What a blessed time!

It's been a few years since I recounted these experiences, but the commemoration of Pope St. John Paul II has triggered these memories.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pope St. John Paul II

Karol Josef Wojtyla was born in 1920 in Wadowice, Poland. His mother died when he was just a young boy, and he was raised by his father. Even as a boy he was known for his athletic ability, and in addition to his studies, he was active in all kinds of sports. As a young man, Karol worked as a laborer in factories and at a variety of physically demanding jobs. It was after the death of his father, in 1942, that he felt the call to ordination.

The Nazis had come to power, and seminaries were suppressed, but he studied in secret, and after the liberation of Poland by Russian forces in January of 1945 he was able to study openly at the University. He graduated with distinction, and was ordained on All Saints Day in 1946.

After his ordination to the priesthood and theological studies in Rome, he returned to his homeland and resumed various pastoral and academic tasks. He first became auxiliary bishop and then, in 1964, Archbishop of Krakow and took part in the Second Vatican Council. On 16 October 1978 he was elected pope and took the name John Paul II. His exceptional apostolic zeal, particularly for families, young people and the sick, led him to numerous pastoral visits throughout the world. Among the many fruits which he has left as a heritage to the Church are above all his rich teaching on the human person and the promulgation of the Catechism of the Catholic Church as well as the Code of Canon Law for the Latin Church and for the Eastern Churches.

In Rome on 2 April 2005, the eve of the Second Sunday of Easter (Divine Mercy Sunday), he departed peacefully after whispering "I have looked for you. Now you have come to me. And I thank you."

O God, who art rich in mercy and who didst will that Saint John Paul the Second should preside as Pope over thy universal Church: grant, we pray; that instructed by his teaching, we may open our hearts to the saving grace of Christ, the sole Redeemer of mankind; who liveth and reigneth with thee, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, ever one God, world without end. Amen.

"Are You Able...?"

 

James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came forward to Jesus, and said to him, “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.” And he said to them, “What do you want me to do for you?” And they said to him, “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.” But Jesus said to them, “You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or to be baptized with the baptism with which I am baptized?” And they said to him, “We are able.”

St. Mark 10:35-39a

In this passage from St. Mark's Gospel there is an interesting and important exchange between our Lord Jesus Christ and two of His Apostles, James and John, the sons of Zebedee. The brothers go to our Lord with a request. Apparently they weren’t shy, because it was a pretty big request, and it was this: that in the glorious kingdom to come they wanted the two seats on either side of Him to be theirs.

Our Lord doesn’t attempt to correct their obvious misunderstanding of the Kingdom – they were picturing an earthly kingdom, and they certainly needed correcting – but Christ has other things to teach at that moment. Look first at how our Lord answers them: He doesn’t grant their request, but neither does He refuse their request. Instead, He simply tells them, “You do not know what you are asking.” And they didn’t know. They had no idea of the nature or the character of Christ’s kingdom. They didn’t realise that what they thought of as the advantage, the honour, the glory, the reward that they were seeking for having “given up everything” would only take them further from Christ, not closer to Him.

Jesus had told them what they didn’t yet realize or understand - that they were going up to Jerusalem, that He would be betrayed and condemned to death; that He would be mocked, scourged, spat upon, crucified, but that the third day He would rise from the dead. His kingdom here was to be a kingdom of suffering; His earthly throne was going to be a cross; His earthly crown was going to be a crown of thorns; His earthly sceptre was going to be that reed given in mockery; His royal robe was going to be the purple robe thrown at Him by scornful soldiers.

It becomes obvious then, if all that was to be the glory of the King, then the seats at His right hand and His left were going to mean suffering and sorrow and hardship. He must be crucified before He would be glorified. But these brothers, James and John, were, in a sense, seeking to be glorified before they were crucified. When Jesus said, “You do not know what you are asking...” it was all of that which was behind His words.

But even that was not the whole of Christ’s answer. He doesn’t reject the request. He doesn’t scold them, or put them off. He knows that they have a noble ambition in wanting to be near Him; they had an enthusiastic longing to reign with Him; they show love for Him in their desire to sit on His right hand and on His left in His kingdom. But their desire needed purifying, it needed sifting, it needed raising up; there was, at this point, too much selfishness in it.

And so our Lord does here just what He so often did: He answered their request with a question. And so the Saviour puts it to them, “Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or to be baptized with the baptism with which I am baptized?” What a searching question it is! And look at their answer - an answer which had no surprise or hesitation: “We are able.” And with that, the Lord accepts this expression of faith, and their declaration of self-surrender. He doesn’t promise that which they first asked for – that’s left unanswered. But He does promise a participation in the work of His own manhood, a share in His own sufferings, without which it would be impossible to have the glory they wanted. “The chalice that I drink you will drink; and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized...” And His answer must have burnt itself into their very souls. How they must have learned more and more of its meaning as time went on. How it must have given St. James courage to win his martyr’s crown as the first of the Apostles to die for the Faith; how it must have strengthened St. John to bear the long-drawn-out sufferings of his life as he gave constant and eloquent witness to Jesus Christ.

And as they learned from Christ, so there are great lessons for us. We learn that heaven is not to be won simply by wishing for it. No, heaven will be ours by an earnest, energetic striving to follow in Christ’s footsteps. In answer to every desire for heaven, Jesus Christ calls us to venture out in faith, and He will give us the strength to go forward. The whole Christian life is to be based on this principle. The baptismal covenant, the renewal of our baptismal vows at confirmation, every prayer uttered, every good resolution made, every Holy Communion received, is in reality our echo of James and John: “We are able,” because the question to them is the question to us: “Are you able to drink the chalice that I drink, or to be baptized with the baptism with which I am baptized?”

But our answer, even the answer “We are able,” can be made in different ways. It can be made carelessly and thoughtlessly, under-rating the difficulties of serving Christ, underestimating the magnitude of the question. There’s a danger there. Remember that the struggle is not an easy one. The chalice can be bitter; the baptism can be fiery; the difficulties are great; the devil is very subtle; the world is very attractive; and we can be very weak in the face of temptation. We must face the fact that Christ’s service is hard. Or, the question can be answered in a boastful way - not so much by underestimating the difficulty of following Christ, as much as it is the tendency to overrate our own power to do it. Remember that the very foundation of true strength is the knowledge of our own weakness. It is Christ, and Him alone, who is our strength.

As St. James went to his martyrdom confessing Christ, there’s no doubt that he remembered this scene we hear of in the Gospel. It must have risen up in his mind. The Saviour’s look and tone of voice must have come back to him; he no doubt remembered with what tenderness our Lord asked, “Are you able...?” And he must have remembered the enthusiasm with which he answered, with his brother John, “We are able...” And he knew that, God helping him, he was able, and he went on to win his crown.

And so it is with us. We are bound to believe and to do what was promised for us at our baptism; we are bound to believe and to do what is demanded by the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. There is power in making the venture of faith, when we make it in firm dependence on the certain help of Almighty God. And so, we are to meet every difficulty in this spirit: “I have said that I am able to endure it, and by God’s help so I will.” We are to meet every sorrow in this spirit: “I have said that I am able to bear it, and by God’s help so I will.” Meet every duty in this spirit: “I have said I am able to do it, and by God’s help so I will.” And so, remaining steadfast to the end, may we discharge our bounden duty before God faithfully and boldly and bravely, not asking what our reward will be, but being satisfied with the wondrous and glorious promises of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has prepared a place for us.

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Image: Saint Jacques et Saint Jean, apôtres, fils dé Zebédée.

c.1501-1533, Musée Des Pèlerinages, Santiago

Holy Mass According to the Book of Divine Worship

You might enjoy this glimpse into the past through a video of an Anglican Use Mass recorded twenty years ago. This is from the old Book of Divine Worship, the predecessor of the Ordinariate's Divine Worship.

Bl. Jerzy Popieluszko, Priest and Martyr

Blessed Jerzy Popieluszko was born September 14, 1947, on a farm in the small village of Okopy located in North Eastern Poland. His parents Wladyslaw and Mariana were devout Catholics and he was baptized Alphons Popieluszko two days after his birth. Blessed Jerzy was a fragile child but as his parents stated he made up for any physical infirmities in strength of character.

The country into which Blessed Jerzy was born was one suffering from the aftermath of the reign of terror by the Nazis and the ongoing persecution of the Church by the Communists since the country’s occupation by the Russians in the Second World War. Okopy, the geographical center or “heart” of Poland was a rural village and thus its school system was not as deeply infiltrated with the sociology of the communist regime, but nevertheless Bl Jerzy suffered for his Faith while yet in school. Each morning before classes began Bl Jerzy would walk three miles to serve Mass, and then after classes were over in the evening, would return to the Church to pray the Rosary. His spirituality was ridiculed and he was accused by his teacher of praying too much.

As a precaution due to the harassment he received Bl Jerzy kept secret his intention to join the seminary for fear that if it were known the results of his exams would be altered. After graduating high school in 1965 while his friends were at the school ball, Blessed Jerzy Popieluszko was on a train headed for the seminary in Warsaw. He had chosen Warsaw due to its closeness to the monastery of St Maximilian Kolbe, a favorite saint of Bl Jerzy. Although against the agreement of 1950 between the Church and State, after one year of seminary training Bl Jerzy was drafted into the military for a two year tour in a special unit for clerics in Bartoszyce.

The plan for drafting clerics into the service was to indoctrinate them with the communistic ideal and cause them to lose their vocation. In spite of bitter persecution ensuing from the practice of his Faith, Blessed Jerzy Popieluszko firmly defied the authority’s attempt to marginalize Catholicism. On one occasion, when Bl Jerzy refused to crush his rosary beneath his heel he was cruelly beaten and placed in solitary confinement for a month. Also on account of his refusal to remove a medal from about his neck he was forced to stand for hours in the freezing rain. He was also made to crawl around the camp on his hands and knees as a punishment for saying the rosary. The results of this barbarity were that on the completion of his two year tour, Bl Jerzy had to undergo a life threatening surgery to undo the damage done to his heart and kidneys from his beatings. The recovery caused his ordination to be delayed, but on May 28, 1972, he was ordained with his name changed from Alphons to Jerzy by Cardinal Wyszynski.

Blessed Jerzy Popieluszko was first stationed taking care of several small parishes where his work was greatly appreciated. In January of 1979 he collapsed while saying Mass, and was sent to stay in a hospital to recover. Afterwards, he was given the duty as chaplain for the medical University of St Ann in Warsaw. A year later he was transferred to his last parish, St Stanislaus Kostka in Warsaw.

When Solidarity met in the Lenin shipyard in the summer of 1980, Bl Jerzy was the chaplain sent to the striking workers. The success of Solidarity helped to inspire Bl Jerzy, and every month afterwards he would offer a Mass for the Homeland and give a sermon to inspire people to follow the maxims of the Gospel, primarily by abandoning violence. Bl Jersey also organized a relief effort to help the families suffering from the loss of their jobs and livelihood as a result of defending the Faith, or the government having declared martial law. The government grew more and more frustrated with Bl Jerzy as more and more people flocked to him, and at the monthly Mass for the homeland had guards stationed at every block corner to watch him. Bl Jerzy went out of his way to be kind to these guards, calling them his “Guardian Angels” and even bringing them coffee in the cold Polish winter.

On December 13, 1982, a bomb was left on Bl Jerzy’s doorstep which would have killed him if he had answered the door. The next year, in August of 1983, the police opened a formal case against him and in December he was summoned to the prosecutor’s office. While detained, the police broke into his house to fill it with explosives and anti-government propaganda so they could have a cause to arrest him and launch a slur campaign.

While imprisoned with hardened criminals, Blessed Jerzy Popieluszko stayed up all night speaking with a murderer, and finally hearing the man’s confession. After being released from prison, Bl Jerzy was interrogated 13 times between January and June of 1984. In September he was planning his annual pilgrimage to Jasna Gora when he received threats warning him, “If you go to Jasna Gora you are dead.”

On October 13, 1984, an attempt was made on his life by means of a staged car accident, though Bl Jerzy was saved due to his excellent driving ability. On October 19, 1984, after offering Mass in Bydgoszcz, Bl Jerzy left with his driver for the 161 mile return trip to Warsaw. Thirty minutes into the drive the car was flagged down by two uniformed men for a traffic check near the village of Tourn. The uniformed men were actually officers of the security service and, on asking Waldemar Chrostowski, the driver, to hand over the keys to the car, handcuffed him and forced him into the back seat of their vehicle at gunpoint. Bl Jerzy was then grabbed and brutally beaten senseless with fists and clubs and thrown into the trunk of the car, which then sped off.

A few miles later Waldemar Chrostowski managed to escape the car and ran to the local Church to alert the authorities. Meanwhile, the two officers stopped the car to fasten down the trunk and gag Bl Jerzy, who was shouting and had almost managed to pry open the trunk. Bl Jerzy momentarily escaped them and ran into the woods, but was soon recaptured and beaten so savagely that his face and hands were unrecognizable. He was then driven to a reservoir on the Vistula River. Bl Jerzy’s hands and feet were tied with a noose fastened around his neck so that if he straightened his legs it would suffocate him. His mouth was stuffed with cloth, blocking the airway, and his nose was closed with sticking plaster. Finally, having tied a bag of rocks to his feet, they threw him into the reservoir.

The body of Bl Jerzy was not discovered until ten days had passed, and his funeral was held on November 2. An autopsy revealed that he may have still been alive when thrown into the reservoir.

The cause for his beatification began in 1997 and in 2008 Blessed Jerzy Popieluszko was elevated to the status of Servant of God. On December 19, 2009, Pope Benedict signed the decree recognizing the martyrdom of Bl Jerzy Popieluzko. On August 6th, 2010, in the presence of his mother, who was over 100 years old, Bl Jerzy was solemnly beatified. The last public words spoke by Blessed Jerzy Popieluzko during the meditation on the rosary October 19, 1984, give a summary of his life and may serve as a guiding star in ours:

“In order to defeat evil with good, in order to preserve the dignity of man, one must not use violence. It is the person who has failed to win on the strength of his heart and his reason, who tries to win by force…Let us pray that we be free from fear and intimidation, but above all from the lusts for revenge and violence.”

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From: https://www.roman-catholic-saints.com

Ss. Jean Brébeuf, Isaac Jogues, and Companions

There are eight men whom we know as the Martyrs of North America (known also as the Canadian Martyrs), and they worked in the area of upstate New York and neighbouring Canada. St. Jean Brébeuf, St. Isaac Jogues and their companions were the first martyrs of the North American continent officially recognized by the Church. Isaac Jogues was a man of learning and culture, and he taught literature in France. He gave up that career to work amongst the Huron Indians in the New World, and in 1636 he and his companions, under the leadership of St. John de Brébeuf, arrived in Quebec.

The Hurons were constantly being attacked by the Iroquois, and in a few years Father Jogues was captured by the Iroquois and imprisoned for 13 months. His letters and journals tell how he and his companions were led from village to village, how they were beaten, tortured and forced to watch as their Huron converts were mangled and killed.

An unexpected chance for escape came to Isaac Jogues through the Dutch, and he returned to France, bearing the marks of his sufferings. Several fingers had been cut, chewed or burnt off. Pope Urban VIII gave him permission to offer Mass with his mutilated hands, saying "It would be shameful that a martyr of Christ be not allowed to drink the Blood of Christ." Welcomed home as a hero, Father Jogues could have retired, thanked God for his safe return, and died peacefully in his homeland. But his zeal led him back once more to the fulfillment of his vocation to this missionary work. In a few months he sailed for his missions among the Hurons.

In 1646 he and Jean de Lalande, who had offered his services to the missioners, set out for Iroquois country, thinking that a recently signed peace treaty would be observed. They were captured by a Mohawk war party, and on October 18 Father Jogues was tomahawked and beheaded. Jean de Lalande was killed the next day at a village near Albany, New York.

The first of the Jesuit missionaries to be martyred was René Goupil who, with Lalande, had offered his services as an oblate. He was tortured along with Isaac Jogues in 1642, and was tomahawked for having made the Sign of the Cross on the brow of some children.

Jean de Brébeuf was a French Jesuit who came to Canada at the age of 32 and laboured there for 24 years. He went back to France when the English captured Quebec (1629) and expelled the Jesuits, but returned to his missions four years later. Although medicine men blamed the Jesuits for a smallpox epidemic among the Hurons, Jean remained with them. He composed catechisms and a dictionary in Huron, and saw 7,000 converted before his death. He was captured by the Iroquois and died after four hours of extreme torture.

Father Anthony Daniel, Brother Gabriel Lalemant, Father Charles Garnier, and Father Noel Chabanel, were tortured and killed at different times, but all for the same reason – their love for God, their love for the Indians as God’s children, and their desire to bring them the love of God through life in the Church.

O God, who amongst the peoples of North America didst hallow the first-fruits of the Faith both in the preaching and in the blood of many holy Martyrs: graciously grant by the intercession of Saints Jean de Brébeuf, Isaac Jogues and Companions; that everywhere from day to day the harvest of souls may abound to the increase of thy faithful people; 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. Luke, Evangelist

St. Luke is the writer of the Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles, and was referred to by St. Paul as "our beloved physician.” We know a few other facts about Luke's life from Scripture and from early Church historians.

Luke was most likely born a Greek Gentile. In his writings we can see an emphasis on Gentiles, and on the fact that Jesus came for Jew and Gentile alike. It is only in his Gospel that we hear the parable of the Good Samaritan, that we hear Jesus praising the faith of Gentiles such as the widow of Zarephath and Naaman the Syrian, and that we hear the story of the one grateful leper who is a Samaritan.

It is likely that Luke had been born as a slave, and later was able to secure his freedom. It was very common for families to educate slaves in medicine so that they would have a resident family physician.

In the Acts of the Apostles we see that St. Luke was very often a companion to St. Paul in the missionary journeys, and in Acts he uses language from time to time which says “We did so and so,” indicating that he was there. Luke was a loyal friend who stayed with St. Paul when he was imprisoned in Rome. After everyone else had deserted Paul in his final imprisonment and sufferings, it was Luke who remained with Paul to the end: "Only Luke is with me" (2 Timothy 4:11).

St. Luke's inspiration and information for his Gospel and Acts came from his close association with St. Paul. St. Luke also had a special connection with the Blessed Virgin Mary, and there are many things in his Gospel that could have come only through conversations with her. For instance, it is only in Luke's Gospel that we hear the story of the Annunciation, of Mary's visit to Elizabeth including the Magnificat, of the Presentation in the Temple, and the story of Jesus' disappearance in Jerusalem. It is in Luke’s Gospel that we hear the Scriptural parts of the Hail Mary: "Hail, full of grace," which was spoken at the Annunciation, and "Blessed are art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb," which was spoken by her cousin Elizabeth – all recorded by St. Luke.

Forgiveness and God's mercy to sinners – Jew and Gentile alike – is the theme that runs through Luke’s Gospel. It is only from St. Luke that we hear the story of the Prodigal Son welcomed back by the overjoyed father. Only in Luke do we hear the story of the forgiven woman disrupting the feast by washing Jesus' feet with her tears. Throughout Luke's Gospel, we see Jesus welcoming those who seek God's mercy.

He is often shown with an ox or a calf because these are the symbols of sacrifice -- the sacrifice Jesus made for all the world. St. Luke is the patron of physicians and surgeons.

Almighty God, who didst call Saint Luke, whose praise is in the Gospel, to be an Evangelist and physician of the soul: may it please thee; that, by the wholesome medicines of the doctrine delivered by him, all the diseases of our souls may be healed; through the merits of 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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Pictured: "St. Luke" by Master Theodoric (14th cent)

painted on the upper section of wall in the

Chapel of the Holy Cross in Karlštejn Castle near Prague.

St. Ignatius of Antioch

St. Ignatius was the Bishop of Antioch, and had been a disciple of the Apostle St. John. In fact, there is a tradition which says that he was the young child whom Christ put in the midst of his disciples and said, “Unless you become as this little child, you cannot inherit the Kingdom of God.” 

Ignatius was consecrated by the Apostle Peter, and became the Bishop of Antioch in about the year 69. He was a holy man who was deeply loved by the Christian faithful, and he always made it his special care to defend “orthodoxy” (right teaching) and “orthopraxy” (right practice) among the early Christians.e was a holy man who was deeply loved by the Christian faithful, and he always made it his special care to defend “orthodoxy” (right teaching) and “orthopraxy” (right practice) among the early Christians.

In 107, during the reign of the brutal Emperor Trajan, St. Ignatius was sentenced to death because he refused to renounce the Christian faith. He was taken under guard to Rome where he was to be publicly executed by being devoured by wild beasts. During his journey from Antioch to Rome, he was taken through Asia Minor and Greece. As he traveled he wrote seven letters to encourage, instruct, and inspire the Christians in the communities along the way, and the texts of these letters survive to this day. They outline the orthodox Christian faith, and in them we find the term “catholic” being used to describe the whole Church. These letters connect us to the early Church and to the unbroken, clear teaching of the Apostles which was given to them directly by Jesus Christ.

St. Ignatius was not afraid of death, because he knew it had been defeated by Christ. He wrote to the disciples in Rome: "Permit me to imitate my suffering God ... I am God's wheat and I shall be ground by the teeth of beasts, that I may become the pure bread of Christ.”

Feed us, O Lord, with the living Bread and make us drink deep of the cup of salvation: that, following the teaching of thy Bishop Ignatius, and rejoicing in the faith with which he embraced the death of a Martyr, we may be nourished for that eternal life which he ever desired; 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 Election of Pope John Paul II (October 16, 1978)

What a blessed day that was!

St. Margaret Mary Alacoque

St. Margaret Mary was born on July 22, 1647 in Burgundy, France, and was the fifth child of seven in her family. When she was eight years old, her father died suddenly, and her mother had to be away from home quite often, so Margaret Mary went away to attend school and came under the care of nuns. 

At the age of nine, she received her first Holy Communion. Soon after that she wrote, "This Communion made all the small pleasures and amusements so repellent to me, that I could no longer take pleasure in any . . . just when I wanted to begin some game with my companions, I would always feel something drawing me, calling me to some quiet corner, giving me no peace till I had followed and then setting me to pray.” It was at that time that she became seriously ill, and she was bedridden with paralysis. For four years she suffered, but she prayed to the Blessed Virgin Mary for healing. The time stretched on, and she continued to pray, finding more and more comfort in receiving and adoring the Blessed Sacrament, as Christ made His presence known to her. At the age of fifteen, she was cured and was no longer bedridden.

Back at home with her family, Margaret Mary continued to grow in her spiritual life, and she experienced private visions of Christ, with an increasing sense of His overwhelming love. During this time her mother had been urging her to marry, but there was a developing vocation to religious life stirring within her.

In 1671, at the age of twenty-three, Margaret Mary entered the Convent of the Visitation Nuns, and it was there just two years later, when she was kneeling before the Blessed Sacrament, that she experienced a vision in which the Lord told her that He had a particular work for her to do. She later described what she saw in the vision, how our Lord’s Heart appeared to be on fire and surrounded by a crown of thorns. Our Lord told her that the flames represented His love for humanity, and the thorns represented man’s sinfulness and ingratitude. Jesus revealed to her that her mission was to establish the devotion to His Most Sacred Heart.

Over the next year and a half, she had three more visions. In those visions, Jesus explained to her the spiritual exercises that have become part of devotion to Christ’s Sacred Heart. St. Margaret Mary informed her Mother Superior about the visions, who did not know what to think about them. St. Margaret Mary was examined by priests and other experts, who tried to convince her that these experiences were illusions.

All of this led to another time of serious sickness, but her Superior promised that if Margaret Mary were healed, she herself would believe the visions were real. So Margaret Mary prayed and was healed, and her Mother Superior believed her. However, many others did not. Nonetheless, she received some encouragement from a priest who served as her spiritual director, and St. Margaret Mary was given the confidence she needed to encourage others to see in the Sacred Heart of Jesus the great symbol of His love for mankind. The devotion began to spread, first among the nuns in her community, and gradually it was accepted throughout the world.

On October 17, 1690, St. Margaret Mary was approaching death. As she received the last rites of the Church, her final words were, “I need nothing but God, and to lose myself in the heart of Jesus.”

O Lord Jesus Christ, who unto thy holy Virgin Margaret Mary Alacoque didst reveal the unsearchable riches of thy Sacred Heart: grant us, by her merits and example, to love thee in all things and above all things, and so find in thy loving Heart an everlasting habitation; who livest and reignest with the Father in the unity of the Holy Spirit, ever one God, world without end. Amen.

St. Teresa of Jesus, Virgin and Doctor

St. Teresa was born in 1515, and she lived at a momentous time in history. Columbus had sailed to the new world only about twenty years before, and it was a time when things were happening in the Church, including the movement of protestants out of the Church under the influence of Martin Luther. It was in the midst of all this change and turmoil that Teresa developed her great spirituality and her search for God’s peace.

Teresa's father was honest and pious, but very strict. Teresa's mother loved romance novels, and because her husband objected to what he considered to be vulgar, she hid the books from him. This put Teresa in the middle, especially since she liked the romances too. Her father told her never to lie but her mother told her not to tell her father. Later in her life Teresa admitted she was always afraid that no matter what she did she was going to do everything wrong.

When she was five years old she convinced her older brother that they should, as she later wrote, "go off to the land of the Moors and beg them, out of love of God, to cut off our heads there." They got as far as the road from the city before an uncle found them and brought them back. After this incident she led a fairly ordinary life, though she was convinced that she was a horrible sinner. As a teenager, she cared only about boys and clothes and flirting and rebelling, much like other teenagers throughout the ages. When she was 16, her father decided she was out of control and he sent her to a convent. At first she hated it but eventually she began to enjoy it - partly because of her growing love for God, and partly because the convent was a lot less strict than her father.

Still, when the time came for her to choose between marriage and religious life, she had a difficult time making the decision. She had witnessed how an unhappy marriage ruined her mother, and yet, on the other hand, being a nun didn't seem attractive to her. When she finally chose religious life, she did so because she though that it was the only safe place for someone as prone to sin as she was.

Once installed at the Carmelite convent permanently, she started to learn and practice mental prayer. Teresa prayed this way off and on for eighteen years without feeling that she was getting results. Part of the reason for her trouble was that the convent wasn’t really as it should have been. Many women who had no place else to go ended up at the convent, whether they had vocations or not. They were encouraged to stay away from the convents for long period of time to cut down on expenses. Nuns would arrange their veils attractively and wear jewelry. Prestige depended not on piety but on money. There was a steady stream of visitors in the parlor and parties that included young men. Everyone liked Teresa and she liked to be liked. She found it too easy to slip into a worldly life and ignore God. For years she hardly prayed at all because she mistakenly thought it showed humility. She thought as a wicked sinner she didn't deserve to get favours from God.

When she was forty-one, a priest convinced her to go back to her prayer, but she still found it difficult. As she started to pray again, God gave her an increasingly deep spirituality.

At the age of forty-three, she became determined to found a new convent that went back to the basics of a contemplative order: a simple life of poverty devoted to prayer. There was great resistance to this – everybody liked things the way they’d been. But she was determined, and going against all the resistance, she persevered and succeeded.

She died on October 4 at the age of sixty-seven, having brought about the Order of Discalced Carmelites. In 1970 she was declared a Doctor of the Church for her writing and teaching on prayer.

Merciful God, who by thy Spirit didst raise up thy servant Saint Teresa of Jesus to reveal to thy Church the way of perfection: grant that her teaching may awaken in us a longing for holiness until, assisted by her intercession, we attain to the perfect union of love in 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.

_______________________________

Image: "St. Teresa of Avila"

Detail of Sculpture 

by George S. Stuart (born 1929)

In 1492...

The second Monday in October is observed as Columbus Day – the anniversary of the day in 1492 when Christopher Columbus and his men first sighted land in their amazing voyage across the ocean from Europe. Some people try to paint a very black picture of Columbus, and you might hear or read things that make him and his motives look very bad – all for the cause of political correctness. But the truth is, Columbus had two reasons and two reasons only for this adventure: one practical, and one spiritual.

Spain had just ejected the Muslims who had overrun huge parts of Europe, and these invaders had ravaged places like Spain, and had made it very poor. So one of the reasons for the voyage was to find another trade route to the Far East, where they hoped to find sources of revenue to rebuild what the Muslims had destroyed; but the other reason – the purpose closest to the heart of Columbus – was to bring the Catholic Faith to the native people in this new world, people who were living in the darkness of paganism.

So on August 2nd 1492 the three ships – the Niña, the Pinta , and the Santa Maria, carrying 120 men, set sail from the shores of Spain. Christopher Columbus was an experienced sailor, having served on ships from the time he was a boy. He was raised in the Catholic Faith, and always took the practice of his faith very seriously. When he received the inspiration for this voyage, he tried to convince the King of Portugal to sponsor him, but with no success. So he set off for Spain, spending years trying to convince King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella to support him, which he finally did, with the help of a holy Franciscan priest, Fr. Juan Perez. In fact, it was this priest who would eventually celebrate the first Mass in America on the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, and that is a reason our nation is dedicated to the Immaculate Conception, which is commemorated by the title of our national basilica in Washington, D.C.

Christopher Columbus also convinced the Pope, Alexander VI, to help with the cost of the voyage, because this was to be a great missionary journey. Columbus wrote to the Pope: “I trust that by God’s help, I may spread the Holy Name and Gospel of Jesus Christ as widely as possible.” It was a very difficult voyage. The men began to loose hope. Two months passed, and there was still no land to be seen. The crew grew restless and insisted that their captain turn back. But Columbus was certain that God was guiding them, and he told them that if no land was seen by the time of the Feast of Our Lady of the Pillar, October 12th, he would do as they wanted. The men agreed, and land was sighted, on the very day of the great Feast of Our Lady.

The first act by Columbus upon setting foot on this new land was to set up the Cross and claim it in the Name of Jesus Christ. He named the first island he arrived at “San Salvador” (Holy Saviour). In all, Christopher Columbus led four excursions from the shores of Spain to America. He maintained his deep faith, even when things were difficult – and whatever his detractors might say, he accomplished what he set out to do – he brought the Catholic Faith to these new and distant lands, so that those living in darkness would know the Light of Christ. Indeed, his adventures helped to pave the way for missionaries to continue the great work of taking the Catholic Faith to every part of the world.

Pope St. Callistus I, Martyr

Imagine if what anyone knew about you was information that came from someone who really didn’t like you at all. And imagine if there was the added difficulty that the person who didn’t like you was also a saint! That’s the situation with St. Callistus who lived at the end of the 2nd century and into the 3rd century. Most of the information about him comes from his enemy St. Hippolytus, who at first was kind of a troublemaker in the early Church, but who later, just like St. Callistus, became a martyr for the Faith.

Callistus was a slave in the imperial Roman household. He was an educated slave, and because of his financial talent, he was put in charge of a bank by his master. Unfortunately, because he made some loans to people who didn’t pay them back, he lost almost all the money that had been deposited. Callistus panicked, and he ran away. Of course, he was eventually caught and was put in jail. After being imprisoned for a while, his master released him and told him to do everything he could to recover the money. Apparently Callistus got a little too carried away, and eventually he was arrested again because he had started a fight in a local synagogue when he went after someone there who hadn’t paid back a loan. This time he was condemned to work in the mines of Sardinia, which usually was a death sentence because of the horrible conditions there. But through the intervention of an influential person who had pity on him, he even managed to be released from the terrible life in the Sardinian mines. So far, it doesn’t sound much like the life of a saint, does it?

After he won his freedom, he was put in charge of the place where Christians buried their departed loved ones – this cemetery was called a catacomb, and in fact this cemetery was the first land actually owned by the Church, and it still exists as the Catacomb of St. Callistus. He was so faithful in this work that the pope ordained him as a deacon, and Callistus became his trusted friend and adviser.

Callistus had such a changed life and had become so faithful that he was himself elected pope, and it was then that the rivalry between Callistus and Hippolytus became very bitter – in fact, Hippolytus himself wanted to be the pope because he didn’t agree with many of the decisions made by Callistus. This rivalry was healed eventually, however, and Hippolytus was eventually martyred, and these two former enemies are now saints together in heaven. St. Callistus was martyred in Rome during one of the persecutions of the Church in the 3rd century.

O God, who didst raise up Pope Saint Callistus to serve the Church and attend devoutly to Christ’s faithful departed: strengthen us, we pray, by his witness to the faith; so that, rescued from the slavery of corruption, we may merit an incorruptible inheritance; 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.

Treasure In Heaven

As Jesus was setting out on his journey, a man ran up and knelt before him, and asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” And Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: ‘Do not kill, Do not commit adultery, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness, Do not defraud, Honor your father and mother.’” And he said to him, “Teacher, all these I have observed from my youth.” And Jesus looking upon him loved him, and said to him, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you have, and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.” At that saying his countenance fell, and he went away sorrowful; for he had great possessions.

- St. Mark 10:17-22

A young man who seemed to have everything the world has to offer came to Jesus because he felt a prompting in his heart. There was something he lacked. He wanted the kind of peace and happiness which money could not buy him, and he came to Jesus in the hope that what he wanted could be found. But the answer given to him was not what he wanted. The solution was too demanding for him.

Jesus spoke of the trouble that was deep in the heart of this young man, the one thing that kept him from giving himself whole-heartedly to God. He was too possessive of things. So when Jesus challenged him to make God his one true treasure, all the young man could do was to go away sad. The young man looked for happiness and security in what he possessed rather than in the One Whom he could love and serve and to Whom he could give himself; namely, God.

Jesus tells His disciples to "sell all" for the treasure of His kingdom. And what defines what treasure is? The thing we most set our heart on is our highest treasure, and Jesus wants us to understand that God Himself is the greatest treasure we can have. Giving up everything else to have the Lord as our treasure is not a cause for sorrow, but rather, it brings the greatest joy. Jesus tells us to let go of anything that might stand in the way of loving God first and foremost in our lives – anything that stops us from giving Him the very best we can with our time and with our lives.

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Painting: "Christ and the Rich Young Ruler"

by Heinrich Hofmann (1824-1911)

A Treat for St. Wilfrid's Day

October 12th is St. Wilfrid's Day. You can read my post about him elsewhere - he's one of our wonderful English saints with connections to many of the places important to our tradition.

You might like to celebrate his day by making some Wilfra tarts, a traditional pastry baked in Yorkshire in honour of St. Wilfrid. After they were baked, they’d be placed on a convenient windowsill, available for anyone who was walking by. A nice thought…but I doubt there’d be enough left to share once you taste them!

Prepare some shortcrust pastry and roll it very thin.

Line each cup of a muffin tray with pastry and lightly bake the empty pastry shells until the pastry slightly hardens.

Peel, core and gently cook 2 or 3 apples with a little sugar until tender.

Fill the pastry shells with the cooked apple, then top with a thin slice of Wensleydale cheese (actually, I like Cheddar…although a Yorkshireman would probably be shocked by that).

Using some more of the pastry, place lids on the tarts then brush a little milk on top of each one and carefully seal the lids to the rest of the tarts.

Bake for about 20 minutes at 375F until the tarts just begin to turn golden brown.

When I was growing up on the farm in Connecticut, we never had apple pie without some cheese to go with it – a throw-back to Wilfra tarts, I’m sure!