St. Benedict, brother of St. Scolastica, was born into a wealthy family in Nursia, Italy, in 480. He went to Rome to be educated at a time when invading barbarian tribes were creating panic in the city. Leaving Rome he withdrew to the village of Enfide in search of another way of learning,
About the year 500, Benedict went to the remote area of Subiaco, south of Rome, where he came under the influence of a monk named Romanus. Benedict became a monk himself and spent the next three years in a cave, living a life of prayer and solitude.
Others wished to join him and by 525 Benedict had established a number of monastic communities. In 529, Benedict, along with some followers went to Monte Cassino about 80 miles south of Rome and founded the great monastery that became a center of western monasticism.
A wise spiritual leader and worker of miracles, Benedict is considered a key figure in the rise of European civilization because of his rule and the monastic foundations he inspired. As “schools of the Lord’s service,” his monastic communities became centers of learning and spirituality throughout Europe, and later in the Americas.
Pope Gregory the Great (540-612), in the turbulent years of the barbarian invasions of the Roman Empire, recognized the monastic ideal himself and saw monasticism as a way to spread the gospel and influence society. He saw Benedict as a new evangelist and monastic settlements new bridgeheads for evangelizing the world. In our own time Pope Paul VI named Benedict the patron of Europe.
Benedict died at Monte Cassino March 21, 547.
“Whatever work you begin to do, ask God in earnest prayer to make it perfect…We are going to establish a school for the Lord’s service. Nothing harsh or burdensome will enter there, we hope… as we go forward in faith our hearts will expand, and we will run in the way of God’s commands with unspeakable joy.” (Rule of St. Benedict)
Monasticism, solitary or in community, is still a powerful force in the church. It began in Egypt and Syria among Christians discontented with a society that rejected their values. It continued through the centuries in various forms. We should study it today for the possibilities it offers for communities for today.
Our lectionary honors saints like Anthony of Egypt, Basil the Great, Martin of Tours, Boniface and Bernard who were engaged in the monastic life through the centuries. As we celebrate their feasts through the year they not only impart lessons from the past but also prospects for the church now.
The gospel is supposed to be life at its best, but it also brings us to life at its worst. What’s worse than being a lamb among wolves? Than living with people who don’t support you and in fact hate you? Than having people beat you with whips? Than having your own brothers and sisters turn against you? Than having people throw you out of town?
Can it get worse than that? You’ll experience all these things, Jesus says in today’s gospel to the Twelve and those who go out with them.
Today’s gospel from Matthew is part of the commissioning of disciples whom Jesus sends as heralds of the kingdom of heaven. They have power to “cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers and drive out demons.” Great powers. But that’s not all. They must exercise these powers in the real world.
We can’t forget we live in the real world that Jesus describes in today’s gospel. His way of living in this world is unique. He doesn’t send out armed divisions or powerful super salespeople, but vulnerable lambs. Yet, his lambs are stronger than wolves. Don’t be awed by governors and kings or crushed by adversity or rejection, Jesus says. Just listen to the “Spirit of your Father speaking in you,” and you’ll have wisdom enough.
Even if you’re thrown out of one town, another town waits for the coming of the Son of Man. The real world is not as strong as it seems.
Jesus said to his Apostles: “Behold, I am sending you like sheep in the midst of wolves; so be shrewd as serpents and simple as doves. But beware of men, for they will hand you over to courts and scourge you in their synagogues, and you will be led before governors and kings for my sake as a witness before them and the pagans. When they hand you over, do not worry about how you are to speak or what you are to say. You will be given at that moment what you are to say. For it will not be you who speak but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you. Brother will hand over brother to death, and the father his child; children will rise up against parents and have them put to death. You will be hated by all because of my name, but whoever endures to the end will be saved. When they persecute you in one town, flee to another. Amen, I say to you, you will not finish the towns of Israel before the Son of Man comes.”
A writer in the NYT wrote a column awhile ago describing her efforts towards daily mindfulness. She ends the day asking if she said the right thing or did anything to advance her life; how did she manage this situation, how could she have done it better? It’s not an examination of conscience she engages in but a search for a more successful self. It’s all up to you.
Jesus describes life so differently in today’s gospel. You’re like sheep sent out among wolves, he says, and you’re not safe even in your own home. You’re ok, though. You’re not on a journey alone. “ Don’t worry about how you are to speak or what you are to say. You will be given at that moment what you are to say. For it will not be you who speak but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you.”
How different that is from trying to do it all yourself.
That’s not telling us to forget what we say or do or think. We shouldn’t live unexamined lives. Mindfulness is all right, as far as it goes. We’re also told to be as shrewd as serpents and as simple as doves. Yet, at the same time we’re sheep among wolves, we’re branches on the vine. We’re promised a wisdom and a voice stronger than our own.
We don’t have to do it all by ourselves. At the end of the day we’re not alone.
A global church celebrates saints from everywhere, and that’s why saints from Africa and Asia have been added to our church calendar after the Second Vatican Council. In them we see fulfilled the command of Jesus to his disciples to go “to all nations.” We are a Catholic Church.
On July 9th, we remember Saint Augustine Zhao Rong, Priest, and Companions, Martyrs from the church in China, who were canonized in October 2000. On November 24th we remember Saint Andrew Dung– Lac and 117 other Vietnamese martyrs killed in the 18th century in a cruel persecution of Christians They were canonized by Pope John Paul II in June 1988. On September 20th, we remember the martyrs of Korea. Saints Andrew Kim Tae-gŏn, Priest, and Paul Chŏng Ha-sang, and Companions, Martyrs. All together, 103 martyrs were canonized by Pope John Paul II on 6 May 1984 in Seoul, Korea.
These churches have remarkable histories. Take a look at the history of the church in China.
The recent feasts of Asian churches celebrate, not only individual missionaries from elsewhere who brought the faith to these lands, but natives who accepted the gospel and died for their belief in it. The feasts recall centuries of missionary work that sowed the seeds of faith in these countries and the strong faith that blesses these churches now.
As numbers decline in places like Europe and North America we should recognize the growth of our church elsewhere. “The harvest is great, “ Jesus told his first disciples. He tells us that today.
In our cemetery here in Jamaica, New York, we have a monument to a young Chinese priest, Fr. John Nien, who died in the Communist persecution of the church in the 1950s and graves of Passionist missionaries who served in Hunan China during that time. I put Fr. Nien’s monument at the beginning of this entry because he belongs among the martyrs of China. I put the graves and monuments to the Passionist missionaries below because they worked for a harvest that is now here and still to come.
God’s plan is mysterious, but the church will be blessed by the church in China.
Thus says the LORD: When Israel was a child I loved him, out of Egypt I called my son. The more I called them, the farther they went from me,Sacrificing to the Baalsand burning incense to idols.
Yet it was I who taught Ephraim to walk, who took them in my arms; I drew them with human cords, with bands of love; I fostered them like onewho raises an infant to his cheeks; Yet, though I stooped to feed my child, they did not know that I was their healer.
My heart is overwhelmed, my pity is stirred. I will not give vent to my blazing anger, I will not destroy Ephraim again; For I am God and not man, the Holy One present among you; I will not let the flames consume you.Hosea 11:1-4,8-9
Today’s reading from Hosea reminds us why we read the Old Testament prophets. In an extraordinary way they capture the image of God in simple human terms, whether it’s the love of man and woman or parents for a child.
“When Israel was a child I loved him.” And God’s love is no abstract love. “I taught him to walk, I took him into my arms. I raised him to my cheeks, I stooped to feed him.”
The prophet describes God’s love through the simple “human cords and bands of love” a parent has in raising a child. How easily we forget those “bands of love” by which we were brought up. We forget them, and we also forget the myriad ways God has been with us.
We may forget, but God does not forget. God’s love is like a mother and father who cannot forget, the prophet says:
“ My heart is overwhelmed, my pity is stirred. I will not give vent to my blazing anger,I will not destroy Ephraim again; For I am God and not man, the Holy One present among you; I will not let the flames consume you.”
July 9th the Passionists honor Mary, the Mother of Jesus, under the title of Mother of Holy Hope. The devotion was promoted by the great missionary, Father Thomas Struzzieri, who later became a bishop. He carried a picture of our Mother of Holy Hope with him on missions, and we honor the same picture as a reminder that Mary helps us in our needs.
Mary supports our hope. Here’s what Blessed Dominic Barberi, CP wrote:
“One title that belongs rightly to Mary is that of Mother of Holy Hope. Hope is that virtue that anchors the ship of our soul in the stormy sea of this troubled world. It is a comfort left to us after the fall of Adam, a support in our weakness encouraging us to practice all the virtues.
Theologians say hope is a virtue planted in us by God enabling us to confidently expect eternal life and all that leads to it. Since Mary was hopeful to an heroic degree, she is appropriately called Mother of Holy Hope.
Though endowed with extraordinary graces and unstained by original sin, Mary never counted on any resource of her own. Rather, she knew God is the author of every good thing and the source of everything. She confided in God fleeing from persecution from her own country. She hoped in God even when she saw her divine Son die on cross and his disciples left him.
She stayed firm in what seemed like disaster, and strengthened those discouraged who turned to her as to a mother. She encouraged the weak, lifted up the fallen and urged the strong to ever greater trust.
We must not think Mary is not our mother now. No! Even now, enthroned in glory, she reaches with a mother’s hand to those who go to her. She is always a mother of holy hope.”
Lord God, you have given us the Blessed Virgin Mary as mother of our hope.
Under her protection, may we pass through this uncertain world with our hopes fixed on heaven and so enter into your kingdom.
We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.
In our readings this 14th week of the year from Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus calls for laborers for a harvest: “The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few; so ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest.” He gathers twelve disciples following that call.
When we think of laborers in the vineyard today, we might think of priests and religious. More priests and religious are certainly needed for the harvest in our church.
But they’re not the only laborers needed for God’s great harvest. What about laborers for places where priests or religious will never be? And what about the harvest itself, where does that happen?
I’m sure at one time or another you have overheard people at a restaurant or on a bus or at some gathering discussing religion. “What do you think of the pope?” “Do you think there’s life after death?” “Do you think Jesus is really God?” Often the questions go unanswered or wrongly answered because there’s no laborer there to speak the truth.
The harvest is waiting in a lot of places..
Jesus spoke about the laborers for the harvest as he moved from town to town in Galilee and saw “troubled and abandoned” crowds, Matthew’s gospel says. We need to ask for laborers among crowds like those of today. Maybe we need to recognize there’s a harvest not far from where we are, “troubled and abandoned,” at a table nearby.
“At the sight of the crowds, Jesus’ heart was moved with pity for them because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd.Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few; so ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest.” (Matthew 9, 34-38)
In every age, Jesus calls his disciples to speak to the troubled and abandoned crowds. In this 14th week of the year we have Matthew’s account of that first time Jesus called disciples to preach and enter his ministry. How should laborers in the harvest approach the troubled crowds today ?
In his 1977 novel “Lancelot” Walker Percy tells the story of Lancelot, a man confined to a prison hospital after setting fire to his beautiful ancestral home in Louisiana and murdering his wife and her lover. The man’s fed up with today’s world and turned against it, but he’s still trying to figure out what life’s all about. He’s on to something, one of Percy’s phrases.
An old priest visits him frequently in the prison hospital– his only visitor, it seems– and listens to him, but hardly says a word. That’s partially because Lancelot doesn’t think much anymore of the faith the priest represents.
Yet, the priest listens. Lancelot occasionally asks him if he understands. “Perhaps I talk to you because of your silence. Your silence is the only conversation I can listen to,” Lancelot remarks. Only as the book ends does he say to the priest: “Very well, I’ve finished. Is there anything you wish to tell me?”
In Pope Francis’ exhortation, “Gaudete et exultate”, there’s a wonderful exploration of holiness today. At one point, the pope says “Nor can we claim to say where God is not, because God is mysteriously present in the life of every person, in a way that he himself chooses, and we cannot exclude this by our presumed certainties. Even when someone’s life appears completely wrecked, even when we see it devastated by vices or addictions, God is present there. If we let ourselves be guided by the Spirit rather than our own preconceptions, we can and must try to find the Lord in every human life.” (42)
We’re sent as laborers for today’s harvest, but words may not be the only tools we have to use. Is silence, along with a persevering concern, ways to engage the troubled crowd today? The way of silence doesn’t mean we don’t have to search for the words to say today. We need to find out how the mysteries of the gospel speak in “new wineskins.”
Commentators say the Book of Hosea, the 8th century Jewish prophet we’re reading at Mass in the 14th week of the year, is one of the most difficult books of the bible to understand. Its language and its references are often obscure. But one part of Hosea’s story you can recognize in any television soap opera or romantic novel today: marital infidelity, a broken marriage.
Hosea had trouble with his wife, whose name is Gomer. He was very much in love with her; they’re married and had some children. But Gomer’s not satisfied with Hosea and her family and she leaves them. She wants something else– romance, freedom, new things to see and to do, a new life? Who knows what?
So Hosea is heartbroken and crushed when she leaves him. He doesn’t understand why it’s happened, he’s bewildered and angry and feeling rejected.
Yet he still loves her and tries to win her back. He wants to renew the love they had for each other. Eventually, Gomer comes back, but we’re not really sure if she will stay. What we do know is that Hosea wants to have her back and have their love renewed.
Hosea’s story is an example of God’s relationship to humanity. God loves the world and its people. Yet, we can be unfaithful. But God’s relationship is like the marital relationship, or as we also see in the Book of Hosea, the relationship of a father or mother to their children. God always wants us back.
You can hear the yearning of Hosea for his wife and the love of God for his people in Monday’s reading:
Thus says the LORD:
I will allure her;
I will lead her into the desert
and speak to her heart.
She shall respond there as in the days of her youth,
when she came up from the land of Egypt.
On that day, says the LORD,
She shall call me “My husband,”
and never again “My baal.”
I will espouse you to me forever:
I will espouse you in right and in justice,
in love and in mercy;
I will espouse you in fidelity,
and you shall know the LORD.
(Hosea 2:6, 17-18,21-22)
Hosea is a wonderful prophet paired with Jesus’ call for preachers for the harvest, which is also read from Matthew’s Gospel this week. God always wants us back.