Category Archives: Motivational

St. Maximilian Kolbe

A number of martyrs are remembered in our liturgy in mid-August. August 9, we remembered Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, Edith Stein, who died in the concentration camp at Auschwitz August 9, 1942.

August 10th, we remembered Lawrence the Deacon, one of the most important martyrs of the early church. August 13 Pontian and Hippolytus.

August 14 we remember Maximillian Kolbe, a Polish Franciscan priest, who died in Auschwitz about a year before Edith Stein, August 14, 1941.

Peter Brown, an historian of early Christianity, says it wasn’t the bravery of Christian martyrs that impressed the Romans. The Romans, a macho people, had war in their blood. They prided themselves on dying bravely.

Rather, the Romans marveled at how Christian martyrs approached death. They saw something beyond death. They considered themselves citizens of another world, who followed Jesus Christ in how they lived and believed in his promise of everlasting life.

Lawrence the deacon, for example, could have escaped Roman persecution, but he wouldn’t abandon the poor of Rome in his care. Jesus said take care of the poor.

Centuries later, Maximillian Kolbe was a priest who wouldn’t abandon the vocation God gave him.

Before World War II, Kolbe was active as a Franciscan priest, promoting devotion to Mary, the Mother of Jesus. He ran a large, successful Franciscan printing enterprise in Warsaw.

In 1939, after invading Poland, the Nazi arrested him and a number of other Franciscans and imprisoned them for some months. They ransacked their printing place, probably hoping to intimidate them. Then, they left them go.

Instead of being intimidated, Kolbe began to house refugees from the Nazis, some of them Jews. That got him into trouble, so he was arrested again, on February 14th, 1941, and sent to Auschwitz to do hard labor.

Concentration camps like Auschwitz where Maximillian Kolbe and Sr.Teresa Benedicta died are the nearest thing to Calvary in modern times. More than 1500 of them were spread mostly through German occupied territories in Europe. Twenty million people died in the camps in the Second World War, 6 million were Jews. 1.3 million people went to Auschwitz; 1,1 million died there.

Five months after Kolbe entered Auschwitz, in July 1941, a prisoner from his barracks escaped. In reprisal, the Nazis took 10 men from the barracks to put them to death by starvation. One of them cried out that he had a wife and children who would never see him again. Father Kolbe stepped forward and offered to take the man’s place.

He was the last of the ten men to die of starvation and an injection of carbolic acid two weeks later, on August 14, 1941.

Many stories of Kolbe’s ministry among the prisoners in Auschwitz were told after his death when Auschwitz was liberated. He was canonized by Pope John Paul II on October 19, 1983, who called him “Patron Saint of Our Difficult Age.”

He was a sign of God’s love in a place where God seemed absent.

Maximillian Kolbe’s death on the vigil of Mary’s Assumption into Heaven has been seen as a further sign. God’s hand reached into the dark horror of Calvary to save his Son. God reached out to Mary to bring her, body and soul, to heaven. God reached into Auschwitz and other camps of horror to bring suffering human beings to glory and peace.

St. John Vianney

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August 4th  is the feast of St. John Vianney, (1786-1859) the patron of parish priests. Born in Lyon, France, he wanted to become a priest but had to wait because of family obligations. He struggled to become a priest because of his limited education.

Once ordained he was made pastor of a small parish in an out of the way place called Ars. “He cared for this parish in a marvelous way by his preaching , his mortification, prayer and good works,” his biography says. He was especially good hearing confessions and soon people were coming from everywhere to Ars.

Good to pray for parish priests, struggling to minister in the church today as it goes through difficult times of change and questioning.We need more John Vianneys.

John Vianney knew the value of prayer. He wanted to become like St. Francis of Assisi and St. Colette who “used to see our Lord and talk to him as we talk to one another. How unlike them we are! How often we come to church and have no idea what to do and what to ask for. We know how to speak to another human being, but not to God. “

His simple sermons challenged and changed those who heard him. Hurray for simple sermons and priests who preach them.

A Catechism on prayer, by St John Mary Vianney

The noble task of man, to pray and to love

Consider, children, a Christian’s treasure is not on earth, it is in heaven. Well then, our thoughts should turn to where our treasure is.
  Man has a noble task: that of prayer and love. To pray and to love, that is the happiness of man on earth.
  Prayer is nothing else than union with God. When the heart is pure and united with God it is consoled and filled with sweetness; it is dazzled by a marvellous light. In this intimate union God and the soul are like two pieces of wax moulded into one; they cannot any more be separated. It is a very wonderful thing, this union of God with his insignificant creature, a happiness passing all understanding.
  We had deserved to be left incapable of praying; but God in his goodness has permitted us to speak to him. Our prayer is an incense that is delightful to God.
  My children, your hearts are small, but prayer enlarges them and renders them capable of loving God. Prayer is a foretaste of heaven, an overflowing of heaven. It never leaves us without sweetness; it is like honey, it descends into the soul and sweetens everything. In a prayer well made, troubles vanish like snow under the rays of the sun.
  Prayer makes time seem to pass quickly, and so pleasantly that one fails to notice how long it is. When I was parish priest of Bresse, once almost all my colleagues were ill, and as I made long journeys I used to pray to God, and, I assure you, the time did not seem long to me. There are those who lose themselves in prayer, like a fish in water, because they are absorbed in God. There is no division in their hearts. How I love those noble souls! Saint Francis of Assisi and Saint Colette saw our Lord and spoke to him as we speak to one another.
  As for ourselves, how often do we come to church without thinking what we are going to do or for what we are going to ask. And yet, when we go to call upon someone, we have no difficulty in remembering why it was we came. Some appear as if they were about to say to God: ‘I am just going to say a couple of words, so I can get away quickly.’ I often think that when we come to adore our Lord we should get all we ask if we asked for it with a lively faith and a pure heart.

St. Cyril of Alexandria (d.444)

To be a saint doesn’t mean you’re perfect, Pope Francis says in his exhortation “Gaudete et exsultate“, on holiness in today’s world. That’s good to remember when we consider St.Cyril of Alexandria, the 4th century bishop of Alexandria and doctor of the church, whose feast is today, June 26th.

If you read his online biography in Wikipedia–where many today look for information about saints – you’ll find that he was deeply involved in the messy partisan politics of his time, when Christians, Jews and pagans fought and schemed to control over Alexandria, the city then probably the most important city in the Roman empire. Some called him a “proud Pharaoh;” “ a monster” out to destroy the church, an impulsive, scheming bishop in a riotous city. The Wikipedia biography mainly sees him that way.

He was a saint, other biographies say. Why a saint? Well, Cyril was absorbed in understanding and defending the Incarnation of the Word of God. How did the Word of God come among us? Who was Jesus Christ? Pursuing that mystery defined Cyril during life. It was at the heart of things for him, and the voluminous collection of sermons, letters, commentaries and controversial essays he left bears out that interest.

He thought and wrote extensively about this mystery. The way he came to express it was used at the Council of Ephesus (431) and became the way we also express it in our prayers. Mary was the Mother of God. The One born of her was not simply another human being. Her Son was true God, who would be truly human and eventually die on the Cross. God “so loved the world” that he came among us as Mary’s Son.

What we see as “the totality” of Cyril’s life, his “life’s jouney”, the “overall meaning of his person”, to use the pope’s words, is not his involvement in the violent politics of his day. Yes, that was there. But his abiding quest was to know Jesus Christ.

“‘The Word was made flesh’ [John 1:14], can mean nothing else but that he became flesh and blood like ours; he made our body his own and came forth man from a woman, not casting off his existence as God, or his generation of God the Father, but in taking to himself flesh remaining what he was. 

“This is the correct faith proclaimed everywhere. The holy teachers taught this and so they called the holy Virgin, the Mother of God, not as if the nature of the Word or his divinity began from the holy Virgin, but because that holy body with a rational soul, to which the Word, personally united, was born of her according to the flesh.”

— St. Cyril of Alexandria, First Letter to Nestorius

“When poisonous pride swells up in you, turn to the Eucharist; and that Bread, which is your God humbling and disguising himself, will teach you humility. When the fever of selfish greed rages in you, feed on this Bread; and you will learn generosity. When you feel the itch of intemperance, nourish yourself with the Flesh and Blood of Christ, who practiced heroic self-control during His earthly life, and you will become temperate. When you are lazy and sluggish about spiritual things, strengthen yourself with this heavenly Food; and you will grow fervent. Lastly, when you feel scorched by the fever of impurity, go to the banquet of the Angels; and the spotless Flesh of Christ will make you pure and chaste.”

Genesis: 11-50

We might call our first readings at Mass this week the Jewish part of the Book of Genesis. (Gen 11–50) The origins of the world and the beginnings of the human race are described in first 10 chapters of Genesis. Chapter 11 begins with the call of Abram and recounts the beginnings of the Jewish people.

For Jews living in exile, when the Jewish scriptures were finally assembled, Abraham was someone to look to as they made their way in uncertain times, when the road ahead was unclear.

The road ahead doesn’t seem clear for us either, does it?

The Commentary from the New American Bible describes these chapters from Genesis as a book exiles can learn from:

Genesis 1150. One Jewish tradition suggests that God, having been rebuffed in the attempt to forge a relationship with the nations, decided to concentrate on one nation in the hope that it would eventually bring in all the nations. The migration of Abraham’s family (11:2631) is part of the general movement of the human race to take possession of their lands (see 10:3211:9). Abraham, however, must come into possession of his land in a manner different from the nations, for he will not immediately possess it nor will he have descendants in the manner of the nations, for he is old and his wife is childless (12:19). Abraham and Sarah have to live with their God in trust and obedience until at last Isaac is born to them and they manage to buy a sliver of the land (the burial cave at Machpelah, chap. 23). Abraham’s humanity and faith offer a wonderful example to the exilic generation.”

I like Jesssica Power’s poem on the great patriarch:

“I love Abraham, that old weather-beaten
unwavering nomad; when God called to him
no tender hand wedged time into his stay.
His faith erupted him into a way
far-off and strange. How many miles are there
from Ur to Haran? Where does Canaan lie,
or slow mysterious Egypt sit and wait?
How could he think his ancient thigh would bear
nations, or how consent that Isaac die,
with never an outcry nor an anguished prayer?

I think, alas, how I manipulate

dates and decisions, pull apart the dark

dally with doubts here and with counsel there,

take out old maps and stare.

Was there a call after all, my fears remark.

I cry out: Abraham, old nomad you,

are you my father? Come to me in pity.

Mine is a far and lonely journey, too.

2nd Corinthians: Suffering with Christ

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For the next two weeks we’re reading at Mass St. Paul’s Second Letter to the Corinthians, a Christian community in the city of Corinth around the year 50, not many years after the time of Jesus.

During the easter season we read about the spread of the Christian church from Jerusalem to Rome from the Acts of the Apostles. Now, in ordinary time we look more closely at a church Paul founded– in Corinth. What was it like? Paul’s two letters to the Corinthians tell us about an early Christian church, but they also tell us about our church today.

The Christian community at Corinth was drawn from different peoples flocking to the great Mediterranean port. It was diverse. It attracted a variety of preachers and teachers, which caused some division, noticeably as they came together to “break bread.” There’s some sexual immorality in this church on a sea port open to the world. Some were wondering about the resurrection of Jesus.

Most of its members were not Jewish Christians, though some there may have wished for the stability a Jewish synagogue might provide. There’s no bishop administering this church as yet. Paul was a minister to the world. There was no one person in charge in Corinth.

It was church  “in the works,” not complete, with glaring weaknesses, struggling to grow in faith, with plenty of loose ends, looking for answers. It was church experiencing great change, a church suffering, not from outward persecution, but from turmoil within.

Maybe a church like ours?

Addressing the Corinthians, Paul sees their suffering as “Christ’s suffering”. He feels that mystery in himself, as he says in the opening chapters of his letter and he returns to that theme over and over.

Yes, problems must be faced, corrections made, restructuring needs to take place, but Paul keeps reminding the Corinthians they’re experiencing the sufferings of Christ and with Christ’s suffering comes his encouragement.

Paul himself knew both the sufferings of Christ and his encouragement. “We were utterly weighed down beyond our strength, so that we despaired of life,” he writes from the province of Asia, but with suffering came an overflowing encouragement, which always accompanies the sufferings of Christ. “We do not trust in ourselves but in God who raises from the dead.” ( 2 Corinthians 1, 5-11)

Paul’s way is the right way, isnt’ it? We’re tempted to judge, analyze, condemn, throw up our hands and lose hope in the world around us. The first way to see it is through the sufferings of Christ, a mystery affecting us all, and the “encouragement” that always accompanies this mystery.

Listen to Paul speaking to the struggling Corinthians:

“Our hope for you is firm, for we know that as you share in the sufferings, you also share in the encouragement,”

Good letter for us to read these days.

St. Justin, Philosopher and Martyr (c.100-165 AD)

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Justin Martyr

We need Christians today like St. Justin, the 2nd century philosopher we remember June 1. “We need to make our teaching known,” he said. Still true today.

In Justin’s time, philosophers were the mentors, teachers, influencers of Roman society and were welcomed in the forum and private homes of the Roman world. St. Paul addressed them in Athens with limited success. Justin was an Christian philosopher in Rome.

Born in Nablus in Palestine of Greek parents, Justin studied all the philosophers of his time in Alexandria, Athens and Ephesus. It may have been in Ephesus around the year 130 that he encountered Christianity when, walking along the seashore, he met an old man who told him the human heart could never be satisfied by Plato for “the prophets alone announced the truth.”

“After telling me these and other things…he went away and I never saw him again, but a flame kindled in my soul, filling me with love for the prophets and the friends of Christ. I thought about his words and became a philosopher..” (Dialogue 8)

Justin was influenced, not only by Christian teaching, but also by the example of Christians he met:

“I liked Plato’s teaching at first and enjoyed hearing evil spoken about Christians, but then I saw they had no fear of death or other things that horrify, and I realized they were not vicious or pleasure-loving at all.” (Apology 2,12)

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Ruins of the Roman Forum

Justin championed the cause of Christians who were increasingly attacked by society. Donning a philosopher’s cloak he taught and wrote in Rome about the year 150 AD. He was a new kind of Christian, a Christian philosopher engaging Roman society on its own terms. He gave Christianity a Roman face and voice.

Justin defended Christians against the charge they were atheists and enemies of the Roman state. Christians were good citizens, he wrote, who pray for Rome, though they don’t worship in temples, who had no statues of gods or who did not participate in the religious rites of the state.  Justin’s writings give us a unique picture of 2nd century Christianity and early Christian worship.

In his “Dialogue with Trypho, the Jew” Justin offered the traditional Christian defense of Christianity to a Jewish antagonist. The Jewish prophets predicted the coming, the death and resurrection of Jesus, Justin argues.

In the documents of Vatican ii, Justin is recognized as an early example of Christian ecumenism. (Evangelium Nuntiandi 53) Through the Word of God all things came to be, he said.  The Word became flesh in Jesus Christ, but Justin linked the biblical Word to the Logos of the philosophers. “Seeds of the Word” were scattered throughout the world, Justin claimed. Every human being possesses in his mind a seed of the Word, and so besides the prophets of the Old Testament, pagan philosophers like Heraclitus, Socrates and Musonius lead us to Jesus Christ, Justin said. (Apology 1,46)

A prolific writer and teacher, Justin was an early Christian intellectual using his talents to promote his faith, Unfortunately only three of his writings come down to us. Other Christian intellectuals followed him, using the tools of philosophy to dialogue with the Greco-Roman world.

Finally, rivals in Rome pressed charges against Justin as an enemy of the state and he was  brought before a Roman judge along with six companions. Sentenced to death, they were beheaded probably in the year 165 AD. The official court record of their trial  still survives.

The Song of Birds

Noah
Before 7 :
AM  I sit for a few minutes on the porch as the weather gets warmer, watching the birds. There are almost 40 different birds in our garden, just up from the E train.   The sparrows and the doves are usual visitors,  singing away, but the other day they couldn’t be seen or heard.  I soon saw why: a big hawk flew by overhead.

After awhile the birds were back,  chirping and moaning  as usual. Someone told me our ears are wired to hear the song of birds. Why? They tell us no dangerous enemies nearby, all is well.

Birds singing tell us the world’s in good hands. Is that why Noah sent a dove from the ark? The dove not only brought back olive branches signifying all was well, but sang the good news to those in the closed boat.

The Holy Spirit descends in the form of a dove. The ancients saw birds as mysterious visitors from heaven. I notice something fearless in the doves at our feeder. The sparrows scatter quickly at the least sign of danger; the doves stay and hold their ground. Like the dove, the Holy Spirit is a giver of life to our land and won’t abandon us.

By baptism we’re wired to hear God’s voice. We listen for God’s good news, despite the dangers. We listen for a world redeemed, a higher plan at play. Good reason to begin the day, listening to birds singing..

The Ascension of Jesus into Heaven

Homily

The firstborn of the new creation

Here’s St. Gregory of Nyssa, commenting on our feast today:

The reign of life has begun, the tyranny of death is ended. A new birth has taken place, a new life has come, a new order of existence has appeared, our very nature has been transformed! This birth is not brought about by human generation, by the will of man, or by the desire of the flesh, but by God. 

  If you wonder how, I will explain in clear language. Faith is the womb that conceives this new life, baptism the rebirth by which it is brought forth into the light of day. The Church is its nurse; her teachings are its milk, the bread from heaven is its food. It is brought to maturity by the practice of virtue; it is wedded to wisdom; it gives birth to hope. Its home is the kingdom; its rich inheritance the joys of paradise; its end, not death, but the blessed and everlasting life prepared for those who are worthy. 

  This is the day the Lord has made – a day far different from those made when the world was first created and which are measured by the passage of time. This is the beginning of a new creation. On this day, as the prophet says, God makes a new heaven and a new earth. What is this new heaven? you may ask. It is the firmament of our faith in Christ. What is the new earth? A good heart, a heart like the earth, which drinks up the rain that falls on it and yields a rich harvest. 

  In this new creation, purity of life is the sun, the virtues are the stars, transparent goodness is the air, and the depths of the riches of wisdom and knowledge, the sea. Sound doctrine, the divine teachings are the grass and plants that feed God’s flock, the people whom he shepherds; the keeping of the commandments is the fruit borne by the trees. 

  On this day is created the true man, the man made in the image and likeness of God. For this day the Lord has made is the beginning of this new world. Of this day the prophet says that it is not like other days, nor is this night like other nights. But still we have not spoken of the greatest gift it has brought us. This day destroyed the pangs of death and brought to birth the firstborn of the dead. 

I ascend to my Father and to your Father, to my God and to your God. O what wonderful good news! He who for our sake became like us in order to make us his brothers, now presents to his true Father his own humanity in order to draw all his kindred up after him. Gregory of Nyssa

Venerable Bede


The Venerable Bede (672-735), whose feast day is May 25th, was destined from his birth to be a monk. Born near Wearmouth Abby in England, he spent his life in that monastery from his earliest years, and became a scholar, teacher and spiritual guide. His commentaries on scripture and the history of England were known far beyond the place where he lived. He is considered the most learned man of his time.

“It’s ever been my delight to learn, to teach and to write,” he said, and he shared his learning with those he lived with; his wisdom inspires us today. Besides the scriptures and historical studies, Bede delighted in music, mathematics and learning about the natural world. He’s honored as a Doctor of the Church.

You can see from an account of his life by Cuthbert, a contemporary,  that his brothers in the monastery liked him and held him in esteem. And he liked them. Until the day of his death he continued to think and teach and write. On the day he died he was finishing up one of his studies, a commentary on the scriptures. When it was done “on the floor of his cell, he sat and sang “Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit”; and as he named the Spirit, the Breath of God, he breathed the last breath from his own body. With all the labour that he had given to the praise of God, there can be no doubt that he went into the joys of heaven that he had always longed for.”

Before he died, he wrote this:

“Before setting forth on that inevitable journey, none is wiser than the man who considers—before his soul departs hence—what good or evil he has done, and what judgement his soul will receive after its passing.”

Lord, give us a love of learning and a delight in your wisdom and truth, and the courage to look at ourselves.

Peter

Peter the Apostle, Cloisters, New York

Keep Peter in mind as we read the story of the conversion of Cornelius, the Roman centurion and his household. It was a decisive event for him and the other followers of Jesus. Peter was ministering to Jews in Joppa on the seacoast, when he’s called to Caesarea Maritime to baptize a Roman soldier. Joppa, remember, was the seaport where Jonah began his perilous journey to Nineveh and the gentile world.

In Joppa, the sleeping apostle on the roof of Simon the Tanner’s house overlooking the vast sea has a disturbing vision. Instead of the usual kosher food,  a gentile banquet is poured out before him. As a good Jew Peter pushes it away. Three times the vision invites him to eat.

Then, messengers appear at the door from Cornelius, a Roman soldier stationed in Caesaria Maritime, Rome’s headquarters just up the coast. Peter is to come and speak about “the things that had happened.” He’s invited to the gentile banquet he saw in his dream.

Peter made the journey up the coast and described their meeting: “As I began to speak, the Holy Spirit fell upon them as it had upon us at the beginning.” It was a Gentile Pentecost. Peter baptized the Roman soldier, his family and household. “I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but every nation is acceptable to him,” 

Would Peter know then where this visit to Cornelius would lead? He was a fisherman who spoke Aramaic with a Galilean accent, who felt the pull of home, family and fishing boats. I doubt he would ever be comfortable in a gentile world. After Caesaria he traveled to Antioch in Syria and then finally to Rome where he was killed in the Neronian persecution in the 60’s.

Artists usually portray Peter in Rome as a church leader firmly in charge of the church, holding its keys tightly in hand. Clearly, he is a rock and a strong leader.

I saw another image of Peter years ago in the Cloisters Museum in New York. He’s softer, reflective, more experienced, not completely sure of himself. There’s a consciousness of failure in his face. He seems to be listening humbly for the voice of the Shepherd, hoping to hear it and ever surprised by the unexpected coming of the Holy Spirit.

The early Roman church directed those newly baptized in St. John Lateran at Easter to visit the Church of St. Peter on Vatican Hill on Easter Monday. There they were to remember Peter, who came to Rome from afar to preach the gospel. He was a faithful follower of Jesus and a shepherd of flock. He would help them know Jesus and follow humbly lead the flock wherever Jesus told him to lead it.

Bless our new Pope Leo, Lord.