Oct 4, 2014 |
 
From The Life of Saint Francis of Assisi by Paul Sabbatier, published 1919.
Among the numerous chapels in the suburbs of Assisi there was one which Francis particularly loved, that of St. Damian. It was reached by a few minutes’ walk over a stony path, almost trackless, under olive trees, amid odors of lavender and rosemary. Standing on the top of a hillock, the entire plain is visible from it, through a curtain of cypresses and pines which seem to be trying to hide the humble hermitage and set up an ideal barrier between it and the world.
Served by a poor priest who had scarcely the wherewithal for necessary food, the sanctuary was falling into ruin. There was nothing in the interior but a simple altar of masonry, and by way of reredos one of those byzantine crucifixes still so numerous in Italy, where through the work of the artists of the time has come down to us something of the terrors which agitated the twelfth century. In general the Crucified One, frightfully lacerated, with bleeding wounds, appears to seek to inspire only grief and compunction; that of St. Damian, on the contrary, has an expression of inexpressible calm and gentleness; instead of closing the eyelids in eternal surrender to the weight of suffering, it looks down in self-forgetfulness, and its pure, clear gaze says, not “I suffer,” but, “Come unto me.”
One day Francis was praying before the poor altar: “Great and glorious God, and thou, Lord Jesus, I pray ye, shed abroad your light in the darkness of my mind…. Be found of me, Lord, so that in all things I may act only in accordance with thy holy will.”
Thus he prayed in his heart, and behold, little by little it seemed to him that his gaze could not detach itself from that
of Jesus; he felt something marvellous taking place in and around him. The sacred victim took on life, and in the outward silence he was aware of a voice which softly stole into the very depths of his heart, speaking to him an ineffable language. Jesus accepted his oblation. Jesus desired his labor, his life, all his being, and the heart of the poor solitary was already bathed in light and strength.
This vision marks the final triumph of Francis. His union with Christ is consummated; from this time he can exclaim with the mystics of every age, “My beloved is mine, and I am his.”
But instead of giving himself up to transports of contemplation he at once asks himself how he may repay to Jesus love for love, in what action he shall employ this life which he has just offered to him. He had not long to seek. We have seen that the chapel where his spiritual espousals had just been celebrated was threatened with ruin. He believed that to repair it was the work assigned to him.
From that day the remembrance of the Crucified One, the thought of the love which had triumphed in immolating itself, became the very centre of his religious life and as it were the soul of his soul. For the first time, no doubt, Francis had been brought into direct, personal, intimate contact with Jesus Christ; from belief he had passed to faith, to that living faith which a distinguished thinker has so well defined: “To believe is to look; it is a serious, attentive, and prolonged look; a look more simple than that of observation, a look which looks, and nothing more; artless, infantine, it has all the soul in it, it is a look of the soul and not the mind, a look which does not seek to analyze its object, but which receives it as a whole into the soul through the eyes.”
Lord God, You made Saint Francis of Assisi Christ-like in his poverty and humility.
Help us so to walk in his ways that, with joy and love,
we may follow Christ Your Son, and be united to You.
We make our prayer through our Lord Jesus Christ.
Amen.
Oct 1, 2014 |
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By Rachel.“The Little Flower of Jesus”… this title and blessed saint certainly touched my heart as a little girl before I even knew how to read her story. Â Since I only ever wanted to be a nun (even before I knew what it was) it was inevitable that this young, gentle-looking nun in my Fr. Lovasik Picture Book of Saints would attract me. Had I known how my life would unfold, perhaps I would have gone more for Leonie (or someone who at least seemed to struggle with their vocation) as a role model and patroness. But since Therese had managed to find me first, this “greatest saint of modern times” had gotten herself another devotee in the enamored heart of a little girl with big dreams.
At first, Therese was my “secret patroness” because I knew pretty much everyone loved her and so I resolved to love her more than anyone but not let anyone else know (you see how this has changed drastically)! I wanted to follow her example as closely as I could.
I was 15 when I became convicted that I too was called to Carmel and I probably would have gone straight to the Holy Father as well were it not for the fact that I didn’t feel ready. I was told that one could enter at the age of 17 if she had a High School Diploma and her parents’ permission. I had my goal! But my heart was constantly in Carmel and I became very impatient with the waiting. Therese had been my confidante over the years because I felt that she understood better than most people what it was like to desire Religious life from a young age, and so I went to her with my impatience as well. She had an answer for me. I read how she had spent her own time before entering Carmel (though I mentioned to her that she only waited 3 months while mine became nearly 3 years!):
“I was unable to hold back my tears at the thought of such a long wait… I really want to believe I must have appeared unreasonable in not accepting my 3 months’ exile joyfully, but I also believe that, without it’s appearing so, this trial was very great and made me grow very much in abandonment and in other virtues.” (Story of a Soul, Ch. 6)
She said, I understood the value of the time being offered…Â and she spent it in breaking her own will and loving very much through “little nothings”. (Here in lies the secret to her rapid growth in holiness, I believe.)
Two years passed, not nearly as well spent as hers no doubt, yet there was a small dream I had not yet attained before entering the cloister. Like Therese had, I wanted to make a pilgrimage to the “Eternal City”, and while there, I could not pass up the opportunity to see experience Lisieux, France! I would have no one but Therese as my guide for, while visiting the Churches and Holy places of Rome, Assisi, Paris and Lisieux, I devotedly carried with me Story of a Soul. Everything she had experienced I wanted to as well and since my heart was longing for Carmel throughout I felt that our hearts were indivisibly united by desire and empathy. Naturally, Lisieux was the highlight for me as I walked the grounds and re-lived the scenes of my heroine. I felt so close to her there and thought I was truly following in her footsteps, for everything she loved, I loved. (God only knows how far my soul was from being as pure and holy as hers). Somehow, I knew that she had helped me come to this place, desire Carmel and that now she would walk with me through those doors still.
When that day finally came, it was evident that she had been with me for, though I had not chosen the date, I entered on January 2nd, (the Birthday of St. Therese and my deceased baby sister, Gemma Therese)! They held my hands as I was “born” into that new life.
As you have all most likely experienced postulancy, I have no need to explain how you once again become a child in every way. This is when the spirituality of my patroness really came alive for me. To be a child… to be love in the Heart of Church… to be a hidden soul… to be a Victim of Merciful Love! Of course, with my ideals and youthful zeal (I entered only a month before my 18 birthday); this last devotion appealed to me most of all. I, too, wished to offer myself using the beautiful words that she did in her Act of Oblation (see Appendix from Story of a Soul). I gave myself to the life of Carmel and its sacrifices with much vigor, striving so hard to follow my sister Therese and become a saint myself. I believed I knew what a “perfect Carmelite” was and I constrained myself to follow this.
My little Act of Oblation was accepted, though not in the way I imagined it should be and with much ignorance of the real sacrifice Our Lord would ask of me. I became ill shortly after making my First Profession. I thought, All right then. If Jesus is going to allow me to suffer then I will do it like Therese and hope that I too would be brought to Heaven speedily. Suffering was not as glorious or easy as I had imagined and though I waited for the final blow, it did not come in the way expected. As my mysterious illness progressed I became unable to live as the other sisters did (as a good Carmelite did) and with this I struggled. I read and re-read the analogy St. Therese made of the little bird who gazes at her Divine Sun and sees the great eagles (saints) soaring towards It, while she cannot fly. This little bird is not discouraged, but fixes her gaze on the Sun of Love and does not look away, even when dark clouds conceal It from view. The eagles take pity and come to her defense against the demons who would prey upon her, for she is destined to be the prey One who will catch her up and carry her with Him to the “inaccessible light.” This gave me courage to believe that, even in helplessness, I could be Love in the Heart of the Church.
The opportunity for the real oblation came when, to my great surprise, I was suddenly told that I was not meant to live this way and should return to my family to heal and discern God’s will for my life. I couldn’t believe it. This was my dream! Sure, I was struggling but wasn’t that just my cross? IÂ complained to Our Lord, and He once again sent Therese to console and enlightens me. This time it was with her story of the Ball of the Child Jesus. This plaything allowed itself to be pierced and thrown in a corner by Him, deflated, yet it was at peace. I realized that I had to allow my grand ideals and plans for my life to be pierced through and deflated as well and only then would I find the true peace of being completely His! In my heart I prayed, “Lord, it is dark on this path, but I wish to close my eyes and place my hand in yours. Lead me and do with me what you like. I trust you.” Â I left Carmel with such peace and joy that it continues to amaze me when I reflect upon it. At last I knew the joy that Therese had experienced in her Act of Oblation, in her suffering, in her struggles. Her trust in the Loving Father from her child-like heart was so great that even being “pierced and cast aside” could not shake her. She knew that He still always loved her, that even when all seemed lost and she abandoned, He was only sleeping in her boat. She would not wake Him, but let Him sleep as the storm raged. My boat had started to drift in a different direction than I had wanted and Therese showed me that I could not steer it (no matter how much I wanted to be a certain way). She’s always been in the boat with me, I cannot explain it any other way and she has guided me lovingly to see my own littleness and allow the Father to be my Greatness! Instead of a role model, Therese has become a friend, a sister, a mother and I know she is not done teaching me. I pray that now I may say with her, “My one purpose then would be to accomplish the will of God, to sacrifice myself for Him in the way that would please Him.
For a long time I have not belonged to myself since I have delivered myself totally to Jesus, and He is therefore free to do with me as He pleases.” (Story of a Soul, Ch. 10)
Sep 30, 2014 |
From Leonie Martin: A Difficult Life by Marie Beaudin-Croix
The Story of a Soul was published at the end of September 1898. Leonie immediately devoured the book and was moved to rediscover memories of their shared childhood; but most importantly of all, she finally knew all the secrets of the love which Therese and her beloved Lord had shared. The Story of a Soul became Leonie’s bedside book; and it helped her to regain hope for her own vocation.
Leonie’s heart was constantly drawn toward her beloved Visitation Order; but she hesitated, because of her fragile health and her innate restlessness – a restlessness which sometimes made others see her as indecisive, whereas in fact she was strong-willed to the point of stubbornness.
One day, Leonie would learn – and would bear witness to it at the Process for Therese’s Beatification, in 1910 – that in early 1888, after Leonie’s first attempt to join the Visitation Order, Therese had said prophetically to a Benedictine sister in Lisieux: ‘We must not worry about the fact that Leonie’s attempts at religious life have been unsuccessful. After my death, she will enter the Visitation Order; she will take my name, and that of Saint Francis de Sales.’ In 1888 Therese was fifteen and about to enter the Carmelite convent, and no one dreamed that she would die young; she was in good health, and photographs of her as a novice show us a cheerful, round-faced little country girl.
In 1915, during the Apostolic Process for the Cause of Therese, Leonie recounted a fact which she had learned from Pauline: ‘Mother Marie Gonzaga, the prioress, told Therese that on the day of her Profession (8 September 1890), when she prostrated herself , she should pray that our dear father would be cured; but in fact, she prayed, “God, since Mother Marie told me to ask this of You, grant that Papa may be cured, if it be Your will; but grant that it be Your will that Leonie should become a Visitandine, and if she has no vocation, I beg You to send her one; You cannot refuse me this.” It is true that I made another fruitless attempt to join the Visitation Order; but the faith of this Servant of God was unshakeable.’
(Pages 72-73.)
Sep 29, 2014 |
A post for the Feast of the Holy Angels, by Penny.
Fairly frequently, I’m called upon to answer random questions about Catholicism: everything from “Who’s the patron Saint of actors?” to “Can I be a Catholic and a Buddhist at the same time?” (A: Saint Genesius, and B: no.)
Of all the misconceptions that I usually encounter, however, the most common revolve around angels: the belief that humans who “cross over” turn into angels, for example, or that that angels are “beings of light” who can “channel” that light through you if you meditate enough and burn the right kind of candle.Â
The reality, though, is a lot more fascinating than these insipid New Age ideas. While I was in the convent, I read through a fair chunk of the Scriptures, and noticed a pattern whenever God sends an angel to speak with a prophet: the prophet looks up, sees something enormous that burns brighter than fire, and immediately keels over unconscious. Far from being benign lights with a fondness for lavender oil, the angels in God’s service are the highest created beings, reflecting the glory of God with a brilliance that drives humans to the ground.
They are also warriors who will, at the end of time, fight the final battle with the devil and drive him and his followers into hell for eternity. Consider the Archangel Gabriel, who is most well-known, of course, for bringing the  joyful message of the Annunciation to the Blessed Virgin. This isn’t his first appearance in the Scriptures, however: hundreds of years earlier, Gabriel had appeared to the Prophet Daniel and – after waking Daniel from his faint – described to him an angelic war that was in progress at the time, in which he was fighting side-by-side with Michael (Daniel 10:12-13.) To me, this image of Gabriel in battle makes the Annunciation even more profound: the powerful warrior brings God’s message to a young woman from Nazareth, and quietly awaits her answer.
Consider, too, the third Archangel whose name we know. At the climax of the book of Tobit, the friendly guide who has brought young Tobias through various trials to a happy marriage suddenly drops his disguise:
I am Raphael, one of the seven holy angels, which present the prayers of the saints, and which go in and out before the glory of the Holy One.
And, unsurprisingly,
Then they were both troubled, and fell upon their faces: for they feared.
But he said unto them, “Fear not, for it shall go well with you; praise God therefore.
For not of any favour of mine, but by the will of our God I came; wherefore praise him for ever.
All these days I did appear unto you; but I did neither eat nor drink, but ye did see a vision.
Now therefore give God thanks: for I go up to him that sent me; but write all things which are done in a book.
And when they arose, they saw him no more. (Tobit 12:15-21)
Of all the books of the Old Testament, Tobit is the one I most love to re-read: a story of ordinary people to whom God sends an angel as a teacher and protector, not for any grand world-changing reason, but for the simple purpose of bringing them joy. We too, can turn to the angels in prayer and ask for their guidance in discerning the will of God – and we, too, can ask these heavenly warriors for their protection. I’ll conclude with a prayer to Saint Raphael, “The Angel of Happy Meetings,” which took on a new and powerful meaning for me after I left the religious life. At a time when I was struggling to imagine that I would ever find a place to belong, this prayer reminded me that, somewhere in the world, there are people who don’t yet know me but are waiting for me nonetheless. This is the essence of any vocation: God has created something that will be incomplete until you are part of it. On this Feast of the Holy Angels, let us ask their help in finding it.
O Raphael, lead us towards those we are waiting for and those who are waiting for us.
May all our movements, all their movements, be guided by thy light and transfigured by thy joy.
Angel guide of Tobias, lay the request we now address to thee at the foot of Him on whose unveiled Face thou art privileged to gaze. (Mention your request.)
Lonely and weary, deeply grieved by the separations and sorrows of earth, we feel the need of calling to you and of pleading for the protection of thy wings, so that we may not be as strangers in the province of joy.
Remember the weak, thou who art strong, whose home lies beyond the region of thunder, in a land that is always peaceful, always serene and bright with the resplendent glory of God.
Amen.
Sep 22, 2014 |
Opening Prayer
Daily Meditation from The Story of a Soul:
Like the Prophets and Doctors, I would be a light unto souls, I would travel to every land to preach Thy name, O my Beloved, and raise on heathen soil the glorious standard of Thy Cross. One mission alone would not satisfy my longings. I would spread the Gospel to the ends of the earth, even to the most distant isles. I would be a Missionary, not for a few years only, but, were it possible, from the beginning of the world till the consummation of time. Above all, I thirst for the Martyr’s crown. It was the desire of my earliest days, and the desire has deepened with the years passed in the Carmel’s narrow cell. But this too is folly, since I do not sigh for one torment; I need them all to slake my thirst. Like Thee, O Adorable Spouse, I would be scourged, I would be crucified! I would be flayed like St. Bartholomew, plunged into boiling oil like St. John, or, like St. Ignatius of Antioch, ground by the teeth of wild beasts into a bread worthy of God. With St. Agnes and St. Cecilia I would offer my neck to the sword of the executioner, and like Joan of Arc I would murmur the name of Jesus at the stake.
Leonie’s Longing Prayer:
Saint Therese, your love could not be contained within the boundaries of one vocation: you longed to give everything to God. Teach us, too, to extend our love beyond any limitations we have set, and to seek new paths in the service of Christ all our days.
Concluding Prayer:
O God, who didst inflame with Thy spirit of love the soul of Saint Therese of the Child Jesus, grant that we may also love Thee, and make Thee much loved. Amen.
From The Life of Saint Francis of Assisi by Paul Sabbatier, published 1919.
on life, and in the outward silence he was aware of a voice which softly stole into the very depths of his heart, speaking to him an ineffable language. Jesus accepted his oblation. Jesus desired his labor, his life, all his being, and the heart of the poor solitary was already bathed in light and strength.
By Rachel.
pilgrimage to the “Eternal City”, and while there, I could not pass up the opportunity to see experience Lisieux, France! I would have no one but Therese as my guide for, while visiting the Churches and Holy places of Rome, Assisi, Paris and Lisieux, I devotedly carried with me Story of a Soul. Everything she had experienced I wanted to as well and since my heart was longing for Carmel throughout I felt that our hearts were indivisibly united by desire and empathy. Naturally, Lisieux was the highlight for me as I walked the grounds and re-lived the scenes of my heroine. I felt so close to her there and thought I was truly following in her footsteps, for everything she loved, I loved. (God only knows how far my soul was from being as pure and holy as hers). Somehow, I knew that she had helped me come to this place, desire Carmel and that now she would walk with me through those doors still.
My little Act of Oblation was accepted, though not in the way I imagined it should be and with much ignorance of the real sacrifice Our Lord would ask of me. I became ill shortly after making my First Profession. I thought, All right then. If Jesus is going to allow me to suffer then I will do it like Therese and hope that I too would be brought to Heaven speedily. Suffering was not as glorious or easy as I had imagined and though I waited for the final blow, it did not come in the way expected. As my mysterious illness progressed I became unable to live as the other sisters did (as a good Carmelite did) and with this I struggled. I read and re-read the analogy St. Therese made of the little bird who gazes at her Divine Sun and sees the great eagles (saints) soaring towards It, while she cannot fly. 
complained to Our Lord, and He once again sent Therese to console and enlightens me. This time it was with her story of the Ball of the Child Jesus. This plaything allowed itself to be pierced and thrown in a corner by Him, deflated, yet it was at peace. I realized that I had to allow my grand ideals and plans for my life to be pierced through and deflated as well and only then would I find the true peace of being completely His! In my heart I prayed, “Lord, it is dark on this path, but I wish to close my eyes and place my hand in yours. Lead me and do with me what you like. I trust you.” Â I left Carmel with such peace and joy that it continues to amaze me when I reflect upon it. At last I knew the joy that Therese had experienced in her Act of Oblation, in her suffering, in her struggles. Her trust in the Loving Father from her child-like heart was so great that even being “pierced and cast aside” could not shake her. She knew that He still always loved her, that even when all seemed lost and she abandoned, He was only sleeping in her boat. She would not wake Him, but let Him sleep as the storm raged. My boat had started to drift in a different direction than I had wanted and Therese showed me that I could not steer it (no matter how much I wanted to be a certain way). She’s always been in the boat with me, I cannot explain it any other way and she has guided me lovingly to see my own littleness and allow the Father to be my Greatness! Instead of a role model, Therese has become a friend, a sister, a mother and I know she is not done teaching me. I pray that now I may say with her, “My one purpose then would be to accomplish the will of God, to sacrifice myself for Him in the way that would please Him.
From Leonie Martin: A Difficult Life by Marie Beaudin-Croix
They are also warriors who will, at the end of time, fight the final battle with the devil and drive him and his followers into hell for eternity. Consider the Archangel Gabriel, who is most well-known, of course, for bringing the  joyful message of the Annunciation to the Blessed Virgin. This isn’t his first appearance in the Scriptures, however: hundreds of years earlier, Gabriel had appeared to the Prophet Daniel and – after waking Daniel from his faint – described to him an angelic war that was in progress at the time, in which he was fighting side-by-side with Michael (Daniel 10:12-13.) To me, this image of Gabriel in battle makes the Annunciation even more profound: the powerful warrior brings God’s message to a young woman from Nazareth, and quietly awaits her answer.
bringing them joy. We too, can turn to the angels in prayer and ask for their guidance in discerning the will of God – and we, too, can ask these heavenly warriors for their protection. I’ll conclude with a prayer to Saint Raphael, “The Angel of Happy Meetings,” which took on a new and powerful meaning for me after I left the religious life. At a time when I was struggling to imagine that I would ever find a place to belong, this prayer reminded me that, somewhere in the world, there are people who don’t yet know me but are waiting for me nonetheless. This is the essence of any vocation: God has created something that will be incomplete until you are part of it. On this Feast of the Holy Angels, let us ask their help in finding it.
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