Fire, Salt, and Light.

Shirley Sherrod, The Vatican and Galatians

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Mon, 26 Jul 2010 01:29:00 +0000

It has been some time now since the media was filled on a daily basis with the blatantly cruel action taken against Mrs. Sherrod because those in power failed to do due diligence and get accurate information before forcing her to resign.

Sound familiar?

That there live among us ordinary people, people in positions of authority and trust, including teachers, doctors, priests, who do stupid, hateful or real evil things against others, as well noted in the latest missive from the Vatican about priests who abuse, nonetheless it is also true in the vengeful climate which permeates church and society, the numbers of falsely accused grow exponentially.

To wit the Sherrod case which in the secular world is but one example of what happens on a daily basis within the Church where the Bishops move even more peremptorily than the American Secretary of Agriculture – though unlike him I am unaware of any bishop who has reversed actions against a falsely accused priest, much less made a public apology.

Yet in all the media flap around the latest from the Vatican, and the continued failure of the Church to actually protect the rights and reputations of accused priests before definitive findings of guilt or innocence are made, I am moved to suggest that the following words of Pope Benedict, from his Apostolic Exhortation Sacramentum Caritatis, # 29, while written about difficult marriage questions, ought to apply in ALL applications of Church law, including those around the matter of accused priests: “…..’it is a grave obligation to bring the Church’s institutional activity in her tribunals ever closer to the faithful”….’ …one should begin by assuming that the fundamental point of encounter between the law and pastoral care is love for the truth: truth is never something purely abstract, but “a real part of the human and Christian journey for every member of the faithful.’”

The current climate of Star Chamber justice which takes place in the hands of local bishops and likewise in the chambers of the Vatican is unworthy of the Church and is contrary to the above call for transparency.

I write the above very conscious of St. Paul’s admonition: “ ..if you bite and devour one another, beware lest you be consumed by one another.” [Gal. 5: 15]

It is not my intent to ‘bite’ anyone here, rather simply to raise a cautionary plea that while we are rightly horrified an innocent woman was trashed by manipulation of video tape, and are rightly even more horrified by the abuse of children, those with power in the Church, and those laity and media within and without the Church, who are so quick to believe and take subsequent action against any accused priest, should learn from what happened to Mrs. Sherrod and do better due diligence BEFORE taking public action.

Finally, even where there seems to be evidence of sin, should we not all like Abraham plead with the Lord to relent and forgive, more so imitate Jesus on the Cross asking the Father to forgive us?

What truly horrifies me these days is the culture of “gotcha” and revenge has seeped from the world into the Church.

Prayers For Priests

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Tue, 08 Jun 2010 22:08:00 +0000

A prayer from the Little Flower:
O Jesus, I pray for Your faithful and fervent priests, for Your unfaithful and tepid priests; for Your priests labouring at home or abroad in distant mission fields; for Your tempted priests; for Your lonely and desolate priests; for Your young priests; for Your dying priests; for the souls of Your priests in purgatory.

But above all I recommend to You the priests dearest to me: the priest who baptized me; the priest who absolved me from my sins; the priest at whose Masses I assisted and who gave me Your Body and Blood in Holy Communion; the priests who taught and instructed me; all the priests to whom I am indebted in any other way. Jesus, keep them all close to Your heart, and bless them abundantly in time and in eternity. Amen.

Here are links to other sites with prayers for priests:

http://prayersforpriests.homestead.com/

http://www.worldpriestday.com/prayers.htm

http://www.wf-f.org/Priests-prayer.html

http://www.paxetbonum.net/pfp0.html

http://www.ewtn.com/library/PRAYER/PRAYPRIE.htm

http://www.adoremus.org/Prayers-for-priests.html

http://www.intercessionforpriests.org/Prayer%20for%20Priests.htm

ONE OLD PRIEST AND A HIPPIE

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Tue, 01 Jun 2010 03:33:00 +0000

It is the Feast of the Visitation, the 25th anniversary of my Ordination and immensity of grace to be thankful for.

During Holy Mass in the hermitage this evening one priest in particular was on my heart.

I met him one cold and wet November night, around two in the morning.

It was towards the end of the hippie era and I was hitchhiking to a commune, but the days of many young people wandering the country, the globe really, on foot or in beat-up vans or old Volkswagens, were dwindling.

The non-violent approach to civil rights, after the deaths of both Kennedys, Martin Luther King, the seemingly never ending bloodbath in Viet-Nam, - well the expectancy of the ‘6o’s was giving way to the nihilism of the 70’s, background music no longer “We shall overcome” and other protest songs, but increasingly the numbing thump of disco.

Perhaps there is an important symbol in the fact this encounter with the old priest occurred in the dark of night, when the November sleet had me soaked to the bone, in the tiny town with no all-night gas station or coffee shop, with nary a car nor person about, no warm light coming from any building or house, my aching body starved for food after being on the road with no money, nothing to eat – well in desperation, even though I hated the Catholic Church and did not believe in God, when I saw the small brick church and the rectory – I just went and banged on the door!

Eventually an upstairs light came on, then one behind the glass of the front door and the human shadow, once the door opened, was revealed as an elderly priest, dressed in full cassock and collar.

There was something luminous and gentle about his face and I had barely begun to describe my plight when he ushered me into the warm hallway.

“You’re soaked. This will not do. Wait here.”, and with that he went upstairs, coming down some minutes later and telling me to go up myself, the light would be on in the bathroom.

“Have a nice hot shower. Put on the dry clothes – leave your things in the hall and then come down to the kitchen.”

I was so tried and grimy and hungry!

Upstairs I went and there in the bathroom were fresh towels, clean clothes – so I took off my wet stuff, piled them outside the bathroom door and had a lingering hot shower.

When I eventually came down to the kitchen the old priest had made a meal of hot coffee, thick slices of bread, butter, roast beef.

While I ate, he gently asked where I was going.

No pressure, no invasive questions, just a gentle and paternal expression of what amazed me as genuine concern.

When I was well and truly stuffed he told me where the guest room was and suggested I get some sleep.

Typical and suspicious me I lay there in the bed trying to figure out what his angle was, but being exhausted fell into a deep sleep without having figured out his angle.

Next morning when I opened the guest room door, there on a chair were my own clothes, washed and ironed.

When I walked into the kitchen a huge breakfast awaited me, but the old priest was not there.

It was only when I had finished eating that he came in [ I was too dumb to have figured out at the time he had been in the church celebrating the morning Mass!] and asked if there was anything more he could do before I headed off on the road again.

I assured him not and thanked him and headed to the front door.

As I stepped outside he said: “You know I believe Our Blessed Mother wants you to be a priest. Here, for your journey.”

He handed me a book of the Lives of the Saints and a rather large amount of tens and twenties.

I was so shocked by his words and the book and the money I barely mumbled a thank-you and typical me, in those days, when confronted with pure kindness, fled!

Some twenty years later, by now I had been ordained seven years, I was called to the death bed of a priest. A good priest, who had been ordained 70 years before.

I brought him Holy Viaticum, anointed him, stayed with him until he had breathed his last.

Yes, it was the same priest from that November night.

The name of the parish where he had shown me such kindness: Our Lady of Mercy.

TWO ICONS, ONE WOMAN!

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Fri, 28 May 2010 22:01:00 +0000

Praying these days in preparation for my 25th anniversary persons and events which Jesus and Mary used to draw me from atheistic-Marxism and other addictions to the Catholic life of faith and trust in Jesus, keep coming into my heart.

Just today I was contemplating in the hermitage chapel, gazing upon two icons, recalling the woman who gifted them to me.

The events which led to our meeting and her gift occurred some thirty years ago after a series of front page articles and tv stories had been done about the work the unit I was assigned do were doing, especially at night, in child protection and juvenile crime.

One summer’s day I was informed a woman was at the front desk asking for me and when I went to see her I was struck by how old and exhausted she appeared.

She told me, in broken English, she was a widowed Russian émigré with one child, a teenage boy, who was missing and, she feared, involved in life on the streets.

Because she had seen me on the news she knew I could find him.

When she told me where she lived it was in a neighbouring city, outside our jurisdiction and so I offered to put her in touch with a contact in the other department.

She would have none of it insisting since ours was the larger city this is where the boy was and that only I could find him.

Admittedly this appealed to my ego more than did concern for her son and so as I was about to start my time off I agreed to look for him, figuring if nothing else this would send her on her way, as strangely there was a weird sense within me more was going on here than seemed apparent.

So I left her there at the front desk, return to the unit’s office, completed some paperwork, and headed out to the back to my car.

There she was, beside my car!

Don’t ask me a] how she got into that secure area nor b] knew which car was mine, but there she was, insisting she was coming with me!

I said, suddenly changing my plans, I was going to look for her son on foot and that given the hot and humid summer afternoon she really should go home and I would call her.

Abruptly I turned away and began walking further into the downtown.

She followed.

I quickened my pace.

She kept up within a few yards of me.

In and out of various dives where juvenile hustlers, addicts and other lost hang-out; up and down various alleys, always with this frantic maternal shadow.

By late afternoon I was frustrated, finding no clue as to where the boy might be and even more furious I could not shake the maternal shadow, I suddenly spun around at one point, walked towards her, vented my anger and said I was through and, pushed past her, turned onto a pedestrian outdoor mall, immediately bumping into a little group consisting of an elderly priest and three women.

I recognized each one of them as people from my past, people consecrated to Christ in a lay community, people whose mission house was in a city hundreds of miles away.

Yet here they were.

And there she was, right on my heals.

Pushing past me the mother began to tell the priest what was going on, even as I was trying to talk and suddenly there I was surrounded by the mother, the three women, the priest and they are all asking Our Blessed Mother and the Angels: “Lead him to the boy that the child be returned to his mother.”

Filled with a mixture of terror and anger I pushed past them but it was more like I was being pushed and I headed to the street we had just come from, turned quickly down an alley, shouldered open a door, went, two at a time, up a flight of stairs, kicked in a door, grabbed a youth by the hair, yanked him to this feet, securing my grip on his shoulder with one hand, and bending, with a tight wrist hold, one arm and hustled him down the stairs, out the door, along the alley, across the street and shoved him into the arms of his weeping mother.

I fled.

Several months later, Christmas Eve night, and the duty officer comes by my desk and drops a small package onto the desk saying some old woman left it for me with a simple message: “Thank-you.”

I opened the package.

There were two small icons:

Grace is all around us, Jesus is always seeking us, Our Blessed Mother urging us to “Do whatever He tells you.”

Sometimes we encounter Jesus, do what Mary asks, without really apprehending at the time the actual reality that is happening!

HERE!

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Sat, 22 May 2010 20:47:00 +0000

In eight days will be my 25th anniversary of ordination and I found myself in prayer today allowing everyone who might come into the eyes of my mind and heart, to pass by, as it were, to be thanked – even my enemies whose lies have caused so much harm – and blest.

One, about whom I have not been aware of for some years admittedly, came to mind and caused me to smile over the expanse of forty years.

At the time I was an atheist and Marxist working in a street clinic.

In those days such places were rare, indeed in that particular city we were the first and provided medical, counselling, legal services for free.

It was, of course, located in the inner city with all the concomitant grub and crime, poverty and anger.

Those who came were of various ages, gender, people of various races, religions and none, of varying degrees of mental health, and none, and of course there was a kaleidoscope of addictions, wounds, while overarching all the immense and intense poverty of loneliness.

The lower, poorer, less bright echelons of the underworld came too because at the clinic all sorts of wounds could be treated without fear of police involvement – not because we would ever cover-up criminal activity but because the inner city police knew we could tell the difference between wounds from a dispute between gang members and wounds of the innocent.

In the days before women’s shelters and a better understanding of all forms of domestic violence we dealt with a lot of people, mostly women and children, on occasion a battered and totally humiliated man, the immense agony of the vulnerable was a constant reality.

One day a rather large man, looking like every film version of a bike gang member, which in truth he was, came and asked if he could bring in his ‘old lady’ and what the charge would be.

Informed no charge late that night he arrived with a very ill woman, whom we treated to stabilize her and after some convincing directed him to a hospital where she could get the full care she needed.

This time he did not ask about cost as he knew it was serious and we also knew whatever their relationship he, in his own way, loved her.

Over the following months he returned from time to time with various minor wounds, scrapes, non-specific ‘pain’.

It was obvious he came mainly to talk and I happened to be the one he latched onto, as did ‘my woman the old lady’.

She was almost as big and tough as he was, tough on the outside though, for she had a maternal heart and eventually revealed how she yearned to be a mother.

Finally one day they told me he was going to stop his gang activity and they were going to disappear, go where they could not be found, begin life anew, have a family.

Around three in the morning the next night, when supposedly they were already gone, in he came and bellowing “Here!” , he tossed what seemed a black cloth at me.

Glancing down at the object I realized it was a rabat, a roman collar with silk black front.

I looked up at him and he said, rather definitively: “I know you are a priest. Why you are hiding out here I don’t wanna know or care about! Just go back. Be a good priest. Me and the woman ’ll pray for you.”

With that he was gone, ignoring my shouted: “I’m no ****priest you****idiot!”

It would be eleven years later, after obviously a conversion and finally listening to the persistent knock on the door of my heart by Jesus, through such events as this, that I would enter the seminary.

To anyone struggling to believe, in particular any man wondering about vocation: LISTEN!

Pass it On!

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Sat, 01 May 2010 19:08:00 +0000

I am always inspired by these Newsletters available at: http://www.madonnahouse.org/publications/newsletter.html

Friends of Madonna House

Pass It On #66

The Heaviness of Feast Days

by a Madonna House Staff Worker

For some reason, I have been thinking a great deal lately about the sense of disappointment or heaviness that often seems to cloud religious feast days, days that should be full of light and joy. Do you ever feel this?

I think one reason for this is that the power of evil tries to compete with a celebration which centers around the worship of God. Another reason has something to do with what we call “Christ living out his life in us,” and that is basically a good thing, though what we feel is seemingly to the contrary.

Recently it came to me as I prayed and read the Scriptures that our souls bear the imprint of Christ’s life, every experience of his life. This happens at Baptism. He didn’t give us only a part of himself at Baptism; he gave us his entire self, and that includes all the experiences of his life, of his great mind and heart.

I think that as we go on in life the full meaning and reality of our Baptism unfolds. We know something about Christ—not only with our intellects, as we read, study and think about him—but our whole being has been united with his whole being in Baptism, and his being is like a surge of new life running through our very arteries.

Through our Baptism we see the Child whom the Virgin Mother of God has brought forth; we know, by our own intimate relationship, who this Child is. Or, to put it another way: Christ in our souls recognizes himself, and we experience at times the leap for joy that Elizabeth felt in her womb at the moment when Mary’s voice of greeting reached her ears (Luke 1: 30-44).

Or, in a moment of utter stillness, perhaps we become aware of the intense heat of the fire of the love existing between Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and we become so caught up in it that we cry out to God, “Don’t show me any more! It is not for man to know!” We are then like the Apostles on Mount Tabor and we are struck with awe at the brilliance of Christ in his Transfiguration (Luke 9:28-36).

And when we see our brother being crucified in the many ways man crucifies his brothers, isn’t there something excruciatingly painful that takes place in us? Isn’t it Christ suffering in us, being crucified again at the hands of his enemies?

And when, by the grace of God, we are able to forgive right on the spot some wrong that has been done to us, isn’t it Christ himself forgiving, repeating again from his cross, “Father forgive them”?

And the heaviness of feast days? Surely it is the groaning of the Spirit of Jesus in us, the travail in which all of creation is yearning for completion. Perhaps on these days we become acutely aware of being in unfulfilled time, even as we celebrate the fullness of time in Christ. Perhaps this heaviness is a grace also, because we experience the longing of Christ for all of creation to become one in his Father. Yes, I think this is what the heaviness of feast days is all about!

— Adapted from Coming Home

Recommended Reading

Listen to the Spirit—He Will Lead You

2010 Calendar Journal featuring the writings of Catherine Doherty

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THE CRCUCIBLE OF ISOLATION

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Fri, 30 Apr 2010 20:54:00 +0000

Twenty-two years ago today a dear friend was ordained to the priesthood.

We had entered the seminary together but shortly thereafter a serious illness, requiring major surgery and a prolonged period of isolation in recovery meant he was absent from the seminary for three years.

The journey both of physical recovery and resumption of studies was long and the best indication of the spiritual impact of that can be found in the Scripture passage he chose for his ordination card: “It is when I am weak that I am strong.” [2 Cor. 12:10]

His priestly life is marked by a particular awareness of the poor and suffering and the great joy his presence brings.

As tradition cries out with joy on such an anniversary: Ad multos annos!

May he and all priests have many more years to minister to God’s people.

In chapter five of his encyclical Caritas in veritate, Pope Benedict notes that, “One of the deepest forms of poverty a person can experience is isolation.”

Isolation can be self-induced, obviously because of some squabble with a family member or friend where usually we place all blame on the other and pull away; isolation can be simply because we are a stranger in a new school, place of work, neighbourhood, country or are overwhelmed by a sense of being a minority; some forms of isolation are imposed due to illness and either we are isolated because of the danger of contagion or simply because being single, elderly and such no one comes to visit us in the hospital or nursing home, or prison and even within prison there is the infamous ‘hole/solitary’ where isolation is rather definitive.

Nations in dispute, at least the more powerful ones, will impose, or try to, various forms of economic isolation to bring the recalcitrant nation to heel.

There is also the isolation of unexpected circumstances, or vocation, for example the expectant mother carries the new life within her and no matter how supportive her husband may be there is a type of isolation; the Holy Father himself, by the very nature of his sacred office is the one and only Pope and no matter how supportive those around him may be, a type of isolation is very real, no doubt particularly acute these days.

When, as is the right and natural order of human life, children become adults and leave home, the parents enter the real crucible of isolation, especially when the now adult children marry and form their own families.

For many, old age and its procession is a pilgrimage ever more deeply into the crucible of isolation.

So, in this crucible, can it really be true that it is indeed when I am weak: weakened by circumstance, misunderstanding, lack of a loving other in my life, illness, absence of family, stranger in a strange land, in prison, homeless and alone in an alley, old age home – yes, can it really be true that indeed it is when I am weak that I am strong?

No, not if the emphasis is on ‘I’!

It is important to recall St. Paul makes this declaration after revealing his struggle against self-reliance and pride following graces given, his struggle against pain and suffering, temptation, a type of seeking to isolate himself from spiritual warfare and while Christ reassures St. Paul, and each one of us that “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.”, the key is all must be about Christ and for Christ, for only with and in Christ can we be strong.

Thus it is only after enumerating the infirmities, reproaches, needs, persecutions, distresses, in which sufferings St. Paul finds his joy for they are embraced “...for Christ’s sake.”, that the truth can be declared that it is indeed when we are weak that we are strong – not self-strength, Christ strengthens us.

Here I must ask myself two questions: first, if I am in the crucible of isolation, am I trying to get out because it hurts, or am I seeking, like St. Paul, to rely on Christ and embrace this for His sake for as long as He wishes me to as a form of expiation and intercessor prayer in and through Christ for those for whom isolation is constant pain?, and second, have I chosen to isolate anyone from my life because of wounded pride, or a failure to love?

Pope Benedict in the above mentioned paragraph adds: “If we look closely at other kinds of poverty, including material forms, we see that they are born from isolation, from not being loved or from difficulties in being able to love.”

I will admit being exiled because of a false accusation, with increasing old age meaning many of my generation, family, brother priests, friends are gone, living thousands of miles away from my home of over forty years, with my foster-son more and more, rightly, occupied with his wife and growing family, and the necessary and holy type of isolation required of even the urban hermitical life, there are days when the crucible of isolation is such a scalding fire I want to flee, wander around in some crowd, anything but to be isolated – in a word I want to be strong and shake off weakness!

Then, and this is the grace of Jesus coming across the storm tossed sea and grabbing my hand before I sink, the phone will ring or a letter or email arrive or I will open my brievery and gaze upon a friends ordination card – in a word I am being called out of myself into the isolation, as it were, of another who needs time, attention, prayer, love.

As Pope Benedict reminds us: “As a spiritual being, the human creature is defined through interpersonal relations. The more authentically he or she lives these relations, the more his or her own personal identity matures. It is not by isolation that man establishes his worth, but by placing himself in relation with others and with God.”

Jesus call us to such relationship with Him and with others, to such maturity of loving as He loves when He reminds us in the “I was” sayings in Matthew 25:31-40, assuring us the gift of heaven is ours because even if we are in the crucible of isolation we step out of ourselves towards Him in the person of our brothers and sisters and because our loving service is gift to Him in them we will be granted the eternal opposite of isolation: communion of love with Him forever!

THE GREAT ANSWER

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Sun, 04 Apr 2010 02:08:00 +0000

WHO?

Jesus risen!

WHAT?

Christ is risen! Glorify Him!

WHEN?

Today! Now!

WHERE?

In you, me, the Church, in every life, nation, all creation, in the beginning, throughout history, when all ends?

WHEN?

Today! Now!

Christ IS risen?

The ultimate answer to every WHY: Christ is risen.

In the wombs of the barren, the wombs of those with child, the wombs where the unborn are at risk, Christ is risen.

In the heart and life of every priest, holy or not, receiving him with welcoming joy and love, or not, Christ is risen.

In the heart and life of the baptized, ancient or new, rejoicing or rejecting, Christ is risen!

In the heart and life of Pope Benedict, in the heart and life of the Church, in the heart and life of each believer and unbeliever, each Christian and non-Christian, in the heart and life of every atheist and nihilist, hedonist and confused, Christ is risen.

In the dark where evil spirits are at work, Christ is risen; in the dark of alleys where the lost are to be found, the homeless shiver, the criminal lurks, Christ is risen!

In those places where men and women soldiers lay down their lives, seeking to end war and protect the vulnerable, Christ is risen.

In those caves and shadows where terrorists lurk, thinking they are unseen, Christ is risen!

In hostels of those on the threshold of death, hospitals where the sick await hope, the staff give care, in lonely hotel rooms, in places where firemen risk all to save, police keep vigil to protect, Christ is risen!

Where there is pain, suffering, wounding, hunger, thirst, nakedness, in places of solitary confinement and other prisons, in the depths of aching hearts, Christ is risen!

WHY?

LOVE!

HE IS RISEN: FOR THE FATHER LOVES US.

HE IS RISEN: FOR THE HOLY SPIRIT LOVES US.

CHRIST IS RISEN: FOR HE LOVES YOU!

CHRIST IS RISEN! GLORIFY HIM!

ALLELUIA! ALLELUIA! ALLELUIA!

THE GREAT QUESTION

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Sat, 03 Apr 2010 22:22:00 +0000

It is Holy Saturday!

Jesus has given Himself to us, first on Holy Thursday in the Holy Eucharist and the Priesthood, the former filled with His glorious Self, the latter – well every priest, like all the baptized, is called to be holy, that is through cooperation with the Holy Spirit to be filled with the glory of Christ Himself.

Alas, the Eucharistic species can be trampled underfoot, Jesus ignored in the Tabernacle, Holy Communion received unworthily and priests, heart-wrenchingly, do commit horrific sins.

The great question then is, simply: what kind of God, what sort of Redeemer, remains with us in states of vulnerability?

Why does the Almighty, the All-powerful seem to stand by while wars rage, the innocent are abused, famine devastates millions, and the culture of death casts the heavy shadow of evil seemingly in almost everyone’s life, certainly over vast swathes of the earth, slaughtering the unborn, fuelling anger and hatred throughout the human family?

LOVE!

I can hear the moans and astonished incomprehension, even anger in the words: “You are nuts Father! Love? Are you kidding me?”

No.

No joke, no kidding, absolutely serious: LOVE!

We exist because God who is Love creates us to love us.

We pilgrimage through history with the firm hope of eternity in Love’s embrace because the Father so loves us He sent His only Son, Jesus, to dwell among us in the flesh, to embrace our humanity, to suffer, die, be buried so we might have life in abundance.

We struggle to love one another, serve one another, forgive each other, because the Love-Gift, the Holy Spirit works tirelessly within us to sanctify and vivify.

Even the unbaptized know love, true love, is gift.

Any human being can be overpowered by someone who is stronger – but no human being is powerful enough to make someone love them!

To love you I must be free – free to choose you as the person I love.

Freedom means the ability to say no!

A man who batters his wife, a woman who manipulates her husband – the battered/manipulated spouse may say: ‘I love you.’, but it is always a lie because there is no freedom.

God who is love, is absolutely, infinitely free – thus His love is eternal gift.

God who is love, and treasures our love, creates us with free will.

We are free to love Him, or not.

We exercise this freedom and love Him by the way we love each other.

Sin is fundamentally a refusal to love God by acting in ways that are anti-love towards each other.

So on Good Friday Jesus pours out this divine and redeeming love to the last drop of His Blood, crying out the ultimate love-cry: ‘Father, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing.’

Then, once dead, Jesus is buried, as we proclaim in the Creed: “…..was buried. He descended to the dead [into hell].”

Into what place of the dead, what hell?

Not just that place where every human being since Adam and Eve were awaiting Jesus to open the gates of heaven.

No!

Love is more creative than that!

Jesus, because of His Incarnation, His Self-Gift in the Eucharist to remain with us always, His Agony in the Garden, His Passion on the Cross, Jesus enters every moment of collective and personal human experience and history.

The full impact of any anti-love word or action by any human being against another, yes the greater portion of any sinful act, hits Jesus first.

He stands in the gap between one fist and another face, between one warring army and another, between the vulnerable child and the approaching abuse, between the hateful word and the ear of the downtrodden.

Jesus cannot take away the freewill of any aggressor.

To do so would require snuffing out their existence.

Victim of abuse, violence, hatred, in our pain we may well wish He would snuff out the existence of our attacker.

All Jesus can do is a twofold act of love: Try and motivate the aggressor to choose love over sin; take upon Himself the worst of what happens to us.

Once when I was a boy I was beaten and spat upon by a gang of older boys and I wondered where Jesus was.

When a friend of my youth took his own life, I wondered where Jesus is.

The day I was falsely accused and for months thereafter it sure seemed to me Jesus was nowhere to be found.

Each time one of the homeless shows up in the soup kitchen battered and despairing, however, as we do what we can to comfort, to feed, to clothe I see, I know, where Jesus is: right there in that man or woman needing to be served, right there in the volunteers who serve – ah, so that beaten boy was not alone; my friend did not die alone; Jesus entered the agony of being lied about long before I was even born!

Yes the experience of waiting at the threshold of hell for hope, some tomb in life, the hell-tomb of some deep wound because of an outrage we have suffered, rejection which cuts to the quick of our heart, the darkness of crushing doubt, can seem pointless, for what ‘hell’ we have experienced has ever been emptied of its horrible pain?

Indeed, who has ever come back from the dead?

What tomb has ever been flooded with light?

Listen!

Do you hear it?

It is the sound of a stone being rolled away!

ROLLERCOASTER HERMITAGE

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Tue, 30 Mar 2010 15:28:00 +0000

One of my favourite passages from the Holy Gospels relates the event of Jesus calming the wind and the waves. [ Mt. 8: 23-27; Mk. 4:35-40]

Growing up on the coast of the North Atlantic as a boy my friends and I would often ‘borrow’ a dory and row out across the water to a distant island, a place devoid of human habitation.

Its high rock cliffs, home to thousands of nesting birds, its top plateau of scrub brush, the vast panorama towards the distant horizon allowing a clear view, first of the faint wisps of smoke, then the thick black column from the burning coal or bunker oil, little by little the emerging shape of a tramp steamer, liner or warship – a pretty neat place!

It would take the vessel two to three hours to arrive and pass by the island.

On a calm day the Atlantic waves would be a mere two to three foot swells.

On a windy day they would rise high enough the dory would literally ride up one side and down the other of each wave and we would be thrilled and terrified coming down a wave, never knowing if any, or how much, water would splash into the dory.

Nature’s rollercoaster!

I remember the last time we went out we truly misread the weather and the return trip was in a storm. A terrifying ordeal: pelted by cold, biting rain, literally fighting the wind and the waves.

By the time we reached shore the dory was half filled with water as we had nothing with us with which to bail.

From then on the Gospel event of Jesus calming the storm deeply entered, and has remained in my heart as an icon of trust.

Tradition sees in the Gospel event as well a symbol of the Church and we within.

This Holy Week the storm is huge, the battering intense.

How critical we remember Jesus is greater than any storm.

We are His Church.

This is His world.

In 1794 a young Russian monk, with several confreres, was sent across the sea from the mainland to a Russian outpost in what is modern day Alaska.

The monk’s name was Herman.

Eventually all the other monks died of natural causes, were martyred, or returned to Russia and Herman, remaining alone, moved to Spruce Island to live as a hermit, where, after decades of service to the local people and intercessory prayer, he died, alone and, for more than 30 years, forgotten.

It would be Bishop Peter of Alaska, who in 1867 would first investigate Herman’s life, however it would be 102 years later, 1969, before this humble monk-hermit would be declared as St. Herman of Alaska, Patron Saint of the Americas.

Some twenty years later a friend would drag a small hut up to the top of a hill as high as that island of my youth, a hill overlooking a huge river valley.

My friend named this hut: St. Herman of Alaska hermitage.

It had one window, no electricity, a sort of platform on which to put a straw pillow and blanket for sleep. A chair, a very tiny writing desk, and no foundation, which means it simply sat on the ground.

The ground, however, was not flat!

I would spend a few days there from time to time when I was pastor of a parish not too distant.

The isolation, the silence, the vista of the beauty of His creation all enabled contemplation and time to sit with the Holy Gospel.

One afternoon while I was meditating on the Gospel passage of the calming of the storm a summer thunderstorm suddenly began and I took shelter inside the hermitage from the rain and the wind.

The wind grew stronger and that little hut began to rock back and forth.

At first this was as disconcerting as fighting the waves when I was a boy on the ocean in a storm because, perched on the top of that hill, with now wet and slick grass all around, I had an inner imagination gone wild notion of the whole thing, we me in it, sliding down and crashing into the rocks and trees of the valley!

The storm passed as quickly as it had arrived and my rollercoaster hermitage stopped.

I sat there and laughed and laughed at being of such little faith!

“This day! This hour! This minute! Love God above all!” ~St. Herman of Alaska.

A DEARTH OF STONES

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Sat, 27 Mar 2010 05:31:00 +0000

Perhaps the most common known virus, of which there are some 500 varieties, is the cold virus, a debilitating tiny creature only 20 nanometres in diameter.

To help visualize the size one descriptive I read recently suggested the comparison: 20 nanometres as one apple, thus the human nose would be the size of Wales!

The common stone, the kind you might kick to the curb if encountered on a sidewalk, or toss to see it skip across the surface of a pond, or in ancient times the kind picked up by a young lad and used in his slingshot to topple a giant, is likewise smaller than an apple!

When hurled as angry, unforgiving word against a human being, such a stone assumes the mass of Mount Everest.

When Jesus wrote in the sand one day the tiny grains were larger than a nanometre, smaller than Everest, yet the import is the same as when the finger of God inscribed the tablets for Moses and the impact reverberates across the millennia: Let only the sinless cast the first stone. [See Jn. 8: 1-11]

Granted the adult caught in the act of adultery causes pain and division in many lives, but clearly the abuse of children is incomparably more destructive both in the individual life of the child and in countless other lives.

In the media led frenzy around the scandal of priests committing the heinous crime and sin it is understandable dispassionate discourse is virtually impossible, witness the dismissal by most of the media and many, many Catholics of the Holy Father’s efforts, such as his recent Pastoral Letter to the People of Ireland.

Yet Jesus is clear time and again in the Holy Gospel about our call to be compassionate, merciful, forgiving, loving of enemies, praying for those who persecute us.

Likewise Jesus does not mince words about the reality of personal sin, the need to beg for mercy, to be converted.

It is extremely tough to forgive.

If we wait for our emotions to settle down it is unlikely we will ever forgive any individual or group who either has sinned against us personally or whose ‘public’ sins cause us to experience betrayal or to live in fear because of their hatred.

9/11 has left in its wake a climate of hatred and fear.

The sins of priests likewise, indeed to an even greater extent.

Both evils are already rippling forward in history, perhaps for generations to come.

Much like the tiny cold virus which can infect any human being, does infect hundreds of millions, and for the foreseeable future there is no cure for the common cold, the outrage and disheartening pain infecting thousands these days throughout the world and in the Church, especially in the lives of the abused, but also in the lives of innocent and dedicated priests, who far outnumber those who have betrayed, appears unrelenting/incurable too.

The flood of angry and hate-filled words being hurled at the Church, the Holy Father, Priests is such a shower of stones there may soon be a dearth of stones on earth.

On the threshold of Holy Week, in the face of all this, I can but contemplate Jesus, writing in the sand, as I drop the stone in my own hand.

On the threshold of our redemption I can but contemplate Jesus, in the Garden and agonize with Him; Jesus on the Cross and cry out with Him the great plea for mercy, forgiveness from the Father.

Thus, as St. Ephraim has taught us to pray:

O Lord, Master of my life, grant that I may not be infected with the spirit of slothfulness and faintheartedness, with the spirit of ambition and vain talking.

Grant instead to me Your servant the spirit of purity and humility, the spirit of patience and love.

O Lord and King bestow upon me the grace of being aware of my sins and of not judging my brother.

O God, purify me a sinner and have mercy on me.

O God, purify me a sinner and have mercy on me.

O God, purify me a sinner and have mercy on me.

Yes, O Lord and King, bestow upon me the grace of being aware of my sins and not judging my brother.

The Paradox Of Loneliness

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Fri, 19 Mar 2010 02:22:00 +0000

Soon I will add another link to a new blog by a wonderful friend, husband, father, teacher.

You will note his family is growing, what he learns from his children, and also much more about our life of faith, of pilgrimage, in Christ.

Reading his most recent post I must admit I shuddered interiorly.

Recently off retreat I found that post about the grace of living in the now was too close to home, to close to the struggle.

It seems to me there is an immense paradox unfolding in this Year of the Priest: the obvious love, gratitude, prayer directed towards priests from thousands upon thousands of the wonderful faithful – and yet – the seemingly never ending horror of new revelations of priestly sins and crimes against the innocent is the tearing open anew of a wound which I wonder: will it ever heal?

The wound: in the lives of the betrayed.

The wound: in the Priesthood.

So, yes, today to be honest I am struggling with my emotions, with the sheer weight of exile because of a false accusation and really kicking against the goad of the Holy Spirit nudging me, inviting me, ever more deeply into the loneliness of Christ.

The paradox of this loneliness is that we can only enter into this loneliness of Christ if we are with Him!

I love my Bishop and brother priests very much and hate the pain of loss of fraternity because I am deemed ‘one of those.’

In human terms, of course, priority of place in my heart belongs to my own Son and with each passing year, as he more and more confidently has his priorities in right order: wife, children, parish, work – well you get the picture and yes I hate that too and when my neediness for attention {just typing that I am blushing and feel like an old fart!} comes up against his feeling overwhelmed – well I hate that most of all!

Yet the lavishness of his love, the love of his wife who is a tender and wise woman, the love of their children, all of which domestic-church, family love is a healing balm, comes at a price I rebel against {much to the consternation of my rather patient son} because the price seems huge, when in fact it is far less than the price Christ paid alone in the Garden.

The price: being third, which in the case of a right ordered family may mean being 8th or 80th!; in the case of an exiled priest being third means being absolutely forgotten.

Why, I often wonder, did Jesus, as for example St. Mark tells us, go off to a lonely place to pray? [cf. Mk.1:30ff]

Well, not really! I just don’t like facing the implications because if it is just us and Jesus we are like the Woman at the Well – there is no place, not even within ourselves, to hide.

That’s loneliness too!

The Servant of God, Catherine Doherty, gave a powerful talk once, published as a letter in Volume Two of the series Dearly Beloved, published by Madonna House Publications.

It is a letter I return to again and again, often like a moth to a flame even though this moth knows he’s gonna get burnt again – but the fire, in truth, is the purifying fire of the Holy Spirit!

Aptly titled “Paradoxes of the Spirit” it is Catherine reflecting on another passage from St. Mark wherein Jesus tells us what will happen if we try by our own wits to save our life, ourselves, our very souls! [cf. Mk. 8:34f]

At the very beginning Catherine teaches: “This seems to be a key mystery that continually escapes us all; or rather it is a paradox from which we try to escape! We are not ready to have an inner battle with ourselves, sixty minutes of every hour, twenty-four hours a day, all of our lives.” – and – “…Whenever you experience inwardly any annihilation of yourself, you will feel an overpowering urge to assert yourself outwardly, to imprint yourself on life. ‘Look, folks, I exist! I’m here. I haven’t disappeared. I’m a person. Listen to me!’”

When the searing pain of the human family, of the suffering Christ, of the Holy Father, of the Priesthood, when the cries of personhood devastation of the abused, the silent scream of the aborted, when the raw ache of the loneliness of Christ goads the raw wound of exile, abandonment, not being heard touches my emotional centre – well yep I get this very overpowering urge to assert myself and the paradox is that very self-assertion pushes away the very people, quite naturally I might add, I most want to pay attention – sometimes, it seems, it is as if when I am in that space in prayer I am pushing away the very Jesus upon whom I yearn to lean, to be with and find rest!

Yep, this is the paradox of loneliness: unless I allow myself to experience the raw pain of loneliness, mine, everyone’s, Christ’s own, I cannot comfort the lonely Christ.

Nor can I be alone with Him in that solitary place of prayer, nor keep watch with Him in the Garden, nor be one with Him on the Cross.

If we are to do the battle ‘sixty minutes of every hour every day’, if we are to embrace the mystery, the paradox of ‘losing our life to save it’ we need, I believe, to hold onto the hand of our Blessed Mother, like a little child learning to walk, allow her to take us where perhaps, at least in our emotions and fears, we’d rather not go!

To be taken by her/led by her to enter this paradox, to allow this purifying fire to burn away our need to be the centre, rather than the servant, to be the loved rather than the one loving, to have needs met rather than be gift – yep if we willingly do the battle Catherine speaks of, then Our Lady takes us also to two extraordinary places where Jesus is: the Manger and the Eucharist, which is to enter the mystery of becoming childlike and truly beloved – but the way to both is the way of the Cross.

Indeed the cross Jesus urges us to take up each day is the very battle, the very paradox, as Catherine says, we seek to flee!

The paradox within the paradox is, of course, this is not a one-time battle and then it’s done and we become all calm, totally selfless, and absolutely faith-filled.

Much as I sure wish it were that easy, the reality is very much the Exodus story, the days with Jesus in the Desert, the struggle to keep watch with Him in the loneliness of the Garden, the Way of the Cross.

Cross is prelude, crucifixion is the heart and joy of the paradox.

Fulfillment is resurrection imprinted, invested, within us every time we receive Our Beloved Glorified Jesus in Holy Communion!

Wheat must be ground and fired to become bread, grape must be crushed to become wine.

This fired and crushed matter by the power of the Holy Spirit becomes Jesus, my Lord, my God, my all!

In His passion and death Jesus Himself was ground and squeezed to the last drop for love of us.

In the same letter Catherine notes the following, speaking about the weight of the battle pushing us face down to the floor, that is, of course, to be on the ground with Jesus in the Garden: “Now the grace is that you are on that floor, that you haven’t turned your back to God and walked away. That’s the grace. That’s the beginning of your growth in faith: you’re there! He was on a cross, and you are on the floor. After you get up, your soul feels like a thousand sponges that have been squeezed out, but it doesn’t matter….there comes a 'day’ when you wake up and find that a new dimension of Christ has opened itself, and now you can take some steps in His Kingdom….”

SUICIDE & OTHER LENTEN DANGERS

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 02:47:00 +0000

Meditating on the Holy Gospel for this First Sunday of Lent I was struck as never before how through the various temptations satan tried with which to seduce Jesus, the temptations appear related to a concession of power, that is satan’s over God’s.

Which power, which will, is the choice Jesus is faced with: satan’s, which is limited by what God permits, or God’s which is the infinite power of love?

I also see something deeper: an invitation to suicide and, for many who chose suicide, for them perhaps unspoken, here clearly worded in the hiss of satan, the ultimate tempting of the all-merciful God.

Jesus, had He stepped off the precipice not only in defiance of the law of gravity but ultimately in defiance of the Will of His Father, the suicide would have been a killing, were that possible, of their unique relationship which exists as Love.

Remember the “MASH” TV series and the theme song?

I bet most people have never looked at exactly what those lyrics say.

The lead line in the chorus is: “That suicide is painless.”

That is a great lie, and distortions of truth, outright lies, are the persistent pitfalls for souls, the great snare of satan, known in modern parlance as: relativism.

Fundamentally, in each of the temptations, satan was proposing a variation on that lie theme to Jesus, prefaced with the snare of ‘if only’.

Most priests I know, both those rightly accused of any crime/sin/lie which discovered means prison or dismissal from the priestly state, as well as those falsely accused and in most cases also dismissed or at least exiled from an active and visible priestly life, isolated from their bishop-father, priest-brothers, have talked openly with me about suicide.

None who have spoken with me have taken their own lives, though many priests throughout the current crisis have and undoubtedly many more will.

In my years working in Child Welfare as an investigator the youngest person I knew to have taken their own life was a five year old boy.

Interviews with the older children revealed he believed if he was not around his parents would not divorce, the family would remain intact.

Most of us know either within our own families, circle of friends, parish, places of work, someone who has taken their own life.

We know suicide is NOT painless; rather it opens a floodgate of pain which ripples forward sometimes for generations.

Times of high stress or demands or raising the personal expectation bar, or the bar of our expectations of God too high, can overwhelm, because sooner or later we will be confronted with our limitations and experience the harsh reality that we are not all—powerful!

I was in a restaurant the other day with family and at a table on the other side a child was in full rebellion mode at a very high pitch, while the three little ones at our table were, in the proverbial expression: “good as gold.”

I turned to the young mother and said: “It must be a relief when someone else’s child is carrying on like that!”

She simply smiled. A smile I might add of both relief and compassion for the other family.

Powerlessness sometimes appears before us in the person of a three year old in full tantrum mode in a place where they well understand our being embarrassed figures more into the situation than focusing on whatever is disturbing the child, on the child themselves, and we tend to move into ‘control’ mode rather than seeking to understand cause and effect.

Power versus compassion; me versus other kicks in whenever we feel powerless, threatened, embarrassed, or simply overwhelmed – as Jesus must often have felt, and yet time and again, even on the Cross Jesus puts other first with compassion and understanding, love and truth: “Forgive them Father for they don’t know what they are doing!”

Suicide can be triggered by someone making it always all about them – primacy of “I” - to such an extent others become more and more neglected, frustrated, hurt and so forth.

When this happens and the person increasingly isolated is elderly the impact is particularly devastating, for like small children the elderly, the infirm, the lonely are among the most vulnerable.

When this happens – the primacy of “I” - within a marriage the act of suicide is commonly called divorce, but it is ultimately the choice to take the life of the marriage.

Prime too among Lenten dangers is the narrow ‘sacrifice/giving something up for Lent’ mindset, risking here too making it the primacy of “I”, which can lead to such a turning inward towards ourselves we completely forget the prime purpose of Lent is a return to looking into the Face of Jesus, a return to Jesus.

Now some who figure that out still miss the point and increase participation in Holy Mass either on a daily basis or at least every Sunday and/or increase other pious practices.

Laudable and blessed as those are, it is still too much about the ‘I’ and not really a return to Jesus.

Yes Jesus IS to be found and encountered in prayer, the sacraments, especially Holy Mass and Holy Communion, Confession – but He is expecting our return to Him in other places where He waits for us.

It is very easy to find Him through a few simple, and answered honestly, questions which are akin to directions on a map:

1] For whom am I of primary importance in their lives and how long has it been since I have made their need more important than mine?

There, within them, Jesus awaits our return.

2] What particular need has my parish or family for married people, expressed as being important? [Think about it, it will be obvious] then ask: Why am I so resistant to give of my time? {Mostly we can come up with logical reasons why we simply do not have the time, indeed to make the effort may be as painful as picking up the Cross.}

There, within that need, Jesus awaits our return.

3] Which race, religion, person, group, indeed in the present climate in the Church we need all to also ask which bishop, priest – in a word whom do I, if unable to admit I hate them, at least admit they are the one[s] who causes my blood to boil?

This is perhaps the greatest Lenten danger of all: remaining steadfast in a refusal to love and forgive – yet – no matter the sin of the other etc., etc., it is within precisely that person, that group, Jesus is waiting, expecting, yearning, for our return.

Lent is a time to turn away from what is NOT of the Gospel and to return to Gospel fidelity wherein Jesus says the “I was” words, stressing He is to be found in serving those human beings who are in any need.

Most people to arrive at the tipping point where they believe the lie that ‘suicide is painless’ feel utterly alone, unheard in their pain by any human being, even unheard by God.

What greater Lenten gift can we possibly give the lonely Jesus than to be His voice and through our presence to another speak the truth that we all have been created by Love to be loved, to love and bring His love to them?

If we return to Jesus this Lent where He is to be found, love, served, then we will avoid all Lenten dangers!

TRY AS I MIGHT!

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 00:18:00 +0000

Twenty years ago a dear friend, herself now living as an urban poustinik in another part of the country, gave me a litany, one she then and now prays daily.

This litany, which appears ancient in origin, came without any indication of authorship, imprimatur, indeed without anything which would enable us to trace its origin.

She herself had failed to trace it and likewise, even putting in variations on title into search engines, have, try as I might, failed to find its history.

All that being said the title on the now well-worn copy I have is: “Litany to the Victory of the Blood of Jesus.”

I’ll put the full litany at the end of this piece; here I share a few reflections on phrases which I have found over the years particularly encouraging as prayer.

The first three invocations stress praise; five of adoration follow; four more of praise and the concluding five are of glorification.

Of the first group I find great comfort in: “I praise you Precious Blood of the Lamb of God who heals all the infirmities of my body; soul; spirit.”

Funny thing about infirmity and healing, we tend to presume that healing in this life primarily means a type of ‘getting rid of’ or being cured of some disease, addiction, doubt.

While certainly God in His mercy can and does grant such total healing sometimes, as St. Paul with his proverbial ‘thorn in the flesh’ and poor eyesight attests, the more profound healing is when, as Paul mentions in Galatians 4, we are healed to the point where the false, diseased, un-sanctified self is dead and in truth then it is no longer the “I” who lives but Christ within us.

Certainly I take very seriously requests from anyone who asks me to pray for a miraculous healing from cancer, for example, and rejoice when such a gift is granted.

Like most priests, like many people, I also bear witness to the miraculous transformation in people when such a physical miracle is not the one granted.

A man comes to mind who was extremely successful in his chosen profession acquiring great wealth and renown and in the days long before such individuals were no longer shunned, and before there was any real treatment, he was diagnosed with AIDS.

Eventually, given the costs of medical care, he lost his fortune, his possessions, his home, and ended up in a hostel for people with AIDS, where he did receive excellent palliative care.

I met him through another priest who asked if I would go and pray with the man for, while this man had abandoned his faith in his youth to pursue a life of money, prestige and pleasure, and while he did go through the usual stages of anger, denial, depression at the outset, he trusted my brother priest as a friend and listened, with an open heart, when urged to return to Christ through Mary.

This was the great miracle for the man not only returned to the sacraments, but from his bed in the hostel carried on in the remaining months of his life a true apostolate of the Rosary, of listening to fellow suffers.

Many either returned themselves to the sacraments or at least approached death with peace and dignity.

Which brings me to this prayer in the litany: “I adore you Blood of the Lamb in your powerful purification.”

In this Year of the Priest we continue, tragically and with great pain, to hear of cases of abuse of the innocents.

Granted the vast majority of these cases are between fifty and thirty years old but the scandal and pain, the need for authentic justice and healing, is immediate.

We can rage, become enmeshed in the feeding frenzy of media and others with agendas piggy-backed onto a real horror, or as priests we can turn to Christ and pray and suffer intently that through His Precious Blood this becomes a true purification for the priesthood in general and each priest in particular so that we emerge from this Year of the Priest more sanctified and faithful.

Again, from the litany: “I praise you Precious Blood of Jesus Christ which frees me from slavery.”

Ah, but I am not a slave, right?

Years ago when I first prayed this litany that invocation brought me to a sudden standstill and at the same time there was within me a sort of urge to flee!

Slavery is, clearly, a form of bondage and so when I replaced the word slavery and prayed “frees me from bondage” there was illumination.

I realized, for example being prone to anxiety, is a type of slavery as is my addiction to cigarettes. Thus the critical importance of this invocation became crystal clear, so I continue each time I pray it to have ‘aha!’ moments – some are insights of slavery to what might be dismissed as eccentricities, others are more serious like my absolutely having to always have certain comfort food handy!

Jesus and Mary want us to be truly free of anything and everything that binds, enslaves us that we might truly be filled with the joyous freedom of the children of God, with holiness.

In these days of the shadow of darkness of the culture of death, of global anxiety, which seems even to deeply impact true believers, over everything from terrorism to the climate and the economy, these days when catastrophes such as the earthquake in Haiti through modern media are immediate and close to our own lives, how important to pray with intimate confidence in Jesus: “Glory be to the Blood of Jesus Christ which delivers me from the powers of evil.”

Yes: “Glory be to the Blood of Jesus Christ which makes all things new. Amen.”

Litany to the Victory of the Blood of Jesus

I praise you Precious Blood of the Lamb of God who heals all the infirmities of my body.

I praise you Precious Blood of the Lamb of God who heals all the infirmities of my soul.

I praise you Precious Blood of the Lamb of God who heals all the infirmities of my spirit.

I adore you Blood of the Lamb in your powerful forgiveness.

I adore you Blood of the Lamb in your powerful healing.

I adore you Blood of the Lamb in your powerful purification.

I adore you Blood of the Lamb in your powerful renewal.

I adore you Blood of the Lamb in your powerful protection.

I praise you Precious Blood of Jesus Christ which purifies me and rids me of my sins.

I praise you Precious Blood of Jesus Christ which frees me from slavery.

I praise you Precious Blood of Jesus Christ which is stronger than my corruptible blood.

I praise you Precious Blood of Jesus Christ which transforms me to His own image.

I praise you Precious Blood of Jesus Christ was makes of me a new creature.

Glory be to the Blood of Jesus Christ which delivers me from the powers of evil.

Glory be to the Blood of Jesus Christ which triumphs over my enemies.

Glory be to the Blood of Jesus Christ which protects me from the snares of satan.

Glory be to the Blood of Jesus Christ which robes me in the white garment of the wedding of the Lamb.

Glory be to the Blood of Jesus Christ which makes all things new. Amen.

MERCY FOR HAITI

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Wed, 13 Jan 2010 23:30:00 +0000

Like thousands around the world my prayer is intensely for our suffering Brothers and Sisters in Haiti.

Very simply here I wish to remind everyone that the patroness of Haiti is Our Lady of Perpetual Help and among Haiti’s heavenly companions I am sure Ven. Pierre Toussaint is interceding as well.

Let us all, along with prayer, do what we can to follow Pope Benedict’s call for true charity to enable both Catholic charities and all other NGOs to come to the aid of our Brothers and Sisters and along with praying for the comfort of the injured, the homeless, the widowed and orphaned let us implore mercy for all the deceased.

Comments

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Sun, 27 Dec 2009 18:48:00 +0000

To everyone, but especially to those who leave comments, and whose blogs I visit and draw inspiration from, on this feast of the Holy Family, know I treasure each of you as family in my heart and extend a blessing for each of you and everyone in your family.

Martyrdom

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Sat, 26 Dec 2009 21:54:00 +0000

As we continue to celebrate today the birth of Jesus, we also remember the First Martyr for Christ and the Gospel of Life, St. Stephan.

Here is a brief word from the Servant of God, Catherine Doherty, from her book: Bogorogitza.....

"Martyrdom and forgiveness, in a sense, go together.....Sometimes it takes a martyrdom of the spirit, of the emotions, to consent to forgive."

Glory to God in the highest!

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Fri, 25 Dec 2009 21:39:00 +0000

This Child, this Light!
In the Holy Eucharist, in His glorified reality, He enters within the manger of our hearts!
He touches us and we recieve Him.
We hold Him within and He loves us.
We contemplate Him and from the moment His eyes opened at His birth, until this very moment, He gazes with love upon us.
Jesus, manifestation of the love of the Father for us.
Let us have intimate confidence in Jesus who is in our midst.
Let us, as Pope Benedict urges drawing on the very teaching of Jesus, turn and become childike of heart and welcome the Holy Child.
Let us, through Baptism and Holy Communion, guided by the Holy Spirit, in company of the Most Holy Mother of God, become Christ-bearers to every one, living icons of hope and reconciliation, witnesses to the sacredness of human life, bringers of reconcilation and compassion.
Christ is born!

Merry & Holy Christmas To All

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Fri, 25 Dec 2009 05:32:00 +0000

CHRIST IS BORN! LET US LOVE AND ADORE HIM!
From his first Christmas in 1978, until his last in 2005, Pope John Paul remained steadfast in pleading with everyone to embrace the Gospel of Life, saying powerfully that the “newborn Infant is wailing. Who hears the baby’s wail?”
The wail of the Holy Child is the wail of every suffering, lost, confused, human being.
It is both lament and prayer.
Pope Benedict from the beginning of his pontificate reminds us that God is Love.
The Holy Gospel teaches us the great truth: Christ IS the manifestation of the Father’s love for us in the flesh. Christ IS light come into the world, a light the darkness cannot overcome.
The sight of a possibly deranged woman assaulting the Holy Father, as he processed to begin Midnight Mass to celebrate the birth of Jesus, revealing the vulnerability of the Holy Father, an elderly man, is the vulnerability of all the elderly, of everyone who suffers or is assaulted in any way.
It is the vulnerability of the Child born this night.
We want an all-powerful god of huge miracles and other manifestations, yet such a god would be unreachable, untouchable and we would remain therefore, lost.
Born in a manger, poor, small, vulnerable, wailing, needing like all babies to be held, touched, and loved – this is the one true God.
He is in our midst.
He is our Eucharist, our communion of love and with Love.
The Angels this night told the Shepherds the sign of truth, the sign of the Redeemer being amongst us IS the reality of the baby in the manger.
As Pope Benedict reminds us that, rather than some huge manifestation , the sign is God’s humility, God making Himself small, a mere child, and He “let’s us touch Him and He asks for our love.”
The culture of death and darkness weighs heavily because individually and collectively we want to be loved and when we do not feel loved we become angry, hateful, violent, demanding, greedy, crazy, desperate to the point where we leap over a railing and assault an elderly Shepherd or abort a baby or plow a jet into a tower or....
Yes we would prefer a different god than this vulnerable, powerless, in need of touch and love, of being protected and fed Baby!
Yet only a truly all-powerful God could become Incarnate. Only the all-self-gifting God could be born as we are, as one of us, for us.
All false gods, all evil, all darkness, devours.
Only the true God, all good, all light, all life, all love, makes Himself our food.
Christ is born! Hope is in our midst!
Christ is born! Darkness is banished!
Christ is born! Come, let us approach, let us listen, let us touch, let us love and the wail of the Child will become the cry of joy!

The Doors!

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 04:54:00 +0000

Many years ago I was working in the financial heart of the country. My office was some thirty stories up. The outside walls were floor to ceiling glass. The building, in severe wind, was designed in such a way there was enough sway a slight trembling of the glass was audible.
One particularly gusty afternoon a panel of glass shattered.
It was discovered upon investigation by the building mangers some delivery people had propped open a large door beside the revolving doors at the main entrance of the building, thus causing a significant loss of pressure within the building so that a gust of wind pushing against the weakest window had caused it to implode.
Mostly, I suspect, for most of us doors are something we pass in and out of numerous times throughout the day at home, work, going to church, getting in and out of a car, etc., without much thought, save perhaps an awareness of the security we feel behind a locked door at night.
As much as open doors are inviting, welcoming, closed doors make a statement of either ‘stay out/don’t bother me/no one is within’.
Every crossing of a threshold is a type of rite of passage, some extremely important and significant, such as crossing the threshold from being within the womb of our mothers to life ‘outside!’
Indeed we say, almost automatically when crossing certain thresholds through particular doors that we are ‘going out’ – or ‘ coming in’, people arrive or leave through a door: birth is arriving, death we see as a leaving, but ultimately it is the final crossing of the definitive threshold for which we have been granted existence by Love Himself.
As we approach Christmas and the birth of Jesus, today in Holy Mass we began in the Entrance Antiphon crying out with the Psalmist for the gates, the portals, the doors to be lifted up – in a word for our entire being, all creation to open wide that Christ might be in our midst.
Anyone who has read the Narnia books by C. S. Lewis, or seen the film, knows what adventures occur when Lucy goes through the door of the wardrobe, crosses the threshold.
Opening or closing any door, crossing, or not any threshold, sometimes demands a willingness to risk, to have openness to, or at least like Lucy and the children, a curiosity about what lies beyond.
Within the Latin rite there used to be a definitive, an important symbolic demarcation between the sanctuary and the main body of church buildings.
Commonly called ‘the communion rail’ it had within it a centre gate and sometimes side gates.
It was a diminutive reminder of what in the Byzantine tradition remains as the Iconostasis.
During the Divine Liturgy there are many points at which the priest enters and exits by the main doors or the side doors of the Iconostasis, with accompanying prayers, incensing, or processions.
This coming and going reminds us of the exchange between heaven and earth, thus during the Holy Season of Pascha [Easter], since Christ has risen and thus opened the gates of heaven all the holy doors remain open, the curtains drawn!
In the beginning Adam and Eve lived within the Garden, in intimacy with God until rebellion and sin were chosen and Adam and Eve were cast outside and an Angel posted to guard the tree of life. [Gen. 1, 2, 3]
Preceding the Exodus of our Elder Brothers and Sisters in faith, the Chosen People, the first Passover called for the marking of the lintels, the thresholds, with blood that those within might be spared death of the firstborn male child.
The Holy Child born Christmas night, is born to BE our Passover, to be the Lamb who is slain for us, and by His Blood we are redeemed, and what has been closed becomes open to us.
Jesus will urge us to enter into an intimacy with the Father akin to that experienced by Adam walking with Him in the Garden. We are to cross the threshold into solitude and silence, to “shut the door” for the secrecy of profound intimacy in prayer. [Mt. 6:6].
Jesus also teaches us that He is the Way, the gate/door/threshold [cf. Jn. 1o:1 ff; ] and in the crossing over the threshold into His death for us Jesus is sealed into a tomb whose door is shut until opened by the Angel after Christ is risen, for no longer is any closed door able to shut out Jesus [ Jn.20:19ff.], save the one over which we have free-will control, the door of our own being.
The Risen Jesus comes to us and with immense tenderness, even I would suggest a type of Divine Love longing, tells us He is waiting at the door of our being, assuring us that if we listen to His voice, and open the door of our being, He will enter within, in Eucharistic intimacy. [Rev. 3:20]
So little time remains before Christ comes in our midst as the child placed within the manger.
As the Servant of God Catherine Doherty teaches: “Christ desires to be born in the mangers of our hearts. Are the doors of our hearts wide open to receive the shepherds, the Magi, the stray visitors...in a word, humanity? Are they open to receive one another as Christ would receive each one of us? Are they open to receive those around us in our daily life?” {from Grace in Every Season}
It is never too late for we can always open!
Yes, behold, Jesus at the door of our being!

Dear Bishop-elect

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Tue, 22 Dec 2009 21:27:00 +0000

I just got word yesterday that a brother priest and most respected friend has been appointed Bishop-elect of the diocese of.......these are some words my heart was moved to send him.}
Perhaps the words are no longer uttered but there was a time in my youth when a priest was named bishop-elect, his confreres would remark: “Ah, he is to receive the mitre, the crown of thorns!”
With the seemingly endless procession of news reports but the universal horror of crimes of abuse, sins of abuse, against children by priests, and all the pain, anger, outrage this rips open again and again, I presume only the most obedient and willing to be one with Christ-crucified, of priests, accepts becoming a bishop.
Therefore dear Bishop-elect, you can be assured of my constant prayer for you.
No doubt soon, if not already, priests and laity will be seeking your attention with their needs, perhaps complaints and pain.
You may find yourself overwhelmed, especially by the pain among our brother priests, for as you well know, as horrific as are the actual sins and crimes of a few, in the current climate the false accusations against the many, upon whom church authorities impose the same sentence as on the guilty, has created among priests a demoralizing climate of fear and uncertainty.
What is a bishop to do when secular powers and their agents, as well as certain groups among lay Catholics, insist on extreme measures against all accused priests and the holus-bolus approach of automatic suspension of all accused places an indelible mark upon them?
What is a bishop to do when lawsuits bankrupt diocese after diocese, and when faced with even one verifiable act of abuse the pressure for drastic action is constant?
How is a bishop to render justice to innocent victims, protect the vulnerable, yet remain a true father and shepherd for all his priests?
How is a bishop to heal the wounds of the victims, comfort all Catholics afflicted by the repercussions of this scandal, strengthen and uphold all his priest-sons, yes even those convicted justly, in particular those falsely accused?
Dear bishop-elect I cannot answer these questions but pray you will not flee from them, but will take them deep into your heart and through the intercession of Mary, Queen of the Apostles, seek the way to truly shepherd everyone who is in pain.
From our beloved Holy Father to the ordinary priest and lay person, it seems outrage dominates all discussion and response.
With full respect for the Holy Father, yourself, everyone who is indeed rightly outraged, I must pose yet another question: Whence, compassion, reconciliation, restoration?
In just a few days the Child will be born anew in our midst, He who comes among us to redeem, forgive, restore.
Standing in the midst of the immense pain within the people and the priesthood, how shall we imitate Him?

WONDERFUL PRAYER

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 17:59:00 +0000

First thanks very much to Adoro and Kam for your encouraging words.
I also know of your prayer for all priests and see what follows as an answer which so consoled me my heart is moved to note it here:
A dear elderly, retired, long-suffering and long-serving brother priest sent me a great email yesterday and within it shared a story about one of his boyhood heroes, Roy Campanella, a great catcher, whom I also remember, because in the summer other than street hockey, which we played every day, there being no hockey games on the radio, the alternative was we’d listen to baseball – I was a true Dodgers fan – but I digress.
Father reminded me about the car crash which left Campanella paralyzed and decidedly discouraged.
Someone sent Roy a prayer.
That prayer sure touched my heart.
Father did not say the origins of the prayer. Perhaps that can be found in Campanella’s book “It’s Good to be Alive,” –here is the prayer:
I asked God for strength, that I might achieve.
I was made weak that I might learn humbly to obey.
I asked for health, that I might do great things.
I was given infirmity, that I might do better things.
I asked for riches, that I might be happy.
I was given poverty, that I might be wise.
I asked for power, that I might have the praise of men.
I was given weakness, that I might feel the need of God.
I asked for all things that I might enjoy life.
I was given life that I might enjoy all things.
I got nothing I asked for
but everything I had hoped for.
Almost despite myself, my unspoken words were answered.
I AM, AMONG MEN, MOST RICHLY BLESSED.

Thanks for your prayers

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 06:50:00 +0000

The technical problem has been solved with help from an unexpected source and not the compnay we usually rely on.

The basic colour is different, but I trust Our Blessed Mother will like it!

Now to get past a recent bout of writer's block!!!!

Technical Glitch

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Thu, 17 Dec 2009 22:20:00 +0000

Dear Readers,

As is obvious from the appearance of the blog we are experiencing a computer system glitch.

A computer expert has been contacted but it is unclear when the problem may be solved.

Your patience, and prayers for mine which is sorely tried, are appreacited.

Fr. Joseph

MARY’S MANTLE

noreply@blogger.com (Arthur Joseph) — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 22:07:00 +0000

Normally at this time of day, mid-afternoon, when not serving in the soup kitchen but rather in poustinia [hermitage], I would go for my prayer walk, each day a different section of the neighbourhood, praying for the people here and throughout the city.
However after a two day blizzard the extreme arctic cold has arrived and it is dangerous to be out for very long – do pray for the homeless that they find shelter.
The blessing of extra time to read and write is welcome as my heart has been moved by two people who commented on this morning’s post, one who shared their re-consecration to Mary will take place this Saturday, feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe, Mother of the Americas, and another who will make her first consecration, the Montfort Total Consecration, likewise on this coming feast day.
Both remind me of how much I owe Our Lady of Guadalupe, she who is so persistent in seeking out all the lost and leading us back to Jesus!
First then, thank-you both and everyone who loves and prays for we priests, especially this Year of the Priest, when I pray in particular ALL priests will consecrate themselves to Jesus through Mary, Mother of Priests.
Second, then, in anticipation of Our Lady of Guadalupe’s feast day, an example of how Our Lady is always a true mother, teacher, guide.
Almost forty years ago, through a series of unexpected events, being at the time a Marxist-atheist-hedonist, I found myself in Mexico and eventually, on Christmas Day actually, in Mexico City and, frankly rather angry about it, in the plaza in front of the ‘old’ shrine as opposed to the ‘new’ one of present day, which at the time was not yet constructed, of Our Lady of Guadalupe.
The immense crowds were pushing up the great staircase into the basilica and a friend who was with me insisted on going to Mass, which I thought was an idiotic idea and refused to go along, but oddly agreed to go as far as the top of the stairs and to wait there or back down in the plaza until ‘it’ was over!
Suddenly there I was standing before the open doors, and just as suddenly no more people were shoving past to get in.
Given the extreme bright noonday sunlight I should not have been able to see inside the great building, nor from that distance to see clearly, as if right before it, the tilma, upon which is the holy image of Our Blessed Mother.
Yet so it was, so it is within my heart this very moment.
I wanted to flee but was frozen to the spot until, wrenched from the core of my being, gazing upon her beautiful and maternal face, a cry leapt from my being: “Bring me back to your Son!”
So shocked was I, and suddenly able to move, by this experience, I turned and fled down the stairs.
Halfway down an elderly Mexican woman, ascending the stairs on her knees praying the Rosary, grabbed my wrist with rather a solid grip and told me in Spanish not be afraid, Our Mother “has heard you.”
As quickly as she had grabbed me, she released me, and I continued my flight!
The journey of conversion [still ongoing to be sure] was rather long but some years later, thanks to a good priest, filled with compassion, who in his university days had become Catholic thanks to Our Lady, I returned to the sacraments.
Three years later, on the feast of the Assumption, Father urged me to enter the seminary, which I did a year later on the feast of the Nativity of Our Blessed Mother, eventually being ordained on the feast of the Visitation – the same day 22 years before when my Spiritual Father was ordained.
I especially love Our Lady as Our Lady of Combermere, who is imaged coming towards us, indeed rushing towards us, just after the Annunciation, arms wide open, mantle flowing to envelop us and hold us close to her heart and womb, she now the living Tabernacle of the Incarnate One.
Yes, intimately close to her Son Jesus!
Teaching today in Rome, Pope Benedict reminds us that: “....Mary constitutes a sweet and reassuring presence....She tells people of our time: Do not be afraid, Jesus defeated evil, uprooted it, freeing us....”
Then, towards the end in remarkable words the Holy Father reminds me of that Elderly Woman who grabbed my wrist, of homeless people I know who, in all their pain pray constantly for everyone, of so many “...who in silence, in deeds not words, strive to practice the Evangelical law of love...men and women of all ages, who realise that it is not worth condemning, complaining or recriminating, that it is better to respond to evil doing good.....”
As Pope Benedict urges so I pray that we will all: “...listen to Mary’s voice. Let us hear her silent but pressing appeal. She tells each one of us that wherever sin increases, may grace overflow all the more, first in our hearts, and then in our lives!”