I Am Judas

Today is Holy Thursday, the Feast of the Lord's Supper, the Solemnity of the Betrayal of Judas.  If we contemplate sin seriously, it can quickly become overwhelming.  Even venial sins - little white lies, sharp words, petty refusals of generosity or gratitude - deserve a terrible punishment because of the majesty of the Creator whose Law they offend.  The most terrible crimes, though, can only leave us unfazed if we are truly callous and hardened.  The temptation we experience all year long, I propose, is not to this sin or to that, but toward this callous failure to understand the horror of sin.  It is rooted perhaps in many foundational failures: carelessly failing to note the glory of God's creation and plan; failure to really take in the dignity of our wife, neighbor, child, coworker; failure to take our own sins as seriously as we take the sins of others.  It is upon this last point that I want to reflect more particularly for just a moment.

It is very common for us to coin new terms like stupak, which nowadays means to betray one's convictions in a self-congratulatory way and to abandon those counting on you to help them in a very important cause.  It's easy to think of the Nazi leaders as the ultimate evil, and their party members as the ultimate colluders of evil, the ultimate opportunists.  It's easy to think of this or that disgraced priest as the ultimate scandal, the most wretched of men.  It's easy for us to think of the school board's ridiculous and immoral curriculum as the ultimate lesson in degradation.

What's hard is to remember that my sins are made of the same sort of thing.  It's hard to remember that I sit silently while others mock the church or make pro-lifers out to be wackos.  It's hard to remember that I buy my food and clothing without a care or a thought toward what "causes" the manufacturers support: gay marriage, abortion, no matter - as long as I get the best ice cream or the best coffee.  It is hard to remember that I have neglected my family obligations because other opportunities were more alluring.  It's hard for me to remember that many of the movies and songs I put into my head that "don't have that effect on me" all the while corrode my heart and thinking.

This, then, is the hard work of the Christian: to remember that I am Judas.

It isn't as dramatic as it sounds.  I am going to set aside the cases of people whom I believe to be possessed outright, like Hitler.  Even in the matter of Judas Iscariot, the gospels tell us that the devil entered into him.  The gospels also show something more to the present point: Judas did not suddenly, dramatically betray our Lord.  His betrayal was the final acheivement in a string of interior desertions.  Fulton Sheen does a good job in one of his books illustrating how Judas is the apostle who never quite got it.  He got money.  That he understood.  He got the Romans.  Them he understood.  But Jesus: Judas never quite understood Him.  Many of us think that we "get" Jesus.  I, like Judas, do not understand Him nearly as well as I think.
The simple fact is that tonight is Holy Thursday.  Tonight, in some way big or small, I will almost certainly betray our blessed Lord with sin - perhaps even between confiteor and communion.  That's something like betraying with a kiss, isn't it?

I am Judas.

Willing to Ask

More from Jean Lafrance's Give Me a Living Word:

You are willing to ask, but you want to have alternative solutions in case your supplication does not "work".  That is precisely why your supplication does not have this desperate power which overturns mountains and casts them into the sea.  You withhold an alternative solution and you do not yield yourself totally to this prayer of petition.

I would add to Fr. Lafrance's words that we often also lack, in addition to abandonment to God's solution to our problem, abandonment to God's plan, which might include our problem.  Of course, both deficits are merely instances of the same attitude that says, "Do my will," rather than, "Father, not my will, but yours," (Lk 22:42).

A Good Reminder in the Onion

Thanks to The American Catholic for displaying that clip from The Onion. The video is really a clever reminder about how silly are many of our affairs, and how soon they will be forgotten, in the grand scheme of things. Let's keep our eyes fixed on the things that we can bring with us into eternity: friends and family, faith, hope, and love.

Signs of the Times

It is not terribly shocking to hear that Fr. Alberto Cutié has decided to defect from the Catholic Church, and go to one (the Episcopal - that is, Anglican-in-America) in which things will be more to his liking. For one, they don't mind his inability or lack of ongoing commitment to celibacy. Fair enough - they don't require or esteem celibacy in the first place. More intriguing is the fact that they don't mind that he is an oath-breaker. He made solemn promises of obedience and celibacy, and now has unilaterally dodged them both in one fell swoop. They don't suit him anymore. One would think that Fr. Cutié's new superior would at least want to be sure that he can stick to a vow, no?

Well, it's perhaps fitting, after all. After all, the Anglican Communion was founded when an oath-breaking king became tired of his promises regarding sexuality, and decided to put away his first wife for another. And another. And another. One wonders how many churches Fr. Cutié will put away to suit his evolving tastes before the whole thing is done. It's a little known fact that England and her kings were legal vassals (governmental subordinates) of the Pope until Henry VIII broke his forefathers' faith. In most of Europe, the Pope could take up special collections and so forth; in England, he could collect taxes and call for soldiers. Henry VIII would rather have things his own way, though, rather than honoring the promises of his fathers. Now that Fr. Cutié has broken with Rome, one must wonder if he will really let himself be governed by another master, or if he will be his own... if perhaps he is already his own master. That's the devil's motto, in Milton's Paradise Lost: "I will not serve." That and his television show frankly smack of a towering pride.

Meanwhile, our President has named an ambassador to the Holy See: Miguel Diaz. He is Catholic, in the way that the Sandinistas are. He is "pro-Life," in the way that Douglas Kmiec and the President are. He publishes on presses that call themselves Catholic but are either notorious for dissent, uncommitted to the teachings of the Church, or flat out deny the entirety of Christian revelation. Like Fr. Cutié and the President, he is young, good looking, smooth, and charismatic. He has a track record of supporting social justice issues for the poor and weak (except for, as one commentator has pointed out, the poorest and weakest, i.e., the unborn). He is suave and probably very convincing, and will probably be charged by the White House with getting the Vatican to believe that white is black and black is white, that good is evil, and evil good.

And against these slicksters, whom can Holy Church send forth, tattered and bruised by her own conduct as much as by that of her enemies? The likes of this man:

Now, don't get me wrong. Archbishop Favalora of Miami is likely a very competent administrator, strong shepherd, and loving father. He has enormous responsibilities of which, dear reader, you and I cannot even dream. I wouldn't criticize a bishop to save my life, I hope. I used to, but I'm done with that. It just helps out our enemies. And His Excellency's words regarding Fr. Cutié strike me as very well chosen. Still, looking at him and hearing his words will not be very convincing to most Americans - Catholic or otherwise - when the likes of Fr. Cutié or Prof. Diaz is sitting on the opposite side of the talk-show host. The Archbishop certainly has authority over both them (well, over Diaz only indirectly, since Diaz doesn't live in his diocese), and his reasoning is doubtless sounder than that of Cutié. All the same, I have a sickening feeling in my gut that many, many of the priest's fans, preferring to have their ears tickled, will choose him over Jesus' plump, wrinkly old vicar in Miami.

"For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own likings, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander into myths," 2 Tim 4:3-4.

A close friend of mine is being ordained a priest this weekend in Burlington, Vermont. Several more friends from my time in seminary will be ordained priests and (transitional) deacons in the next few weeks. They are young. Some are more charming and charismatic than others, but they are all very good men and that shines through. They believe in Jesus. They love and obey his Church. They defend life. I couldn't close without pointing out a few stars amid the dark night sky.

Stupid Pharisees

The Gospel reading for today (Wed after V Sunday in Lent: Dn 3:14-20, 91-92, 95, Daniel 3:52, 53, 54, 55, 56, Jn 8:31-42) is among my favorite passages. Jesus' discourses have caused many to come to believe in Him (Jn 8:30). He adds to those who have started coming to faith, "If you remain in my word, you will truly be my disciples,and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free," (Jn 8:31). But at these last words, his hearers choke.

"WHAT?!" they demand, "We're not SLAVES! We're sons of Abraham! How can you call us slaves?" (Well, that's my paraphrasing. It actually says, They answered him, "We are descendants of Abraham and have never been enslaved to anyone. How can you say, 'You will become free'?" Jn 8:32).

This snippet of their exchange needs years of delving. Let's try something brief though. The descendants of Abraham, just three generations after Abraham, went to Egypt for help during a famine, and got ensnared in the Egyptians' social structure and were pushed into a slave class. They escaped under Moses' leadership after 400 or so years of oppression. After settling in back home, they repeatedly came under the domination of neighboring civilizations, most notably the Philistines. They were only able to escape that domination by taking for themselves a king, against God's expressed preference on the grounds that their kings would come to dominate them as well. That's what happened, in fact - one king more domineering and harsh than the last. It culminated in the sacking of the northern half of Israel by Assyria, and the southern by Babylon, so that half the Israelites were hauled off into captivity in those kingdoms, and the remainder lived as subjects of them in their own homes. When Persia conquered Babylon, the Israelites there were "freed" to go home and live as obedient vassals of Persia. Then Alexander the Great came through and conquered the place, and the Seleucid and Ptolemaic dynasties of Greek rulers that came after him began to treat the Jews more and more brutally. The Jews were finally able to get the Greeks off their backs by enlisting the Romans to come in and help. Only, the Romans never left, and it is under their oppression that the Jews labored in the time of our Lord.

It is purely self-righteous stupidity, defensive unto blindness, that lead Jesus' listeners to cry, "We have never been enslaved to anyone." It would have been better if they had asked, "When have we NOT been enslaved to someone?!"

Interestingly, Jesus brushes all this political oppression aside and makes it clear that He means a much more universal sort of slavery: spiritual slavery caused by sin: "everyone who commits sin is a slave of sin," (Jn 8:34). That's a funny thing for us to hear. In fact, it probably bounces off most people's ears as one of those things that Jesus said that doesn't really make sense (anymore?). That's because we have a warped understanding of freedom that essentially says, "Freedom is being permitted to do whatever you want." So a law against using marijuana makes us less free, most Americans would agree, and it is only a question of which freedoms are good or bad.

The traditional Christian understanding of freedom is much more comprehensible to a recovering cocaine addict than to the typical American. I'm not being smart here, but very serious. I, who have never used a narcotic, am free of their power. I can choose to use a drug, or can abstain. It's all the same to me. Not so with someone in the throes of a deadly addiction, though. A chronic drunk cannot choose to abstain from alcohol - at least not for long. He is a slave to booze in a way that most people are not. After we sin, we either repent of the sin, or else rationalize it, make excuses for it, and thereby begin to incorporate it into the structure of our life. Slowly but surely we become dependent on it and cannot imagine life without it, and the thought of breaking with it becomes repugnant. Whether it is telling lies, looking down on people, using narcotics, fornicating - whatever - we begin to defend it as if it were part of ourself. It becomes first part of our lifestyle, then part of ourselves. This addictive quality of sin is what our Lord is getting at.

Jesus makes an offer, though. He says that slaves don't really have a place in the household, and will be tossed out eventually. But a son has a place, and if a son of the household frees the slave, they can have a shot at freedom, and even getting to be part of the family. This reference might be to household slaves, especially nannies, tutors, physicians, who might be freed and adopted by the family. He is hinting that the Jews could lose their place in God's household if they don't take up his offer of freedom from sin - just being a physical child of Abraham isn't enough (Jn 8:39-40).

Now the listeners, who were friendly at first to his message, but when it was clarified for them became hostile, set up a precedent followed by heretics ever since. Heretics are those in the Church who rebel against her teachings. When Jesus questions the usefulness of their bloodline, the unhappy hearers growled, "We were not born of fornication. We have one Father, God," (Jn 8:41). From that time onward, heretics have always taken shots at Mary. By defending the social legitimacy of their birth, which had not been questioned, they are calling Mary a fornicator, and Jesus her bastard. Them's fightin' words.

As the story continues, after the conclusion of the passage read in church today, Jesus basically says, "If you were from God, you'd recognize me..." and then, "You are of your father the devil, and your will is to do your father's desires. He was a murderer from the beginning, and has nothing to do with the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks according to his own nature, for he is a liar and the father of lies," (Jn 8:44).

So it is to this day. Heretics the world over, throughout history, in their self-righteous pride, have opposed their teacher, the Body of Christ on earth, and have as a rule found a bone to pick with His Mother, as well. Consequently they stay bound in innumerable sins - first and foremost, pride. They've got entirely the wrong attitude. If we can humble ourselves to the teachings of Christ, He will set us free from all manner of sins, addictions, and oppressors.

Syriac is Hard, Real Hard

Some of my friends have heard my woes of Syriac. Really, it's all three languages I am studying right now in school, plus the knowledge that I need to, as my advisor put it, "Pick up German and French along the way, sometime on my own." I LOVE languages, and dead languages the most. Don't get me wrong. It's just that it seems that - and this isn't a complaint, mind you, I know I asked for this and want it - but it seems as if my professors are tag-teaming me. As one recuperates from beating me (and probably my classmates too) senseless, another one gets psyched up for the next round by watching the current heavy-weight champion do his/her worst. This time our Syriac professor gave me a pounding. See below. If you cannot see the red ink, click on the picture for a zoom in. Make sure you see the red ink. It should be hard to miss.
Yeah, it really is that bad. Now admittedly, this paper is one of the worst, but it is not too far from the average spillage of red ink. Our profs own stock, rumor has it. You judge for yourself. I'll keep plugging away.

The Rug Under My Feet

So today I decided to try to read Self-Abandonment to Divine Providence, by Fr. De Caussade, S.J., again. In doing so, I came across this passage (2.2.2):

To Arrive at the State of Self-Abandonment, the Soul Must Strip Itself of All Created Things

This state presents nothing bu sweetness when attained, but many agonies have to be passed through on the road. The doctrine of pure love can only be learnt by God’s action, not by any effort of our own spirit. God instructs the heart not by means of ideas, but by pains and contradictions. The science of this state is a practical knowledge by which one tastes God as the sole good. In order to possess it, we have to be disentangled from all particular goods, and to reach that state of disentanglement we have to be really deprived of them. Thus, it is only through a continual self-contradiction and a long series of all kinds of mortifications, trials, and strippings that one can be established in the state of pure love. We have to arrive at the point at which the whole created universe no longer exists for us, and God is everything. For that prpose it is necessary that God should oppose himself to all the particular affections of the soul, so that when it is led to some particular form of prayer or idea of piety or method of devotion, when it proposes to attain perfection by such and such plans or ways by the direction of such and such people, in fact, when it attaches itself to anything whatever, God upsets its ideas and permits that instead of what it thought it would do, it finds in it all nothing but confusion, trouble, emptiness, folly. No sooner has it said: that is my path, there is the person I ought to consult, that is how I should act, than God immediately says the contrary and withdraws his power from the means chosen by the soul. So, finding in everything only deception and nothingness, the soul is constrained to have recourse to God himself and be content with Him.

Happy the soul that understands this loving severity of its God and corresponds to it faithfully! It rises above all that is transitory to rest in the unchangeable and infinite. It no longer lets itself go forth by love and confidence to created things, it admits them only by duty, by the command of God and a special application of his will. It lives above the alternations of abundance and deprivation in the plenitude of God who is its permanent good. God finds such a soul quite empty of individual inclinations, movements, or choice. It is dead and buried in a universal indifference. The Allness of the Divine Being thus appearing in the depth of the heart spreads over the surface of creatures a tint of nothingness which absorbs all their distinctions and variety. Creatures by themselves are without power or efficacy and the heart lacks any tendency or inclination towards them because the majesty of God fills all its capacity. A heart that thus livs for God is dead to everything else and everything is dead to it. It is for God who gives life to everything to vivify the soul and other creatures in regard to it. This life is God’s design.


Great, that at least explains why I so frequently feel as if, in my interior life, the rug is pulled out from under my feet. God is teaching me to trust and love Him, and His creatures only for His sake, according to His plans. Great. I hope that one day I will be able to say, with Mary, with my whole heart, “Be it done unto me according to Thy word.” I guess this is what it takes.

Visitation of the Immaculate Heart

Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary
(31 May)

Feast of the Immaculate Heart of Mary
(Saturday following Sacred Heart)

Today is a happy meeting, indeed! On the day that we remember the visit of the Virginal Mother to care for her saintly cousin Elizabeth, the elderly new mother, we also honor the same Virgin's Immaculate Heart.

Mary, in her condition, was pregnant. In her estate as mother of the Messiah, she was Queen of Heaven and Earth. Forgetting both her condition and her estate, she hurried off to care for the mother of the Baptist. The purity of her heart enabled her to devote herself entirely, with unmixed motivations, to the service of God. In this case, she carried out that service by devotion to her elderly relative. Let us take Mary, mother of our Lord and our mother, as an exemplar of purity of heart, and of self-forgetful service. The perfect loving service of the Blessed Mary will be our own when we, like she, carry in our inmost being Jesus Christ.

O Jesus, through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I offer you my prayers, works, joys and suffering of this day – for all the intentions of the Sacred Heart, in union with the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass throughout the world, in reparation for my sins, for the intentions of all my associates and for the general intention recommended this month by our Holy Father, the Pope. Amen.

You Are What You Eat

Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ

I didn't get a chance to post this past Sunday, but cannot pass up the opportunity presented by the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ.

In a recent post I commented about how God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, in His intense love for us desires not only that we should dwell with Him in heaven, but that He should dwell us, here and now, to make our journey to Him not only possible, but sweet.

It is the Eucharist, the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ, the God-man, that makes this possible. The Eucharist is the center and fruit of the liturgy by the same name. The name originally means "Beautiful Thanksgiving," and that is what the Eucharist is. It is Christ in His people thanking His Father. It is the re-presentation of the self-sacrifice and triumphant victory of our great Savior. It is the great act of praise and thanksgiving, of self-sacrifice and humility, that strengthens our union with Him, begun in baptism and perfected in heaven. There is too much to say to say it all, so let me just say one or two things.

The Eucharist is the perfection of every form of love. Receiving it prayerfully, we experience our Blessed Lord's tender affection for us. It manifests his brotherly camaraderie with us, His desire to march alongside us as we go into spiritual battle here on earth. It manifests the jealous, exclusive desire of a husband for his bride, His desire not just to be with or next to, but even to be inside of His bride, you and I, the Church. Ultimately, it manifests our Lord's desire to lay down His life and give Himself to his bride. So storge (affective love), philia (brotherly love), eros (marital love), and agape (charitable love) are all manifest in the Eucharist. Because in the Eucharist it is Christ loving us with His perfect, divine power to love, the Eucharist is the highest act of love that a human being can receive in this lifetime.

The Eucharist is the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of the Son of God, but the Son never acts alone. Whenever the Father, the Son, or the Holy Spirit acts, all three act together. So it is not just the Son that gives Himself to us, but the entire Deity gives himself to us in this humble act of sacrificial love. The entire Trinity thus makes His dwelling in us. From within us, God works to draw us into Himself. The grace of God not only calls us from without, but impells us from within. Our godly actions arise, then, from God Himself who dwells within, once we have welcomed Him to our home.

St. Paul says that now we see dimly as in a mirror (1 Cor 13:12). The Second Vatican Council teaches that Jesus Christ, by revealing the fullest extent of the Father's love for us, reveals us fully to ourselves (Gaudium et Spes, #22). When we face the Eucharist in adoration and worship, though we cannot clearly see Jesus with our senses, He nonetheless shows us a reflection of ourself. As I face the Eucharist the questions arise in my heart, together with the answers, gently, as a lover whispers: "Am I humble like Him? No. Am I gentle like Him? No. Am I chaste like Him? No. Am I generous like Him? No. Where do I need to grow? Who have I failed to love today? How can I love better?" He does not accuse, but only points out. As the answers present themselves, I am not discouraged and tempted to abandon our Lord, but am encouraged to pursue Him the more fervently. That is how I know it is He who speaks. So my heart gravitates toward Him, and He reveals Himself more and more fully as He reveals me to myself, gently, steadily, lovingly.

It is baptism that incorporates us into Christ, that adds us to His body. But the connection is so tentative because the effects of sin in our life are so powerful. The Eucharist is the chief means that Jesus has given us to strengthen us in our union with Him. That is why we call the act of receiving the Eucharist "Holy Communion." Because our souls are not mere spirits, but embodied spirits, part of a spirit-and-body combo, as it were, God works for us in like manner. Our spiritual sustenance comes to us by material elements. So the Body of Jesus works in us, is absorbed by us, and gradually turns us into itself. The Body of Christ is strengthened as each of its members and parts becomes more Christlike. We are what we eat, and we, the People of God, are the Body of Christ because we eat Christ's Body. In this way, He makes us more like Himself, draws us closer into His loving embrace, and as we are transformed and drawn in, we witness to others, who will follow us as night follows day.

The Eucharist itself is worthy of worship because it is Jesus Christ, no more, no less, no other. Nothing is missing that is essential either to His humanity or to His divinity. It is not merely a gathering of the people, though we do gather for it. It is not merely an act of thanksgiving, though we do thank Him. It is not merely a model of self-sacrifice, although it does teach us to give of ourselves. The Eucharist is Jesus Christ Himself, who personifies in His flesh the act of thanksgiving and self-sacrifice, which is the highest form of praise. As He teaches us to praise God and to give of ourselves, He draws us to Himself and thence to His Father and ours.

"And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all men to myself," John 12:32. Let us then lift up Jesus Christ, bodily present with us as the Sacrament of the Altar, the Sacrament of Love, the Sacrament of Unity, that all men be drawn to Him.

O Sacrament most holy,

O Sacrament divine,

All praise and all thanksgiving

Be every moment Thine.

God's Personal Secretary

Feast of St. Mark, Evangelist (25 Apr)

St. Mark's personal history is the matter of some confusion. He seems to have been named John Mark, and called as much, but also John, and yet again Mark in Acts of the Apostles, St. Paul's writings, and in one of St. Peter's letters. It is not just his given name that is unclear, though. So are his travels.

Mark seems perhaps to have met St. Peter when, after his release from prison, the Apostle stayed at the home of Mark's mother. He travelled with St. Paul for a while, separating from him and his party over whether to travel deep into Asia Minor (modern Turkey). There is good evidence to suggest that during his period he travelled to Egypt and planted or nurtured the Church in Alexandria. The Coptic (Egyptian) Christians to this day count him as their first bishop. It is clear that in any event he eventually joined up with St. Peter in Rome. There, he wrote and organized the writings of St. Peter, which probably form the basis of his Gospel. He also translated and managed the affairs of the elder Apostle, doing the day to day work that kept St. Peter free for his ministry.

Perhaps either his own, or the ever-exuberant personality of St. Peter seems to be reflected in the Gospel of St. Mark in a few ways. Firstly, in that gospel account, our Blessed Lord never simply does anything. Rather, he seems always to immediately do everything. Our Lord is depicted as always on the go, a Man with a Plan, and no time to waste. Another feature of St. Mark's account is the early, frequent, and strong confrontations between our Lord and his adversaries, especially the Pharisees. Of the four Evangelists, he is the one depicted as or with a lion for these features of his Gospel.

It is unclear how St. Mark died. The earliest mentions of his death are rather late, in the 4th century, but they agree that he was martyred in Alexandria. Perhaps after Ss. Peter and Paul had been killed in Rome, St. Mark felt it important to return to his earlier ministry.

In a way it is fitting that his life is veiled to history. He, though a bishop in his own right, left that honor to serve as secretary to St. Peter, the first pope, in what was doubtless a difficult time of life for the both of them. By being content to have a small role in a growing Church, St. Mark bequeathed to us a priceless gem, his Gospel, that probably wouldn't have been written if he had clung to his earlier, more lauded role. He is an encouragement to the average Christian who doesn't seek glory or praise, but the humbler roles in a parish - cleaning floors, running errands for the pastor, and so on.

St. Mark, patron of secretaries, pray for us.

Whither, the Christian Paradox

This past Sunday's readings (V Sunday of Eastertide; Act 6:1-7; Ps 33; 1 Pt 2:4-9; Jn 14:1-12) present a few interesting themes that could be discussed for some time. I am not here going to discuss them, but rather a little point buried in the St. John's gospel reading for the day.

After Jesus says, "And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back again and take you to myself, so that where I am you also may be. Where I am going you know the way."

I think St. Thomas must have had a special place in our Lord's heart because of the special invitation our Lord extended to him alone, to put his hands into those Sacred Wounds. St. Thomas is accused of skepticism, but I think that isn't the case. I think that he is simply very practical. Tradition has it that he was a carpenter, or an architect of sorts perhaps, like our Lord himself. Carpenters and architects DON'T DO the impossible, because when they try, houses fall down on people's heads. Yet St. Thomas was willing to believe - he just needed a little convincing. That's sound. Here we see something of the same cautiousness:

"Master," Thomas asks, "We do not know where you are going; how can we know the way?"

Very sensible question, St. Thomas. Very sensible indeed. You see, generally speaking, before we can plot out a course, we need to know our destination. That's common sense. The goal, though it comes after the process, must in a certain sense - in our mind - come before it. Here, St. Thomas merely points that out. Now, the Apostles did not yet understand exactly how Jesus of Nazareth, their rabbi who made increasingly grand claims about himself, fit into God's ongoing plan for the Jewish people and for the world. We have the vantage point of the Resurrection and Pentecost. They didn't.

Even for us now, though, St. Thomas' concern should resonate if we are paying attention. We know that the Kingdom of God, the Heavenly Jerusalem, the New Heavens and New Earth are to be our true and final home, but what that entails, exactly, who can say? St. Paul reminds us in 1 Cor 2:9, "But, as it is written, "What no eye has seen, nor ear heard,nor the heart of man conceived,what God has prepared for those who love him."

Whither is an archaic English word that means "to where," or "to what point/purpose," and it is the Christian paradox. The whole rest of the world thinks they know what they are working for, whither they work: a big house, peace and quiet, "true love," a fancy vacation, or what have you. They spend a great deal of time planning and scrambling trying to attain the goal they think clear. When one way doesn't work, they try another way. When one career doesn't do it, they try another; when careers don't seem likely, they try the lottery. When one relationship breaks down, they try another; when relationships seem unlike, perhaps they try a shrink or medication. In reality they do not understand that what they truly seek, the answer to all their heart's longing, is Jesus Christ.

We Christians, on the other hand, don't really know what we are working toward, but in a different way. Jesus Christ and the Kingdom of His Father is our goal, the new life we seek, but what exactly that new life will look like, we cannot even really imagine because it is, in one sense, so fundamentally different than anything we've ever experienced. We know, but not really, whither we go.

But we do know the exact way to get there, "Jesus said to him, 'I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.'" Union with Christ in our Father's House is our goal, the new life we seek, whatever it will be. Jesus Christ is the way to get there, and he is the truth, the reality check about where we are actually at. The Second Vatican Council teaches us this: "Christ, the final Adam, by the revelation of the mystery of the Father and His love, fully reveals man to man himself and makes his supreme calling clear," (Gaudium et Spes, #22). It is not quite like being given a map, but rather instructions about what-to-do-if. "If any one strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also," (Mt 5:39) and the list goes on throughout the Gospel. It is like giving an explorer or pilgrim instructions rather than a map: "If you come to moutains, use your rope to climb over them; if you come to a river, use your rope to ford it. Eventually you will get to where you are supposed to be, wherever that is." Only our instructions more or less boil down to this:

"And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O men of little faith?" (Mt 6:28-30). As we explore on this pilgrimage, we must ask our Father for humility so that we can continue to trust Him through whatever hair-raising adventures our continued conversion requires.

You might say, loosely, that our instructions are, "If you are tempted by sin, trust in your Heavenly Father. If you are worried about taking care of your children, trust in your Heavenly Father. If people hate you, trust in your Heavenly Father. If you get to thinking that you have to do something bad to get by, or to get ahead, trust in your Heavenly Father."

So we Christians know exactly how we are to go. It is whither that we know only dimly. On that deepest level, we Christians are working for the same goal as all the world, for an eternal happiness, for the joy and love that never end. But woe to us if our goals don't look different than the worldlings' on another level. We might just end up going where many of them may if we don't show them a better way to get to our true and final home. St. Thomas, supposedly faithless and doubting, went all the way to India to show people the way to their unknown destination. So much for "faithless" and "doubting." And he did it without a map.

The Pope and His People

Whatever most Americans were thinking, I cannot say. My suspicion is that the major media outlets were as far from the average American's heartbeat as they usually are. But I noted a few things that really struck me and those with whom I personally shared the beautiful experience of the Holy Father's visit to our nation's capital.

First, I wasn't at all excited, or even interested a few months ago. It was off in the "distant future" along with next Christmas and my scheduled dental work. Things to do, for better or worse, don't make an impression on me until they are very close at hand, because so many other things line themselves up in my schedule between now and then. A few weeks out, some of us noted that we were starting to buzz about the Holy Father. The night before, laying in bed with an alarm set to 4:45 a.m., it was almost impossible to sleep. I was too excited. "Why on earth should one foreign dignitary's visit provoke so much excitement, especially in a city so jaded and accustomed to foreign dignitaries?" That's the kind of question asked frequently in the media during the lead-up to the visit. Why, indeed. If the Holy Father were merely a foreign dignitary, the excitement would be inexplicable.

Second, the media kept harping on the recent poll by the Pew Foundation as evidence that the Church in America is sagging, and thence deduced that the Holy Father had planned his trip to bouy our spirits. Quite possibly so, but that is not the picture anyone in attendance at the Papal Mass saw. What we saw was a stadium filled to maximum capacity such as it never likely will be again (not while the Nationals play there, in any event) with people cheering and screaming like very few rockstars ever experience. The gathered community had a great number of immigrants, to be sure - as the Catholic Church in America always has had. Secularists say that the Bishops welcome immigrants to fill their pews; we might as easily say that secularists resent immigrants because immigrants upset their status quo. Forty-six thousand cheering, happy people very content to ignore all the "expert advice" and gloomy predictions of the mass media must be disturbing for them. No wonder so many outlets looked for so many other angles on the story. That said, a number of media outlets did a very nice job covering the event.

Third, while the Holy Father came to preach a message of hope and to encourage us Catholics to live it in our country, it seemed like he was as inspired as were we. It was deeply moving to see how much the Holy Father enjoyed being with us, his spiritual children. He even pulled a John Paul II by going into the crowds during the Recessional at the close of the Papal Mass. It was moving to see how moved he was by Placido Domingo's beautiful rendition of Panis Angelicus. One gets the feeling that he not only loves us as an obligation, but actually likes us, enjoys us, and wants to be with us. His deep humility and shy personality came through, but he overwhelmed himself with his own joy on several occasions, throwing open his arms, even cheering. When the late Holy Father John Paul the Great died, I commented to a buddy, "I feel like an orphan now," to which he responded, "I think we all do, Ryan." Now seeing the affection of the Roman Pontiff for his subjects, it feels right to think of him as a father.

Holy Father, we love you! Thanks for coming!

Mercy is the Measure

Mercy is the virtue by which we freely stoop down to another when we need not have, without pride or gloating, and free them from hurt and bondage. We cancel the debt they owe us without fanfare and self-congratulation. We tend their wounds with gentle ointments. We listen to their heart.

Here's a beautiful passage about mercy from von Hildebrand's Transformation in Christ:

"Mercy presupposes true inner freedom

It also presupposes an inward suppleness and fluidity; a thoroughly melted, quickened, liberated heart. Every inward scar, as it were - every hardening, every incrustation brought about by an experience we have failed to rectify before God - dams up the flux of mercy. Nay, the path of mercy is thwarted by every kind of inner unfreedom: by our bondage, for example, to anxiety or disgust; to the rancor evoked in us by an insult; and in general to every overemphatic preoccupation. For everything that stunts our freedom tends to make us self-conscious and to deprive us of the capacity, implied in mercy, of taking our stand above the situation.

He alone who has attained the supernatural sovereignty that results from true freedom and is reserved for those who seek only the kingdom of God and his justice, who expects nothing of his own forces but everything of God - he alone can participate in the specifically divine virtue of mercy.

None but those who have burst the narrow limits of ego-life, and in full openness and awakeness centered their lives in Christ, can truly respond to the miseria of others and - beyond all mere compassion - perform the act of that redeeming loving kindness which conveys to the wretched a breath of the love of God and lifts them from their misery, "Lifting up the poor out of the dunghill, that he may place him with princes, with the princes of his people," (Ps 112:7-8).

Mercy presupposes humility

Nor is this holy sovereignty possible without humility. He alone who is deeply humble is blessed with true inward freedom and fluidity; he alone is free from all impeding hardness. The general significance of humility as a condition of all participation in the divine life stands out in particular brightness when it is a question of mercy. Our possession of the highest human virtue (which is humility) constitutes the necessary foundation of our progress toward sharing the specifically divine virtue of mercy. We must die to ourselves so that the mercy of Christ may fill us. With St. John the Baptist we must say: "He must increase; but I must decrease," (Jn 3:30).

Our mercy toward others is the measure of our life in Christ

Mercy, the specifically supernatural virtue, thus provides a touchstone more infallible perhaps than the test of any other virtue for a life conceived and molded in Christ. Hence, the question whether we have been merciful must play a decisive part in our examination of conscience. Many are the occasions for mercy which we miss. Only too often do we, as did the Pharisee, pass by a wounded one - clinging to our personal concerns, circumscribed by our lack of freedom.

Yet, the virtue by which we live hourly is precisely the one of which we ought to be most mindful. And the mercy of God is what we live by. It pervades our lives integrally; it is the primal truth on which the whole being of a Christian rests... The way to attain the virtue of mercy lies in our constant awareness of being encompassed by mercy: of the fact that mercy is the air we children of God are breathing. May the mercy of God... pierce and transform our hearts. May it draw us into the orbit of its all-conquering, liberating, [gentle] power, before which all worldly standards collapse.

For according to the words of the Lord's Prayer... only insofar as we become merciful ourselves may we harvest the fruits of His mercy and taste, on a day to come, the last word of His mercy..."

---

I myself have lately experienced the conjunction of receiving and giving mercy. The other day I had my feelings hurt in a trivial way, but a way that kinda hit a nerve. It was hard to let go of my little grudge, and I was afraid that it would poison everything.

As I approached the confessional, the words came into my heart, "Be it done unto me according to Thy word," (Lk 1:38). I began to repeat the words quietly and slowly, over and over as I walked down the road toward my parish. I could feel my hands loosening their grip on the grudge I was carrying. The Lord opened my heart to His will, whatever it should be. As my heart opened, I was freed from the hurt feelings, isolation, anxiety, and stress that were trapped in my closed heart, each aggravating the others like rocks in a tumbler. Those feelings just melted. In the same process my desire and ability to be gentle, mindful of others, and forgive injuries intensified. No - more than that. It wasn't simply that my desire to forgive was intensified; before my desire to forgive had been intense but I couldn't do it. Now it was done. It was done unto me. When I blessed myself in the confessional before telling the priest my sins, I realized that the hand that had clutched that grudge was now emptied and relaxed.

The ability to receive mercy depends upon faith. We must trust that God really does love us and have a plan for our wellbeing or we will not be open to what He wants to give us. We must trust that if we pour our heart out to God, that He will not leave us empty and broken, but will pour gracy and mercy into our soul.

The ability to show mercy depends upon faith. We must trust that God will do justice to those who have injured us maliciously, so that we need not concern ourselves so much with our rights, etc. We must trust that God will heal our wounds. We must trust that God will help us to grow because of them, and help those who have injured us without ill-will to grow as well. Ultimately, we must trust that God is being merciful to us, even when we cannot feel it.

When we are freed from interior wounds and let go of anger and grudges, we can gently tend to others - even to those who have harmed us.

---

Be it done unto me according to Thy word.

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

The Culture of Me

This from the Washington Post (http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/02/28/AR2008022803315.html?hpid=smartliving&sid=ST2008022901519)

Me
If It's All About You, You're in Trouble. Why a Sense of Entitlement Can Wreak Havoc on Happiness.

By Dan ZakWashington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, March 2, 2008; Page N01

Broad pronouncement of the week: We are entitled brats.

For immediate proof, turn on the television. Locate a reality show on Bravo or MTV. The "Real Housewives of Orange County" and their real children are halfway through a marathon of placating and whining. "The Hills" and "Newport Harbor" are stocked with people who expect to be treated with a disproportionate amount of respect, lest they erupt in a raging meltdown.
We watch these shows in horror, with a judgmental eye on their cast members, but how different are we from them? In real life, we want what we want and we want it now. No delay. No aggravation. No hassle, pain-free, our way, right away. We're a highly technical society in a land of plenty. We place a premium on efficiency and convenience. Tiny annoyances and inconveniences foul our moods and affect our behaviors. Why? And how can we get past these trivialities?

Consider this paradox: Things are becoming more instantaneous in an era when delays are rampant and increasing. There are faster flights and cars but more people in airplanes and on the roads.

What has happened, even though companies are improving service, is that "customer expectations are continuing to rise," says Roger Nunley, managing director of the Customer Care Institute in Atlanta. This can be attributed to "consumers doing business online, where they get instant gratification and quick turnarounds. That's quickly becoming the standard expectation."
Change in expectations is a generational thing, experts say. People who grew up during the Depression were happy to have a job and stuck with one for a lifetime. Many members of generations X and Y were raised in a different light. They expect a buffet of opportunities and are peeved when they don't materialize.

Narcissism and entitlement among college students have increased steadily since 1979, according to a study to be published this year in the Journal of Personality. Between that year and 2006, 16,000 college students were asked to pick between such paired statements as "I expect a great deal from other people" and "I like to do things for other people," and "I will never be satisfied until I get all that I deserve" and "I will take my satisfactions as they come."
The data are clear: The ascent of narcissism and entitlement is dramatic.

"What we really have is a culture that has increasingly emphasized feeling good about yourself and favoring the individual over the group," says the study's co-author, Jean Twenge, a professor of psychology at San Diego State University. "And that has happened across the board, culturally, and it's showing no signs of slowing down."

To complement her research, Twenge offers evidence from the field: "I have a 14-month-old daughter, and the clothing available to her has 'little princess,' or 'I'm the boss,' or 'spoiled rotten' written on it. This is what we're dressing our babies in."

Schools have programs designed to boost self-esteem. Parents say things like, "You shouldn't care what other people think of you." We're inundated with the notions of "feeling special," "believing in yourself" and "be anything you want to be." Twenge ponders all these messages in her book "Generation Me: Why Today's Young Americans Are More Confident, Assertive, Entitled -- and More Miserable Than Ever Before" (Free Press, 2006).

Quite a title, but doesn't it feel kind of right? Twenge also coins the term "iGeneration" ("i" as in both iPod and "me, me, me"), which includes those of us born in the general range of 1981 to 1999.

This goes beyond social conditioning and technology, though. Entitlement is something that's part of human narcissism. It's an ego thing that transcends generations. When something goes wrong for others, it's their fault. When something goes wrong for us, it's not ours; it's the fault of external forces. We project blame.

This projection often antagonizes a situation. Feeling entitled to something you aren't getting leads to frustration, which leads to bratty behavior and confrontation. Nearly 80 percent of Americans say rudeness -- particularly behind the wheel, on cellphones and in customer service -- should be regarded as a serious national problem, according to a study by the opinion research firm Public Agenda.

An airport is a petri dish for rude behavior: a bunch of people in close quarters under time constraints. Stress and impatience lay down the welcome mat for brattiness.
"You have people screaming at customer representatives at airports because it's snowing out -- as if they're entitled to have a sunny day," says professor W. Keith Campbell, who specializes in the study of narcissism at the University of Georgia. "That's where it gets out of hand. With entitlement, the issue is, yeah, there are certain times where we're entitled and other times we're not. The problem is when we have that meter wrong."

It's unreasonable to spend an hour on hold, in other words, but there are situations when basic entitlement turns into self-infatuation and blatant disrespect for others. All of this is tied to the feeling of not being satisfied, of thinking that some force is blocking the way to a goal we think we deserve.

"The question is, 'What the heck is enough?' " says writer and psychologist Carl Pickhardt, who specializes in parenting and child development in his private practice in Austin. "I see that all the time. A couple comes in for marriage counseling, and they ask me, 'Are we happy enough?' Somebody's at a job they like, but are they successful enough? People have to make that choice. We are a dissatisfaction market society. Advertising constantly creates the notion that whatever we have is not enough. We can declare independence of that."

But how? It's about realigning our expectations and then squelching the nagging voice in our minds that propels our discontent. Pennsylvania psychologist Pauline Wallin calls this voice our "inner brat," which is an evil twin to our "inner child." After years of counseling clients who routinely made mountains out of molehills, Wallin dived into the concept, named it and produced the book "Taming Your Inner Brat: A Guide for Transforming Self-Defeating Behavior" (Wildcat Canyon Press, 2004).

"We have enough big things to be upset about, and people are losing their minds over small things," she says. "Frustration leads to aggression. If you don't let yourself get frustrated in the first place, then you don't get so angry and you don't blow things out of proportion."
Stress also fuels bratty behavior. It makes us impatient and irritable from the get-go. Psychologist Ronald Nathan of Albany, N.Y., recommends practicing relaxation techniques when waiting for such things as the Metro, the doctor or tech support. This turns a disadvantage (the frustration of waiting) into an advantage (making good use of that time to relax).

"Whether you are tempted to interrupt someone or are trying to get around a slow car -- when you're under stress you tend to react rather than respond," says Nathan, who specializes in stress. "Look at what you're telling yourself about your world and how you are interpreting it. We sometimes interpret the world as a set of 'shoulds,' 'oughts,' 'have to's,' 'musts,' 'deserves.' Those are exaggerations. It's a very competitive world we live in, so we easily get frustrated."
Nathan has trademarked a technique for stress relief that has a time-release formula ( http://www.relaxfastforfree.com). It involves setting some kind of unobtrusive alarm -- the vibrate function on your cellphone, for example -- to remind you to take several minutes to do some deep belly breathing and loosen your muscles and limbs. After several months of conditioning yourself to do this at certain times of the day, this kind of reframing of the mind can become automatic.

Another habit to form is being grateful. Clinical experiments show that people who express gratitude in some form every day live more-content lives, and they record lower levels of narcissism and entitlement.

"On the drive home from work, it's a matter of turning the radio off and thinking about how wonderful your job is or, if your job sucks, how wonderful your family is or, if your family's in shambles, how good your health is," says psychology professor Mike McCullough, who studies gratitude at the University of Miami.

He helped conduct one experiment titled "Counting Blessings Versus Burdens," wherein one group kept a journal of their daily hassles for a period of time while another recorded the times they were grateful. The outcome may be obvious, but it is no less instructive: People who concentrated on hassles were generally miserable; the others were pleased and satisfied.
It comes down to perspective and expectations. Do you want empty highways, no lines, a promotion and limousine conveyance to your birthday party? Fine. But don't expect them. Focus on your reliable car, your good health, your job stability or the fact that you're in a position to celebrate a birthday at all.

"When you're feeling this sense of deprivation or entitlement, try to take the longer view," McCullough urges. "Ask yourself, 'Is it really true -- empirically true -- that you are entitled to something?' In most cases, people say no."

Blessing the Pigs

Today's Mass readings (Monday of the 4th Wk of Ord Time; 2 Sm 15:13-14, 30; 16:5-13; Ps 3; Mk 5:1-20) include one of my very favorite passages of the Bible. I first heard the Gospel reading preached very well some four years ago at the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, at a daily Mass. First, I'll recap the priest's brief but brilliant homily, and then I'll write a bit about why I feel the reading has been so powerful in my life.

The priest first pointed out that Gerasa, the town afflicted by the possessed man, was either a town of Jews or of Gentiles, but it was in the Gentile regions just outside the Holy Land. The town's location isolated it. Whether Jews or Gentiles, their economy had notably incorporated swineherding - an activity forbad among the Jews. Even to touch a pig rendered a man unclean and outcast. The town's economic activities isolated it. Moreover, the road into the town from the water was blocked by the man possessed by the legion of demons. His terrifying activity had rendered the town further isolated. Supernatural forces isolated it.

Jesus comes into town and, as an act of mercy, exorcises the man, whose many demons who ask to be sent into the pigs rather than Hell. Jesus grants their request, and the maddened pigs stampede into the sea, drowning themselves. Their terrified swineherd tells the whole town what had happened. The locals then meet Jesus, and ask Him to leave. They were happy to have the road into their town opened again, but not at the cost of parting with their sinful occupations, not at the cost of overturning their way of life. They wanted to get the blessing without their lives being changed.

The priest then preached that God will not bless us with whatever blessing unless we are willing to change our lives to accomodate it. A prayer like, "Lord, help me with my finances," must be accompanied by a willingness to give up frivolous and selfish spending, and probably even a willingness to tithe, to render to God what is God's. If we want to receive God's blessing, it is only fair that we should be willing to part ways with whatever separates us from him, with whatever sin. God will bless us, and the blessing entails removing our swine from us. God will not bless the pigs.

In my own life the passage has been particularly meaningful because of my desire to be a priest. The man possessed by the legion of Jesus desired to join the ranks of Jesus' apostles and traveling disciples, and in a rare refusal, Jesus told the man the he should rather stay among his own people and tell them what the Lord had done for him. These people who wanted to forget God, and who would be tempted just to get new swine and pretend the whole thing had never happened, needed a living reminder. While I was in the seminary, Jesus began, or continued, to work a good deal of healing and conversion in my life - chasing out demons and swine. When leaving the seminary, confident only that I was doing what Jesus wanted me to do, this passage came to be important for me personally. It is the hope of every Christian that we will, by God's grace, be able to discern and exercise our share in the apostolate, in works of mercy, in reconciliation of divisions, in proclaiming the Gospel. It requires a great deal of humility to set aside the manner in which we would like to do it, and to trust Jesus that he has in store a role more valuable, more meaningful, more important for us. We must obey Him as a father, in an act of loving self-sacrifice, loving death-to-self, and hoping that He who makes the seed fall, will grant it an increase.

Holy Man of Gerasa, pray for us.

Blessed the merciful

Ok, so I blew it again today. He came into church, this time, moments before the communion procession, still as blustery and smelly as ever. I've seen him at this particular Mass at this particular parish a few times before. He's clearly got a lot of issues. He always shuffles in loudly, out of breath, and clumsily. But even before you can hear him, you can smell the cigarette smoke literally ten or fifteen feet away. His hair is extraordinarily greasy and he is laden with sweat from head to toe. Today he was wearing a monstrous blue mesh eye patch that was hanging loosely off his face. He might have Tourette's Syndrome: he waves his hands and shakes his fist in the air, audibly whispering things like, "One, two, three, yes!" while the rest of the people are kneeling in silent prayer. Passing from communion, the man waves to the (embarrassed) altar boy, but then stops at the creche or the statue of Our Lady and drapes himself over the poor plaster people.

And I, the embodiment of perfection and liturgical dignity, found myself choking back disgust, and wishing that he'd just GO somewhere ELSE: "Good grief, HIM again! Why does he come HERE?" Gently the answer appeared in my mind, "For the same reason you do." Of course the man comes because he wants Jesus.

Father's homily on the day's readings (1 Jn 4:7-10; Ps 72; Mk 6:34-44) came crashing back into my heart. The first reading is the beautiful passage of John's letter than cultimates, "God is love." Father preached about the theological virtue of love, called a theological virtue because its only possible source in our lives is God, and it is the transformation into sons and daughters of God. Love powers, measures, and directs our transformation in Christ; when we are consumed by self-sacrificial charity, we will have been consumed by Christ. We cannot do this thing, love, on our own, out of our own resources. The reading from the Gospel is St. Mark's account of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes. Jesus takes the little the apostles have, little bread, little fish, little faith, and He makes love overflow. There remain twelve baskets beyond what was needed to feed the thousands. "Bring your heart to Jesus," Father said, "and ask him to multiply your love."

On retreat once, the retreat master gave an excellent working definition of mercy. Mercy is not permitting evil or leaving it unopposed. Mercy is not condescencion or arrogance. Mercy is not pretending that your enemies have done you no harm. In this case, mercy is not trying to convince myself that the man is not odd or disgusting. Mercy, the preacher said, is accepting a person as they are with all their flaws and experiences, and treating them gently. Mercy is to avoid breaking a bruised reed. Mercy is to try to imagine where someone's been and what's brought them to their present brokenness before we begin to deal with them. Mercy is letting someone be odd and disgusting without hating them, or treating them harshly and coldly even in the darkest recesses of our heart. Mercy is not holding who somebody is or what he has done against him.

As I left the church after Mass, I looked around. At first I was alarmed because the smelly man was approaching the Blessed Sacrament exposed for adoration upon the altar of sacrifice. What would he do?  I tensed up, but only for a moment before the answer came: he knelt before the sacrament where, generally speaking, only the priest kneels. He waved his hands for a few minutes, counted with his fingers, and audibly whispered something to our Lord. And then he became quiet and still. As I looked around, I saw nobody else even seemed to notice him. They were only noticing Jesus. Looking back at the man, I saw he was still quiet. It occured to me that it might be the only moments of quiet and peace the poor soul will experience all day. I think he really did come to Mass this morning for the same reason I did.

Sacred Heart of Jesus, make my heart like unto thine.

An Act of Contrition

Oh, God, I am so sorry for all my sins. In choosing to do wrong and in failing to do good, I have offended You, whom I should have loved above all things. I firmly intend with your help to confess my sins, do penance for them, avoid occasions of sin, and sin no more forever. Oh Mary, please help me to love Jesus better. Amen.

Why can I never get it right, this thing called life? Jesus, help me not to rely on me, but only on you. Only on you.

A Word from St. Josemaria Escriva

I am going to start posting aphorisms periodically, from St. Josemaria Escriva's The Way. I am not involved with Opus Dei myself, but highly recommend it for almost any other working stiff layman out there. The translations are all my own, from the original Spanish text of Camino, so forgive me if it doesn't match your translation at home.

"The more they exalt me, my Jesus, all the more humble me in my heart, making me know what I have been, and what I will be, if you leave me," (The Way, #591).