-Caravaggio, The Call of Matthew, ~1600, Oil on canvas, 322 cm × 340 cm (127 in × 130 in), Contarelli Chapel, San Luigi dei Francesi, Rome
“…but the best summary, the one that comes more from the inside and I feel most true is this: I am a sinner whom the Lord has looked upon.” And he repeats: “I am one who is looked upon by the Lord. I always felt my motto, Miserando atque Eligendo [By Having Mercy and by Choosing Him], was very true for me.”
The motto is taken from the Homilies of Bede the Venerable, who writes in his comments on the Gospel story of the calling of Matthew: “Jesus saw a publican, and since he looked at him with feelings of love and chose him, he said to him, ‘Follow me.’” The pope adds: “I think the Latin gerund miserando is impossible to translate in both Italian and Spanish. I like to translate it with another gerund that does not exist: misericordiando [“mercy-ing”].
Pope Francis continues his reflection and says, jumping to another topic: “I do not know Rome well. I know a few things. These include the Basilica of St. Mary Major; I always used to go there. I know St. Mary Major, St. Peter’s…but when I had to come to Rome, I always stayed in [the neighborhood of] Via della Scrofa. From there I often visited the Church of St. Louis of France, and I went there to contemplate the painting of ‘The Calling of St. Matthew,’ by Caravaggio.
That finger of Jesus, pointing at Matthew. That’s me. I feel like him. Like Matthew.” Here the pope becomes determined, as if he had finally found the image he was looking for: “It is the gesture of Matthew that strikes me: he holds on to his money as if to say, ‘No, not me! No, this money is mine.’ Here, this is me, a sinner on whom the Lord has turned his gaze. And this is what I said when they asked me if I would accept my election as pontiff.” Then the pope whispers in Latin: “I am a sinner, but I trust in the infinite mercy and patience of our Lord Jesus Christ, and I accept in a spirit of penance.””
Prayer allows me to participate in life. “Man does not live by bread alone…” (Mt 4:4) Finish it yourself.
-by Br Thomas Davenport, OP
“Words have a certain staying power. Most of them are in one ear and out the other, but every once in a while words seriously hit home and have a lasting impact. Jan 17 the Western Church celebrates St. Anthony of Egypt, the “Father of Monks.” As a young man, he walked into a church one day and heard the words of Jesus proclaimed in the Gospel, “If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me” (Mt 19:21). While he had probably heard these words many times before, something was different that time. He left the church with a firm conviction to do exactly what Jesus said. He sold all his possessions and became a hermit in the Egyptian desert.
While Christians relish the response of St. Anthony and the holiness of his life, we are not all called to respond in the same way to those words. Still, by the grace of God, the truth, even a truth we may be quite familiar with, has a way of giving us a much needed slap upside the head.
I can still remember a particular phrase that hit home for me. After a year of graduate school, I was down in some pretty serious dumps through a particularly paradoxical combination of overwork and laziness (with an added dose of emotional baggage). Nothing seemed to be going right. Just getting up in the morning seemed to be a monumental task. I was in a rut of bad habits and I needed help getting out. When I was finally fed up with simply trying to slog my way through the day, I did what I should have done weeks before and called a good friend of mine, a priest, back home. Having put up with my initial round of whining, he cut me off before I had a chance to really get going. He asked me bluntly, “Are you praying?” I attempted to dodge the seriousness of the question and responded by simply saying that I was not praying enough. I was still making it to Mass on Sundays, and even an occasional daily Mass, but I had little to no prayer life outside of that.
Then came the line that has stuck with me ever since, “You’ve got to pray every day. Prayer is more important than food.” We kept talking for a while after that. While I forgot all of his other words of wisdom, that phrase about prayer stuck with me.
I would like to tell you that I have not eaten another bite of food since then and that I have been surviving for seven years on Hail Marys and Our Fathers, but of course that did not happen. I did put that line on a sticky note on my desk, and every day whenever I managed to roll myself out of bed, before I’d let myself pour a bowl of cereal, I’d sit down and pray—five minutes at first, then ten, then a bit more. And, you know, it worked. Surprisingly enough, when I stopped trying to take on everything myself and asked God for help, getting up in the morning wasn’t quite so challenging, my work wasn’t quite so daunting, and those ruts I had dug didn’t feel quite so deep.
“Prayer is more important than food.” These words are a bit silly, and my friend doesn’t even remember saying them. Still, these words have stuck with me through the years. When nothing seems to be going right, I know the question to ask is, “Am I praying?”
Whether it’s “I’m too busy” or “I’m too distracted,” whatever excuses I hold up for neglecting prayer are simply that, excuses. That silly phrase is a reminder that the true power behind any word or action lies first and foremost in God.”
I believe in grace. I can cite you examples in my own life, confidentially, where I have experienced the efficacious power of grace, and for which there is no other explanation I am aware of; certainly, the least of which would be my own efforts. I believe in grace. I rely on it desperately. I seek it constantly. I pray for it fervently. I have no other hope; nor, wish any.
“It happens whenever a group of people spend a lot of time studying the same thing. Physicists tell quantum-mechanics jokes, musicians tell voice-part jokes, and Dominicans tell virtue-ethics jokes. Often enough, a word means one thing in common parlance and something very different in a specialized context, whether that context be physics, music, or moral theology. In this particular case, we were talking about our struggles in community life, and a brother was self-deprecatingly going through a litany of ways in which he lacks self-control. Summing them up, he profoundly declared, “I am the incontinent man.” Everyone burst out laughing.
Of course, we all knew what he meant. Aristotle defines an incontinent man as someone who thinks things through and knows, in general, what he ought to do; but, when a particular action is required, he succumbs, against his better judgment, to his malformed passions.
In a certain sense, it’s strange that this should happen—strange that someone who knows what he should do, doesn’t do it. On the other hand, it’s a very common experience—one that most of us know only too well—and it’s perfectly described by St. Paul: “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I hate” (Rom 7:15).
Clearly, no one wants to live in a state of incontinence. In fact, a defining trait of the incontinent man is that, although he does the wrong thing, he is unhappy about it. (This is in contrast to the truly vicious man, who does the wrong thing and wouldn’t have it any other way.) It’s encouraging, then, that Aristotle suggests that a man can, by effort and training, rise above incontinence and achieve continence, or self-control.
Continence, however, is only half the battle, according to Aristotle. In a certain sense, nothing has changed about the way a continent man approaches an ethical choice. He still reasons to the same correct ethical conclusion, and he still feels the same base passions against it; it’s just that, now, he is able to subdue his passions and do the right thing. Obviously, doing the right thing is better than failing to do so, but is this the best we can hope for? Does the ideal of the moral life amount to gritting our teeth and fighting against our lower appetites, constantly tiptoeing our way through a minefield of passions?
Unfortunately, many really do see the moral life this way. In fact, following Immanuel Kant, some claim that the only way we can know we have done a good act for a good reason, and not from some selfish motive, is by fighting against our natural inclinations. On this view—which many well-intentioned Christians implicitly accept—the moral life is a constant battle against ourselves. The good life is reduced to a mere external fidelity to the Commandments, a joyless battle against disordered passion.
Unlike Kant, Aristotle doesn’t regard continence as the height of human virtue. For him, the truly virtuous man is the man who not only does the right thing because he knows it’s the right thing, but also does it with ease—that is, with the help, not the hindrance, of his passions. In fact, a truly virtuous man’s natural appetites are so attuned to the good that he hardly even needs to deliberate about moral actions. There is nothing pulling him in some other direction. For such a man, Aristotle says, virtue has become “a second nature.”
As inspiring as this picture of the virtuous man is, Aristotle seems to imply that if we aren’t raised this way from birth, we’re simply out of luck. Once we let any of our baser appetites go astray, there’s not a whole lot we can do except constantly struggle not to give in to them. Needless to say, this is not a very happy prospect.
Thankfully, this is where St. Thomas takes up the baton and gives us more hope.
He agrees with Aristotle about the dim prospect of becoming virtuous by natural means. No purely human agency, according to St. Thomas, can heal our moral brokenness. Fortunately, though, the grace of God is intimately at work in our lives, transforming and perfecting our nature, and the power of this grace can lift us out of whatever rut we may be stuck in.
This supernatural perspective teaches us two things. First, while we must continue to strive against the things that lead us into sin, we need not struggle alone. Second, if we try to go it alone, relying only on natural supports, we are ultimately bound to fail.
The grace of God doesn’t just help us attain true virtue; it makes such virtue possible. Even better, it makes the moral life something more than just a constant grind, a mere assent of the will against the angry protest of our passions. It makes it the right ordering of our entire humanity—intellect, will, and emotions—into the person God created us to be. This way, what we know we should do is not only what God calls us to do, but also what we truly desire.
This idyllic portrait of the virtuous man can be hard to accept for those of us still slogging it out in the realm of continence and incontinence. Yet we have the witness of the saints to give us hope. Though well aware of their sinfulness, and even beset by temptations, the saints are not grim figures who stoically suppress all of their passions. Rather, they are caught up in the love of God. They joyfully and wholeheartedly follow wherever He leads, depending on His grace every step of the way.”
John Duckett was an Englishman, who may have been the grandson of the martyr Bl James Duckett. Father John studied at the English college of Douay in France and became a priest in 1639. He studied for three more years in Paris, spending several hours each day in prayer. He spent two months with the Cistercian monks, offering that time to God in prayer and retreat before he was sent back to his persecuted England.
The young priest worked hard for a year teaching people about the Catholic faith in England, but one day when he was on his way to baptize two children, he was caught with the holy oils and book of rites. When his captors threatened harm to his family and friends if he did not tell them who he was, he admitted that he was a priest. He was immediately taken to prison in London.
There he met a Jesuit priest, Ralph Corby. Father Corby had worked in England for twelve years before they caught him celebrating Mass one day. The Jesuit order tried hard to save Father Corby. When the Jesuits finally obtained his pardon, he insisted that Father John Duckett, who was younger, be set free instead of him. But Father John refused to leave without his friend.
“Assuredly this man dies for a good cause.” – Blessed John’s jailers as they saw the way he dealt with his sentence.
“I fear not death, nor do I condemn not life. If life were my lot, I would endure it patiently; but if death, I shall receive it joyfully, for that Christ is my life, and death is my gain. Never since my receiving of Holy Orders did I so much fear death as I did life, and now, when it approacheth, can I faint?” -from Bl John Duckett’s final letter, written the night before his execution.
At his execution, Father Duckett told a Protestant minister who stood ready to lecture him, “Sir, I come not hither to be taught my faith, but to die for the profession of it.”
Then on September 7, 1644, at ten o’clock, the two priests were taken to Tyburn, to be executed. Their heads were shaved and they wore their cassocks. Each made a short speech, then embraced each other. Their next meeting would be before the King of Kings and Judge of Judges; their shared, same Master.
Bl John’s hand and some of his clothing were recovered as relics, but they had to be hidden, and their hiding place has been lost.
-Bl John Duckett’s Cross, marking the spot where he was arrested
Practically every page in the history of the French Revolution is stained with blood. What is known in history as the Carmelite Massacre of 1792, added nearly 200 victims to this noble company of martyrs. They were all priests, secular and religious, who refused to take the schismatic oath, and had been imprisoned in the church attached to the Carmelite monastery in Paris. Among these priests were a Conventual, a Capuchin, and a member of the Third Order Regular. These priests were victims of the French Revolution.
Though their martyrdom spans a period of several years, they stand together in the Church’s memory because they all gave their lives for the same principle. The Civil Constitution of the Clergy (1791) required all priests to take an oath which amounted to a denial of the faith. Each of these men refused and was executed.
John Francis Burte was born in the town of Rambervillers in Lorraine. At the age of 16 he joined the Franciscans at Nancy and there he also pronounced his solemn vows. In due time he was ordained a priest and for some time taught theology to the younger members of the order. He was at one time also superior of his convent.
After Pope Clement XIV, formerly a Conventual friar, had ordered the merging of the province of the Franciscans, to which John Francis belonged, with the Conventuals, Father John Francis was placed in charge of the large convent in Paris and encouraged his brethren to practice strict observance of the rule. His zeal for souls was outstanding, and he zealously guarded the rights of the Church in this troubled period of history.
When the French Revolution broke out, he was reported for permitting his priests to exercise their functions after they refused to take the infamous oath required by the government, and which was a virtual denial of their Faith. He was arrested and held captive with other priests in the convent of the Carmelites. His constancy in refusing to take the sacrilegious oath won for him a cruel martyrdom on September 2, 1792.
Acquiring a reputation as an excellent preacher, confessor and instructor of clerics, Apollinaris of Posat was preparing to go East as a missionary. He was in Paris studying Oriental languages when the French Revolution began. Refusing the oath, he was swiftly arrested and detained in the Carmelite convent. Born John James Morel before his entrance into religion, he was born near Friboug in Switzerland in 1739, and received his education from the Jesuits. In 1762 he joined the Capuchins in Zug and before long became a prominent preacher, a much-sought confessor, and an eminent instructor of the young clerics of the order. He impressed on their minds the truth that piety and learning are the two eyes of a priest, and humility was a dominating virtue in his life. He suffered a cruel martyrdom on September 2, 1792.
Severin Girault, a member of the Third Order Regular, was a chaplain for a group of sisters in Paris. Imprisoned with the others, he was the first to die in the slaughter at the convent, a priest of the Third Order Regular, formerly George Girault, his undaunted courage merited the grace to be numbered among these martyrs of Christ. He was born at Rouen in Normandy, and early in life joined the Third Order Regular of St. Francis. Because of his eminent mental gifts he was chosen a superior of his order. In the exercise of his priestly duties he displayed marked zeal for souls, and as chaplain of the convent of St. Elizabeth in Paris he was a prudent director in the ways of religious perfection.
He was also summoned to take the civil oath, and upon his refusal to do this he was seized and confined in the Carmelite convent where so many other confessors of Christ were being detained. On September 2, while he was saying his Office in the convent garden, the raving assassins made him the first victim of their cruel slaughter.
These three members of the Franciscan Order, together with 182 other servants of God who suffered martyrdom at this time, were solemnly beatified by Pope Pius XI, and the Franciscan Order was granted permission to celebrate their feast annually with an Office and special Mass.
These three plus 182 others—including several bishops and many religious and diocesan priests—were massacred at the Carmelite house in Paris on September 2, 1792. They were beatified in 1926.John Baptist Triquerie, born in 1737, entered the Conventual Franciscans. He was chaplain and confessor of Poor Clare monasteries in three cities before he was arrested for refusing to take the oath. He and 13 diocesan priests were guillotined in Laval on January 21, 1794. He was beatified in 1955.
“Liberty, Equality, Fraternity” was the motto of the French Revolution. If individuals have “inalienable rights,” as the Declaration of Independence states, these must come not from the agreement of society (which can be very fragile/mutable/mercurial/fickle/ephemeral/illusory) but directly from God, which the Declaration also declares with certitude and religious conviction to be the case for the United States. At least we started out that way.
“The upheaval which occurred in France toward the close of the 18th century wrought havoc in all things sacred and profane and vented its fury against the Church and her ministers. Unscrupulous men came to power who concealed their hatred for the Church under the deceptive guise of philosophy…. It seemed that the times of the early persecutions had returned. The Church, spotless bride of Christ, became resplendent with bright new crowns of martyrdom” (Acts of Martyrdom).
“How good and how pleasant it is,
when brothers dwell in unity!
It is like precious oil poured on the head,
running down on the beard,
running down on Aaron’s beard,
down on the collar of his robe.
It is as if the dew of Hermon
were falling on Mount Zion.
For there the Lord bestows his blessing,
even life forevermore.”
-by Br Patrick Mary Briscoe, OP
“For non-Catholics, Francis is the easiest saint to understand and love, while Dominic is the most difficult, once remarked Chesterton. If the abundance of Francis-emblazoned garden decorations and the world’s new-found devotion to Pope Francis—whose namesake is the beggar friar of Assisi—are a reliable indication, the statement is undoubtedly true. The endearing vagabond stigmatist of Alverna, known for his love of creation and his sympathy for the poor, easily captures the hearts of multitudes, Catholics and non-Catholics alike. In contrast, many written or artistic depictions portray Dominic as the black-and-white clad, crusade-preaching, stern-faced Spaniard of the un-holy Inquisition. Even today it seems this unfortunate caricature of Dominic abides, as many find Saint Dominic difficult to love and to others he is completely unknown.
Perhaps some would feel drawn to Saint Dominic if his great sympathy for the poor was spoken of more frequently. As the records of his canonization recall, when he was a student of theology he sold his books to feed the poor of Palencia. But the great saint lived this solidarity with the poor his entire life, even dying in the bed of another friar—since he had no cell of his own. To witness to the authenticity of his preaching, Dominic crossed the countryside walking barefoot (in great contrast to the official papal preachers of his day, travelling as they did in luxurious caravans). A further glimpse of his absolute dedication to poverty is offered by contemporaries of Saint Dominic who attest they only ever saw him wearing the same one habit, covered in patches.
Could it not also be hard to admire Saint Dominic because of the hidden nature of his life of prayer and study? With a reputation for sincerity and dedication to his work of learning, the young saint was known to spend many long nights poring over his books. Later in life these sleepless vigils became nights given over to the work of prayer for the conversion of souls. The fruits of these kinds of efforts though are all-so-often veiled from our prying eyes.
Maybe affection for Dominic is foreign to some hearts because of how little is said of the intensity of his labors. Saint Dominic’s idea to found the Order was original and highly innovative. To establish the unprecedented group the Order of Preachers required him to be a master of efficiency and organization. Consider the fact that Dominic only worked for five years after papal approval of the Order before his death and in that time managed to bequeath to it a lasting legacy of governance, traditions and ideals. Accordingly, these earliest days of the Order leave behind a vivid image of the extraordinary abilities and intuition of its founder.
Is it not also possible that some struggle to be devoted to Saint Dominic because they find the idea of the work of “preaching” aloof or disconnected? We have said Dominic was a man of study, a true intellectual, but Saint Dominic himself ordered these efforts towards his preaching. He was a man of learning so that he could reach people with the truth, not be distanced from them! We have only to think of the night Dominic, the preacher of grace, spent speaking until dawn with an innkeeper to convert him in order to see the saint’s acquired knowledge at work, a powerful tool put to use for the salvation of souls.
The extraordinary devotion and charity marked by provision and preparation of Dominic laud not only this man, but his master, Our Lord. Orestes Brownson says of Saint Dominic, “The fact, however, is, that there never was a man more emphatically a man of peace, and a herald of the Gospel of peace, than the blessed St. Dominic. His name is never mentioned […] except as a teacher of the ignorant, a consoler of the afflicted, and a model of sanctity for all.” When a person sees the life of Saint Dominic in its grandeur and glory, humility and simplicity, Dominic can be known as he truly is: an icon of Christ. So let us draw back the curtain then and allow the image of Saint Dominic to emerge from behind the shadows of our time, that by his example and intercession multitudes of men and women may be drawn to the Light of Christ!”
The Christian definition of love of neighbor means wanting the best for the other. This may mean forgiving them, comforting them; it may mean meeting their physical needs; it may mean profound patience with the beloved, even enduring injustices; it may mean loving correction in a gentle manner, such as a parent does for the child they love; it may mean “tough love”, if that is only what will be in the other’s best interests, as God gives us the grace, His help and loving example to understand them; it may mean calling the cops, if that, too, is what is in the best interests of all involved and the situation has reached that point. Christian love DOES NOT MEAN forgoing the demands of justice; quite to the contrary. There is no love w/out justice, even in this life. Even God, loving and merciful, will ultimately bring about justice; He tells us so Himself. He is most merciful, patient, and kind, but not stupid, as Cardinal George puts it. (Gal 6:7)
Loving oneself is natural enough; loving others, because they are lovable is, too, self-interested; loving others because God commands it so, is difficult; loving, finally, my neighbor as God loves us, is the most difficult of all. This is where I am trying to go. Not merely “Love one another” w/out standard, but, rather “Love one another as I have loved you.” (Jn 13:34)
The Works of Mercy
The Corporal Works of Mercy
To feed the hungry.
To give drink to the thirsty.
To clothe the naked.
To harbour the harbourless. (also loosely interpreted today as To Shelter the Homeless)
To visit the sick.
To visit the imprisoned (classical term is “To ransom the captive”)
To bury the dead.
The Spiritual Works of Mercy
To instruct the ignorant.*
To counsel the doubtful.*
To admonish sinners.*
To bear wrongs patiently.
To forgive offences willingly.
To comfort the afflicted.
To pray for the living and the dead.
*The Church recognizes these are not within the competency of everyone and should be undertaken by canonically trained professional ministers and counselors. I do not, at all, hardly, consider myself in this category as I am not a professionally trained minister. I’m just a sinner w/too much time and, unfortunately, for you, a keyboard, an internet connection, insatiable curiosity, and your email address. 🙂
-by Br Tomas Martin Rosado, OP
“”Love means to love that which is unlovable; or it is no virtue at all.” -G.K. Chesterton
If we are perfectly honest with ourselves, we know that there is something unlovable about us. There is some hidden, or not so hidden, part of us that we don’t think can be loved. Whether we are afraid of being caught in our lies, lusts, or other sins, or we detest our weakness and think others will look down on us for them, we all have something that we think can’t be loved.
To some extent we are right.
Love seeks the good of another. When we love, we want what is good for the person we love. However, when we love we also seek what is good in another. We love others because we see goodness in them. So, when we think we are unlovable, we are right since the various sins and weaknesses of our character are not good, but we can still be loved despite them.
Take every romantic comedy ever written: one of the protagonists feels/knows that they are unlovable for some reason and so try to hide the flaw. The other protagonist finds the flaw at the worst possible moment and things go south for about 15-45 minutes. Finally, both protagonists come to terms with their mutual flaws and move past them (usually without really addressing the underlying attitude of selfishness…but I digress).
We find that other humans love what is good in us and it is a question of whether they will continue to love us in the face of our personal evils. Do they love me enough to continue loving me when they see the dark areas of my soul? We have to be worthy of love on some level. We have to be lovable to be loved.
God doesn’t love like this. We don’t have to earn God’s love by being good. God’s love makes us good. God doesn’t see my goodness and then love me. God loves me and in that act of love, God makes me lovable. I don’t have to wait to be perfect for God’s love; God’s love perfects me.
“Where there is no love, put love, and you will draw love out.” -St. John of the Cross
This is the love that Christians are given in Baptism; this is charity. In charity, we are able to share the love God has given to us with others. In charity, we become like God who makes us lovable by first loving us. Like God, we call forth loveliness in others by first loving them.
“In this is love, not that we loved God but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the expiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.” (1 Jn. 4:10-11)
Our lack of lovability/goodness is not an obstacle to being loved. God’s Goodness, Providence, and Mercy is infinitely greater than our sin, weakness, or the evil we commit. All we can do is repent, turn again, and in sincerity and humility of heart, continuously approach the One who has loved us first.”
On August 12, 304 A.D., during the persecution of Diocletian at Catania, in Sicily, a deacon named Euplius was arrested for owning and reading a copy of the Gospels. He had been reading and explaining the Gospels to a gathered crowd. He was brought to the governor’s hall. He staunchly professed his faith. Standing on the outside of the curtain of the governor’s audience chamber, Euplius cried out: “I am a Christian, and shall rejoice to die for the name of Jesus Christ.” The governor, Calvisian/Calvinianus/Calvinian, heard him and ordered that he who had made that outcry should be brought in, and presented before him. With the Book of the Gospels, Euplius was led before the governor. Maximus, a friend of the governor’s who was present, said to Euplius, “You ought not to keep such writings, contrary to the edicts of the emperors.”
The governor queried Euplius whether he brought the text from his house, or carried them about with him. Euplius replied he had no house and carried the Scripture with him at all times. “But why,” said the judge, “did you not give up those writings as the emperors have commanded?” “Because I am a Christian. I will sooner die than deliver them. In them is eternal life, which is lost by him who would betray what God has entrusted to his keeping.”
Euplius was commanded to read from the Scriptures. The saint read the passage: “Blest are they who suffer persecution for justice’s sake, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.” (Mt 5:10) Euplius then read the passage: “If anyone will come after Me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow Me.” (Mt 16:24/Lk 9:23)
Questioned by the governor as to what this meant, the youth replied: “It is the law of my Lord, which has been delivered to me.” Calvisian asked: “By whom?” Euplius replied: “By Jesus Christ, the Son of the Living God.” This infuriated the governor, and he ordered that Euplius be led away to be tortured. At the height of his torment Euplius was asked if he still persisted in Christianity. The saintly youth answered: “What I said before, I say again: I am a Christian and I read the Sacred Scriptures.” The martyr said, while he was tormented: “I thank You, O Lord Jesus Christ, that I suffer for Your sake: save me, I beseech You.”
Calvisianus said: “Lay aside your folly; adore our gods, and you shall be set free.” Euplius answered: “I adore Jesus Christ; I detest the devils. Do what you please; add new torments; for I am a Christian. I have long desired to be in the condition in which I now am.” After the executioners had tormented him a long time, Calvisianus bade them desist, and said: “Wretch, adore the gods; worship Mars, Apollo, and Æsculapius.” Euplius replied: “I adore the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. I worship the Holy Trinity, besides whom there is no God.” Calvisianus said: “Sacrifice, if you would be delivered.” Euplius answered: “I sacrifice myself now to Jesus Christ, my God. All your efforts to move me are to no purpose. I am a Christian.” Then Calvisianus gave orders for increasing his torments.
While the executioners were exerting their utmost in tormenting him, Euplius prayed: “I thank You, my God; Jesus Christ, succor me. It is for your name’s sake that I endure these torments.” This he repeated several times. When his strength failed him, his lips were seen still to move, the martyr continuing the same or the like prayer with his lips when he could no longer do it with his voice. The governor realized that he would never give up his faith, and ordered him to be beheaded.
The executioners hung the book of the Gospels, which the martyr had with him when he was seized, about his neck, and the public crier proclaimed before him: “This is Euplius the Christian, an enemy to the gods and the emperors.” Euplius continued very cheerful, and repeated as he went: “I give thanks to Jesus Christ, my God. Confirm, O Lord, what You have begun in me.” When he had come to the place of execution, he prayed a long time on his knees, and once more returning thanks, presented his neck to the executioner, who cut off his head. The Christians carried off his body, embalmed and buried it.
St. Euplius died April 29, 305 A.D., praising God all the while.
-Church of St Euplius, Moscow, 1881.
“The Pope!??? How many divisions does he have?” -Josef Stalin, General Secretary of the Communist Party of the former Soviet Union, said sarcastically to Pierre Laval in 1935, in response to being asked whether he could do anything with Russian Catholics to help Laval win favor with the Pope, to counter the increasing threat of Nazism; as quoted in The Second World War (1948) by Winston Churchill vol. 1, ch. 8, p. 105.
“The one with the most saints, wins!” -Dr. Peter Kreeft, Boston College
Peter’s last name, in addition to Faber, can be rendered Favre, Fevre, or LeFevre. My first-year…Wahoos (UVA) don’t say freshman, sophomore, …, etc. We are not one of those rah-rah institutions. Nonetheless, my first-year dorm at UVA was LeFevre dorm. Le Few, Le Proud, LeFevre!
Peter Faber was born in 1506 in Villaret, Savoy in the south of France. As a boy, he looked after his father’s sheep in the French Alps. While tending sheep during the week, he taught cathechism to children on Sundays. Aware of his call to be a priest, he longed to study. At first, he was entrusted to the care of a priest at Thones and later to a neighbouring school at La Roche-sur-Foron. With the consent of his parents, in 1525 he went to the University of Paris. It was here that he discovered his real vocation. He was admitted to the College of Sainte-Barbe where he shared lodgings with a student from Navarre named Francis Xavier, and Iñigo of Loyola, a soldier twice their age. They became close friends and graduated on the same day in 1530 with a master of arts degree. Both Peter and Francis came under the influence of Igantius. While Peter taught Ignatius the philosophy of Aristotle, Ignatius directed him in the spiritual life. Ignatius helped Peter understand his soul. Peter made the Spiritual Exercises under Ignatius in 1534.
Peter Faber had a gentle spirit and a tendency to be very hard on himself. Ignatius proved to be the perfect mentor for him, and Faber eventually became the master of the Spiritual Exercises. While hard on himself, Faber was gentle with others and became a gifted pastor of souls, winning others for Jesus. Rather than preaching, Peter was most effective in spiritual companionship and friendship of others.
Peter was ordained priest in 1534, the first priest in Ignatius’ group, and was celebrant of the Mass on 15 August of the same year at which Ignatius and his companions made their vows of poverty, chastity and obedience, which, as a priest, Peter could receive. All had the intention of going to the Holy Land. Soon three more became members of the group. After Ignatius, Peter Faber was the one for whom the companions had the deepest respect because of his knowledge, his holiness and his influence on people.
Leaving Paris on 15 November 1536, Peter and the companions met up with Ignatius in Venice in January 1537. They planned to evangelize in the Holy Land but the instability of the region made it impossible. So they now decided to form a religious congregation and went to Rome where the Society of Jesus was approved by Pope Paul III in 1540. After some time preaching and teaching in Rome, the pope sent Peter to Parma and Piacenza in Italy where he preached the Gospel with success. He was then sent to Germany to defend the Catholic faith against the Reformers at the Diet of Worms in 1540. From Worms, Peter was called to another Diet at Ratisbon in the following year. He was disturbed by the unrest caused by Protestantism but even more by the decadence of Catholic life. He saw that what was needed was not discussion with the Protestants but the reform of the Catholic Church, in particular, the clergy. He spent a successful 10 months at Speyer, Ratisbon and Mainz. He influenced princes, prelates, and priests who opened themselves to him and amazed people by the effectiveness of his outreach. In Germany, he found the state of the Church in such disarray that it left his heart “tormented by a steady and intolerable pain.” He worked for the renewal of the Church a person at a time, leading many in the Spiritual Exercises. Princes, prelates, and priests would especially find Peter Faber a gentle source of instruction and guidance leading to renewal.
Recalled to Spain by St. Ignatius, Faber left the field where he had been so successful and on his way won over his native region of Savoy, which never ceased to venerate him as a saint. He had hardly been in Spain six months when the pope ordered him back to Germany. He spent the next 19 months working for reform in Speyer, Mainz, and Cologne. Gradually he won over the clergy and discovered many vocations among the young. Among these was a young Dutchman, Peter Canisius who, as a Jesuit, would earn the title of Apostle of Germany. After spending some time in Leuven (Louvain) in 1543, he was called in the following year to go to Portugal and then to Spain. He was instrumental in establishing the Jesuits in Portugal.
He was called to the principal cities of Spain where he did much good. Among the vocations he nurtured was that of Francis Borgia, Duke of Gandia, who, following the death of his wife, would become a Jesuit and later the third General of the Jesuits. Faber, still only 40 years old, was now worn out by his constant labours and long journeys, always made on foot. Pope Paul III wanted to send him to the coming Council of Trent as peritus, theologian of the Holy See, and King John III of Portugal wanted to make him Patriarch of Ethiopia. However, he only got as far as Rome on his way to the Council. Suffering from exhaustion, he always traveled on foot as a sign of evangelical poverty and humility, he developed a fever after his journey. He died in the arms of Ignatius in Rome on 1 August 1546. Peter Faber was beatified by Pope Pius IX in 1872. He is remembered for his travels through Europe promoting Catholic renewal and his great skill in directing the Spiritual Exercises.
Faber exhibited a deep love for the Communion of Saints. As a lone Jesuit often on the move, Faber never felt alone because he walked in a world that bridged time and eternity, whose denizens included saints and angels. He would ask the saint of the day and all the saints “to obtain for us not only virtues and salvation for our spirits but in particular whatever can strengthen, heal, and preserve the body and each of its parts”. His guardian angel, above all, became his chief ally. He sought support from the saints and angels both for his personal sanctification and in his evangelization of communities. Whenever he entered a new town or region, Faber implored the aid of the particular angels and saints associated with that place. Through the intercession of his allies, Faber could enter even a potentially hostile region assured of a spiritual army at his side. Finally, Faber found support for his efforts with individuals through the assistance of the blessed. As he desired to bring each person he met to a closer relationship through spiritual friendship and conversation, he would invoke the intercession of the person’s guardian angel. Sounds like my kind of guy.
On July 17th 2013, Pope Francis issued a motu proprio to canonize Blessed Peter Faber, SJ,, the first companion of St. Ignatius of Loyola. When in 1622, Ignatius and Francis Xavier were canonized at the same ceremony, Peter was not included.
Prayer for Detachment
I beg of you, my Lord
to remove anything which separates
me from you, and you from me.
Remove anything that makes me unworthy
of your sight, your control, your reprehension;
of your speech and conversation,
of your benevolence and love.
Cast from me every evil
that stands in the way of my seeing you,
hearing, tasting, savoring, and touching you;
fearing and being mindful of you;
knowing, trusting, loving, and possessing you;
being conscious of your presence
and, as far as may be, enjoying you.
This is what I ask for myself
and earnestly desire from you. Amen
I must confess, though fear not, TMI is not looming! 🙂 I must confess the Mystery of the Real Presence is one I wrestle, I struggle with. An engineer looks for engineering answers. Divine mysteries certainly do not lend themselves typically to engineering answers. Neither must one ever be naively lulled into thinking God will not be direct. He has, on occasion, been very direct in my life. 🙂
The best answer I have come up with, proof if you like, at least one I am satisfied with, is to spend a holy hour before the Blessed Sacrament in silence. Doesn’t matter, I believe, believer or non, young or old, male or female, saint or sinner, sit for one hour before the Blessed Sacrament, in silence, and then I will come to you, or lean towards you, quietly, and ask, “Now tell me it’s just a piece of bread.” That’s the best I’ve got. That’s it. That’s where I get my answer from. Believers would say not a bad place for an answer. If you come to the conclusion I believe you will, it certainly was the most well invested hour of your life? No? 🙂 Try it, if you dare. Be open to the possibility, I beg you. I implore you! 🙂
I also like:
“If it’s just a symbol, then the hell with it.”
“God in his omnipotence could not give more, in His wisdom He knew not how to give more, in His riches He had not more to give, than the Eucharist.” – Saint Augustine
I’ve also attached the audio file of a talk by Fr. Mike Schmitz, pastor of University of Minnesota-Duluth, Newman Center. Enjoy!
(Historical note: it is also interesting to note, however permissive ancient Romans were, they drew a hard line at cannibalism; also, Jewish prohibitions against blood-drinking, etc. The Lord was blowing it up socially with every word. KABOOM!!! And, then of course, He concluded with “just kid…” No, He didn’t.)
Today the Church marks the memorial of St. Peter Julian Eymard (1811-1868), whose name may not be familiar to you, but whose influence certainly is. If you have ever seen the work of the great French artist Auguste Rodin, such as his iconic sculptures “The Kiss” or “The Thinker”, then you have his friend St. Peter Eymard to thank for such work having been made at all. The relationship between Fr. Eymard and Rodin is further proof, if needed, that God can work through even the most hardened sinner, and why we must never give up on those who seem to be out of step with Christ.
French priest St. Peter Eymard founded the Congregation of the Blessed Sacrament in 1856, to help promote the 40 Hours devotion to the Holy Eucharist. In 1862 the young Auguste Rodin (1840-1917) joined the Congregation as a novice, following the death of his sister Maria – an event which hit him very hard. Rodin gave up his career as a budding artist to seek spiritual comfort and direction, and probably would have remained in some sort of limbo and anguish, searching for meaning in his life, had it not been for Eymard’s counsel.
Fr. Eymard embraced, and in fact openly encouraged the creation of painting, sculpture, and architecture to honor the Blessed Sacrament. “For the Eucharist, nothing is too beautiful,” he once wrote to a friend. Yet he was also an experienced enough religious to know when someone was not suited to the consecrated life. While the Congregation might have benefited from having its own Fra Angelico, as did the Dominicans in early Renaissance Florence, it became clear to Fr. Eymard that Auguste Rodin was not going to be that person.
Following the counsel of Fr. Eymard, Rodin eventually left the Congregation and re-entered secular life, around the time he completed a bust of his friend and spiritual advisor. Fr. Eymard himself did not care for its overly showy, wavy hair, but it eventually came to be recognized as an early masterwork by the young artist. As the reader is well-aware, Rodin subsequently went on to become probably the greatest sculptor of the later 19th and early 20th centuries. And Fr. Eymard himself was later canonized, interestingly enough, on the 100th anniversary of Maria Rodin’s death.
Like all of us, Peter Julian Eymard [pronounced A-mard] was conditioned by his cultural background as well as by the sociopolitical milieu of his time. Life in France during the first half of the nineteenth century forms the backdrop against which to view the gradual unfolding of Peter Julian’s life story.
Years earlier, the French Revolution of 1789 had radically altered the political, legal, social and religious structures of the country. As a teenager, the industrial revolution was changing the face of Europe. As a young man Eymard witnessed the dawning of the Age of Romanticism in art, music, and literature.Peter Julian Eymard’s road to the priesthood, as well as his life as a priest,was marked by the cross. In French society, there was a strong anticlericalism. In addition, the Eymard family was poor and Peter Julian’s father was reluctant to give his blessing to his son’s choice of career. His first attempt toattain priesthood ended because of serious illness. He tried again. OnJuly 20, 1834, at 23 years of age, Eymard was ordained a priest for the Diocese of Grenoble.
In Eymard’s day there was a religious movement called Jansenism. This movement focused on the gravity of human sinfulness and as consequence stressed our unworthiness in the presence of a transcendent and perfect Divinity. In his early years as a seminarian and priest, Fr. Eymard was influenced by this reparation spirituality and he would struggle his whole life long to seek that inner perfection that would enable him to offer to God the gift of his entire self. Perhaps it was the intensification of this growing spiritual struggle along with Fr. Eymard’s desire to accomplish great things for God that led him to enter religious life. On August 20, 1839, Fr. Eymard became a member of the Marist Congregation by professing the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience.
His Eucharistic spirituality did not spring full grown from some mystical experience, but progressively. Eymard became familiar with the practice of sustained eucharistic worship during a visit to Paris in 1849, when he met with members of the Association of Nocturnal Adorers who had established exposition and perpetual adoration of the Blessed Sacrament at the Basilica of Our Lady of Victories.
After praying at the shrine of Our Lady of Fourviere on 21 January 1851, Eymard moved to establish a Marist community dedicated to Eucharistic adoration. However, his desire to establish a separate fraternity promoting adoration of the Blessed Sacrament was not seen as part of the charism of the Marists. His superiors disapproved, transferring him to the Marist College at La Seyne-sur-Mer. Eventually, Eymard resolved to leave the Society of Mary to begin his new religious congregation with the diocesan priest Raymond de Cuers.
On 13 May 1856, the Paris bishops consented to Eymard’s plans for a ‘Society of the Blessed Sacrament’. After many trials, Eymard and de Cuers established public exposition of the Blessed Sacrament in Paris on 6 January 1857 in a run-down building at 114 rue d’Enfer (which literally meant ‘street of hell’). With the encouragement of the Cure of Ars, St John Vianney, (Aug 4) the nucleus of two communities of men and women were started in March 1858 in Paris.
The Congregation of the Blessed Sacrament began working with children in Paris to prepare them to receive their First Communion. It also reached out to non-practicing Catholics, inviting them to repent and begin receiving Communion again. Father Eymard established a common rule for the members of the society and worked toward papal approval, obtained in 1858 from Pope Pius IX. Eymard was a tireless proponent of frequent Holy Communion, an idea given more authoritative backing by Pope Pius X in 1905.
There is hope for me!!!!! 🙂 St Peter Julian Eymard, SSS, pray for us!
-bust of St Julian Eymard, by his dear friend Rodin
“We believe in the love of God for us. To believe in love is everything. It is not enough to believe in the Truth. We must believe in Love and Love is our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament. That is the faith that makes our Lord loved. Ask for this pure and simple faith in the Eucharist. Men will teach you; but only Jesus will give you the grace to believe in Him. You have the Eucharist. What more do you want?” – Saint Peter Julian Eymard
“If the love of Jesus in the Most Blessed Sacrament does not win our hearts, Jesus is vanquished! Our ingratitude is greater than His Goodness our malice is more powerful than His Charity.” – Saint Peter Julian Eymard
“Every time we come into the presence of the Eucharist we may say: This precious Testament cost Jesus Christ His life. For the Eucharist is a testament, a legacy which becomes valid only at the death of the testator. Our Lord thereby shows us His boundless love, for He Himself said there is no greater proof of love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” – Saint Peter Julian Eymard
“The Holy Eucharist is the perfect expression of the love of Jesus Christ for man, since It is the quintessence of all the mysteries of His Life.” – Saint Peter Julian Eymard
“He loves, He hopes, He waits. If He came down on our altars on certain days only, some sinner, on being moved to repentance, might have to look for Him, and not finding Him, might have to wait. Our Lord prefers to wait Himself for the sinner for years rather than keep him waiting one instant.” – Saint Peter Julian Eymard
“How kind is our Sacramental Jesus! He welcomes you at any hour of the day or night. His Love never knows rest. He is always most gentle towards you. When you visit Him, He forgets your sins and speaks only of His joy, His tenderness, and His Love. By the reception He gives to you, one would think He has need of you to make Him happy.” – Saint Peter Julian Eymard
“Love cannot triumph unless it becomes the one passion of our life. Without such passion we may produce isolated acts of love; but our life is not really won over or consecrated to an ideal. Until we have a passionate love for our Lord in the Most Blessed Sacrament we shall accomplish nothing.”– St Peter Julian Eymard
“The Eucharist is the work of a measureless love that has at its service an infinite power, the omnipotence of God.” – St Peter Julian Eymard
“He loved us personally … centuries before we were born.” -St. Peter Julian Eymard
“Have a great love for Jesus in his divine Sacrament of Love; that is the divine oasis of the desert. It is the heavenly manna of the traveller. It is the Holy Ark. It is the life and Paradise of love on earth.” -St Peter Julian Eymard
“Hear Mass daily; it will prosper the whole day. All your duties will be performed the better for it, and your soul will be stronger to bear its daily cross. The Mass is the most holy act of religion; you can do nothing that can give greater glory to God or be more profitable for your soul than to hear Mass both frequently and devoutly. It is the favorite devotion of the saints.” -St Peter Julian Eymard
Gracious God of our ancestors,
you led Peter Julian Eymard,
like Jacob in times past,
on a journey of faith.
Under the guidance of your gentle Spirit,
Peter Julian discovered the gift of love in the Eucharist
which Your Son Jesus offered for the hungers of humanity.
Grant that we may celebrate this mystery worthily,
adore Him profoundly, and proclaim it prophetically for Your greater glory. Amen.
Summa Catechetica, "Neque enim quaero intelligere ut credam, sed credo ut intelligam." – St Anselm, "Let your religion be less of a theory, and more of a love affair." -G.K. Chesterton, "I want a laity, not arrogant, not rash in speech, not disputatious, but men and women who know their religion, who enter into it, who know just where they stand, who know what they hold and what they do not, and who know their creed so well that they can give an account of it."- Bl John Henry Newman, Cong. Orat., "Encounter, not confrontation; attraction, not promotion; dialogue, not debate." -cf Pope Francis, “You will not see anyone who is really striving after his advancement who is not given to spiritual reading. And as to him who neglects it, the fact will soon be observed by his progress.” -St Athanasius, "To convert someone, go and take them by the hand and guide them." -St Thomas Aquinas, OP. 1 saint ruins ALL the cynicism in Hell & on Earth. “When we pray we talk to God; when we read God talks to us…All spiritual growth comes from reading and reflection.” -St Isidore of Seville, “Also in some meditations today I earnestly asked our Lord to watch over my compositions that they might do me no harm through the enmity or imprudence of any man or my own; that He would have them as His own and employ or not employ them as He should see fit. And this I believe is heard.” -GM Hopkins, SJ, "Only God knows the good that can come about by reading one good Catholic book." — St. John Bosco, "Why don't you try explaining it to them?" – cf St Peter Canisius, SJ, Doctor of the Church, Doctor of the Catechism, "Already I was coming to appreciate that often apologetics consists of offering theological eye glasses of varying prescriptions to an inquirer. Only one prescription will give him clear sight; all the others will give him at best indistinct sight. What you want him to see—some particular truth of the Faith—will remain fuzzy to him until you come across theological eye glasses that precisely compensate for his particular defect of vision." -Karl Keating, "The more perfectly we know God, the more perfectly we love Him." -St Thomas Aquinas, OP, ST, I-II,67,6 ad 3, “But always when I was without a book, my soul would at once become disturbed, and my thoughts wandered." —St. Teresa of Avila, "Let those who think I have said too little and those who think I have said too much, forgive me; and let those who think I have said just enough thank God with me." –St. Augustine