A Marriage Saved In Heaven

A Marriage Saved in Heaven: Elisabeth Leseur's Life of Love by Robin Maas, Ph.D.

The name Elisabeth Leseur is unknown to most American Catholics; but the English translation of her remarkable journal, long out of print, is once again available. The recent release of a beautiful new paperback edition by Sophia Institute Press provides occasion for rejoicing, for this French housewife's spiritual odyssey is sure to give hope to the countless Catholic wives in this country whose suffering mirrors her own. For several years I have assigned Elisabeth Leseur's journal to my students at the John Paul II Institute for Studies on Marriage and Family. Without exception, they are stunned by what they read and are deeply moved.

Many American women will find Elisabeth Leseur's writings psychologically inaccessible, for they witness to a vision of marriage and an experience of silent, sacrificial love for which our contemporary culture offers no explanation or support. At a time in history when women feel they have a right to personal fulfillment in both the major spheres of their lives - domestic and professional - this particular life may register with many as an enigma and a rebuke, for it reminds us that our personal ambitions are narrow and impoverished, lacking the luster and verve of the heroic.

Married in 1889 in Paris, Felix and Elisabeth Leseur were both from relatively prosperous and cultivated backgrounds. They and their impressive circle of friends were part of an intellectual elite who indulged themselves in a constant round of receptions and soirees, evenings at the theater and frequent travel abroad. The young husband was a medical doctor, and like so many ardent suitors, Felix had promised his fiancée that even though he was no longer a believer-having lost his faith in medical school-he would always respect her Catholic piety and never interfere in her practice of the Faith. Elisabeth was attractive, good-natured and intellectually curious. A lover of all the arts, when she was not busy entertaining or being entertained, she pursued her own intellectual advancement through self-directed study projects, mastering Latin, English and Russian.

Indeed, this was a couple that seemed to "have it all." To look at the handsome newlyweds one would never guess that the relationship would soon be permeated by the deepest and most hidden psychological anguish imaginable; and even more astonishing was the survival of their affection for one another in the midst of a massive failure of communication of the sort that would topple most middle- class marriages today.

The Cross of Spiritual Isolation

At the time of her marriage, Elisabeth Arrighi Leseur could be fairly characterized as a sincere but somewhat conventional Christian. There was no particular reason, given her background, for Felix to expect the kind of spiritual seriousness that emerged in her early thirties, just as there was no reason for Elisabeth to expect the dramatic change of attitude that developed in her husband not long after their marriage. From a staunchly Catholic family, the Jesuit-educated Felix was able to discard his religious formation surprisingly quickly under the pressures created by his own professional and social ambitions. Originally willing to tolerate what he himself had left behind, Dr. Leseur soon came under the influence of anti-clerical friends and adopted their attitude of militant resistance to Catholicism. His innate capacity for zeal came to full bloom in his conversion to atheism and the subsequent efforts he made to evangelize his wife.

Felix began to undertake a study of polemical anti-Catholic literature in earnest and in his enthusiasm thrust much of it upon his wife. Soon, it began to take effect. Elisabeth came to have serious doubts and started to look favorably on the arguments of liberal Protestantism, positions which Felix gladly endorsed since he saw these as only a short step away from radical agnosticism. One work in particular, Renan's History of the Origins of Christianity, he expected to produce the much desired coup de grace that would demolish the last remnants of his wife's religious convictions. To his surprise and dismay, the effort backfired:

. . . thanks to divine Providence, the very work that I thought would accomplish my hateful object brought about its ruin. Elisabeth . . . was not deceived by the glamour of the form, but was struck by the poverty of the substance . . . . She felt herself approach the abyss, and sprang backwards, and from then on she devoted herself to her own religious instruction.1

Elisabeth's reeducation in the Faith, which she herself planned and implemented, consisted of an extensive reading program devoted to the New Testament and the writings of the saints. Her husband's eager efforts to sway her had taught her the arguments; her own program of study gave her the background to reply confidently. Thus the net effect of Felix's attack on Elisabeth's Catholicism was to ground her much more firmly in her faith than she had ever been before.

Furious at this unexpected turn of events, Felix redoubled his efforts to get his wife to see the light, but there was an unmistakable change in Elisabeth that even her frustrated husband could not ignore. He saw her faith become

a new thing, unassailable, unshakable, and radiant, opening henceforth to her the way to the sanctification in which she was so marvelously to progress. Her ascension to God had begun. And this faith "that could move mountains" had been set by God upon the firmest rock of all-that is, upon suffering.2

In Elisabeth's case, the primary source of her suffering was her marriage, but as we shall see, it had nothing to do with having married "the wrong person" or in the death of marital love. The radical tension between husband and wife over the issue of religion was to be a constant, implacable reality in this marriage, and a source of unremitting pain for Elisabeth. The following entry captures accurately the poignant nature of the isolation she endured: "I thirst for sympathy, to bare my soul to the souls that are dear to me, to speak of God and immortality and the interior life ..."3

Elisabeth confides to her journal the acute pain she suffered when not only husband but friends as well attacked or made light of what she treasured in her heart:

Bitter suffering of an evening spent in hearing my faith and spiritual things mocked at, attacked and criticized. God helped me to maintain interior charity and exterior calm; to deny or betray nothing, and yet not to irritate by too rigid assertions. But how much effort and inner distress this involves, and how necessary is divine grace to assist my weakness!4

That a young wife should be deeply wounded-and angered-by such a betrayal is to be expected. What is remarkable here is Elisabeth's capacity to make use of her suffering for the benefit of those who inflicted it on her. Where human nature seeks just reparation for pain inflicted, Elisabeth is unwilling to indulge that very natural demand; nor will she simply suffer. Instead, she "spends" that pain to benefit those who caused it. Immediately following her description of her distress, she adds this plea and a resolution:

My God, wilt Thou give me one day. . . soon . . . the immense joy of full spiritual communion with my dear husband, of the same faith, and, for him as for me, of a life turned toward Thee? I will redouble my prayers for this intention; more than ever will I supplicate, suffer, and offer to God Communions and sacrifices to obtain this greatly desired grace.5

An Apostolate to Souls

Felix recalls that when asked to inscribe a motto in the day-book of her beloved younger sister, Elisabeth had written the following: "Every soul that uplifts itself uplifts the world." He continues, "In that profound thought she defined herself."6 This message to someone she loved presaged what was to become the leitmotif of her own life and the meaning of her personal mission as she understood it.

While still a young woman, Elisabeth had come to the conclusion that the popular conviction that for activity to be valuable it must have a widespread and measurable social impact was mistaken. Aware of the profound and transformative action worked by grace in the depths of each soul, she claims to "believe much more in individual effort, and in the good that may be done by addressing oneself not to the masses but to individual souls. The effect one can exert is thereby much deeper and more durable. . ."7 In one of her earliest journal entries she voices an aspiration that will mark the special character of her apostolate: "I want to love with a special love those whose birth or religion or ideas separate them from me; it is those whom I must try to understand and who need me to give them a little of what God has placed within me."8

One thing God certainly gave Elisabeth Leseur in abundance was a profound empathy to the sensitivity-and fragility-of individual souls. Thus she accepted as her special task to learn, first, to understand those who, so different from herself, took delight in abusing what she loved; and second, to love these same souls. Moreover, she must love them "for themselves alone and for God, without counting on a single recompense or sweetness, simply because they are souls and because Christ, the adored Master, in looking upon them . . . uttered. . . : 'I will have pity upon the multitude.'"9

Her prayers for a productive apostolate were certainly answered, for in the end, a great multitude were blessed through their encounters with her. The passing of time and the addition of trials in this woman's life were consistently accompanied by resolutions such as the following:

To go more and more to souls, approaching them with respect and delicacy, touching them with love. To try always to understand everything and everyone. Not to argue; to work instead through contact and example; to dissipate prejudice, to reveal God and make Him felt without speaking of Him; to strengthen one's intelligence, to enlarge one's soul. . . ; to love without tiring, in spite of disappointment and indifference. . . . Never to show the wounds that are caused by certain hostilities, declarations, or misunderstandings; to offer them for those who cause this suffering.10

This craving to give what she herself almost never received becomes the means through which Elisabeth's personal purgation proceeds. Towards the end of her life this desire burns through her entire being like an invisible flame:

To learn from the Heart of Jesus the secret of love for souls and deep knowledge of them: how to touch their hurts without making them smart and to dress their wounds without reopening them; ... to disclose Truth in its entirety and yet make it known according to the degree of light that each soul can bear. The knowledge required for for the apostolate can be had only from Jesus Christ, in the Eucharist and in prayer.11

The Highest Form of Action

Although for Elisabeth no physical or additional emotional suffering could compete with the pain that Felix's spiritual alienation caused her, along with her lifelong sorrow in not being able to have children, she met with and was forced to endure suffering in almost every area of her life. Unbeknownst to most of her friends-but not to her physician husband-she fought a constant battle with a variety of physical afflictions.

Eventually Elisabeth's physical suffering made it increasingly difficult for her to leave the house, let alone maintain the active involvement with socially worthy charitable causes she had previously enjoyed and continued to support financially. Living with these severe constraints, she came to see that her suffering, rightly used, could be a source of formidable power.

Trying to explain this to a friend whose very active husband was facing the prospect of blindness, she wrote:

I know by experience that in hours of trial certain graces are obtained for others, which all our efforts had not hitherto obtained. I have thus come to the conclusion that suffering is the highest form of action, the highest expression of the wonderful Communion of Saints, and that in suffering one is sure not to make mistakes (as in action, sometimes) - sure, too, to be useful to others and to the great causes that one longs to serve.12

Again, we see an attitude that strikes at the heart of contemporary assumptions about how a work of value can be accomplished in the world, especially by a woman. The demand for the freedom to be actively involved in worthy projects (if not actually in charge of them) has become a predominant theme for modern women; yet here is someone who claims to have found the secret of personal effectiveness in a form of action that far transcends the only type of involvement that most of us can imagine. Indeed, a life consisting of constant physical pain, emotional suffering and undiminished social obligations would not appear to offer much scope for a late-twentieth-century woman who is zealous to accomplish some great work for the world. Yet as Elisabeth's body steadily weakened, her convictions about how souls are captured for God were just as steadily confirmed and clarified:

When we feel impotent against hostility and indifference, when it is impossible to speak of God or the spiritual life, when many hearts brush against ours without penetrating it, then we must enter peacefully into ourselves in the sweet company that our souls never lack; and to others we must give only prayers and the quiet example of our lives and the secret immolation which makes the most fruitful apostolate.13

As we have seen, Elisabeth's generosity of spirit and sensitivity of soul created in her a space large enough for each person who entered her life and a willingness to love and respect them all by meeting them where they were.

But in many cases, this level was far below the higher reaches towards which she was herself drawn. Thus, when she would much prefer to be praying or studying in solitude, she would instead willingly converse with husband or friends about a host of things of only secondary importance, at the same time refraining from mentioning those subjects which spoke to her own deepest interests and needs, since she knew this would provoke alienation or ridicule.

While the modern preoccupation with "personal authenticity" would quickly condemn such a strategy, it is important to recognize that there is no effort here to pretend that what she detests has great intrinsic worth and that somehow she must either learn to appreciate its value or resign herself to inevitable suffering. What interests her is the soul itself, and so the hidden effort she makes to accommodate herself to the needs and interests of each person she encounters is not a form of passive acquiescence. For her this was a gesture of love, an intentional and active apostolate, a reaching out to souls in desperate need of what she loved and wanted to offer openly but could not because of the dread it inspired in unconverted hearts. It was the simple power of her own, God-possessed presence she learned to rely on in these encounters, and, in the end, it was to have an enormous impact on many souls, including the one whose resistance hurt her the most.

The soul whose well being obsessed her was, of course, Felix's own, and she never stopped praying for his conversion. She came to recognize that any deliberate efforts to bring about his conversion would be doomed to failure. The change she so ardently longed for in Felix would be God's work entirely; in the meantime, she must love and not give in to temptations to self-justification that might only serve to make that work more difficult.

The Conquest of Love

The power of Elisabeth Leseur's freely-embraced apostolate of suffering, born of her love for a soul in grave danger of being lost, was finally manifested in the life of Felix Leseur. The first signs that it was having its desired effect came in a cessation of hostilities as Felix found he could no longer ignore the growing and unmistakable evidence of sanctity in his wife. Several years before her death he found his attitude toward her persistence in the Faith softening:

When I saw how ill she was, and how she endured with equanimity of temper a complaint that generally provokes much hypochondria, impatience and ill-humor, I was struck to see how her soul had so great a command of itself and of her body; and knowing that she drew this tremendous strength from her convictions, I ceased to attack them.14

Then, in 1911, while Elisabeth was recuperating from a difficult operation, Felix accompanied his wife on a pilgrimage to Lourdes. Expecting to see only "hucksters in the Temple," he was taken completely by surprise when, unobserved, he witnessed Elisabeth praying at the Grotto, apparently levitating.

I had before my eyes the spectacle of something that evaded me, that I did not understand, but which I recognized clearly as being "the supernatural," and I could not withdraw my eyes from so moving a sight. I returned from Lourdes troubled by what I had seen and felt in that land of miracles. Oh, I was certainly still a rationalist, on the surface at any rate-deeper down, Elisabeth acted upon me without my perceiving it; and this action grew stronger during her last illness. I could never weary of admiring her moral force in the midst of a real martyrdom.15

At the time of Elisabeth's death (from cancer), Felix made another dumbfounding discovery in the vast scope of her spiritual outreach, evidenced in a huge correspondence with people from all walks of life and of whose existence he had had no inkling. Amazed, he watched what seemed like a never-ending stream of visitors come to visit Elisabeth during her last days, and an even greater number of entirely unknown mourners file past her body prior to the funeral. He reports that following the outpouring of grief at the funeral he heard that the attending clergy asked in astonishment, ". . .who was this woman? We have never seen such a funeral before."16

It was not until after her death, when Felix discovered, read, and reread her journal and a document she entitled her "Spiritual Testament," that he realized what was working in him was the direct result of Elisabeth's own self-conscious offering of her life to God for his conversion. This realization was one of those momentous revelations that overturns what has been in an individual's life to make way for the new:

... a revolution took place in my whole moral being. I understood the celestial beauty of her soul and that she had accepted all her suffering and offered it - and even offered her very self in sacrifice - chiefly for my conversion. ... Her sacrifice was absolute, and she was convinced that God would accept it and would take her early to Himself. She was equally persuaded that He would ensure my conversion.17

By the spring of 1915 Felix's conversion was complete, and he soon decided to publish his wife's journal. He had found in this document, the meaning of her life and, finally, he felt the full extent of her love for him.

A New Vocation of Love

The story of Felix Leseur does not end with his conversion. The power of the love with which he was loved continued to work in his life in the most surprising of ways. The very same zeal that had been focused on Elisabeth in an effort to get her to apostasize came to the surface once again in Felix's life, but in a vastly altered and purified form.

Two years before her death, Elisabeth and Felix had what would prove to be a fateful conversation in which they speculated about what each would do when the other died. Elisabeth's response was: "I know you. I am absolutely certain that when you return to God, you will not stop on the way because you never do things by halves. ... You will some day be Pere Leseur."18

Indeed, Felix had thrown himself back into the faith of his childhood with fervor, reading the Gospels and the books in his wife's library, going to daily mass, and even becoming a Dominican Tertiary.

Elisabeth was right. Felix conceived a desire to become a Dominican priest. His Dominican director said no, dismissing his request as evidence of the inordinate zeal of the new convert. But with the same persistence with which he once attacked his wife's faith, Felix persisted in his quest for the priesthood. In the fall of 1919, at the age of fifty-seven, he became a novice in the Order of Preachers. At the age of sixty-two he was ordained.

Married for twenty-five years, his priesthood would cover a span of twenty-seven years. Much of his time as a cleric was spent speaking publicly throughout Europe about his wife and her apostolate. Eventually he was given the task of petitioning Rome to begin the process of her beatification. Pere Leseur died in 1950 after several years of hospitalization. When an inventory of his room was made, "they found only his breviary and his rosary."19

Felix Leseur discovered that under his very roof a life had been lived the meaning of which had entirely escaped him. He had witnessed much suffering without guessing that it was he who had benefited most directly from it and would continue to be the chief beneficiary of that life's redemptive value. The life of Elisabeth Leseur was a life of love, a vivid testimony to the possibility of loving totally despite the absence of every opportunity for personal fulfillment and meaningful "activity" as the world understands these things. This was a life that completely changed another life - perhaps many lives - because it was willing to open itself fully to the possibility that in her and through her own pain and loss, God could do the loving.

Dr. Robin Maas teaches at the John Paul II Institute for Marriage and Family in Washington, D.C.

Happy Easter

Happy Easter to you! Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Remember, we have FIFTY days of Easter so be filled with the joy of your happiness in Christ during the entire season and beyond!

My Easter gift to you is this beautiful meditation by our Holy Father from his book Behold the Pierced One...

“Christ summons us to find heaven in him, to discover him in others and thus to be heaven to each other. He calls us to let heaven shine into this world, to build heaven here. Jesus stretches out his hand to us in his Easter message, in the mystery of the sacraments, so that Easter may be now, so that the light of heaven may shine forth in this world and the doors may be opened. Let us take his hand! Amen.”

+

Great Lent-Week 5

Jesus Dies on the Cross-A Meditation by Luigi Giussani

We are sinners, and Christ’s death saves us. Christ’s death turns any past of ours into good, but our past is full of darkness that is called sin. And it is Christ’s death that saves us. We cannot acknowledge Christ on the cross without immediately understanding and feeling that this cross must touch us, that we can no longer object to sacrifice; there has no longer been room for objection to sacrifice since the moment when Christ died.

Precisely through our gaze fixed on the cross–where hangs the One who looks at us with the fixed gaze of eternity, fixed with pity and the will to save us, having pity on us and our nothingness–through the gaze fixed on the cross, what would be something so foreign as to seem to us abstract, arbitrarily created, becomes the experience of redemption. It is by fixing our gaze on the cross that we learn to perceive experientially the invading Presence and the unavoidable need for grace that gives our life perfection, and gives it joy. It is in Mary that the adoration of our heart finds its example and its form. For the condition of the cross was not just for Christ; Christ’s death on the cross saves the world but not in isolation. It is not alone that Christ saves the world, but by the adherence of each and every one of us to suffering and the cross. St. Paul says it: “In my own body I make up all the hardships that still have to be undergone by Christ, in His Cross and Passion.”

With you, o Mary, we recognize that the renouncement that is asked of our life is not a punishment, but the condition for its salvation, for its exaltation, for its increase. Mary, make our offering, the offering of our lives, help the poor world, this poor world, to be enriched in the knowledge of Christ and to rejoice in Christ’s love.

Pope's Address to Movements on Promotion of Women

"We Feel the Need for This Feminine Complementarity"

LUANDA, Angola, MARCH 22, 2009 (Zenit.org).- Here is the address Benedict XVI gave today to members of Catholic movements at a meeting on the promotion of women in Santo António Parish of Luanda.

* * *

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

"They have no more wine," said Mary, begging Jesus to intervene so that the wedding-feast could continue, as was only right and fitting: "As long as the wedding guests have the bridegroom with them, they cannot fast" (Mk 2:19). The Mother of Jesus turns to the servants and implores them: "Do whatever he tells you" (cf. Jn 2:1-5). Her maternal mediation thus made possible the "good wine," prefiguring a new covenant between divine omnipotence and the poor but receptive human heart. This, in fact, had already happened in the past when -- as we heard in the first reading -- "all the people answered together and said: 'all that the Lord has spoken, we will do'" (Ex 19:8).

These same words well up in the hearts of all gathered here today in Saint Anthony's Church: a building which we owe to the commendable missionary efforts of the Capuchin Friars Minor, who wanted to provide a new Tent for the Ark of the Covenant, the sign of God's presence among his pilgrim people. To them, to those who work alongside them, and to all who benefit from their spiritual and social assistance, the Pope imparts his blessing with warm words of encouragement. I greet with affection all those present: Bishops, priests, religious men and women, and particularly the lay faithful who consciously embrace the duties of Christian commitment and witness that flow from the Sacrament of Baptism and also -- in the case of spouses -- from the Sacrament of Marriage. Moreover, given the main purpose of our gathering today, I extend greetings of great affection and hope to all women, to whom God has entrusted the wellsprings of life: I invite you to live and to put your trust in life, because the living God has put his trust in you! With gratitude in my heart I also greet the leaders and facilitators of ecclesial movements that have made the promotion of Angolan women a priority. I thank Archbishop José de Queirós Alves and your representatives for their kind words and for drawing attention to the aspirations and hopes of so many of the silent heroines among the women of this beloved nation.

I call everyone to an effective awareness of the adverse conditions to which many women have been -- and continue to be -- subjected, paying particular attention to ways in which the behavior and attitudes of men, who at times show a lack of sensitivity and responsibility, may be to blame. This forms no part of God's plan. In the Scripture reading, we heard that the entire people cried out together: "all that the Lord has spoken, we will do!" Sacred Scripture tells us that the divine Creator, looking upon all he had made, saw that something was missing: everything would have been fine if man had not been alone! How could one man by himself constitute the image and likeness of God who is one and three, God who is communion? "It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him" (Gen 2:18). God went to work again, fashioning for the man the helper he still lacked, and endowing this helper in a privileged way by incorporating the order of love, which had seemed under-represented in creation.

As you know, my dear friends, this order of love belongs to the intimate life of God himself, the Trinitarian life, the Holy Spirit being the personal hypostasis of love. As my predecessor Pope John Paul II once wrote, "in God's eternal plan, woman is the one in whom the order of love in the created world of persons takes first root" (Mulieris Dignitatem, 29). In fact, gazing upon the captivating charm that radiates from woman due to the inner grace God has given her, the heart of man is enlightened and he sees himself reflected in her: "This at last is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh" (Gen 2:23). Woman is another "I" who shares in the same human nature. We must therefore recognize, affirm and defend the equal dignity of man and woman: they are both persons, utterly unique among all the living beings found in the world.

Man and woman are both called to live in profound communion through a reciprocal recognition of one another and the mutual gift of themselves, working together for the common good through the complementary aspects of masculinity and femininity. Who today can fail to recognize the need to make more room for the "reasons of the heart"? In a world like ours, dominated by technology, we feel the need for this feminine complementarity, so that the human race can live in the world without completely losing its humanity. Think of all the places afflicted by great poverty or devastated by war, and of all the tragic situations resulting from migrations, forced or otherwise. It is almost always women who manage to preserve human dignity, to defend the family and to protect cultural and religious values.

Dear brothers and sisters, history records almost exclusively the accomplishments of men, when in fact much of it is due to the determined, unrelenting and charitable action of women. Of all the many extraordinary women, allow me to mention two in particular: Teresa Gomes and Maria Bonino. The first, an Angolan, died in 2004 in the city of Sumbe after a happily married life in which she gave birth to seven children; she was a woman of unswerving Christian faith and exemplary apostolic zeal. This was particularly evident during the years 1975 and 1976 when fierce ideological and political propaganda invaded the parish of Our Lady of Grace of Porto Amboim, almost forcing the doors of the church to close. Teresa then became the leader of the faithful who refused to bend under pressure. Teresa offered support, courageously protecting the parish structures and trying every possible means to restore the celebration of Mass. Her love for the Church made her indefatigable in the work of evangelization, under the direction of the priests.

Maria Bonino was an Italian pediatrician who offered her expertise as a volunteer in several missions throughout this beloved African continent. She became the head of the pediatric ward in the provincial hospital at Uíje during the last two years of her life. Caring for the daily needs of thousands of children who were patients there, Maria paid the ultimate price for her service by sacrificing her life during the terrible epidemic of Marburg Hemorrhagic Fever, to which she herself succumbed. She was transferred to Luanda for treatment, but she died and was laid to rest here on 24 March 2005 -- the day after tomorrow is her fourth anniversary. Church and society have been -- and continue to be -- enormously enriched by the presence and virtues of women, and in a particular way by consecrated religious who, relying on the Lord's grace, have placed themselves at the service of others.

Dear Angolans, since the dignity of women is equal to that of men, no one today should doubt that women have "a full right to become actively involved in all areas of public life, and this right must be affirmed and guaranteed, also, where necessary, through appropriate legislation. This acknowledgment of the public role of women should not however detract from their unique role within the family. Here their contribution to the welfare and progress of society, even if its importance is not sufficiently appreciated, is truly incalculable" (Message for the 1995 World Day of Peace, 9). Moreover, a woman's personal sense of dignity is not primarily the result of juridically defined rights, but rather the direct consequence of the material and spiritual care she receives in the bosom of the family. The presence of a mother within the family is so important for the stability and growth of this fundamental cell of society, that it should be recognized, commended and supported in every possible way. For the same reason, society must hold husbands and fathers accountable for their responsibilities towards their families.

Dear families, you have undoubtedly noticed that no human couple, alone and on its own strength, can adequately offer children love and a genuine understanding of life. In fact, in order to say to someone, "your life is good even though you don't know what the future will bring", there needs to be a higher and more trustworthy authority than parents alone can offer. Christians know that this higher authority has been given to the larger family which God, through his Son Jesus Christ and the gift of the Holy Spirit, has established within human history, namely the Church. We find at work here the eternal and indestructible love which guarantees to each of us that our life will always have meaning, even if we do not know what the future will bring. For this reason, the building up of every Christian family takes place within the larger family, the Church, which sustains the domestic family and holds it close to her heart, giving it the assurance that it is protected, now and in the future, by the "yes" of the Creator.

"They have no more wine" -- Mary says to Jesus. Dear women of Angola, accept Mary as your advocate with the Lord. This is precisely how we see her at the wedding-feast of Cana: a tender woman, full of motherly care and courage, a woman who recognizes the needs of others and, wanting to help, places those needs before the Lord. If we stay close to her, we can all -- men and women alike -- recover that sense of serenity and deep trust that makes us feel blessed by God and undaunted in our struggle for life. May Our Lady of Muxima be the guiding star of your lives. May she keep all of you united in the great family of God. Amen.

© Copyright 2009 -- Libreria Editrice Vaticana

The Feast of the Annunciation

Today the Church celebrates a special event in history, The Annunciation of the Lord, to Mary.

This event in the life of the Blessed Virgin Mary is central to the life of the Christian. It is a celebration of the event of the Incarnation.

Each week, the Holy Father gives his "Angelus" message to a Wednesday audience.

Here is a version of the Angelus devotion:

V. The Angel of the Lord declared unto Mary.

R. And she conceived of the Holy Spirit.

V. Behold the handmaid of the Lord.

R. Be it done unto me according to thy word.

V. And the Word was made Flesh.

R. And dwelt among us.

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you, blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

V. Pray for us, O holy Mother of God.

R. That we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.

Let us pray:

Pour forth we beseech Thee, O Lord, Thy grace into our hearts, that we, to whom the Incarnation of Christ Thy Son was made known by the message of an angel, may by His Passion and Cross be brought to the glory of His Resurrection. Through the same Christ Our Lord. Amen.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning is now and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

Veni Sancte Spiritus, Veni Per Mariam. (Come Holy Spirit, Come Through Mary.)

+

The Church looks to Mary as an example of the attitude that produces the most fecundity in life. Having the attitude that Mary had ("Be it done unto me...") and asking her to help us find her son ("Do whatever He tells you...") is the key to approaching life as a positivity. It is the key to freedom. It reveals the reality that we are but receivers of the Other's initiative in our lives. Everything is given.

Mary, you said "Yes," to the Mystery, help us to say "Yes."

Mary, you were obedient without understanding, help us to be obedient.

Mary, you trusted when you were uncertain, help us to trust.

If we allow our experiences to correspond to that of Mary's, we too, like her, will bear Christ within us.

Great Lent-Week 4

Jesus on the Way to Calvary-A Meditation by Luigi Giussani

God who came among men goes to the scaffold: defeated, a failure; a moment, a day, three days of nothingness, in which everything is finished. This is the condition, the condition of sacrifice in its most profound meaning: it appears to be a failure, it appears not to succeed, it appears that the others are right. Remaining with Him even when it seems that everything is finished or has finished; staying next to Him as His Mother did–only this faithfulness brings us, sooner or later, to the experience that no one outside the Christian community can have in this world, the experience of the Resurrection.

And we can leave for another love this Christ who moves into death to deliver us from evil so that we may change, so that the Eternal Father may regenerate in us what the crime of forgetfulness has outstripped! This man throws himself onto the cross to brandish it, to embrace it, to be nailed on it, to die, to be one with that wood: “Will we leave him for another love?”

This Man pours out his blood for us and shall we leave him for another love?

Great Lent-Week 3

Jesus is Crowned with Thorns-A Meditation by Luigi Giussani

That little head which Mary, like every mother with her newborn child, would have enfolded close to her without squeezing it, and caressed delicately as every mother does, and looked at in wonder and admiration, would one day have to wear a crown of thorns. Salve caput cruentatum. How the Virgin felt echoing inside her this evil of the world, without details and without accusations, but as an already boundless grief that would culminate in watching her Son die!

The English Accident-Part 2

In 1547, Henry VIII died. He was succeeded by his young, sickly son Edward VI. Since he was only nine years old this was Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer's chance to de-Catholicize England.

In 1548, the first edition of the Book of Common Prayer was published. Of course, the book is entirely Protestant as he was. He sends a copy of it to both Luther and Calvin and they criticize it highly for still being "too Catholic." In 1552, his second edition is published. All references to the mass are now called "the Lord's Supper."

When Edward VI died at the age of 16, the populace was in favor of Mary Tudor (Catherine of Aragon's daughter) ascending to the throne. The people were Catholic and wanted a Catholic queen. They did not consider Ann Boleyn's marriage to Henry legitimate and so neither was her daughter Elizabeth. Parliament, however, was in favor of Lady Jane Grey. The populace revolted and Mary Tudor became queen in 1553. She felt it her mission to restore the Faith in England. Her first step was to send Cranmer to the Tower. In his place, Cardinal Reginald Pole, equally faithful to the Pope, was elected.

"Bloody Mary"

Thanks to anti-Catholic history textbooks, Mary Tudor is remembered in this unfair way. During her entire reign, she was very popular with her subjects. Without them, she would not have been able to take the throne. She did make the mistake of burning 300 heretics; however, her successor, Elizabeth I, burned over 700 Catholics and perhaps even more. Elizabeth, of course, is remembered as "Good Queen Bess."

Another mistake Mary made was to marry Phillip II. He was a very good man and loyal to the Church but he was a Spaniard and this did not sit well with the English people during a time of the increasing use of the vernacular languages and the rise of nationalism.

When both Mary and Archbishop Pole died in 1558 (on the same day!), so did any chance for Catholicism to survive in England.

Her legitimate successor was Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, who was Henry VIII's great-niece. However, through the political shenanigans of Parliament, Elizabeth I took the throne and reigned for 45 years. Raised thoroughly Protestant, she refused to attend mass on her first Christmas or receive the Eucharist at her own coronation mass. This "greatest English monarch" however, was merely a figurehead and was controlled by a man named William Cecil. He is known as the "architect of Protestant England." He wanted to protect his wealth and did so quite cleverly. He supported the Protestant movement in Scotland and in the Netherlands. In 1559, he was the impetus behind the Elizabethan Act of Supremacy and Oath of Loyalty. He was also behind the Act of Uniformity which abolished the mass, mandated Anglican services and reinstated Cranmer's Book of Common Prayer. He made it a capital crime to be a Catholic. In 1563, the Anglican 39 Articles was released. It was also a crime to associate with the Jesuits.

Those who did, like St. Margaret Clitherow, were killed. She was hiding priests and was killed by suffocating from rocks and planks.

In 1570, Pope St. Pius V wrote Regnans in Excelsis. against Elizabeth and ex-communicated her in 1571.

Cecil used the ex-communication to his great political advantage. He called the Pope a "Roman prince" and suggested to the English people that one can not truly be English and Catholic. This idea begins to stick with the populace.

In 1603, Elizabeth died. The mass and the Catholic way of life is deteriorating and some do not know or remember what it was like. James I became King (He is famous for the King James Version of the Bible) in 1603. Although his mother, Mary Queen of Scots, was a Catholic and was imprisoned for 20 years and executed because of it, he has been raised as a Protestant and under his reign is the complete eradication of the Faith in England.

Great Lent-Week 2

The Scourging of Jesus at the Pillar-Meditation by Luigi Giussani

The companionship of the God-Man in our life has become inconceivable, unimaginable tragedy, one that defies anyone’s imagination. In all the centuries of history there cannot be imagined–not even in play, like a fairy tale–a tragedy greater than this: the companionship of God-made-flesh was forgotten, outraged by man; a tragedy that arises from the cynicism of our pursuit of our instincts. Around this “wood” coagulate the evil of man who fails the call of the Infinite and the disasters caused by this crime, so that the death of the God-Man is the sum and symbol of all these disasters. And, at the same time, here too is met the irresistible power of God, because just that supreme disaster and that evil become the instrument for its conquest and redemption. This is the enigma that God maintains in life, because this great plan of goodness, wisdom, knowledge, and love must be a trial, must put into action the idea of trial. Why a trial? Because the world is in evil, the world lies in the Evil One.

The English Accident-Part I

Catholic thinker Hilaire Belloc posited that the English Reformation (The Reformation in England) was an Accident. He believed this because King Henry VIII and his people were thoroughly Catholic, in both mind and manner, as well as belief. What caused this break was not an attack on the Church-the priesthood, the sacraments, the doctrines-but was a schism in order to obtain a divorce from his wife Catherine of Aragon of Spain. Belloc also posited that had England not fell, Europe would have been saved from the Protestant movement.
It would have died out as all other previous ones had.

This "accidental" circumstance in England is very different than what was going on at the same time in the Empire (the German nation-states-the Lutheran movement) as well as in Geneva where John Calvin was spreading his brand of Protestantism. The difference between the Reformation in England and in Geneva can be understood by noting that during Henry VIII's "series of unfortunate events," the mass and the whole of Catholic life continued to be celebrated and lived as it had been for more than a thousand years. At the same exact time in history (1530s) in Geneva, the Protestants had taken control of the nation-state and by 1535, the mass was banned. The idea of banning the mass in England, however, would have been a horrifying thought to the monarch.

The impetus in denying papal authority for Henry was his selfishness in wanting Anne Boleyn to be his wife. He had wanted her to be his mistress as her older sister had been, but she refused and insisted on being his wife---and Queen. Church historian Warren Carroll argued that the whole argument of Henry's desire to produce a male heir is exaggerated and that it was his obsession with Anne that led to the schism. Henry had already produced an heir, Mary Tudor, with his legitimate wife, Catherine. The Pope had granted Henry the permission to hold a Tribunal to discuss the marriage case but that the final decision would be Rome's. The fact that the Pope allowed such an ecclesiastical court to gather was novelty in itself!

Cardinal Wolsey, the Archbishop, convinced Henry that Pope Clement VII would grant him an annulment from Catherine. When he turned out to be wrong, Wolsey was replaced by St. Thomas More.

However, it was not Henry, but his prime minister Thomas Cromwell (see picture), who is understood to be the true creator and architect of the English reformation. Here's his novel contribution: (it reminds me the serpent whispering in Eve's ear...)

"Henry, why does the Church have to be controlled by the Pope? You could be the head of the Church in England."

Besides this idea, Cromwell also convinced Henry to dissolve ALL the monasteries in England. By 1540, Henry, Cromwell, and the avaricious nobility had run all the religious out and had seized the wealth and the lands for themselves. Interestingly enough, that same year, 1540, Cromwell fell out of favor with Henry and was executed. (What good is it to gain the whole world...) The dissolution of the monasteries is what later made it harder to reunite with the Church--they would have to return the lands and money.

Under Cromwell's influence, Henry passed three religious mandates in order to deal with his marital problems, or rather, satiate his sexual appetite:

1. He is the head of the Church, not the Pope.
2. He has the right to approve, reject, modify ecclesiastical laws and books.
3. He must be submitted to by all the clergy and bishops.

"I want, I want, I want, me, me, me, mine, mine, mine, now, now now"---for any of you fellow Hook lovers out there.

St. Thomas More refused these mandates and resigned as Lord Chancellor.

Another major player in the English Reformation is Thomas Cranmer. He became the Archbishop of Canterbury and is known to be a wavering and spineless man. (He took an oath of loyalty to the Pope, then recanted, around six times...)

Under his "blessing," in 1533, the beloved and popular Queen Catherine of Aragon is replaced with Anne Boleyn. Anne gives birth to Elizabeth shortly after the wedding. (Once she was "engaged" to Henry, she submitted to him.) It's so classy when your new "Queen" is a pregnant bride. But anyway...within the same year...

Henry is excommunicated by Pope Clement VII and his marriage is declared invalid. In reaction to the Pope, in 1534 (the Pope is now Paul III), Henry passed the Act of Succession and all bishops were required to take the Oath of Succession denying papal authority. In 1535, St. Thomas More and St. John Fisher were beheaded at the Tower of London for refusing to take the Oath. Also in 1535, Henry passed the Act of Supremacy, which makes the King of England the Supreme Head of the Church of England. (Where is THAT in the Bible? So much for sola scriptura, aye?) Carthusian monks are martyred for refusing the oath.

Irreconcilable Differences

No, I don't mean the Catholics and Protestants. Remember, England is still Catholic at this time.

Much like a celebrity couple, less than two years later, Henry is less than enchanted with Anne and you know what happens: Off with her head! Easy come, easy go.

In 1549, the still-Catholic Henry had Parliament pass Six Articles Abolishing the Diversity of Opinions:

1. Affirms Transubstantiation
2. Communion of both species not necessary (this was a big Protestant demand)
3. Clerical celibacy must be upheld
4. Vows of chastity must be observed by both sexes
5. Private masses are legitimate (Luther wanted these abolished)
6. Regular confession is good and necessary

He reaffirmed traditional Catholic teaching and dogma.

Henry died--as a Catholic--in 1547 and leaving behind his three kids: Mary, Elizabeth, and Edward.

Coming soon: The English Accident-Part II

Great Lent-Week 1

Jesus's Agony in the Garden-Meditation by Luigi Giussani

“Now my soul is sorrowful; and what must I say, ‘Father, save me from this hour [faced with the thought of sacrifice, the thought of death, of self-denial…]’? But it is for this that I have come to this hour [for this, for this condition have I been chosen, called, lovingly taught by the mystery of the Father, by the charity of the Son, by the warm light of the Spirit. Now my soul is sorrowful and what must I say, ‘Father, save me from this hour’? ‘Take away this condition, Father, take away this condition.’ Must I say this? But it is precisely for this that I have come to this hour!].” Thus I can say at the end, “Father, glorify Your name [glorify Your will, bring about, realize Your plan], which I do not comprehend [because He did not comprehend the great injustice]. Father, glorify Your name in front of which I stand in fear and trembling, in obedience–that is to say, in love. My life is Your plan, it is Your will.”

How many times–praying to the Spirit and the Virgin Mary–will we have to reread this passage in order to identify with the most lucid and fascinating instant in which the consciousness of the Man Christ, Jesus, expressed itself. We can come upon this by surprise, from its deepest recesses to the highest peaks of His example of love for Being, of respect for the objectivity of Being, of love for His origin and His destiny, and for the contents of the plan of time, of history. “Father, if possible, let me not die; however, not my but Your will be done.” This is the supreme application of our acknowledgment of Mystery, adhering to the Man-Christ kneeling and sweating blood from the pores of His skin in His agony in Gethsemane–the condition for being true in a relationship is sacrifice.

Disturbia

Last night, I went to the Faith Discussion Dinner that my friend JP hosts at his house each month. Here's a link to his new web site for details: http://www.faithdiscussion.org/

It's a fun night with lots of food and beer. In between the eating, drinking and general merriment, is the discussion. A topic of faith is chosen and the Protestant and Catholic speakers each have eight minutes to present their positions.

After the presentations, it's time for the (charitable) debate or QA session.

The topic was "Who has the authority to interpret Scripture?" Protestants say each believer does, Catholics say the final authority on Biblical interpretation is the Magesterium of the Church.

During the QA session, a woman on the Protesting-side asked a good question. If the Catholic has the Magesterium to interpret for him, why study the Bible at all?

After the debate ended, I went to go talk to her because she seemed very sincere in her question and since I am a "revert" to the Church I figured why not? We started talking. Our faith is not in a book, but in the person of Christ, who left us His Church with the power to "bind" and "loose," etc. etc. And I also quoted from Scripture, "The Church is the pillar and bulwark of truth." Nowhere in the Bible does it say it is the SOLE and FINAL authority. Even if it did, we don't believe it because it says so (for the Koran also says the same thing, but we don't believe in the Koran) but because the Church says so. The Church through her councils is what decided the Biblical canon in the first place. So here I am explaining all this to her and I finally come to the point that the word "Trinity" isn't in the Bible and yet we believe it. Of course, the Trinitarian believer can "find" it in the Bible, implicitly, but it is certainly not obvious, clear-cut, and it took the Church a long time to hash out. And then finally an authoritative council to make official.

She looks at me and says, "Oh, well, I don't believe in the Trinity."

You can imagine my shock as I thought I was speaking to a "Christian" in the Trinitarian-sense and definition.

But you know what? As disturbed as I was, her position is exactly what happens when you embrace what my friend Joe (a recent convert) calls Protestant personalism.

While the Protestant accepts the Church's orthodox teachings on the Trinity, the hypostatic union, Biblical canonicity, etc. he does not accept (or no longer accepts after the 16th C.) what his chosen denomination has decided not to accept.

By accepting the false and un-Biblical (find it for me...) notion of sola scriptura, you make yourself, not the Bible, the final authority and claim it as the Holy Spirit.

Well, then the Holy Spirit is dividing Christendom in 33, 800+ ways.

Obviously not.

As the Bible says, "The gates of Hades will not prevail against the Church."

Are we to gloss over this verse?

If you throw out the Church, eventually, like this woman, you run the risk of throwing out the most basic, fundamental, orthodox tradition of belief: the Holy Trinity.

Great Lent

Orthodox Christians called Lent, Great Lent. It is a great and very holy period of time in the calendar of the Church.

"Oremus pro invincem" ("Let us pray for one another") during this time of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving in preparation for the event of the Resurrection.

Here is a meditation from Luigi Giussani...

The Virgin felt that the creature she was carrying in her womb would have, one day, to die (every mother feels this, even as she tries not to think about it), but she did not feel that He would rise again. This is the event which is uniquely comparable to the mystery of the beginning. Just as the seed took shape within her womb, so, in the fullness of time, He would rise again; that Man would rise again. But she didn't know this. "Let it be done to me according to Your word, " on the Virgin's lips, is the same as, "Lord, Your will be done," on the lips of Christ. The correspondence between the Angelus and the Cross lies in the fact that both say, "Let it be done to me according to Your word." This is the gesture of obedience in its pure essentiality. Its pure essentiality makes you tear away from something that God asks-to then pass through a cross and a resurrection from which a limitless fecundity springs forth, a fecundity who boundary is the boundary of God's plan. Fecundity springs forth from virginity. Virginity can be conceived of only this way.

"Make my kids religious!"

"I want you to hang out with such-and-such so you can bring them back to the Church."

I don't remember who said this, but whoever did, was very wise: Nothing is less believable than an answer to a question that is not asked.

The point in life is not to be religious or to go to church. "Being" religious is the privileged struggle of freely being able to express one's love and gratitude. It is not an end in itself. The point of morality is not to be moral, but to be happy. We were made for happiness and freedom. One can only truly be happy if free to be good. Goodness is in accordance with human nature and frees us to be the persons we were meant to be.

It is also--as practicing the virtues are--an act of the will.

Falling in love (and loving as verb, not feeling) can not be forced. It goes against the nature of love and it goes against the Mystery who freely gives love and wants it to be freely reciprocated. (It takes two to tango...)

The essence of religiosity is love. Keeping that in mind, here are some tips from a single, non-married, non-parent:

1. Fathers are important. I have an aunt who asked me to make her kids religious and I flat-out told her the best thing she can do is to have her husband lead the family in prayer or do a short Bible-reading each week together, as a family, led by the father. This is especially true if you have sons. If the wife/mom is religious, it is more probable her daughter will be devout, but unless the father is, the sons most likely will not. Men learn from men. One of my good friend's family has family night every Thursday night. I like that idea.
2. We are fighting huge secular demons in America. Materialism is one of them. You can not serve both God and Mammon. Choose one or the other. Also, it is better to emphasize character and integrity over school and grades. I would rather my child be a decent human being than an honor student.
   
3. Start young. More than going to church, my parents taught me to love Jesus. Love comes first. Then obedience. You can't start with the "rules" as if that's the point. It's not the point. It's the expression. Making dinner for your husband is not the reason you married him. It's an expression of your love for him.
4. Be strategic. My parents did not teach us morals through "talks" or cheesy after-school specials. They had unspoken, high standards of my sister and I and we knew what was simply not an option. My mother especially taught us morals through the arts and films. Movies are very influential. Use them.
   
5. Growing up, I watched my grandmother read her Bible every morning. Very influential and a great visual memory. Try to have grandma around. :)
6. Go to Catholic conferences together. It is very powerful and moving. My family has grown so much because of these shared learning experiences.
   
7. Don't get strict on the stupid stuff. I drank alcohol well before 21. While my friends' parents were so strict on alcohol they were too busy to notice that daisy duke shorts are inappropriate apparel for a 7th grade girl or anyone for that matter.
   
8. I love Catholic "stuff," but don't overdo it. Icons are beautiful visual depictions of the gospel. In the middle of my living room there is a prominent picture of Jesus. It is a powerful visual reminder that He is present and is the center of our lives.
   
9. Create good memories and traditions. Good Friday at my house is hearing Fairuz (a Lebanese singer) sing Good Friday songs (in Arabic of course), smelling the incense burning, and reading the Bible. These images and senses stick well into adulthood.
10. Lastly, the best teachers are witnesses.
    

"Preach the gospel always, if necessary use words."

-St. Francis of Assisi

Five days until Lent 2009!

In Memory of Monsignor Giussani

In honor of the fourth anniversary of the death of my beloved Don Giussani, I want to share with you the homily given at his funeral mass by the then-Cardinal Ratzinger, currently Pope Benedict XVI.

Father Luigi Giussani died two months before John Paul the Great. The Holy Father was a friend of Father Giussani and gave legitimacy to his movement Communion and Liberation.

Thank you, Father Giussani for bringing me closer to Christ, for the spiritual family of the movement, and for (still) educating me on Christian maturity.

Milan Cathedral, February 24, 2005.
Funeral Mass for Fr Giussani

---

Homily of Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith.

Dear Brothers in the episcopate and in the priesthood, “the disciples rejoiced to see Jesus.” These words of the Gospel just read indicate the centre of the personality and of the life of our dear Fr Giussani.

Fr Giussani grew up in a home—as he himself said—poor as far as bread was concerned, but rich with music, and thus from the start he was touched, or better, wounded, by the desire for beauty. He was not satisfied with any beauty whatever, a banal beauty, he was looking rather for Beauty itself, infinite Beauty, and thus he found Christ, in Christ true beauty, the path of life, the true joy.

Already as a boy, along with other young men, he created a community called Studium Christi. Their program was to speak of nothing else but Christ, because everything else seemed to be a waste of time. Naturally, he was able to overcome the unilaterality, but he always kept the substance. Only Christ gives meaning to the whole of our life. Fr Giussani always kept the eyes of his life and of his heart fixed on Christ. In this way, he understood that Christianity is not an intellectual system, a packet of dogmas, a moralism, Christianity is rather an encounter, a love story; it is an event.

This love affair with Christ, this love story which is the whole of his life was however far from every superficial enthusiasm, from every vague romanticism. Really seeing Christ, he knew that to encounter Christ means to follow Christ. This encounter is a road, a journey, a journey that passes also—as we heard in the psalm—through the “valley of darkness.” In the Gospel, we heard of the last darkness of Christ’s suffering, of the apparent absence of God, when the world’s Sun was eclipsed. He knew that to follow is to pass through a “valley of darkness,” to take the way of the cross, and to live all the same in true joy.

Why is it so? The Lord himself translated this mystery of the cross, which is really the mystery of love, with a formula in which the whole reality of our life is explained. The Lord says, “Whoever seeks his life, will lose it and whoever loses his life, will find it.”
Fr Giussani really wanted not to have his life for himself, but he gave life, and exactly in this way found life not only for himself, but for many others. He practised what we heard in the Gospel: he did not want to be served but to served, he was a faithful servant of the Gospel, he gave out all the wealth of his heart, he gave out all the divine wealth of the Gospel, with which he was penetrated and, serving in this way, giving his life, this life of his gave rich fruit—as we see in this moment—he has become really father of many and, having led people not to himself, but to Christ, he really won hearts, he has helped to make the world better and to open the world’s doors for heaven.

This centrality of Christ in his life gave him also the gift of discernment, of deciphering correctly the signs of the times in a difficult time, full of temptations and of errors, as we know. Think of 1968 and the following years. A first group of his followers went to Brazil and found itself face to face with extreme poverty, with extreme misery. What can be done? How can we respond? And there was a great temptation to say, “for the moment we have to set Christ aside, set God aside, because there are more pressing needs, we have first to change the structure, the external things, first we must improve the earth, then we can find heaven again.” It was the great temptation of that moment to transform Christianity into a moralism and moralism into politics, to substitute believing with doing. Because what does faith imply? We can cay, “in this moment we have to do something.” And all the same, in this way, by substituting faith with moralism, believing with doing, we fall into particularisms, we lose most of all the criteria and the orientations, and in the end we don’t build, but divide.

Monsignor Giussani, with his fearless and unfailing faith, knew that, even in this situation, Christ, the encounter with Him, remains central, because whoever does not give God, gives too little, and whoever does not give God, whoever does not make people find God in the Fact of Christ, does not build, but destroys, because he gets human activity lost in ideological and false dogmatisms.

Fr Giussani kept the centrality of Christ and, exactly in this way, with social works, with necessary service, he helped mankind in this difficult world, where the responsibility of Christians for the poor in the world is enormous and urgent.

Whoever believes has also to pass through the “valley of darkness,” the dark valleys of discernment, as well as adversities, opposition and ideological hostilities that even took the form of threats to eliminate his people physically, so as to get rid of this other voice that is not content merely with doing things, but brings a greater message , and thus also a greater light.

In virtue of the faith, Monsignor Giussani passed fearlessly through these dark valleys and naturally, with the novelty he carried with him, found it difficult to find a niche inside the Church. Even though the Holy Spirit, according to the needs of the times, creates something new, which is really the return to the origins, it is difficult to see one’s way and to find peaceful harmony in the great communion of the Universal Church. Fr Giussani’s love for Christ was also love for the Church, and thus he always remained a faithful servant, faithful to the Holy Father and faithful to his Bishops.

With his foundations he also gave new interpretation to the mystery of the Church.

Communion and Liberation brings to mind immediately this discovery proper of the modern era, freedom. It also brings to mind St Ambrose’s phrase, “Ubi fides est libertas.” Cardinal Biffi drew our attention to the near coincidence of this phrase of St Ambrose with the foundation of Communion and Liberation. Focussing on freedom as a gift proper of faith, he also told us that freedom, in order to be true, human freedom, freedom in truth, needs communion. An isolated freedom, a freedom only for the “I,” would be a lie, and would destroy human communion. In order to be true, and therefore in order to be efficient, freedom needs communion, and not just any kind of communion, but ultimately communion with truth itself, with love itself, with Christ, with the Trinitarian God. Thus is built community that creates freedom and gives joy.

The other foundation, the Memores Domini, brings to mind again the second Gospel read today: the memory that the Lord gave us in the Holy Eucharist, memory that is not merely a remembrance of the past, but memory that creates present, memory in which He gives Himself into our hands and into our hearts, and thus makes us live.

Through valleys of darkness. In the last period of his life, Fr Giussani had to pass through the dark valley of sickness, of infirmity, of pain, of suffering, but here, too, his eyes were fixed on Jesus, and thus he remained true in all the suffering, seeing Jesus, he was able to rejoice; the joy of the Risen One was present, who even in the passion is the Risen One and gives us the true light and joy, and he knew that—as the psalm says—even passing though this valley, “I fear no evil because I know that You are with me, and I will dwell in the Father’s house.” This was his great strength, knowing that “You are with me.”

My dear faithful, dear young people above all, let us take this message to heart, let us not lose sight of Christ and let us not forget that without God nothing good can be built and that God remains enigmatic if he is not recognized in the face of Christ.

Now your dear friend Fr Giussani has reached the other world, and we are convinced that the door of the Father’s house has opened, we are convinced that now this word is fully realized: they rejoiced to see Jesus. He is rejoicing with a joy that no one can take from him. In this moment we wish to thank the Lord for the great gift of this priest, of this faithful servant of the Gospel, of this father. We entrust his soul to the goodness of his Lord and ours.

In this hour we wish to pray particularly, too, for the health of the Holy Father, taken once more into Hospital. May the Lord accompany him and give him strength and health. And let us pray that the Lord enlighten us, give us the faith that builds the world, the faith that makes us find the path of life, true joy.

Amen.

Feast of the Conversion of St. Paul

Yesterday, January 25, the Church celebrated the conversion of St. Paul.

Yesterday, January 25, 2009, my friend Tara Hernandez entered the Poor Clares in Santa Barbara, California.

It is unlikely that for the reminder of my life I will see Tara more than once or twice. She will be cloistered and will be spending the majority of her day in prayer for the world. Her family will be able to visit her once a month (behind the cloister grill) until she takes her final vows where they will walk her down the aisle and then after her "wedding" to Christ (as we will be wedded to Christ in Heaven) she will only be able to see them four times a year (behind the cloister grill) for approximately an hour and half each visit.

Through the consecrated, virginal life she is choosing (love is choice or it is not love) to be a sign and witness to the reality of the life believers will enjoy in eternal life.

After the Great Persecution of Christians by Diocletian ended (305 A.D.), martyrdom by blood ceased in the Roman Empire with the Edict of Milan declaring the Christian Faith legal by the Emperors Constantine and Licinius. Christians were no longer shedding blood for Christ and through the inspiration of the Holy Spirit the "white" martyrdom began: the monastic movement. It started in Egypt, my mom and dad's mother country!

When we visited Egypt in the summer of 2007, we were able to visit some of these monasteries from the first recorded centuries in history. We met monks who were following in the legacy of their predecessors for 2,000 years.

The Christian Faith is either true or we are lunatics.

It must be very meaningful for my dear friend to enter the monastery on the Feast of St. Paul's conversion. She found her faith in her mid-twenties and now in her late twenties is participating in her ongoing conversion to Christ. We are saved, we are being saved, we will be saved.

Salvation is not a one-time event but an ongoing, dynamic process. Christ reminds us to always be vigilant through St. Paul's words,

"Do you not know that in a race all the runners compete, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it. Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. Well, I do not run aimlessly, I do not box as one beating the air; but I pommel my body and subdue it, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified." (1 Corinthians 9: 24-27)

St. Paul, alive in Heaven, pray for us.

Tara, my friend alive on Earth, pray for us.

I will miss you.

The Latin Mass

Last Sunday, I experienced my first Latin Mass.

Surprisingly, I would not have thought to go unless my roommate was not such a huge fan of the Tridentine mass. She gets sparkles in her eyes when she talks about it. I was curious to see what the sparkles were all about. As it is, I feel spoiled at my current parish in Alexandria, Virginia Our Lady Queen of Apostles.

First, it's right across the street from where I live.
Second, the choir is great. (I sing in it, too.)
Third, the priests are orthodox.
Fourth, the homilies are *never* fluffy.
Five, we have Latin parts in the mass such as the Sanctus, Sanctus (The Holy, Holy...) and the Agnus Dei (Lamb of God...).

That's already a huge difference from (ahem) going to mass in Southern California. But I figure I should go, check it out, be in the know.

I've come to realize out here that choosing a mass can almost be just as complicated as ordering a drink from Starbucks: I'll have a tall soy one-pump sugar-free vanilla latte no whip extra hot.

There is Latin mass. There is high Latin mass and low Latin mass. There is solemn high Latin mass, too. Of course, there's the regular-old English mass. There is the English mass with traditional hymns and the mass with other "this should get me time out of purgatory"-type music. (Architecture, music, all of it--the 70s must go people!) I have gone to a charismatic (Praise and Worship-type) mass and it was a most amazing experience because it was still solemn (not banging on the guitar or drums) and done with respect and reverence. I have never seen a congregation so respectful and engaged in the mass until then. There is also the Norvus Ordo which is English mass with Latin parts. Interestingly enough, an Assemblies of God friend of mine preferred the Latin version.

The alter was beautiful. It had the Latin words Et Verbum Caro Factum Est engraved on it in large letters. It translates to "The Word was made flesh." I only knew that because one of my dearest friends just told me that in Bethlehem there is, I am assuming in the Church of the Nativity, engraved Et Verbum Caro Factum Est Hic, the added word "Hic" meaning "here, in this place." It is a powerful reminder to me that on the alter, during the liturgy of the Eucharist, the word does become flesh, that Jesus is really present. Further, the reminder that the Christian event is a fact and that it really did happen.

The Latin mass is an indisputably beautiful spectacle and this one had the best choir I have ever heard in my life. But while it was beautiful, it was hard for me. First, I don't know Latin (I'm enrolled in a class right now though, required for my degree) and following the mass was tough. Plus, as an American, I am used to things being quick, dumbed-down and the attention on me. This mass was two hours, the homily was long (but very good), and the priest had his back toward the congregation during the liturgy of the Eucharist, the second half of the mass. A lot of the women wore head veils, the concelebrating priests (one of them was Fr. Scalia--our Supreme Court Justice's son) wore their funny old-school hats (which I like because I like old-fashioned things and theatrical things as well, anything with character really...), we had to kneel at the communion rail and wait for communion, etc. etc. etc.

I left very appreciative of the beauty but assured that while I support Latin mass, it's not for me. It would be too hard to learn the Latin, it's too much work. The Latin mass is very eloquent and demands too much intellectual attention. I go to mass to worship God. Plus, people will judge me if I don't veil up.

And then...

I couldn't stop thinking about the mass. Seriously. I felt as though I received more graces from the mass than regular ones. I can't tell you if that's theologically-correct but that is my feeling on it. Even though it was paradoxically frustrating, it was light, too, in a sense. I had really gone to mass. I hadn't rushed. The mass was conducted at a proper pace. Nobody was rushing to leave the church afterward. Mass was a priority and...a pleasure.

I was reflecting on this paradoxical feeling and that is what inspired me to share the experience. I really feel drawn to return to Latin mass. Is mass supposed to conform to me? Or am I supposed to conform to it? Of course, the latter is true. Simone is not the center of the universe and neither are you. And since when do I cower from intellectual engagement? We are told to love God with our whole "heart, mind, and soul," if not at mass, then where?

I noticed the Latin mass more closely reflects the reality of our relationship with God. Not mine. Our. Even those people who do not worship or even acknowledge His existence. In the Latin mass, the priests are doing most of the work. At English mass, I get to do a lot. I get to do a lot of work in my life, too. I was a tad uneasy at the Latin mass because I was not doing much. But later, upon further reflection, I realized I kind of liked that. Sunday is not about doing, but being. Being still. Resting. In my life, I may think I do a lot and am in control. But that's not true. God is blessing me and in control and giving me more gifts than I can even imagine or thank Him for. I didn't even ask to be born, to be given life. It is a pure gift. Every second, every moment of the day. The things I "expect" out of life shouldn't be. Everything I am given, is a gift. I can't control it, take it, or possess it. I didn't plan to meet my friends, but God gave me such amazing people in my life. I am simply following and receiving. The priest does not have "his back to me," but is leading me to God. It is not about me, but about all of us facing our Lord together. We are not turned inward but outward toward the Infinite, the Mystery, who is proposing and calling out to us. This is especially evident during communion. I don't go up there and take communion. I have to kneel, be patient, and wait to receive the Eucharist. It is a gift and the form of the Latin mass, the structure, the beauty is so intentional as to make that relationship of God to Man, Giver to Receiver, very evident.

I'm not here to convert anyone to the Latin mass. I'm just happy when people go to mass. And I'm trying not to get too attached myself as who knows where I'll find a Tridentine mass in Southern California closer than a two-hour drive. But we'll see what happens. Beauty has spoken and it's hard not to follow what one finds attractive.