temptation of Adam and Eve when they were in the Garden of Eden, and then there was the temptation of Jesus Christ when He was in the wilderness. In both these events there is one common presence, one common figure: Satan.

But the two events are very different. The temptation of Adam and Eve resulted in the short-term triumph of Satan, and the fall of humanity into sin and death. The temptation of Christ resulted in the ultimate fall of Satan, and the rescue of humanity from sin and death.

Temptation, in and of itself, isn’t sinful. Christ was tempted in every way as we are, yet He was without sin. But there is something else we should understand about temptation. Temptation is not just a matter of choosing between good and evil; rather, we should understand it as being two opposite ways of experiencing the gifts of God. Something is “good” when a gift from God is used according to the will of the God, but an action is “evil” when something used against the will of God, and against God Himself.

So then, to be tempted is to be presented with circumstances in which we choose to misuse our gifts, so we end up being someone we’re not supposed to be in our relationship with God.  Adam and Eve were tempted not to be the image of God. Satan tried to tempt Jesus not to be the Son of God. In our own temptations, we are tempted to be something we’re not; namely, the devil tries to get us not to be the sons and daughters of God.

Temptation began in the Garden of Eden, the place God had made for the happiness and fulfillment of mankind. In the center of that garden were two trees, and these two trees defined the relationship between God and man. There was the tree of life, and there was the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. The central place in all that was God's place. Man's life is supposed to revolve around God, with God in the center. This means that life, knowledge, and death are God's to give. They’re not something that man can reach out and grab for himself. Man received his life and his knowledge as a gift from God, Who is in the center of it all. Man was made from the dust of the ground by the hand of God, and he had God's breath of life breathed into his nostrils. Man was alive with the life of God, and when he was created he knew only good, because he was created in the “image of God,” Who is the supreme Good.

In the center of the garden God had erected a boundary – a line which declared that there is a difference between God and the image of God. There is a difference between the Creator and His foremost creature, Man. God had shown great care in this creation. Man had everything he needed for life as God intended it. Every tree in the garden was given to man for food to preserve his life – every tree, that is, except the tree of knowing good and evil. This was the only limit on man's freedom. He was free to eat of any tree in the garden except one. That was the boundary, and over that boundary man was not allowed to venture or he would die. For man to reach his hand over that line to take and eat the forbidden food, was to reach into the center – the place that only God may occupy. It was an attempt to usurp God's place. It was to try and be a kind of god in place of the one true God. It was to try and push God out from the center of life, to grab for something that wasn’t given to man. And to reach into that place reserved for God meant death, because only God can be God.

This is our temptation. We are tempted to trespass the boundaries established by God, and to exercise a freedom without any limit whatsoever. We try to push God from the center and put ourselves there, to draw life and knowledge from ourselves and our experiences, rather than from God – to live as if God doesn’t matter and as if we mattered most. To try and live without God in the center is nothing other than death disguised as life. So then, what it comes down to is this: temptation is really a matter of life and death, more than it is good and evil.

The temptation of Christ was an assault by Satan on Christ the Incarnate Word of God. And when we look at the first temptation, back in Genesis, it began with an assault on the very words of God. “Did God really say that you must not eat from any tree in the garden?” the serpent asked. That’s the question which formed the basis of Man’s first temptation – to call into question the word of God. Satan was luring Eve into stepping back and to become a critic of God’s word, rather than simply being the one to whom God was speaking. She was being invited to speculate about God, to judge God and His word, to draw conclusions about God apart from His word, to use her own subjective thought about God against God’s word. And what was Satan trying to make happen? Basically, if Eve’s experience conflicted with God’s word, then maybe God’s word was wrong, or she must have misunderstood it.

It is a subtle temptation that Satan put before Eve, when he made her question what God had said. It is a question that drives a wedge between God and Man. That’s what temptation is: the attempt to separate us from the God who loves us. And it’s something we’ve heard throughout history. “Don’t worry about the Ten Commandments – they’re the product of old-fashioned thinking and times gone by.” The temptation is to think that maybe God’s eternal law doesn't apply to our modern, enlightened situation, so making everything subjective. “Do I really have to listen to my parents if I disagree with them?” “Is it really murder if I feel that I just can’t cope with another child?” These are the sorts of questions we hear today. And when it comes to religion, it is a matter of questioning whether God really said, "This is my Body; this is my Blood" or did He mean something else? Did God really say to His apostles and their successors, "The sins you forgive are forgiven?" Did God really say, "Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved?" Did God really say that upon our repentance He forgives sin unconditionally, that Christ has died and been raised for us?

Satan is always trying to open a little crack, a tiny separation between God and man. And as we know very well, a serpent can slip into the smallest of openings. Satan, always the serpent, tries to force a little opening, because if he can just get his head in, and the rest of him will follow soon enough.

Adam and Eve decided to take charge of their own lives. And in taking charge, they lost control. Adam fell, and in Adam all mankind fell. Man reaches out to be "like God" and what he gets is death; but God reaches out to us in Christ, and He gives us life.

So much does God reach out to us, that Jesus was even led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil – but this means that Christ, in human flesh, has triumphed over temptation. And because we are baptized into Christ, His victory is our victory.

This doesn’t mean that we won’t be tempted. We will. The forty days of Lent remind us of this reality. We’ll be tempted in our flesh and in our faith. We’ll be tempted to try and care for ourselves, instead of being cared for by God. We’ll be tempted to despair of God's love, to doubt His promises, to live in denial of His forgiveness. We’ll be tempted to exchange the kingdom of God for the glory and the riches of the kingdoms of this world; to love things and hate God.

Temptations will come, but Adam in us must die and Christ in us must rise. Our comfort and strength in every temptation is that Christ has already triumphed over temptation in our place.

The cross of Christ is our tree of life, and it must be planted in the center of our life, because it is through Christ and His cross that we have eternal life.

A Daily Prayer During Lent

ALMIGHTY and everlasting God, who hatest nothing that thou hast made and dost forgive the sins of all those who are penitent: create and make in us new and contrite hearts, that we, worthily lamenting our sins and acknowledging our wretchedness, may obtain of thee, the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness; 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.

Friday after Ash Wednesday

At that time: the disciples of John came to Jesus, saying, "Why do we and the Pharisees fast, but your disciples do not fast?" And Jesus said to them, "Can the wedding guests mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them? The days will come, when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast.

- St. Matthew 9:14-15

Lent is like athletic training for the soul. We’re encouraged to take up three practices which are as essential for spiritual health as are regular physical exercise and healthy diet for an athlete; namely, prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. Today, consider fasting.

The voluntary giving up of things we may legitimately enjoy can be an expression of our love for God, and it can strengthen our wills and spiritual muscles. This helps us to resist the lures and lies of Satan, when he tempts us to make choices that we know to be sinful.

Fasting may be of many kinds, such as refraining from food or drink, or reducing the time we spend in front of the television or on our phones. It’s not that those things are bad in and of themselves, but we voluntarily fast from them so that we can become spiritually stronger in the face of temptations which may well be bad for us.

The prophet Isaiah reminds us of the wrong kind of fasting. “Behold, you fast only to quarrel and to fight and to hit with wicked fist. Fasting like yours this day will not make your voice to be heard on high.” (Is. 58:4)

Let’s not forget what we’re really supposed to be fasting from, which is anything that is not pleasing to God, anything which gives a bad example to others, anything which stops us from doing God’s will.

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Painting: "St. Benedict and His Monks in the Refectory"

by Il Sodoma (1477-1549)

Thursday after Ash Wednesday

At that time: Jesus said to his disciples, "The Son of man must suffer many things, and be rejected by the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised." And he said to all, "If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it; and whoever loses his life for my sake, he will save it. For what does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses or forfeits himself?

- St. Luke 9:22-25

Jesus had just asked the disciples who men said that He was, and Peter had professed that He was the Christ.  Then they heard our Lord say, "I must go to Jerusalem and die." He knew he had a work to complete. The Father’s will was His will. He had no other task but to do upon earth what the Father had sent him to do.  The Divine Son was under orders from the Father.

And in imitation of Christ, the Christian is also a man under orders. What are those orders? First, that we must deny ourselves. What does that mean? Think of it in this way: Peter once denied his Lord. He said of Jesus, "I do not know the man." So, to deny ourselves is to say, "I do not know myself." It is to ignore oneself. It is to treat the “self” as if it were not the most important thing to us – in fact, to treat it almost as though it doesn’t exist. Usually we treat ourselves as if our self was far and away the most important thing in the world. If we are to follow Jesus, we must put self aside.

And then, we are to take up our cross. To take up our cross means to be prepared to face sacrifice, suffering, and even death out of loyalty to Jesus. It means to be ready to endure the worst that can be done to us for the sake of being true to Him.

And the taking up of the cross is a voluntary thing. It isn’t something that is thrust upon us by surprise, but it is something we choose. Part of the reason for our Lenten discipline is to help us choose willingly the cross which has been prepared for us.

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Image from the Carrow Psalter, East Anglia, ca. 1250