Catholic

Jul212015

Flowers blossoming within a garden

No, my very dear daughter, it is not necessary to be always and at every moment attentive to all the virtues in order to practice them; that would twist and encumber your thoughts and feelings too much. Humility and charity are the master ropes; all the others are attached to them. We need hold on to these two…

…I’d like to say more about your prayer, for I reread your letter late last night. Go on doing as you described. Be careful not to intellectualize, because this can be harmful, not only in general, but especially at prayer. Approach the beloved object of your prayer with your affections quite simply and as gently as you can. Naturally, every now and then, your intellect will make an effort to apply itself; don’t waste time trying to guard against this, for that would only be a distraction. When you notice this happening, be content simply to return to acts of the will. –St Francis de Sales

I am captivated by the letters of St Francis de Sales and St Jane de Chantal. It is more than the direction tendered. The mature fellowship–overflowing with intimacy, interest, intelligence, care, cordiality, concern, kindness, and gentleness–provides a saintly example of individuals interacting on a higher Catholic plane.

St Francis de Sales and St Jane de Chantal, along with Visitation sisters.

St Francis de Sales and St Jane de Chantal, along with Visitation sisters.

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Jul202015

Freedom into obedient openness

St Francis de Sales on aligning with Divine Will, in respect to the freedom sweetly offered through the following of Christ, the opening of the heart of a Catholic man or woman to the necessary flexibility to unify with God’s will.  Rigidity, hardheadedness, or haphazard, flighty, efforts will not suffice.  The quotes moves forward from the freedom the previous St Francis de Sales quote established.

This freedom (of the Children of God) has two opposite vices: instability and constraint or, in the extreme dissoluteness and slavishness.  Instability is a kind of excessive freedom which makes us want to change our practices or our state in life for no good reason or without knowing if to do so is God’s will.  The least pretext is enough to make us change a practice, a plan, a rule; for the filmiest excuse we give up a rule or a good custom; it becomes like an orchard open on all sides, where the fruit is not for the owner but for all who pass.

Am I really pursuing God to satisfy my whims and boredom in life?  Do I use faith to suit my fickle interests and desires? In truth, am I really doing whatever I want, doing everything to suit me?

Constraint or slavishness is a certain lack of freedom that causes the soul to be unduly anxious or angry when it cannot carry out what it had intended to do, even though it could now do something better. 

My daily spiritual exercise is the attendance of mass and Eucharistic adoration at St Paul’s.  It is a demand, yet flexibility exist.  If I break my leg.  I must tend to my broken leg, missing mass and adoration without anxiety.  I may feel sorrow, yet not stress out about the matter.  If my work schedules me for first shift, I am obedient to work, again missing mass with no consternation, altering plans to attend an evening mass.  Doing something better is a more difficult discernment.  I place a session with Dr. Nichta in that category, again altering plans so an earlier mass obliges.  I would also consider involvement with the Blessed Sacrament Congregation, or such properly discerned efforts within the Church.

St Francis de Sales elaborates.

First of all, I must point out two rules which must be observed if we are not to fail in this matter.  First, we should never neglect our exercises and the common norms of virtue unless to do so appears to be God’s will.  Now the will of God is indicated in two ways: through necessity or charity. 

Necessity is obvious.  The broken leg a suitable example.  Charity needs consideration.

…when we use our freedom for charity’s sake it must be without scandal or injustice.  Example: I am certain I could be more useful somewhere far from my diocese.  I must not use my freedom to follow through with this, for I would give scandal and act unjustly since my obligation is here.  Therefore, it’s a false use of freedom for married women to absent themselves from their husbands without a legitimate reason, under pretext of devotion or charity.  Our freedom must never take us away from our vocation.  On the contrary, it should make us content each with our own calling, knowing that it is God’s will that we remain in it.

This example I cherish as sublime.  Meditate upon it.

…now I want to show you a “sun” that shines more brilliantly than any of these: a really open, detached spirit who holds on to the will of God alone.  I’ve often wondered who was the most mortified of all the saints…after much reflection, I decided it was St John the Baptist.  He went into the desert at the age of five, and was aware that our Savior was born in a place very close by, maybe two or three days’ journey away.  God only knows how much his heart, which had been moved to love his Savior from the time he was still in his mother’s womb, would have wanted to enjoy the Lord’s sweet presence!  Yet, he spent twenty-five years in the desert, without once coming to see Him; then leaving the desert, he went about catechizing without going to visit the Lord, but waited for the Lord to come to him.  Afterward, having baptized Him, he didn’t follow him but stayed behind to do his appointed work.  What mortification!  To be so close to his Savior and not to see Him!  To have Him so near and not to enjoy His presence! (Not to be recognized as an apostle!)  Isn’t this having one’s spirit completely detached, bound to nothing, not even to God, in order to do His will and serve Him; to leave God for God, and to not love God so as to love Him better?  –St Francis de Sales

St Francis de Sales

St Francis de Sales

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Reposing within the herd

Viewed an interesting movie ‘Au Hasard Balthazar” by the French master Robert Bresson–Diary of a Country Priest and The Trial of Joan of Arc.  Simple images and ideas revolving around being human within a community suffering the loss of faith, the existence of the seven deadly sins, and eventually the disintegration of individuals involved in futile, frustrating, manipulative selfish relationships.  Balthazar, a name originating with the gift-bearing magi, is a donkey, a heart-warming symbol of faith, hope, and charity.  Marie, the central figure, as a child begs her father to purchase the baby donkey.  The animal is adorable with infant fur, awkward legs, and a bashful nursing nature.  The beast of burden is vulnerability and innocence embodied.  The children possessing a zest for life baptize their darling donkey in a staged sacred ceremony, naming their wonder Balthazar.  As the years pass, everyone suffers.  Marie becomes a complicated angst filled young woman, unable to love, attached to wayward social activity, losing respect for her father, a man of no solutions in his demand for honor while enduring stubborn aimless poverty–suffering impurely through pride,  Balthazar is Marie’s only outlet for love.  The final scene, accompanied by a Schubert sonata, presents the death of Balthazar.  The delinquent Gerard torturing and deviously influencing Marie throughout the film, absconds with Balthazar, utilizing the donkey for criminal activity. Definitive, once the spoiled Gerard receives a portable hand radio and motorbike loud French rock-n-roll follows him throughout the film.  Whenever we watch Gerard we hear the influence of pop culture.  During the black market smuggling diabolical, Balthazar is shot.  Gerard and accomplices flee into the darkness of a surrounding forest.  Balthazar’s death is a black and white meditative dance upon the screen as a flock of sheep, guide dogs, and a shepherd venture upon his dying.  Upon the big screen, as intended to be seen, the scene is mesmerizing in beauty juxtaposed to all the preceding confusion and travesties.

Today’s reading fit nicely into the theme of the herd, expanding beyond to the duty of shepherds.

Woe to the shepherds who mislead and scatter the flock of My pasture…You have scattered my sheep and driven them away. You have not cared for them, but I will take care to punish your evil deeds. I myself will gather the remnant of my flock from all the lands to which I have driven them and bring them back to their meadow; there they shall increase and multiply. I will appoint shepherds for them who will shepherd them so that they need no longer fear and tremble, and none shall be missing… —Jeremiah 2

The LORD is my shepherd, there is nothing I shall want.  —Psalm 23

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Jul172015

Friday exhaustion centering upon maturity

Turnaround shift, second to first, sleeping past midnight up by five, I am exhausted. Drove through rush hour traffic to get across town to join the Mercedarains in prayer and early evening mass. Enjoying Cleveland Heights, yet I still have days when city driving severely drains me. It was nice to hear Father Justin say mass, to receive communion from him. It seems there are a couple new Mercedarain novices. May God bless the order so that it flourishes with men of the quality of Father Richard and Father Justin. August 1st will be my next event with the Congregation of the Blessed Sacrament, although I am tentatively planning a Sunday vigil mass at St Paschal Baylon tomorrow. The next couple weeks will be dedicated to physical conditioning, energy preservation. I am in the fifth day of a Master Cleanse fast, feeling clearheaded and clean, resting internal organs, while cleansing and flushing. I have spoken with a woman in Cleveland Heights, certified and impressive in credentials who provides colon hydrotherapy. If you visit her site notice the extensive history of the practice. It was common in 17th century Parisian communities. Origins dating back to the Egyptians. On the natural level, detoxing my body, cleansing thoroughly, increasing physical activity, is aimed at supplying greater energy. Everything focuses upon greater efficacy in prayer. All is done for maximizing energy in the pursuit of God. An increase in energy to sit still in optimum clarity.

Maturity is a theme prominent in my spiritual focus right now. Espousing, defining through an expressive endeavor, the idea of fullness intertwines with maturity. Enlightenment comes through the idea of the Church possessing the fullness of truth. Other ways of thinking are not wrong. The Church simply offers the fullness of truth. Within there is a vital concept. My week with the Sisters of Mercy deepened my faith on so many levels. It is important to understand I have approached life with a harsh conservative political and religious viewpoint. Even in silence, I was opinionated and brash, arrogant in attack,a compare and contrast mentality–ways that can only impede the receiving and giving of Godly love. A priest, essential to my formation, one I abode with, rallied against the Sister of Mercy in argument, becoming agitated and animated in denouncing their ways. The fact the sisters would bend to the whims of popular culture, blowing with the wind of an intellectual cultural rebellion occurring in the 70s by abandoning their habits was unacceptable. I am pleased with the insight God applied to my faith. I marvel at the fact I so naturally, simply, humbly, and sincerely enjoyed a wonderful retreat with the Sisters of Mercy.

When I approached Sister regarding political matters, church related or secular, she stressed her conviction of advancing beyond a dualistic state of mind. She did not want to engage in details. The idea that confrontation must be pursued in regards to varying approaches of faith and life was a mindset I had to detach from. It is not that it is an evil mindset rather it hinders maturity. I want to be holy not right. Listening to Pope Francis’s book ‘The Church of Mercy’ he presents the idea of an open church, stressing the stagnancy of a closed church. It reminds me of commentary I heard on the mass ad orientem, traditional Latin mass conducted with the priest facing the Eucharist. The idea was offered that in the Novus Ordo mass, the modern mass, versus popullum—priest facing the congregation, a closed circuit is created. Closed conditions in regards to the priest and congregation talking to one another. The focus of the priest is upon the people.  The focus of the people is upon the priest. In the traditional, Tridentine Mass, the Most Holy Sacrifice of the Mass everyone is opened to the Eucharist. Everyone is facing, and all attention, is upon the Eucharist. The priest is a leader. A Shepherd guiding the flock to the True Shepherd embodied within the Eucharist.

Pope Francis elaborated upon the idea of closing of faith by becoming focused upon one another, and socializing only with those we agree with, befriending only those who bolster our opinions and pride. Interacting with others based upon sweet consolations. As profound as the Tridentine Mass is it must be kept in mind that within all mysteries there is irony. I am convinced you can also find the closing off of the church amidst such a solemn celebration. Elitism arises, a congregation isolating themselves, needing to think of themselves as superior, talking only amongst themselves, if they are even speaking to one another. Within a mass that in theory opens the faith, there must also be recognized the tendency for the closing off the faith. Scrupulosity is a vice hungry to devour those seeking to devout their lives to spiritual enrichment. Once again, Sister’s idea of embracing a lack of duplicity is important. Maturity, the fullness of faith is my aim. A person dedicating their life to a concentration upon faith is not becoming superior. They are not elevating themselves. Rather they are coming into the fullness of being authentically human with, though, and in Christ. The Church is so kind and generous in offering us the saints as examples of lives lived in fullness. I was stunned to come across words of St Jane Frances de Chantal mimicking almost identically the words of Henry Suso. A moment of honesty. I am exhausted, struggling to find the quote. Basically, filled with the Holy Spirit, she states in accord with Blessed Henry: We must be willingly to cease loving God in order to love him greater. We must not force our ways onto God, attempting to snare him into our conception of love. We must passively allow God to act upon us, to fill us with a greater love beyond our knowing. Anyway, here are other words of St Jane de Chantal, ones that interposed themselves upon my attention.

What God, in His goodness, asks of you is not this excessive zeal which has reduced you to your present condition, but calm, peaceful uselessness, a resting near Him with no special attention or action of the understanding or will except a few words of love, or of faithful, simple surrender, spoken softly, effortlessly, without the least desire to find consolation or satisfaction in them.

70mass

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Jul102015

Dona nobis pacem Domine

Broke the retreat, driving to Temperance, Michigan to attend a mass of intention for my deceased father. The mass was held at Our Lady of Mount Carmel church, over sixty people in attendance, a sublime Rosary and Divine Mercy before mass. A half dozen young mothers with a plenitude of children, I speculate a home schooling group, amongst the gathered. The mass accented my retreat orantly. Severe traffic congestion at the junction of the turnpike and interstates two-eighty caused for an unexpected delay, frustration avoided through established disposition, back roads endeavored. I longed for the retreat, grateful to return after brunch with family and friends. Driving apprehension emerged as I realized the retreat would be ending Sunday. I refused the negativity, seizing the moment. I thought of yesterday’s fond reflection upon my days with Father David Mary, the religious life, set apart in contemplation, visits and stays at Trappist monasteries. The life appeals. This week has been splendid. I recall a friend from Toledo who could not understand what I would do during my monastic sojourns–also people during the tour of the Benedictine monastery, St Andrews, imploring what the brothers did with all their time. I know what they do, and I am jealous. Thinking of the matter, a simple hackneyed poem came to mind.

Satisfied, I will sit still.
Watching pine trees grow in the wind,
Smelling the pungent sweet scent of pine needles.
The dampness touching all things.
Feeling the sun warming my face.
Hearing song sparrows nervously whistle.
A crow aggressively cawing.
Squirrels wrestling and scattering.
Silence within.
Tasting my aging breath.
It is not a declaration.
It is not a concept.
It is not an assertion.
It is not a poetic expression.
It is a conscious act of formation.
A being with God.

To sit aware, opening the senses, is enough. It is the path less traveled, a path of one who is awake, knowing who he is and who God is. I am convinced I could become whole–full within the Trinity, the Church, and Mary–a life of prayer and refining awareness, settling on into death within such a life. All other appetites and affections have been properly silenced. Marriage appeals, yet I embrace this retreat, unwilling and unable to make definitive decisions or discern drastic changes regarding the future. A conviction is affirmed. The pursuit of faith, immersion within prayer, is my solace. There is no place to go. There is no place else I would rather be. I also received a foot and calf massage. A quality amiable massage therapist visiting today. That was nice.

That is it. No more to say or quote.

Our Lady of the Pines Lourdes grotto

Our Lady of the Pines Lourdes grotto

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Jul092015

Gratefulness and poetry

Retreat center, my room far left second floor bay windows.

Retreat center, my room far left, second floor bay windows.

Thursday morning, looks like another rainy day, loving everything. Splendor in ambiance, this room supplies space to contemplate and adore. The Our Lady of the Pines website identifies my room as the McAuley Room. No wonder I’m developing such an affection for the saint. There is a stairwell next to my room, mid-travel she waits, posed in a painting (same image posted). At the bottom of the stairs stands a superb St Joseph statue. I start my day with prayers to St Joseph, seeking guidance for manliness; the embodying of strength within wisdom, gentleness, and kindness. Ascending and descending to my room: Holy Water, sign of the cross, the chapel: kneeling in prayer and a greeting to the Eucharist reposed in the Tabernacle a part. The retreat center, a mansion, was constructed in 1874 by a wealthy local jeweler Lewis Leppleman as a single family dwelling.

Last night a unique communal prayer session occurred. I saw a posting, yet when I walked by I felt hesitant, abstaining. The chapel was filled with thirty sisters, no men. I walked away content not to take part. I spoke with the night front desk clerk, attaining a multi electrical outlet strip. Walking past one of the sisters smiled in a welcoming greeting. In my room, a sense I should go to the prayer group settled in. I responded, forcing myself to go. I am a coward in presenting myself. Down the steps, I suddenly decided to act like I had no intention of going into the chapel, walking to the front lobby. Once in the lobby, registering my cowardly behavior, I consoled myself with the thought that they could not have me arrested. Once at the chapel, I held my breath, spotting an open seat by the front door. I crossed myself with Holy Water, genuflected and sat myself as inconspicuously as one can be when one is blatantly conspicuous. I blocked everything out, going into meditation, prepared for one of the sisters to tell me it was for religious sisters only. None did. I opened my eyes, feeling really awkward being the only male, plus nonreligious. I noticed several chuckling, finding amusement in my distress. One warm smile forthrightly announced welcome before standing and leading the prayer session. It was interesting, a meditation upon our hands. The thought of my hands. Where my hands have been.  What they have touched. What they have created. What they have destroyed. What they have loved. Through my hands many things have been done. My hands as a baby, soft and supple. The thought of the hands of my friend Janet, now ninety-six preparing for an end. The thought of the healing hands of Christ. ‘The Kingdom of God is at hand’.

There are intentional thoughts, arguments, I dismiss, refuse to address. The sisters are taking me in, having welcomed me spiritually. Deeply within their silence, I find peace. I am grateful and pleased. God is showing me something. I needed their maturity. Their refined formation. Their years of service. Their silence. See how nature–trees, flowers, grass–grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence…We need silence to be able to touch souls (Blessed Mother Teresa). It is not a concept, something to tell others. It is reality.

I thought of Father David Mary, my time with him in the friary, almost two years of acquaintance. Those who know me know I have whined about Father David Mary. Let’s be clear his community is authentic, mature formation. He is a priest of power and might, wielding an effective animated message, invigorating especially for young people. Young people adore him and his friars. Softball games breakout, heated dodgeball games are waged, and a Saturday evening Sunday vigil youth mass always resounds with praise–youthful hearts raised in beating. The friar’s daily experience possesses a level of religious devotion and daily living steadfast within the Holy Spirit. They are being formed through a devout pious superior process. Few will encounter such a life. Father David Mary, his friars, and sister community of Poor Clares are heavy hitters within the Catholic Church, functioning at a spiritual level few can comprehend. It is not superior skills or intellect that elevates their daily lives. It is community service, humble devotion, continual prayer-including two daily Holy Hours, transforming fun-loving camaraderie, living detached from worldly matters, an absolute dedication to the spiritual life consecrated to the Church, an unconditional obedience to Catholicism, a striving to grow in faith, hope, and charity. Apropos words from St John of the Cross: Charity, too, causes a void in the will regarding all things, since it obliges us to love God above everything. A man has to withdraw his affection from all in order to center it wholly upon God. Christ says through St Luke: “He who does not renounce all that he possesses with his will cannot be my disciple”. (Luke 14:33) Upon this retreat, watching rain once again pelt my tremendous bay window, I realize God has blessed me once again with people functioning on a high spiritual level.

Franciscans

I determined this post would be short, trying to hold to my conviction. Other writing calls. My spiritual director and I are bonding. Daily, I meet with her for an hour. She is affirming so much, providing inspiration and guiding, challenging yet broadening, assisting in disarming. Who am I? I am Catholic to become holy. I am not Catholic to determine and enforce dogma, to impose duelistic self-will. I am not Catholic through self-love, the need to be recognized as an authority or intellectual, a searcher of social worlds to dally within; sweet consolations, reputation, and the pursuit of accolades are rejected. Something deeper draws me inward. As Father Roger declares, ‘Are you truly being transformed through your faith?’ Does my conduct draw me closer to Christ? Defining the question by what it is not. It does not ask: Do you know more? Do you write poems? Do you have the right opinions? Do you go on retreats? Do you do more? Do you go to mass more? Father Roger simply asks: Am I being transformed? My spiritual director understands my concerns; my strengths and weaknesses. My interest in poetry, prompted the suggestion I employ myself in the effort of writing Haiku poetry. Simple three line poems: first line five syllables, second line seven, and third line five. Tears come to my eyes, I worked for hours producing fifty. She touched something dear and close to my inner most being. She opened me. Strangely a quote from Crane Hart, of all places, comes to my mind: ‘One must be drenched in words, literally soaked in them, to have the right ones form themselves into the proper pattern at the right moment’.

Faith in things unseen
Beyond intellect achieve
Within God center

Hope blank memory
Unpossessed beautiful things
Await gratefully

Love avert free will
Embrace brothers and sisters
God royally reigns

Wisdom clarity
Eternal uncreated
In love resound truth

Gentleness true strength
Reign in sensitivity
Jesus’ soft touch

Chastity Christ like.
Mother Mary obedient
Joseph most chaste spouse

Balanced vigilance
Eyes present gazing intent
A white owl aware

Unknown unnamed God.
Beware man wanders hunting
Empty the ocean

Prayerful tendering
Hollow gentle persuasion
Care full infusion

Grateful spacious room
Our Lady of the Pines shines
Loving light reveal

Understanding see
Revealed, discursive thinking
Biblical teaching

Self-control discipline
Charioteer cracks the whip
Appease strong horses

A vow, a life lived
A sister’s silent intent
Christ’s majestic hand

Scripture, Mercy Seat
Old and new softly alight
Cherubim, wings touch

Francis dreamed knightly
A poor lady came weeping
A leper kissing

NOTE: For the sake of phone app viewing I was forced to format as I did. My website building skills are limited. I find little pleasure in researching or expanding my skills. I stated last week I was going to organize and expand this website, however I feel God is taking me in another direction. I am trying to spend only relevant time upon the blog.

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Jul072015

First Mass aftermath

My God, I am yours for time and eternity. Teach me to cast myself entirely into the arms of your loving Providence with a lively, unlimited confidence in your compassionate, tender pity. Grant, O most merciful Redeemer, that whatever you ordain or permit may be acceptable to me, take from my heart all painful anxiety; let nothing sadden me but sin, nothing delight me but the hope of coming to the possession of You, my God and my all, in your everlasting kingdom. Amen. –Suscipe of Mother Catherine McAuley, founder of the Sisters of Mercy

Suscipe Latin for receive. Traditionally the word Suscipe is associated with St Ignatius of Loyola, founder of the Society of Jesus, as he established his Ignatian Spiritual Exercises. Ignatian formation strives to dispose one’s soul of obstacles, ridding oneself of all disordered attachments. Once exercised, stripped down, complications and impediments removed, an empty soul can properly seek and align itself with Divine Will.

Suscipe of St Ignatius: ‘Receive, O Lord, all my liberty. Take my memory, my understanding, and my entire will. Whatsoever I have or hold, You have given me; I give it all back to You and surrender it wholly to be governed by your will. Give me only your love and your grace, and I am rich enough and ask for nothing more.’ 

Celebrated mass, surprised by the depth of the sanctity. Upon the same grounds as the marvelous retreat center is a retirement home for Sisters of Mercy nuns. The thirty-two females being spiritually directed this week, I believe, are all Sisters of Mercy nuns. Beginning this post is a quote from the founder of the Sisters of Mercy. It is received from a painting posted on the stairwell next to my room. The artwork in the retreat center and the retirement home is incredible. Mass is celebrated in the retirement home. I am allowed to walk through to attend mass. Aside from mass, it is off limits. My room is on the second floor. Across the hall is a large comfortable library. Sisters gather in the library. Directly, beneath my room is a chapel, including a tabernacle hosting the Eucharist. The Eucharist is directly below my room. I must comment on the quietness at Our Lady of the Pines. Interiorly and out of doors, it retains a depth, a prayerfulness and tangibility. I credit the populating religious, consecrated individuals focusing their energy upon spiritual discernment. During lunch, I noticed an elderly gentlemen push his walker through the dining room, exiting the room in order to eat on a patio. Already seated, I gathered my tray and followed him. Through hand signals, he welcomed me, gesturing silence. I deduced from his physical articulation he has taken a vow of silence during his retreat. His appearance and apparel makes me think he is a retired priest from the Youngstown Diocese. Together we sat upon the patio immersed in silence, a bluff in front of us, leeside a small pine forest descending to lower ground, walking paths waiting for exploration.

Back to mass, seated amongst approximately sixty religious, I felt tremendous stress. Nothing to do with them or the location. It was all about me. Concentrating upon my personal life, my experiences: past, present, and future, how could I not be filled with awful stress, anxiety and worry. I must be who I am. Brutal honesty is necessary for proper growth. Right now it is pouring down rain. Rain shellacking, I sit next to the large bay windows, rain obstructing the view of all three windows. It is appropriate. I have been attending mass at St Paul’s Shrine daily, mass and adoration, feeling the power and presence of my effort. However, it was not until mass at St Bernadine’s chapel here at Our Lady of the Pines retreat did I comprehend how much stress, anxiety; disordered emotion, thoughts, memories, and overall state of direst fills me. I could barely hold back tears, and in fact several fell out. I had to distract my mind from a younger sister’s voice directly behind me. To absorb and immerse myself within its beauty would have completely unraveled me. Two thoughts fixated during mass. Yesterday the saint of the day was St Maria Goretti. During his homily Father Phil told of Allessandro Serenelli, the man she forgave, sitting next to her mother during her canonization. The rapist and murderer of the little saint sat next to her mother during her official recognition as a saint. It may be extreme, overly dramatic, yet I identified with Allessandro at mass today. The second thought touches upon the Old Testament reading: Jacob wrestling with God, attaining a new name through the tussle, becoming Israeli, a Patriarch of God’s chosen people. The priest told of a conversation with a rabbi. The Rabbi said, ‘Christians talk of loving God. Jews talk of wrestling with God’.

Venerable Mother Catherine McAuley

Venerable Mother Catherine McAuley

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