At that time the disciples approached Jesus and said, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” He called a child over, placed it in their midst, and said, “Amen, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever receives one child such as this in my name receives me.
See that you do not despise one of these little ones, for I say to you that their angels in heaven always look upon the face of my heavenly Father.”
Matthew 18:1-5, 10
Guardian Angels Guide Us to the Father
God, the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, of all things visible and invisible, placed Christ at the center of the angelic world. Every child made in the image of the Incarnate Son of God receives a guardian angel at conception to guide them in their journey home to the Father. As “their angels in heaven always look upon the face of my heavenly Father,” they intercede and light the way through Christ in the Spirit to the heart of the Father.
From its beginning until death, human life is surrounded by their watchful care and intercession. “Beside each believer stands an angel as protector and shepherd leading him to life.” Already here on earth the Christian life shares by faith in the blessed company of angels and men united in God.
Catechism of the Catholic Church 336
Prayer to My Guardian Angel
Angel of God, my guardian dear, to whom God’s love commits me here, ever this day be at my side, to light and guard, to rule and guide. Amen.
Angel of God, my guardian dear, Be at my side, guiding, ever near.
August 10th is the Feast of St. Lawrence, the deacon, who ranks after Peter and Paul as a patron of the Church of Rome. The Emperor Constantine built a church honoring him on the Via Tiburtina, near one of the major gateways to the city in the 4th century. Lawrence was a Christian martyr, but he was something more.
Lawrence was a deacon of the Roman church in the middle of the 3rd century when Rome began experiencing wars and political instability. Gothic tribes breached the Roman lines along the Rhine River and the Persians invaded in the east.
The only thing to do was expand the army, and that’s what the Emperor Valerian did. He built walls and expanded armies. That cost money, of course, and in Rome the burden fell heavily on the poor. Famine and plague only worsened their situation.
The Christian church stepped in to help. Christians were still relatively few in numbers then, not wealthy, but they gave generously to the poor, and the Roman people admired what they saw.
Lawrence, the deacon, was behind this extraordinary Christian effort. After all, Jesus said: “I was hungry, and you gave me to eat; I was thirsty, you gave me to drink; I was sick and you visited me.”
Lawrence giving to the poor: Fra Angelico
Rome’s leaders became upset by the church’s growng popularity. They also wondered if the church’s money couldn’t be channeled towards their war effort. And so, in 257 an edict was published to imprison church leaders and confiscate church money. A second edict in 258 caused blood to flow. Pope Sixtus II and four deacons were seized in the catacombs of St. Callistus and executed on August 6th. Lawrence, the deacon, was seized and executed on August 10th. That’s why his feast day is today.
Popular stories later offered a colorful account of Lawrence’s martyrdom shaping his story and the way artists pictured him:
The Roman prefect, anxious for the church’s money, promised Lawrence freedom if he would transfer it over to him. Lawrence asked for three days to get the church’s treasures together for delivery to the prefect’s house. Then, after distributing the church’s monies to the poor, he gathered them and brought them to the prefect’s door. “Here are the church’s treasures,” he told the official, “ – the blind, the lame, the orphans and the old.”
The prefect ordered Lawrence burned alive on a gridiron. Those witnessing his execution said the saint went to his death cheerfully, even joking with his executioners. “Turn me over, I’m done on this side.”
After these events the Roman church gained a flood of converts. Respect for Christianity grew, not just because of its brave martyrs, but because of its outreach to the poor.
Constantine honored Lawrence, not just because he died for his faith, but because of his care of the poor. He would rely on the church, not just for its political support, but for its care of the poor.
Wherever you go in Rome, you are going to find Lawrence. There are other churches honoring him; he’s often pictured with Peter and Paul, the founders of the Roman church; Michelangelo has him among the blessed at the last judgment in the Sistine Chapel. Lawrence represents something important in the church.
A large fresco of the saint stands at the entrance to the Vatican Museum’s Chapel of Nicholas V with its priceless works of art. Lawrence seems blind to the riches all around him as he boldly proclaims the message inscribed beneath his feet: The Poor are the Treasures of the Church.
They should always be the treasures of the church.
The LORD God said: “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a suitable partner for him.” (Genesis 2,18)
We usually rush on when we hear these words to the creation of Eve, who becomes “bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh” for Adam, and the human story begins.
But the Genesis account we read today and the medieval artist above remind us that God first “formed out the ground various wild animals and various birds of the air, and he brought them to the man… but none proved to be the suitable partner for the man.” (Genesis 2,19 ff)
Adam signals to God these new creatures are not enough, but does he dismiss them altogether for Eve?
Whether we realize it or not, we are not meant to be isolated individuals on this planet. We look for human companionship and friendship. But are human beings our only relationship. Besides caring for each other, we have destiny to care for all the creatures Adam names. They’re our partners too and we share this common home with them.
The Rosary of the Virgin Mary, which gradually took form in the second millennium under the guidance of the Spirit of God, is a prayer loved by countless Saints and encouraged by the Magisterium. Simple yet profound, it still remains, at the dawn of this third millennium, a prayer of great significance, destined to bring forth a harvest of holiness. It blends easily into the spiritual journey of the Christian life, which, after two thousand years, has lost none of the freshness of its beginnings and feels drawn by the Spirit of God to “set out into the deep” (duc in altum!) in order once more to proclaim, and even cry out, before the world that Jesus Christ is Lord and Saviour, “the way, and the truth and the life” (Jn 14:6), “the goal of human history and the point on which the desires of history and civilization turn.”
The Rosary, though clearly Marian in character, is at heart a Christocentric prayer. In the sobriety of its elements, it has all the depth of the Gospel message in its entirety, of which it can be said to be a compendium. It is an echo of the prayer of Mary, her perennial Magnificat for the work of the redemptive Incarnation which began in her virginal womb. With the Rosary, the Christian people sits at the school of Mary and is led to contemplate the beauty on the face of Christ and to experience the depths of his love. Through the Rosary the faithful receive abundant grace, as though from the very hands of the Mother of the Redeemer.”
The words of the Preacher, the son of David, king in Jerusalem. Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity. What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun? A generation goes, and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever. The sun rises, and the sun goes down, and hastens to the place where it rises. The wind blows to the south and goes around to the north; around and around goes the wind, and on its circuits the wind returns. All streams run to the sea, but the sea is not full; to the place where the streams flow, there they flow again. All things are full of weariness; a man cannot utter it; the eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing. What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun. Is there a thing of which it is said, “See, this is new”? It has been already in the ages before us. There is no remembrance of former things, nor will there be any remembrance of later things yet to be among those who come after.
Ecclesiastes 1:1-8 (ESV)
What is the Meaning of Life?
Qoheleth, the “Preacher,” writing in the name of Solomon, the son of David, wrestles with the absolute in the book of Ecclesiastes. The Hebrew word Qoheleth (from qahal, a root that means “assembly” or “congregation”) is Ekklesiastes in Greek, which names the book. Early traditions attribute the book’s authorship to Solomon, but philological evidence dates the book to no earlier than the mid-fifth century B.C., a half-millennium after Solomon’s reign. Thus, Qoheleth, a Hebrew sage, critiques the world through the eyes of King Solomon, the wisest, wealthiest, and most powerful man in the world. He investigates the patterns of nature and human striving, hoping to discover an ultimate purpose behind it all.
World of Vapor
Qoheleth begins by lamenting that all is “vanity” (in Hebrew hebel, “vapor, breath”), which he pronounces five times in a single utterance (1:2). Finding no ultimate profit in the drudgery of human toil, he rhetorically asks, “What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun?”
Ephemeral phenomena and superficial impressions shift and slide incessantly “under the sun,” where nothing is constant. The rising and setting of the sun, and the circuitous currents of wind go “round and round” ceaselessly in a futile loop. The sea, too, like human ambition and appetite, never finds fulfillment despite continuous filling: “All streams run to the sea, but the sea is not full” (1:7). Jaded by familiarity, Qoheleth deplores the predictable motions of the earth.
“All things are full of weariness,” he despairs, “a man cannot utter it.” “The eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing” (1:8). Ever restless, human desire insatiably consumes the panorama of sight and sound—representative of all sensory and intellectual stimuli. All impressions eventually evaporate like steam (hebel).
Nothing New Under the Sun
What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun. Is there a thing of which it is said, “See, this is new”? It has been already in the ages before us.
Ecclesiastes 1:9-10 (ESV)
Ecclesiastes affirms the truism that “history repeats itself.” As civilizations rise and fall, human nature remains the same. War and peace, joy and sorrow, strength and weakness, freedom and slavery, profit and loss—the same old human affairs cycle round and round, generation after generation, world without end. A keen observer of human nature and historical recurrence, Qoheleth bleakly concludes, “There is nothing new under the sun.”
Puff of the Past
There is no remembrance of former things, nor will there be any remembrance of later things yet to be among those who come after.
Ecclesiastes 1:11 (ESV)
As the sands of time fade away, so does human “remembrance of former things.” Stars and galaxies, fossils, and artifacts provide clues to the mystery of the 13.8 billion-year-old universe and human evolution. Yet billions of ancestors lie buried in the ground, forgotten by their descendants. Apart from cave paintings, oral traditions, scrolls, books, annals, chronicles, and even modern audiovisual media, which capture only fragments from limited perspectives, the past vanishes like vapor “under the sun.” Can fragmentary memories preserve an unbroken, unified recollection of the past? Can mortals achieve immortality in the minds of posterity?
The Value of Struggle
Ecclesiastes challenges the assembly of wisdom seekers to find ultimate purpose and profit “under the sun.” Like Job, Qoheleth embraces disputation and wrestling with elemental questions. Sometimes described as “unorthodox,” these books goad the pious to “struggle with God,” the meaning of Israel’s name (Genesis 32:28). Questions do not threaten religion but expand its horizons.
Without being an atheist, Qoheleth journeys to the edge of human striving to discover its peaks and valleys apart from God. His experiment confirms Paul’s observation that, on account of Adam’s departure from God’s will, “the creation was subjected to futility” (Romans 8:20; Genesis 3:17). The Greek word for futility,mataiotés (“vanity,” “emptiness”), translates the Hebrew word hebel (“vapor,” “breath”) in the Septuagint. Ecclesiastes allows every seeker of meaning to feel the emptiness of a life and vision that never rises above the sun.
I have seen all things that are done under the sun, and behold, all is vanity and a chase after wind.
Ecclesiastes 1:14 (NABRE)
All is vanity, a chase after wind. Series and cycles—these I examined. Under the sun, seasons whirl like vapor. What do humans gain by all their labor?
Every word of God is tested; he is a shield to those who take refuge in him. Add nothing to his words, lest he reprove you, and you will be exposed as a deceiver.
Two things I ask of you, deny them not to me before I die: Put falsehood and lying far from me, give me neither poverty nor riches; provide me only with the food I need; Lest, being full, I deny you, saying, “Who is the LORD?” Or, being in want, I steal, and profane the name of my God.
Proverbs 30:5-9
“Every word of God is pure (tested, refined),” like fruit from a tree of life. “He is a shield to those who take refuge in him.” Comparing divine wisdom to a tree of life (Proverbs 3:18), the Book of Proverbs guides us toward healing our broken relationship with God that occurred in the Garden of Eden. God created us for abundant life, which we reap by hearing and heeding his word.
Ordering life around God, the sage asks for a truthful heart and for “neither poverty nor riches.” Luxury may tempt him to deny the Lord, while penury may incite him to steal and dishonor the name of God. Our heavenly Father, who knows what we need, will give us our “daily bread.” When making choices, the sage seeks the honor and glory of God above all.
Neither poverty nor riches, seek I, But to honor God and him glorify.
God Provides
Jesus summoned the Twelve and gave them power and authority over all demons and to cure diseases, and he sent them to proclaim the kingdom of God and to heal the sick. He said to them, “Take nothing for the journey, neither walking stick, nor sack, nor food, nor money, and let no one take a second tunic. Whatever house you enter, stay there and leave from there. And as for those who do not welcome you, when you leave that town, shake the dust from your feet in testimony against them.” Then they set out and went from village to village proclaiming the good news and curing diseases everywhere.
Luke 9:1-6
Jesus sends his twelve apostles to proclaim the kingdom of God, the fulfillment of his word. The word of the Lord (dabar YHWH), which led the Israelites from Sinai to Jerusalem, has become flesh with divine authority to heal and cast out demons. Jesus, whose Father provides for his children, enjoins the Twelve to “take nothing for the journey.”
The apostle, like the sage of the Book of Proverbs, lives on and through the Word of God, who is a “shield” and refining fire. Christ, the Word of God and Tree of Life, feeds us with himself in the sanctifying Eucharist.
Your word, O Lord, is a lamp for my feet.
Psalm 119:105 (Responsory)
God’s Word protects and purifies Apostles who evangelize.
They left from there and began a journey through Galilee, but he did not wish anyone to know about it. He was teaching his disciples and telling them, “The Son of Man is to be handed over to men and they will kill him, and three days after his death he will rise.” But they did not understand the saying, and they were afraid to question him.
They came to Capernaum and, once inside the house, he began to ask them, “What were you arguing about on the way?” But they remained silent. They had been discussing among themselves on the way who was the greatest. Then he sat down, called the Twelve, and said to them, “If anyone wishes to be first, he shall be the last of all and the servant of all.” Taking a child he placed it in their midst, and putting his arms around it he said to them, “Whoever receives one child such as this in my name, receives me; and whoever receives me, receives not me but the One who sent me.”
Mark 9:30-37
Who is the Greatest?
Walking through Galilee, Jesus’ thoughts and that of his disciples diametrically clashed. A brooding Judas heard his master’s prediction of his betrayal and death. Did the omen disquiet the lone treasurer? Each man heard Jesus uniquely and darkly. The matter of his rising after three days sounded meaningless and opaque.
Filtering out ideas that conflicted with their image of an earthly Messianic kingdom, the Twelve heatedly argued about their relative positions of power. When questioned by Jesus, no one dared answer. Their squabble, in his presence, vanished as vain and arrogant chatter.
Sitting down to teach in the rabbinic manner, Jesus settled their debate: the greatest of all will be the least of all, like a little child. “If anyone wishes to be first, he shall be the last of all and the servant of all.” Jesus’ whole life from his birth in a manger, wrapped in swaddling clothes, to his burial in a tomb, wrapped in grave clothes, bespoke a complete stripping of earthly pride and power.
Jesus felt more at home among the lilies of the field than in the palaces of kings. Like the lowly child, the colorful, fragile flowers in the wild express the splendor of God, the true King of Israel.
Learn from the way the wild flowers grow. They do not work or spin. But I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was clothed like one of them.
Matthew 6:28-29; cf. Luke 12:27
As the Cross loomed, the Twelve vied for power. Jesus bent down to the child and flower.
A 13th century European pilgrim to the Holy Land brought this icon home as a reminder of his pilgrimage. What places did that pilgrim visit? Surely, Bethlehem where Jesus was born, and Jerusalem where he was crucified and rose from the dead. In both places , Mary was there with her Son.
In the picture on the left Mary is a joyful mother holding her Son, a divine Son whom the angels praise. She is a daughter of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, a daughter of the human family whom she represents. She never loses that joy, which she invites us to share.
In the picture on the right, Mary stands with John, an image of the church, beneath the cross of Jesus. Angels are astonished at the sight. Jesus seems to enfold his mother and the disciple whom he loves in his arms..
The gospel reading from St. John for the feast of Mary’s Sorrows says simply that Mary stood by the cross of Jesus. She’s a brave woman, not afraid to come close to the fearful place where Jesus was put to death. The Book of Judith, ordinarily the 1st reading for the feast, praises Judith, the brave and wise Jewish woman who’s not afraid to stand with her people at a dangerous moment in their history. Two women of courage face suffering and the challenge it brings.
The prayers, traditions and art of this feast take up the theme of Mary standing by the cross. She’s remembered in poetry, music and art. “Stabat Mater” Here’s an example in Gregorian Chant and Pergolesi’s magnificent baroque setting.
At the cross her station keeping
Stood the mournful mother keeping
Close to Jesus to the last.
Women mystics, like St.Bridgid of Sweden, a mother herself and an important pilgrim to the Holy Land, saw the life of Jesus, particularly his passion, through a mother’s eyes. Wouldn’t Mary draw close to her Son’s cross and then hold him in her arms as they brought him down. The gospels do not mention it, but women like Bridgid were sure it was so.
Women mystics like Bridgid gave us the Pieta.
A study of the Pieta in art in early medieval France shows the various ways this scene was pictured in art before Michaelangelo’s Pieta became an overpowering icon surpassing others. “Often she is viewed as caught up in the horror of the moment, but she is also shown praying or even gazing into the distance, as if contemplating comforting memories or the reunion to come. Her demeanor ranges from youthful innocence—the Purity that Time cannot age—to careworn maturity—Our Lady of Sorrows.”
Sorrow. like joy, has a range of faces. Mary shows us them all.
Christmas is a time of poverty. The Spirit of Bethlehem is one of smallness, of tiny new beginnings that open our minds to the infinite largeness of Incarnate Wisdom. The Christ Child heals us of our presumption. The New Born shows us that we simply don’t know what God has in store. His impoverished delivery stops us in our tracks. We stand like beasts in a stable, our knowledge, our understanding, our science, our facts, our truths stripped of eternal value. All that remains, whether we’re shepherds or kings or someone in between, is for us to nod along with the tiny beat of the drummer boy offering his seemingly meaningless gift. Let’s welcome Christ Jesus, Innocence itself, by being poor with Him. Let’s let go of preconceived notions of having control. To stand before the Lord in our nothingness is worth more to Him than any amount of gold, frankincense or myrrh. Our humility before the bright light is pure praise and prayer to the One Who offers us everything.
Albrecht Durer, “Virgin and Child with Saint Anne”, ca. 1519 (The Met)
Christmas is a time for grandmothers.
They bake and cook and decorate. Their homes become mini North Poles, diplomatic outposts of Santa’s Castle.
At its core, Christmas is of course all about Jesus. All about Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. All about the Holy Family.
The Holy Family is an extended family though. And it doesn’t stop at grandmothers and grandfathers, aunts and uncles, or even cousins and distant cousins.
Just ask Saints Joachim and Anne, Zechariah and Elizabeth, or John the Baptist—not to mention all the unknown relatives whom the child Jesus surely encountered throughout His Galilean days. Ask any one of them about the far-reaching ripple effects of family grace.
Those touched by Jesus have a tendency to appear bigger than life.
Look at Santa Claus.
Most of us are aware that he is really Saint Nick.
But do we stop to wonder who Mrs. Claus really is?
I think she’s Saint Anne.
After all, Mrs. Claus is seen as everyone’s grandmother, especially when it comes to holiday cheer. But when it comes to truly celebrating the birth of Jesus, it is through Saint Anne that we approach the gates of Christ’s Nativity.
Mary’s Mother holds a special key. She is first among grandmas, first among those who pinch chubby cheeks, who pass along one more extra sugary treat.
———
Saint Anne help us. Speak to us. Show us how to be grand parents to all those around us, especially the little ones. Stir up the spirit of Advent. Bake away the holiday blues. Cook up a dish of Christmas love that only your hearth can serve.
———
Come one, come all, to the home of Saint Anne. Come with me to Grandma’s house for a holiday visit. Taste and see. Enter her kitchen, where the hot chocolate can always fit a little more whipped cream, where you hear the constant refrain: “eat…eat…eat…”
At Grandma’s your plate is never empty.
Her table is continually set.
She always sees Jesus as having just been born.
She is always wrapping Him up tightly in swaddling clothes.
It is simply grand.
To Grandma, Jesus is always an innocent child.
And she can’t help but see Him deep within both you and me.
The Victor's Place 