DIVINE MERCY

The Message of the Divine Mercy that Sr. Faustina received from the Lord was not only directed toward her personal growth in faith but also toward the good of the people. With the command of our Lord to paint an image according to the pattern that Sr. Faustina had seen, came also a request to have this image venerated, first in the Sisters' chapel, and then throughout the world. The same is true with the revelations of the Chaplet. The Lord requested that this Chaplet be said not only by Sr. Faustina, but by others: "Encourage souls to say the Chaplet that I have given you."

The same is true of the revelation of the Feast of Mercy. "The Feast of Mercy emerged from my very depths of tenderness. It is my desire that it solemnly be celebrated on the first Sunday after Easter. Mankind will not have peace until it turns to the fount of My Mercy."

However, it is important to remember that this message of The Divine Mercy, revealed to St. Faustina and to our present generation is not new. It is a powerful reminder of who God is and has been from the very beginning. This truth that God is in His very nature Love and Mercy Itself, is given to us by our Judeo-Christian faith and God’s self-revelation. The veil that has hidden the mystery of God from eternity was lifted by God Himself. In His goodness and love God chose to reveal Himself to us, His creatures, and to make known His eternal plan of salvation. This He had done partly through the Old Testament Patriarchs, Moses and the Prophets, and fully through His only Son, our Lord Jesus Christ. In the person of Jesus Christ, conceived through power of the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary, the unseen God was made visible.

 God, Merciful Father. The Old Testament speaks frequently and with great tenderness about God’s mercy. Yet, it was Jesus, who through His words and actions, revealed to us in an extraordinary way, God as a loving Father, rich in mercy and abounding in great kindness and love. In Jesus’ merciful love and care for the poor, the oppressed, the sick and the sinful, and especially in His freely choosing to take upon Himself the punishment for our sins (a truly horrible suffering and death on the Cross), so that all may be freed from destructive consequences and death, He manifested in a superabundant and radical way the greatness of God’s love and mercy for humanity. In His person as God-Man, one in being with the Father, Jesus both reveals and is God’s Love and Mercy Itself.

Christian Spirituality is a way of living out our faith in imitation of Christ as the highest ideal and in imitation of his Saints who incarnated the spirit of Christ in their own culture and time.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church describes Christian spirituality in the category of Christian perfection:

 "All Christians in any state or walk of life are called to the fullness of Christian life and to the perfection of charity."[65] All are called to holiness: "Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect."

In order to reach this perfection the faithful should use the strength dealt out to them by Christ's gift, so that ... doing the will of the Father in everything, they may wholeheartedly devote themselves to the glory of God and to the service of their neighbour. Thus the holiness of the People of God will grow in fruitful abundance, as is clearly shown in the history of the Church through the lives of so many saints.

The way of perfection passes by way of the Cross. There is no holiness without renunciation and spiritual battle. Spiritual progress entails the ascesis and mortification that gradually lead to living in the peace and joy of the Beatitudes.

ANNUNCIATION AND GABRIEL

The Annunciation - March 25th

 By Father Thomas de Saint-Laurent

Out of love for us, the Eternal Word was made flesh in the chaste womb of Mary.  His plan was marvelously arranged.  From all eternity, He chose a man after His heart who would be the virginal spouse of His divine Mother, His adopted father on earth, and the guardian of His childhood.

While not granting Joseph the same privileges He had granted our Blessed Mother, the Lord adorned his soul with the rarest virtues and raised him to great holiness.

When Our Lady had completed her education in the Temple, she was wed to this humble artisan. Like her, Saint Joseph belonged to the royal race of David, then fallen from its ancient splendor. Also like her, he had consecrated his virginity to God and ardently desired to see with his own eyes the promised Messias, the salvation of Israel.

Read: The Annunciation and Saint Gabriel

The Most High had prepared this excellent union by revealing His will to these humble and obedient souls. Mary accepted Joseph as the guarantor of Divine Providence, while Joseph received Mary as a precious treasure entrusted to him by Heaven. Neither one nor the other suspected what blessings the Lord would lavish on their modest dwelling. The young spouses had lived but a short time in the little house of Nazareth when the scene of the Annunciation took place in all of its divine simplicity.

The last days of March had brought the return of spring to the Galilean countryside. The fig trees had begun to unfold their ample leaves and the doves to build their nests in the hollows of the rocks. Flowers dotted the rejuvenated fields. Soon another flower, infinitely more precious, would blossom from the root of Jesse.

In Heaven, the Holy Ghost acclaimed the spotless conception of the Immaculate Virgin with admiration and seemed impatient for the hour when the work of His infinite charity would be fulfilled. No longer did the Divine Spouse wish to delay. He resolved to send an extraordinary messenger to her whom He called "My Spouse" —Soror mea, sponsa. ¹

God chose the Archangel Gabriel from among the princes of the celestial court who remained constantly before the throne of the Almighty. He entrusted to him the most important and glorious assignment ever confided to a creature, the mission of announcing to the Virgin the awesome mystery of the Incarnation.

All Heaven now looked upon that simple house of Nazareth, where a profound peace reigned. Joseph probably rested from his hard labor. In the adjoining room, his virgin spouse was praying. The angel appeared and respectfully bowed before his Queen. His countenance resplendent with supernatural joy, he said to her, "Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women." ²  Saint Gabriel uttered but the strictest truth.

At the moment of Mary's conception, divine grace flooded her magnificent soul. Ever since then, this grace had grown ceaselessly in proportions far surpassing our feeble understanding. Now, at this moment, the adorable Trinity wanted this already extraordinary holiness to shine with even greater brilliance: Our Lady would shelter in her womb the very Author of grace.

Yet, the Archangel's salutation troubled the Immaculate Virgin. By divine enlightenment she had long understood the immensity of God and the nothingness of creatures. In her prodigious humility, she considered herself the lowliest of creatures and thus wondered at receiving such praise. She pondered what hidden meaning could be shrouded in such words.

Seeing this most incomparably perfect of all creatures with such a humble opinion of herself, the celestial ambassador exulted with admiration. "Mary," he said to the trembling Virgin, "fear not, for thou hast found grace with God."³

Then slowly, majestically, in the name of the Eternal God, he communicated his sublime message: "Behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb and shalt bring forth a son, and thou shalt call His name Jesus. He shall be great and shall be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God shall give unto Him the throne of David His father, and He shall reign in the house of Jacob forever, and of His kingdom there shall be no end."⁴

These words were far too clear to Our Lady for any hesitation in grasping them. She immediately understood the incomparable honor reserved for her. It seems that she experienced no hesitation on account of her virginity. Indeed, it would be a gratuitous insult to her intelligence to suspect her of such ignorance. She was aware of the prophecy of Isaias that the Emmanuel would be born of a virgin.

Rather, she simply sought to know how God, so rich in miracles, would accomplish such a marvel. "How shall this be done," she asked the angel, "for I know not man?"⁵ "The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Most High shall overshadow thee. Therefore, the child which shall be born of thee shall be called holy, the Son of God. And behold, thy cousin Elizabeth, she also hath conceived a son in her old age; and this is the sixth month with her who is called barren; for nothing shall be impossible with God."⁶ Profound silence filled that small room in Nazareth, one of those dramatic silences wherein the world's destiny hangs in the balance.

The angel had ceased speaking and Mary was quiet. How many thoughts crowded in upon her! In her mind's eye, she saw the resplendent crown divine motherhood would place on her head, yet she remained too profoundly humble for any complacency about this singular grandeur. She saw the indescribable joys that would surely fill her heart when holding her dear treasure against her bosom, her Jesus, both God and infant. Yet again, her self-mortification would not allow that she be guided by the allure of joy alone, even the most holy of joys.

She also saw the awful martyrdom that would rend her soul. Through Holy Scripture she knew that the Messias would be delivered to His death like a tender lamb to the slaughter. She foresaw and heard the mournful cry: "I am a worm, and no man; the reproach of men, and the outcast of the people."⁷ Yet, such was her fortitude that she would not allow future sorrow to dishearten her. Above everything, she saw the extremely lofty, fatherly, and holy will of God. She owed obedience to Him; she did not hesitate.

The Immaculate Virgin at last broke the solemn silence. The angel waited to receive her consent in the name of the Holy Ghost. In accepting, she pronounced one of those sublime expressions that only the genius of humility can find. It was the most simple and modest formula of a soul completely submissive to the will of God: "Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it done unto me according to thy word."⁸At that, the grandest of all miracles took place. From the very flesh of the Immaculate Virgin, the Holy Ghost formed a small human body. To this body He joined a human soul; to this body and soul He united the Second Person of the Most Holy Trinity, the Word of God.

Although it is necessary to explain these three facts separately to make clear what took place, the three took place completely simultaneously as a single act. Not even for a second were this small body and soul separated from the Word. From that first instant the Child formed in the womb of Our Lady was the Word Incarnate. Without losing her virginity, Mary became the Mother of God, and in becoming the Mother of Christ, our Head, she also became the Mother of men—our Mother.

In this chapter I have simply followed the Gospel narrative step by step. We will later study the nearly infinite dignity the Immaculate Virgin confers on divine motherhood. We shall see how this privilege should inspire our Christian hearts to great respect, deep gratitude, limitless confidence, and filial devotion. But let us first complete our meditation on this mystery.

Through God's infinite love for us, the Word utterly humbled Himself in the womb of the Virgin. At the same time, other events took place in her soul. When God entrusts a mission to one of His creatures, He also provides the grace to accomplish it fully. Thus, the Most High, having granted a double motherhood to the Blessed Virgin Mary (to be mother of God and of men), conferred upon her a love that was doubly maternal. Such was the splendor in this work of grace that we will never perfectly understand it. Never will we completely understand the ardor of Mary's love for Jesus or the merciful goodness by which the Virgin loves each one of us in particular. Indeed, were we to further reflect upon this mystery, we would pray to her with greater fervor, and serve her with greater zeal. She, in turn, would lavish torrents of grace on us.

The Incarnation had just been completed. Our Lady remained in ecstasy. Every theologian agrees that during this thrice-holy moment God raised her to the most sublime contemplation a pure creature can attain upon earth. Perhaps she was even granted a momentary glimpse of the beatific vision. The Archangel Gabriel had fulfilled his mission. Upon his arrival he had respectfully bowed before the Queen of heaven. Before departing, he prostrated himself, for Mary was no longer alone. In true justice, the Child she bore in her womb merited the adoration of the archangel, who adored the God-made-man and then returned to Heaven.

From this mystery, we must draw a stronger and deeper devotion to the Blessed Virgin. The Church, which encourages us to pay special honor to the Immaculate Mother, does not wish to place her on the same level as the Most High. While Mary reigns over all the angels and saints in Heaven, she is still but a simple creature and, accordingly, an infinite distance stands between her and her adorable Son. Nevertheless, God has united Jesus and Mary so intimately that we cannot separate Them. By consenting to the work of the eternal God, Our Lady has become ipso facto the moral cause of our salvation. She is morally necessary for us to go to Jesus.

Souls today are powerfully attracted to the Heart of Jesus. To penetrate this adorable Heart, the sanctuary of the Divinity, more fully, we must go through Mary. Let us ask Our Lady for the sovereign grace of placing us confidently in the arms of Jesus and there, upon His heart, let us rest both in time and in eternity.

---

HARDNESS OF HEART

LOVING KINDNESS CAN SOFTEN HARD HEARTS Mark 6:52-56 When they had crossed over, they landed at Gennesaret and anchored there. As soon as they got out of the boat, people recognised Jesus. They ran throughout that whole region and carried those who were ill on mats to wherever they heard he was. And wherever he went – into villages, towns or countryside – they placed those who were ill in the market-places. They begged him to let them touch even the edge of his cloak, and all who touched it were healed. (NIVUK) Read the verses around this Bible passage from the Internet Bible: in English, and many other languages The disciples had a problem.  They had hard hearts (Mark 6:52).  Despite being with Jesus, hearing His teaching and witnessing His miracles, they were operating like roadies, the support team for Jesus: they helped Him but did not realise that He wanted them to become like Him (1 John 3:2) .  They served Him but did not know Him, incapable of appreciating the wonder of being with the Creator of the universe (Colossians 1:16).  Hardness of heart was the recurring problem of God's people in the Old Testament.  They knew the truth but did not want to obey (Zechariah 7:12).  In the same way, the disciples heard what Jesus said but did not realise that He was training them as He taught the people.  In different ways they stubbornly refused to believe Him (Mark 16:14). Even Jesus' teaching did not make sense to them (Mark 8:31-33).  It was only after the Holy Spirit was poured out at Pentecost that they could understand what Jesus meant (John 16:12-13; Acts 2:33).  By contrast, the sick and their carers had no doubt that Jesus could change their lives.  The text indicates the urgency of their faith "... as soon as... people recognised Jesus... they ran... carried the sick to wherever... they begged... all who touched were healed" . So why were the disciples so slow to connect?  How easily they became like the hypocritical Pharisees, knowing but failing to trust and obey - the sure route to hardness of heart.  The disciples' hearts needed to become soft if they were to become usable in the gospel. There is nothing so powerful as loving kindness to melt a hard heart.  Jesus' outpouring of compassion to those in distress was remarkable.  All who came with need and faith were healed.  The healings demonstrated how much God loves broken people who are unable to help themselves.  It was a parable of how Jesus would save everybody who comes to Him in repentance (Romans 1:16) .  He showed mercy to the sinner and was willing to serve the most underserving.  The Sovereign God became a Servant to become a Saviour.  It was the model for the trainee apostles.  They could never be anyone's saviour, but they had to become servants to the broken (2 Corinthians 4:5), to win their hearts to the Saviour (1 Corinthians 9:22). Stubborn disobedience produces hard hearts, but love breaks down barriers allowing the broken to come for healing.  But believers can also become hard when we know the truth but fail to do it.  Even those with hectic ministry schedules may deliver truth without delivering the self-sacrificial love of Christ.  Do not forget that Jesus was full of grace and truth (John 1:14).  He wants us to be like that too; and to be obedient as He was to His Father.  It is time to repent and ask the Lord to soften our hearts to His love, and then learn to obey what He says! Dear Father. Thank You for loving the world so much that You sent Jesus to be our Saviour. I am sorry for treating my relationship with You so casually. Please forgive me for using You rather than obeying what You say. Please cleanse me and soften my heart to receive and act upon Your Word. In Jesus' Name. Amen.

 

ALONE AGAIN YET NOT ALONE

ALONE AGAIN BUT NOT ALONE

Mark 6:45-46

Immediately Jesus made his disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to Bethsaida, while he dismissed the crowd. After leaving them, he went up on a mountainside to pray. (NIVUK)

The 5000 families had been fed, the disciples were refreshed, but Jesus had another appointment.  He needed time with His Father, and that needed to be alone.  Jesus had not come to wow the crowd but to please His Father... and so the pressing priority was to pray.  There was no protracted celebration of the miraculous feast; instead, the disciples were dispatched across the lake in a boat - immediately!  They also had an appointment - with alone-ness – and after that, with Jesus. We know only a little about the prayer life of Jesus from those prayers that were overheard and recorded; but we do know that He gave the top priority to being with His Father (Luke 6:12) .  Without relating with the Father, the Son was incomplete (John 10:38).  When He taught about prayer, Jesus advised His disciples to get alone with Father God - nobody else in the room, and the door closed (Matthew 6:6).  But that night, the mountainside became the private rendezvous between the Father and Son of God - before the next faith-training session for the disciples. That busy day had started when the disciples came back, two by two, from their different mission assignments.  They ministered with Jesus' authority but not with Him physically present (Mark 6:7,12,13).  It was a preparation for their work in leading the Early Church.  As night fell, they were once again sent out - away from their Master.  This time they were together in a boat, but the evening wind was already too strong for sailing, so they had to row quite a few miles against the elements to get back to Gennesaret (Mark 6:48) .  The crowds had gone away, the disciples had the quiet they craved … but without Jesus they were incomplete.  Once again Jesus was equipping His trainee apostles.  In the future they would often be alone against the physical or spiritual elements.  Their past experience and skill would not be enough to fulfil God's will: but knowing they had Christ’s authority, they also knew He would guide and guard, provide and protect them. There are two areas of application in this passage.  The first is about prayer: if Jesus needed His secret prayer time, why do we sometimes think that we don't?  Of all the priceless privileges of a child, free access to a loving Father must surely be top of the list.  Without that intimacy we cannot live as loved ones, engage with our Father's heart, or have the confidence that everything about us is known.  The second is about being alone, physically separated from Jesus but related to Him through faith and having His authority to act.  It is like that today.  Fellowship is important, but so is the temporary isolation from fellowship to make us realise how much we need to be in relationship with Him.

Father God, how wonderful that You should want me to spend time with You. Forgive me for treating this privilege so lightly and for thinking that I can serve You at work and home - without discussing it all with You. I want to follow the example of Your Son who made His relationship with You a special priority. Teach me how to work with You today. In Jesus' Name. Amen.

LENT 2019

Lent 2019: A Wintry Journey

COMMENTARY: Winter is here. It’s a colder, deeper winter for the Church than we’ve experienced in a long time.

One purpose of liturgical prayer in the Church is the sanctification of time. The movement of the day is sanctified in the Liturgy of the Hours: Morning Prayer to praise God for another day, Evening Prayer to place ourselves under God’s mantle as darkness falls; each time of prayer has its meaning, and each follows the rhythm and cycle of life. Predictable, to be sure, but each day has its unique moments of light and darkness. On a larger scale, the same is true of the liturgical year. The Church honours the dignity of creation by offering reverence to the changing of the seasons and finding God’s grace in the change.

As a season, Lent universally falls in the ’tween that bridges winter and spring (at least in the Northern Hemisphere). That fact may be true every year, but no two Lents are alike: It isn’t that the prayers and the celebrations change, but we do. As winter moves toward spring each year, we turn inward to see by the light of grace what has changed within, just as the seasons have changed around us.

Foreheads stained by ashes, knees stressed by the Way of the Cross, stomachs brought to growling by fasting — all of these mark the typical Lent. 

But this year is not a typical Lent.  

Winter is here.

Fingers are quick to point, tongues are quick to wag, and words are quick to turn to vitriol. It’s a colder, deeper winter for the Church than we’ve experienced in a long time.

Everywhere we turn we see suffering within and without the Church, like the scattered detritus of fallen leaves. The stolen innocence of children worldwide who trusted their priests. The fearful discouragement of priests and people who trusted their bishops. The fallen purity of the priesthood and episcopacy and widespread ennui in every diocese. More new “nones” than nuns. Bombs in churches. The persecution of faithful Catholics who want to serve both God and country: When did it become an insult to note, “The dogma lives loudly within you?” The scandalous hypocrisy of officials who are “personally opposed, but …”

In this long winter, faith-filled, churchgoing people of every ilk are compelled to worship at altars set up by public ideologies: Abortion “rights” and non-binary gender alternatives voraciously consume our liberties. The world was aghast when ISIS blew up monuments of religions other than its own, but the same world watches silently as the proselytizers of so-called progress do the same with deeply held tenets of any faith that dissents from the hedonistic dogma of today. The apostles of tolerance allow no alternatives. What was, a generation ago, right and just, even virtuous, is now labeled bigotry and hate speech.

Giving up chocolate seems so trifling this Lent. No, this is a Lent to enter deeply into the heart of Jesus. The Catechism of the Catholic Church reminds us, “By the solemn 40 days of Lent the Church unites herself each year to the mystery of Jesus in the desert” (540). However, in today’s long Lent of the Church, it is critical to recall that it was the Holy Spirit who led Jesus into the desert, as it had been the Father who led the Hebrews into the desert long before. God has not stopped leading us into the desert. There’s a good reason for that; every now and again, we need a desert experience.

The desert. The 40 days. The first Lent. The ’tween time after the wintry hidden life of Jesus and before his breathtaking journey to Jerusalem. It was for Jesus a season of increasing temptation, with all the tantalizing promises of that temptation: the guarantee of physical comfort and both worldly and spiritual power. It is this to which the Church unites herself in Lent: not the triumph of Resurrection, but the agonizing self-awareness of being in relation with the Father, yet tempted and tantalized, mocked and derided. Acquiescence to evil is but a breath away. Trust in God seems unreachable.

The desert brought new focus and urgency to the ministry of Jesus. From the desert Jesus emerged with a pure heart and with resolute determination to announce Good News, no matter the disappointments that lay around him: release to captives, sight for the blind, liberty to the oppressed. The Kingdom of God is at hand!

Lent. The Church unites herself to the mystery of Jesus in the desert.

This long Lent in the Church is the gripping invitation to a humble, repentant cry to heaven from a renewed poverty of spirit: to feed us with grace instead of bread; to give us a servile spirit instead of a thirst for honour; to empty us of all that keeps us from submissive, receptive, total, surrendering, abject trust in God’s providence. 

Jesus was not born of a priestly family, never called himself a priest, and never led Temple worship. His most memorable act in the Temple was to cast out the cashiers who were corrupting the sanctity of the place and who were concerned more with the profits of the day than the prophets of old! Jesus seemed to understand that there was something wrong with the religion of his day or, more accurately, with the way the leaders of his religion were running things. He cursed the fig tree, a well-known metaphor for the Temple, when it failed to produce fruit. He labelled as whitewashed sepulchres those who cited rules and obligations but showed no compassion or love. He chided those who sought attention for their piety or made themselves comfortable while ignoring festering poverty around them.

Angry at times, critical on occasion, unhesitating in pointing out hypocrisy, Jesus remained a man of deep faith who never abandoned a religion he knew to have serious problems. Far from avoiding the Temple, he pointed out to those who would seize him in the garden that he had taught daily in the Temple precincts. He never stopped anyone from entering the Temple or fulfilling the demands of his ancestors’ religion. From an early age we see him going up to Jerusalem for high holy days and feasts. He held to his faith, despite the worldliness, political surrender and the tepid faith and legalism of its leaders.

There is a reason for his actions: He himself was the authentic Temple, the dwelling place of God in our midst. As the prophets had looked forward to the moment when nations would stream to the Temple mount, Jesus promised that he would draw all men to himself.

Jesus emerged from the desert with an urgent message and with actions behind his words: teaching, healing, feeding, reproving sinners and comforting the afflicted. When Lent ended, he walked out of the desert and into the waters of John’s baptism, announced that the Spirit of the Lord was upon him, and confronted the sickness of his ancestral religion and that of the hearts of people.

This is indeed a long Lent in a cold winter for the Church. Still it remains, as ever, the time for us to unite ourselves with the mystery of Jesus in the desert.

 And then, purer and more reliant on grace than on ourselves, to confront evil with new boldness, announce the Gospel with new urgency, change hearts and enflame souls. Hearts thus changed will change the world.

But first, Lent.

LENT 2019

Lent 2019: A Wintry Journey

COMMENTARY: Winter is here. It’s a colder, deeper winter for the Church than we’ve experienced in a long time.

One purpose of liturgical prayer in the Church is the sanctification of time. The movement of the day is sanctified in the Liturgy of the Hours: Morning Prayer to praise God for another day, Evening Prayer to place ourselves under God’s mantle as darkness falls; each time of prayer has its meaning, and each follows the rhythm and cycle of life. Predictable, to be sure, but each day has its unique moments of light and darkness. On a larger scale, the same is true of the liturgical year. The Church honours the dignity of creation by offering reverence to the changing of the seasons and finding God’s grace in the change.

As a season, Lent universally falls in the ’tween that bridges winter and spring (at least in the Northern Hemisphere). That fact may be true every year, but no two Lents are alike: It isn’t that the prayers and the celebrations change, but we do. As winter moves toward spring each year, we turn inward to see by the light of grace what has changed within, just as the seasons have changed around us.

Foreheads stained by ashes, knees stressed by the Way of the Cross, stomachs brought to growling by fasting — all of these mark the typical Lent. 

But this year is not a typical Lent.  

Winter is here.

Fingers are quick to point, tongues are quick to wag, and words are quick to turn to vitriol. It’s a colder, deeper winter for the Church than we’ve experienced in a long time.

Everywhere we turn we see suffering within and without the Church, like the scattered detritus of fallen leaves. The stolen innocence of children worldwide who trusted their priests. The fearful discouragement of priests and people who trusted their bishops. The fallen purity of the priesthood and episcopacy and widespread ennui in every diocese. More new “nones” than nuns. Bombs in churches. The persecution of faithful Catholics who want to serve both God and country: When did it become an insult to note, “The dogma lives loudly within you?” The scandalous hypocrisy of officials who are “personally opposed, but …”

In this long winter, faith-filled, churchgoing people of every ilk are compelled to worship at altars set up by public ideologies: Abortion “rights” and non-binary gender alternatives voraciously consume our liberties. The world was aghast when ISIS blew up monuments of religions other than its own, but the same world watches silently as the proselytizers of so-called progress do the same with deeply held tenets of any faith that dissents from the hedonistic dogma of today. The apostles of tolerance allow no alternatives. What was, a generation ago, right and just, even virtuous, is now labeled bigotry and hate speech.

Giving up chocolate seems so trifling this Lent. No, this is a Lent to enter deeply into the heart of Jesus. The Catechism of the Catholic Church reminds us, “By the solemn 40 days of Lent the Church unites herself each year to the mystery of Jesus in the desert” (540). However, in today’s long Lent of the Church, it is critical to recall that it was the Holy Spirit who led Jesus into the desert, as it had been the Father who led the Hebrews into the desert long before. God has not stopped leading us into the desert. There’s a good reason for that; every now and again, we need a desert experience.

The desert. The 40 days. The first Lent. The ’tween time after the wintry hidden life of Jesus and before his breathtaking journey to Jerusalem. It was for Jesus a season of increasing temptation, with all the tantalizing promises of that temptation: the guarantee of physical comfort and both worldly and spiritual power. It is this to which the Church unites herself in Lent: not the triumph of Resurrection, but the agonizing self-awareness of being in relation with the Father, yet tempted and tantalized, mocked and derided. Acquiescence to evil is but a breath away. Trust in God seems unreachable.

The desert brought new focus and urgency to the ministry of Jesus. From the desert Jesus emerged with a pure heart and with resolute determination to announce Good News, no matter the disappointments that lay around him: release to captives, sight for the blind, liberty to the oppressed. The Kingdom of God is at hand!

Lent. The Church unites herself to the mystery of Jesus in the desert.

This long Lent in the Church is the gripping invitation to a humble, repentant cry to heaven from a renewed poverty of spirit: to feed us with grace instead of bread; to give us a servile spirit instead of a thirst for honour; to empty us of all that keeps us from submissive, receptive, total, surrendering, abject trust in God’s providence. 

Jesus was not born of a priestly family, never called himself a priest, and never led Temple worship. His most memorable act in the Temple was to cast out the cashiers who were corrupting the sanctity of the place and who were concerned more with the profits of the day than the prophets of old! Jesus seemed to understand that there was something wrong with the religion of his day or, more accurately, with the way the leaders of his religion were running things. He cursed the fig tree, a well-known metaphor for the Temple, when it failed to produce fruit. He labelled as whitewashed sepulchres those who cited rules and obligations but showed no compassion or love. He chided those who sought attention for their piety or made themselves comfortable while ignoring festering poverty around them.

Angry at times, critical on occasion, unhesitating in pointing out hypocrisy, Jesus remained a man of deep faith who never abandoned a religion he knew to have serious problems. Far from avoiding the Temple, he pointed out to those who would seize him in the garden that he had taught daily in the Temple precincts. He never stopped anyone from entering the Temple or fulfilling the demands of his ancestors’ religion. From an early age we see him going up to Jerusalem for high holy days and feasts. He held to his faith, despite the worldliness, political surrender and the tepid faith and legalism of its leaders.

There is a reason for his actions: He himself was the authentic Temple, the dwelling place of God in our midst. As the prophets had looked forward to the moment when nations would stream to the Temple mount, Jesus promised that he would draw all men to himself.

Jesus emerged from the desert with an urgent message and with actions behind his words: teaching, healing, feeding, reproving sinners and comforting the afflicted. When Lent ended, he walked out of the desert and into the waters of John’s baptism, announced that the Spirit of the Lord was upon him, and confronted the sickness of his ancestral religion and that of the hearts of people.

This is indeed a long Lent in a cold winter for the Church. Still it remains, as ever, the time for us to unite ourselves with the mystery of Jesus in the desert.

 And then, purer and more reliant on grace than on ourselves, to confront evil with new boldness, announce the Gospel with new urgency, change hearts and enflame souls. Hearts thus changed will change the world.

But first, Lent.

LENT 2019

Lent 2019: A Wintry Journey

COMMENTARY: Winter is here. It’s a colder, deeper winter for the Church than we’ve experienced in a long time.

One purpose of liturgical prayer in the Church is the sanctification of time. The movement of the day is sanctified in the Liturgy of the Hours: Morning Prayer to praise God for another day, Evening Prayer to place ourselves under God’s mantle as darkness falls; each time of prayer has its meaning, and each follows the rhythm and cycle of life. Predictable, to be sure, but each day has its unique moments of light and darkness. On a larger scale, the same is true of the liturgical year. The Church honours the dignity of creation by offering reverence to the changing of the seasons and finding God’s grace in the change.

As a season, Lent universally falls in the ’tween that bridges winter and spring (at least in the Northern Hemisphere). That fact may be true every year, but no two Lents are alike: It isn’t that the prayers and the celebrations change, but we do. As winter moves toward spring each year, we turn inward to see by the light of grace what has changed within, just as the seasons have changed around us.

Foreheads stained by ashes, knees stressed by the Way of the Cross, stomachs brought to growling by fasting — all of these mark the typical Lent. 

But this year is not a typical Lent.  

Winter is here.

Fingers are quick to point, tongues are quick to wag, and words are quick to turn to vitriol. It’s a colder, deeper winter for the Church than we’ve experienced in a long time.

Everywhere we turn we see suffering within and without the Church, like the scattered detritus of fallen leaves. The stolen innocence of children worldwide who trusted their priests. The fearful discouragement of priests and people who trusted their bishops. The fallen purity of the priesthood and episcopacy and widespread ennui in every diocese. More new “nones” than nuns. Bombs in churches. The persecution of faithful Catholics who want to serve both God and country: When did it become an insult to note, “The dogma lives loudly within you?” The scandalous hypocrisy of officials who are “personally opposed, but …”

In this long winter, faith-filled, churchgoing people of every ilk are compelled to worship at altars set up by public ideologies: Abortion “rights” and non-binary gender alternatives voraciously consume our liberties. The world was aghast when ISIS blew up monuments of religions other than its own, but the same world watches silently as the proselytizers of so-called progress do the same with deeply held tenets of any faith that dissents from the hedonistic dogma of today. The apostles of tolerance allow no alternatives. What was, a generation ago, right and just, even virtuous, is now labeled bigotry and hate speech.

Giving up chocolate seems so trifling this Lent. No, this is a Lent to enter deeply into the heart of Jesus. The Catechism of the Catholic Church reminds us, “By the solemn 40 days of Lent the Church unites herself each year to the mystery of Jesus in the desert” (540). However, in today’s long Lent of the Church, it is critical to recall that it was the Holy Spirit who led Jesus into the desert, as it had been the Father who led the Hebrews into the desert long before. God has not stopped leading us into the desert. There’s a good reason for that; every now and again, we need a desert experience.

The desert. The 40 days. The first Lent. The ’tween time after the wintry hidden life of Jesus and before his breathtaking journey to Jerusalem. It was for Jesus a season of increasing temptation, with all the tantalizing promises of that temptation: the guarantee of physical comfort and both worldly and spiritual power. It is this to which the Church unites herself in Lent: not the triumph of Resurrection, but the agonizing self-awareness of being in relation with the Father, yet tempted and tantalized, mocked and derided. Acquiescence to evil is but a breath away. Trust in God seems unreachable.

The desert brought new focus and urgency to the ministry of Jesus. From the desert Jesus emerged with a pure heart and with resolute determination to announce Good News, no matter the disappointments that lay around him: release to captives, sight for the blind, liberty to the oppressed. The Kingdom of God is at hand!

Lent. The Church unites herself to the mystery of Jesus in the desert.

This long Lent in the Church is the gripping invitation to a humble, repentant cry to heaven from a renewed poverty of spirit: to feed us with grace instead of bread; to give us a servile spirit instead of a thirst for honour; to empty us of all that keeps us from submissive, receptive, total, surrendering, abject trust in God’s providence. 

Jesus was not born of a priestly family, never called himself a priest, and never led Temple worship. His most memorable act in the Temple was to cast out the cashiers who were corrupting the sanctity of the place and who were concerned more with the profits of the day than the prophets of old! Jesus seemed to understand that there was something wrong with the religion of his day or, more accurately, with the way the leaders of his religion were running things. He cursed the fig tree, a well-known metaphor for the Temple, when it failed to produce fruit. He labelled as whitewashed sepulchres those who cited rules and obligations but showed no compassion or love. He chided those who sought attention for their piety or made themselves comfortable while ignoring festering poverty around them.

Angry at times, critical on occasion, unhesitating in pointing out hypocrisy, Jesus remained a man of deep faith who never abandoned a religion he knew to have serious problems. Far from avoiding the Temple, he pointed out to those who would seize him in the garden that he had taught daily in the Temple precincts. He never stopped anyone from entering the Temple or fulfilling the demands of his ancestors’ religion. From an early age we see him going up to Jerusalem for high holy days and feasts. He held to his faith, despite the worldliness, political surrender and the tepid faith and legalism of its leaders.

There is a reason for his actions: He himself was the authentic Temple, the dwelling place of God in our midst. As the prophets had looked forward to the moment when nations would stream to the Temple mount, Jesus promised that he would draw all men to himself.

Jesus emerged from the desert with an urgent message and with actions behind his words: teaching, healing, feeding, reproving sinners and comforting the afflicted. When Lent ended, he walked out of the desert and into the waters of John’s baptism, announced that the Spirit of the Lord was upon him, and confronted the sickness of his ancestral religion and that of the hearts of people.

This is indeed a long Lent in a cold winter for the Church. Still it remains, as ever, the time for us to unite ourselves with the mystery of Jesus in the desert.

 And then, purer and more reliant on grace than on ourselves, to confront evil with new boldness, announce the Gospel with new urgency, change hearts and enflame souls. Hearts thus changed will change the world.

But first, Lent.