Emily Stimpson
God’s mercy, of course, is ever-present and ever-abundant. A Year of Mercy doesn’t make God more merciful or more inclined to forgive. God can’t change. But we can ... and must. As Pope Francis explained in Misericordiae Vultus (“The Face of Mercy”), the bull of indiction that announced the Year of Mercy, “At times we are called to gaze even more attentively on mercy so that we may become a more effective sign of the Father’s action in our lives” (No. 3).
The Year of Mercy is meant to be one of those times — a season for Christians to become “stronger and more effective” witnesses to the Faith we proclaim, changed both by contemplating the depths of God’s mercy and by imitating Christ in the world today (Misericordiae Vultus, No. 3).
To help make that possible, the Holy Father used Misericordiae Vultus not only to reflect on God’s mercy but also to outline a course of action. In it, he offered a series of practical suggestions for how Catholics should celebrate the Year of Mercy ahead.
Go to confession
The Sacrament of Reconciliation is the sacrament of mercy. In the confessional, God freely offers his forgiveness to all who ask for it with a sincere heart and a genuine purpose of amendment. He requires no payment and no sacrifice; he took care of that himself long ago on Calvary. Instead, all God asks is that we show up. If we do our part, he does his.
During the Year of Mercy, Pope Francis has granted extraordinary powers to all priests to forgive sins that, in some places, are still reserved to the bishop, such as abortion. He also has called for a special time of repentance during Lent. The initiative, 24 Hours for the Lord, will place special emphasis on the Sacrament of Reconciliation in dioceses around the world.
But the confessional isn’t just for those who’ve been involved with an abortion. The confessional is for every person who has broken faith with God in some way — who has yelled at their spouse, gossiped about a neighbor, skipped Mass on Sunday or wasted time at work. Which is to say, the confessional is for all of us.
We don’t need to wait until Lent to pay it a visit. Every week, in almost every parish across America, priests sit in those confessionals, waiting for us to come and tell God that we’re sorry. They know that when we do, we will, in the words of Pope Francis, “touch the grandeur of God’s mercy with [our] own hands” and experience “true interior peace” (Misericordiae Vultus, No. 17).
Read conversion stories
In the late third century, St. Augustine penned the first known spiritual autobiography, “Confessions.” The book told of the recently ordained Bishop of Hippo’s journey from unbelief to belief, from lust to chastity, and from love of self to love of God. The tale captivated readers then, just as it captivates readers now. It also set the mold for all similar stories of conversion that would follow.
Through the centuries, conversion stories have challenged, comforted and encouraged millions of men and women on their journey to God. They offer enduring and concrete examples of God’s mercy in the lives of individual believers. They remind us that no one is beyond the reach of God’s mercy, and they help us better understand our personal journey to holiness.
Above all, conversion stories witness to the fact that we all are called to conversion. Whether we were born and raised Catholic or not, every person must reject the world and give their heart to the Lord. Without choosing Christ once and then repeatedly thereafter — there can be no discipleship. There can be no living faith.
For those reasons and more, conversion stories are central to the forthcoming 24 Hours for the Lord initiative. During that time, and throughout the Year of Mercy, the Church wants the faithful to revisit famous converts of days past as well as familiarize themselves with more recent converts. Their testimonies of grace offer us guidance in how to give our own testimony of grace. They also, offer us, as Pope Francis wrote, “a new chance to look at [ourselves], convert, and believe” (Misericordiae Vultus, No. 21).
Perform works of mercy
God call us to be “doers of the word and not hearers only” (Jas 1:22). This year and always, being a “doer” entails performing works of mercy, both corporal and spiritual.
The corporal works of mercy involve caring for the bodies and material needs of others: feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, clothing the naked, welcoming the stranger, healing the sick, visiting the imprisoned and burying the dead.
The spiritual works of mercy involve caring for souls and the spiritual welfare of our fellow man: counseling the doubtful, instructing the ignorant, admonishing sinners, comforting the afflicted, forgiving offences, bearing wrongs patiently and praying for the living and the dead.
Jesus, Pope Francis explained, “introduces us to these works of mercy in his preaching, so that we can know whether or not we are living as his disciples” (Misericordiae Vultus, No. 15).
He also tells us that we will be judged on how we cared for the least of our brothers and sisters (Mt 25:34-46).
But performing works of mercy doesn’t only offer us an escape plan from “eternal punishment”; it also helps us understand mercy from the inside. It reawakens our conscience, “too often grown dull,” and helps us learn to see our own spiritual poverty in the faces of the materially and spiritually poor (Misericordiae Vultus, No. 15).
Accordingly, throughout this Year of Mercy, the Holy Father asks us to heed Christ’s words and reach out to those in need. Practically speaking, that means we can donate food to a food pantry and clothes to the Society of St. Vincent de Paul. We can invite a new family in town to supper and donate our spare change to a nonprofit that provides children in Africa with clean water. We can also have Masses said for departed friends and loved ones, visit the sick and the dying in nursing homes or hospitals, offer up Rosaries for the conversion of family members who have lost the Faith, and just hold our tongues (and tempers) the next time someone cuts us off in traffic.
Go on pilgrimage
Mercy isn’t free. We always pay for it. Not with money, but with effort. Mercy, wrote Pope Francis, requires “dedication and sacrifice”; it requires that we reject sin, selfishness and destructive desires (Misericordiae Vultus, No. 14). In effect, it requires doing things God’s way, not our way. Thanks to our fallen natures, that’s rarely easy. But, since the most ancient of times, the Church has recommended that those seeking mercy go on pilgrimage, both to better understand what mercy requires and as a means of developing the discipline necessary to walk in God’s ways.
As the pope explained, when we travel to a sacred place, we remember “Life itself is a pilgrimage, and the human being is a viator, a pilgrim traveling along the road, making his way to the desired destination.” We also come to see mercy not as a cheap handout but rather as a priceless gift, which cost Christ his life, and is a “goal to reach” (Misericordiae Vultus, No. 14).
For innumerable men and women throughout the ages, this experience of pilgrimage — to Rome and Jerusalem, Fatima and Lourdes, national basilicas and local shrines — has been an occasion of conversion and grace. It has offered them an opportunity to atone for sins, ask for forgiveness and draw closer to the Lord.
For this reason, during the Year of Mercy, the Church invites all believers to make a pilgrimage, whether to a nearby cathedral or to far away sacred ground, so that, while on pilgrimage, we might “find the strength to embrace God’s mercy and dedicate ourselves to being merciful with others as the Father has been with us” (Misericordiae Vultus, No. 14).
Walk through a Holy Door
For at least 500 hundred years, Holy Doors and Jubilees have gone hand in hand.
During this Jubilee of Mercy, however, Holy Doors will take on an unprecedented significance. Not only will the Holy Doors in Rome open for pilgrims, but Pope Francis also has asked that every cathedral and basilica around the world set up a similar door, a Door of Mercy.
The tradition of Holy Doors dates back to the early 15th century, when Pope Martin V declared that one of the doors in the Basilica of St. John Lateran could only be opened during a jubilee year.
By the end of the century, all the major basilicas in Rome had similar Holy Doors, set aside for jubilee years.
The doors themselves symbolize Christ, who called himself “the gate” to eternal life (Jn 10:9). For pilgrims, to walk through the Holy Doors is to walk, in spirit, from sin to grace and from death to life, acknowledging Christ as the only way to the Father.
During this Year of Mercy, all the Holy Doors in Rome and across Europe will be flung open. Everyone who walks through them will have the opportunity to obtain a plenary indulgence for themselves or a departed loved one. For those who can’t travel across an ocean, the same graces will be available in any local cathedral or shrine with a “Door of Mercy,” where, Pope Francis said, “anyone who enters will experience the love of God who consoles, pardons, and instills hope” (Misericordiae Vultus, No. 3).
Obtain indulgences
When most people hear the word “indulgences,” they think of Martin Luther, the Protestant Reformation and the few bad apples who, in the late Middle Ages, promised people a quick escape from purgatory in exchange for generous charitable donations.
But indulgences are so much more than their checkered medieval history suggests. They are an ongoing manifestation of God’s mercy in the world, freeing us “from every residue left by the consequences of sin,” and enabling us to “act with charity” and “grow in love” (Misericordiae Vultus, No. 22).
As the Church understands it, through the centuries, by God’s grace, holy men and women have done good works. They’ve prayed, suffered, sacrificed and served. And the more they’ve done that — the more they’ve responded to God’s grace with faithful, loving obedience — the more grace God has poured out upon them.
Through this loving, fruitful exchange of grace and good works, something like an excess of merit and grace builds up. We call this excess “The Treasury of the Saints.” It is, in a sense, like a bank account of graced merit, which the rest of us can draw upon in order to escape temporal punishment for our sins.
Or, as Pope Francis put it, “[the saints’] holiness comes to the aid of our weakness in a way that enables the Church, with her maternal prayers and her way of life, to fortify the weakness of some with the strength of others” (Misericordiae Vultus, No. 22).
That aid can be plenary (meaning full remission from temporal punishment for sin), or just partial, and we can obtain it for both departed loved ones and for ourselves. As for how we go about obtaining it, there are many ways: walking through the Holy Doors, going on pilgrimages, even praying the Rosary and reading Sacred Scripture.
In every case, however, the conditions for obtaining an indulgence remain the same: complete detachment from sin, reception of the Eucharist, making a good confession that day or on a proximate day, praying for the intentions of the pope and being in a state of grace by the time the work for the indulgence is complete.
Contemplate God’s mercy in Scripture
Sacred Scripture is both the word of God and the story of God in time. It traces the history of God’s dealings with men, recalling his merciful provisions for humanity, from Eden to Calvary and beyond. God’s mercy cannot be understood apart from the Bible. Which is why Pope Francis has called upon the faithful to ponder its pages more closely this coming year, especially during the Lenten season.
“How many pages of Sacred Scripture are appropriate for meditation during the weeks of Lent to help us rediscover the merciful face of the Father!” the Holy Father asked (Misericordiae Vultus, No. 17). In Misericoriae Vultus, Francis pointed specifically to the prophets Micah and Isaiah as starting points for that meditation. But the psalms, which are ancient Israel’s songs of prayer, praise and thanksgiving, also offer almost endless insights into God’s mercy, as does the entire history of ancient Israel, from Genesis through Maccabees.
During Lent, or throughout the year, heeding the Holy Father’s advice to contemplate God’s mercy in Scripture is as simple as reading a chapter from the Bible each morning, praying the Divine Office with the Church or praying an abbreviated form of it with the Magnificat. Bible studies, like the St. Paul Center’s Journey Through Scripture and Ascension Press’s Bible Timeline, or books like Father Mitch Pacwa’s “Mercy: A Bible Study Guide for Catholics” (OSV, $9.95), also offer insights into God’s mercy through familiarizing people with the story of salvation history, while Pope Benedict XVI’s trilogy on Jesus of Nazareth can serve as a guide to seeing God’s mercy incarnated in the face of Christ.
Ernest E. Larkin, O.Carm.
“We need no wings to go in search of God, but have only to find a place where we can be alone and look upon Him present within us.” These words were written by St. Teresa of Avila in her book The Way of Perfection.
St. Teresa of Avila learned as a small child that one had to die in order to see God. Little Teresa wanted to see God. Practical and courageous by temperament she devised a scheme. She and her brother, Rodrigo, would go to the land of the Moors. There they would surely be martyred and Heaven would receive them. Very early one morning the two children stole away from their home and crossed the bridge leading out of Avila. But the plan soon ran into trouble. An uncle who happened to be entering Avila at the time, met the children, heard their fantastic plan and unceremoniously returned them to their parental dwelling.
Later on in life St. Teresa realized that one does not have to die to see God. “We need no wings to go in search of Him,” she wrote, “but have only to find a place where we can be alone and look upon Him present within us.”
These words of the saint contain three essential steps for fruitful mental prayer.
First, we must be searching for God; second, we must be willing to be alone with Him, and third, we need but look upon Our Lord Who is present within us.
At first sight, this advice might seem too general or too obvious to be of practical help in mental prayer, but the three steps go to the heart of the matter. St. Teresa is the antidote for those who can’t see the forest for the trees. With a woman’s intuition she cuts through the accidental and points out the essential conditions for mental prayer. Let us look at each of these principles in some detail.
First, we must be searching for God.
If God is just a name, if His love for us is an abstract truth which we believe but do not realize, we will hardly search for Him.
Mental prayer is too difficult for that. It will lack appeal. If, on the other hand, we are convinced that God is in Teresa’s words “a better prize than any earthly love,” if we realize that we actually have within us something incomparably more precious than anything we see outside, then we will desire to enter within ourselves and to seek God. When we are convinced that He cares for us and waits for us, we will have the security and the courage to love Him in return.
Mental prayer makes no sense to the loveless soul. Other prayers, for example, petitions or thanksgiving, even liturgical worship, can be said with little or no conscious love of God. Not so mental prayer. It is by definition in Teresa’s view nothing but friendly conversation with Him Who we know loves us. “The important thing in mental prayer,” she says, “is not to think much but to love much.” Mental prayer becomes passable when we realize the gift of God dwelling within our soul. Referring to her earlier years in religious life, St. Teresa wrote these regretful words, “I think that if I had understood then as I do now that this great King really dwells within a little palace of my soul, I should not have left Him alone so often and never allowed his dwelling place to get so dirty.” Mental prayer, you see, is nothing but our side of friendship with God—our “yes” to God’s call and invitation
This leads us to the second principle of St. Teresa’s advice. The willingness to spend time alone with God. For this saint, prayer is the way of perfection, the door to God’s great favors. “Once this door is closed,” she writes, “I do not see how He will bestow His favors
for though He may wish to take His delight in the soul and give the soul delight, there is no way for Him to do so since He must have it alone and pure and desirous of receiving His favors.” Teresa herself closed this door for one year of her life, during the long 18-year period of mediocrity which she describes as a struggle to reconcile these two contradictory things: the life of the spirit and the pleasures of the senses.
Teresa wanted God, but at the same time she was unwilling to give up certain little selfish habits, petty attachments that were displeasing to God. Giving up mental prayer was not the answer to this problem. It was almost a fatal mistake because this way is the only way to victory over ourselves and surrender to God. At the time she excused herself from prayer on the plea of ill health, but in her heart she knew the dishonesty of this reason. “One needs no bodily strength for mental prayer,” she wrote later, “but only love and the formation of a habit.”
Love, as we have seen, is the root. But let us be sure we know what this love is. Too many confuse being loved with love itself. Love is outgoing, unselfish, active. It means giving rather than self-seeking. It strives to please rather than be pleased. Listen again to St. Teresa: “Perhaps we do not know what love is. It would not surprise me, for love consists not in the extent of our own happiness, but in the firmness of our determination to please God in everything.” This kind of love moves us to spend time alone with God, not for what we get out of it, but for what we can put into it. We don’t go to mental prayer to feel good or enjoy a spiritual experience. These are secondary aspects at best. We go to protest our desire to accept God’s love, to allow Him to take over in our lives.
It is accidental whether we are delighted with consolation or tortured by dryness and desolation, whether holy thoughts and affections pour out of our hearts, or our minds are dull, sterile and unproductive.
Some of the best prayers are said when we don’t feel like praying, when we are tired and sluggish or burdened with self-pity and depression. When we are heavy, so opaque, so closed in on ourselves that only a heroic effort of our will keeps us kneeling at our prayer. It is this will to be alone with God and to talk with Him that distinguishes true prayer from delusion, because this will is the love of God.
Such love forms the habit of prayer. It makes us faithful to mental prayer day in and day out, in times of fervor as in times of coldness. It makes us choose God rather than ourselves outside prayer as well as in prayer, a choice that will be evident in our acts of fraternal charity, generosity, humility. This attachment to God and detachment from ourselves will measure the perfection of our prayer. As our life goes, so goes our prayer, and as our prayers, our life. We pray as well as we live and we live as well as we pray.
If we would improve then, where do we begin? Where shall we start? St. Teresa gives us the answer. It is the same answer that Our Lord gave in the Gospels: Perseverance, faithfulness, the formation of a habit. She would heartily endorse, I am sure, this thought of Dom Chapman: “If you want to pray well, then pray much. If you don’t pray much at least pray regularly and you will pray well.”
But one practical question remains. How? How shall I go about making mental prayer?
St. Teresa’s third principle is the answer. Simply look upon God present within your soul. The saint repeats this suggestion in many different ways. We are to fix our mind on the person of God, cultivate the sense of His Presence, have the realization of Whom we are addressing. This is her secret. You will find no new method of mental prayer in St. Teresa, no structuring of preludes and points. She is silent on these matters not because she is against them, but because she
reduces mental prayer to its simplest terms.
To certain nuns of her convent who objected that mental prayer was beyond their ability she wrote: “I am not asking you now to think of Him or to form numerous conceptions of Him, or to make long and subtle meditations with your understanding. I am asking only to look at Him.” It is as simple as that.
“Beginners,” she says, “do well to form an appealing image of Christ in His Sacred Humanity. They should picture Him within themselves in some mystery of His life, for example, the Christ of the agony or the Risen Savior in His glorified Body. Once they are conscious of Our Lord’s presence within their souls they need only look upon Him and conversation will follow. This friendly conversation will not be much thinking but much loving, not a torrent of words, much less a strained prepared speech, but rather a relaxed conversation with moments of silence as there must be between friends.”
This is the way St. Teresa prayed from the beginning. She simply gave her full attention to the Divine Guest within her soul and let her thoughts and sentiments take their course. At times she would console Our Lord for His suffering. At other times rejoice with Him in His Resurrection Sometimes her prayer would be affective, that is, made up of numerous acts of faith and hope and charity, humility and the other virtues. Other times it was contemplative. It was a simple lingering look of love that had the very feminine quality of blissful admiration.
But perhaps this way of prayer does not appeal to you. Such prayer, you may say, is all well and good for contemplatives, but I need a more active prayer, a more busy prayer. I must think through a mystery of Faith, make certain definite acts of my mind, work up concrete resolutions. I must follow a methodical meditation or I am doomed at prayer. To this I say well and good. Each one of us must pray the way God gives him to pray, but does not this simplified method of
St. Teresa meet the real needs of many? Are there not many among you who cannot meditate but who can pray?
In any case, St. Teresa’s teaching reminds all of us of what is truly essential in prayer, especially that it is a person-to-person contact between intimate loving friends. St. Teresa did in fact envy those who could meditate. She saw the value of extended reflections and dynamic dramatization on events of Our Lord’s life. She well knew that thoughts and images rouse up the will and incite lively sentiments of the virtues, but at the same time she knew that the essence of mental prayer lies on a deeper level than our own reflections and thinking, that real prayer exists when one strives to make contact with God whatever success is had, and that the measure of prayer’s perfection is the love that inspires it. And so St. Teresa prayed the only way she could, suffering the increased difficulties that were bound to come from the fact that the imagination, the memory and the intellect were not given a methodical plan of action.
She would use supports wherever she could find them. In books, for example, or in the beauties of nature, even in holy cards. Books were her standby. She never began mental prayer without some reading to collect her thoughts and put herself in the atmosphere of prayer. She returned to the book as often as needed in the course of the prayer. Daily spiritual reading assumed special importance because of the relative lack of reflection at prayer itself. Vocal prayers, like the Our Father, said slowly and with an effort to “taste” each phrase were also employed to express her love of God. But the starting point and the way to her whole system lay simply in looking at the Lord present in her soul.
In the beginning His Presence would be recognized by an act of faith expressed and made graphic in the dress of a picture of Our Lord. With growth in the spiritual life, in faithand hope and charity, and hence in prayer itself, the sense of His Presence would become more profound, more realized, more experiential. At all times this loving union with the Indwelling God was the immediate goal of her prayer. It should be your goal at prayer, and you will more quickly~ and more surely attain this union with God if you take to heart the discovery of St. Teresa of Avila:
“We need no wings to go in search of Him, but have only to find a place where we can be alone and look upon Him present within us.”
The Elective Chapter of the Carmelite Monastery of Sutri, Italy, was held 11 February 2016. The following were elected:
- Prioress: Sr. M. Daniela Solustri, O.Carm.
- 1st Councilor: Sr. M. Martina Simeone, O.Carm.
- 2nd Councilor: Sr. M. Francesca Romana Gargano, O.Carm.
- Director of Novices: Sr. M. Daniela Solustri, O.Carm.
- Treasurer: Sr. M. Martina Simeone, O.Carm.
- Sacristan: Sr. M. Elisabetta De Bellis, O.Carm.
The Assembly of the Federal Leaders and Representatives of Non-federated Monasteries
Written byTaking advantage of the congress of federal leaders of all the religious orders, organised by the Congregation for Consecrated Life, at the end of the year dedicated to the consecrated life, the five Carmelite federal leaders (3 from Spain, I from the Philippines and 1 from Italy), along with the coordinator of the monasteries in Brazil and representatives of monasteries in the Caribbean and the U.S.A. were invited by the Delegate General to a meeting that was held from the 3rd to the 5th of February at St. Albert’s International Centre (CISA) in Rome. This assembly was first of all an occasion for getting to know all about the federations and the monasteries outside the federations, and then to promote communication and communion between the nuns themselves and between the monasteries and the rest of the Carmelite Family. In this context, the proposals put forward by the Secretariat for Nuns and presented by Mother Ma. Elena Tolentino (BUR) (see citoc-online 112/2014) were further developed. The 15 participants also shared their thoughts about what emerged from the Vatican congress, beginning with a report on the event given by Mother Martina Simeone (SUT).
Two further moments of great interest were the participation of the Postulator General, Giovanna Brizi, and of the Prior General, Fernando Millán Romeral, O.Carm. The Postulator General spoke about the causes of nuns underway at this time and the procedure that has to be followed if there is a desire to introduce a new cause. The Prior General shared an amount of information regarding a number of topics, events and initiatives within the Order, and concluded by encouraging the nuns to continue on this path towards greater communion. As a result of the exchanges two important decisions were taken: the holding of the assembly of federal leaders and representatives of non-federated monasteries every three years, and a mode of procedure for the updating of the nuns’ constitutions.
At the end of the meeting, the Prior General made a presentation to the Prior of CISA Míceál O’Neill, O.Carm of the type-writer that belonged to Fr. Bartolomé Xiberta O.Carm. a candidate for beatification, with which Xiberta wrote his great theological works and hundreds of letters to Carmelite nuns.
EWTN and Rev. William.
Lent is the forty day period before Easter, excluding Sundays, which begins on Ash Wednesday and ends on Holy Saturday (the day before Easter Sunday). [This traditional ennumeration does not precisely coincide with the calendar according to the liturgical reform. In order to give special prominence to the Sacred Triduum (Mass of the Lord's Supper, Good Friday, Easter Vigil) the current calendar counts Lent as only from Ash Wednesday to Holy Thursday, up to the Mass of the Lord's Supper. Even so, Lenten practices are properly maintained up to the Easter Vigil, excluding Sundays, as before.]
History of Lent
Since the earliest times of the Church, there is evidence of some kind of Lenten preparation for Easter. Lent becomes more regularized after the legalization of Christianity in A.D. 313. The Council of Nicea (325), in its disciplinary canons, noted that two provincial synods should be held each year, "one before the 40 days of Lent." Pope St. Leo (d. 461) preached that the faithful must "fulfill with their fasts the Apostolic institution of the 40 days," again noting the apostolic origins of Lent. One can safely conclude that by the end of the fourth century, the 40-day period of Easter preparation known as Lent existed, and that prayer and fasting constituted its primary spiritual exercises.
Of course, the number "40" has always had special spiritual significance regarding preparation. On Mount Sinai, preparing to receive the Ten Commandments, "Moses stayed there with the Lord for 40 days and 40 nights, without eating any food or drinking any water" (Ex 34:28). Elijah walked "40 days and 40 nights" to the mountain of the Lord, Mount Horeb (another name for Sinai) (I Kgs 19:8). Most importantly, Jesus fasted and prayed for "40 days and 40 nights" in the desert before He began His public ministry (Mt 4:2).
Once the 40 days of Lent were established, the next development concerned how much fasting was to be done. In Jerusalem, for instance, people fasted for 40 days, Monday through Friday, but not on Saturday or Sunday, thereby making Lent last for eight weeks. In Rome and in the West, people fasted for six weeks, Monday through Saturday, thereby making Lent last for six weeks. Eventually, the practice prevailed of fasting for six days a week over the course of six weeks, and Ash Wednesday was instituted to bring the number of fast days before Easter to 40. The rules of fasting varied. First, some areas of the Church abstained from all forms of meat and animal products, while others made exceptions for food like fish. For example, Pope St. Gregory (d. 604), writing to St. Augustine of Canterbury, issued the following rule: "We abstain from flesh, meat, and from all things that come from flesh, as milk, cheese and eggs."
Over the years, modifications have been made to the Lenten observances, making our practices not only simple but also easy. Ash Wednesday still marks the beginning of Lent, which lasts for 40 days, not including Sundays. The present fasting and abstinence laws are very simple: On Ash Wednesday and Good Friday, the faithful fast (having only one full meal a day and smaller snacks to keep up one's strength) and abstain from meat; on the other Fridays of Lent, the faithful abstain from meat. People are still encouraged "to give up something" for Lent as a sacrifice. (An interesting note is that technically on Sundays and solemnities like St. Joseph's Day (March 19) and the Annunciation (March 25), one is exempt and can partake of whatever has been offered up for Lent.
http://www.catholic.org
Ash Wednesday is one of the most popular and important holy days in the liturgical calendar. Ash Wednesday opens Lent, a season of fasting and prayer.
Ash Wednesday takes place 46 days before Easter Sunday, and is cheifly observed by Catholics, although many other Christians observe it too.
Ash Wednesday comes from the ancient Jewish tradition of penance and fasting. The practice includes the wearing of ashes on the head. The ashes symbolize the dust from which God made us. As the priest applies the ashes to a person's forehead, he speaks the words: "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."
Alternatively, the priest may speak the words, "Repent and believe in the Gospel."
Ashes also symbolize grief, in this case, grief that we have sinned and caused division from God.
Writings from the Second-century Church refer to the wearing of ashes as a sign of penance.
Priests administer ashes during Mass and all are invited to accept the ashes as a visible symbol of penance. Even non-Christians and the excommunicated are welcome to receive the ashes. The ashes are made from blessed palm branches, taken from the previous year's palm Sunday Mass.
It is important to remember that Ash Wednesday is a day of penitential prayer and fasting. Some faithful take the rest of the day off work and remain home. It is generally inappropriate to dine out, to shop, or to go about in public after receiving the ashes. Feasting is highly inappropriate. Small children, the elderly and sick are exempt from this observance.
It is not required that a person wear the ashes for the rest of the day, and they may be washed off after Mass. However, many people keep the ashes as a reminder until the evening.
Recently, movements have developed that involve pastors distributing ashes to passersby in public places. This isn't considered taboo, but Catholics should know this practice is distinctly Protestant. Catholics should still receive ashes within the context of Mass.
In some cases, ashes may be delivered by a priest or a family member to those who are sick or shut-in.
Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of the Season of Lent. It is a season of penance, reflection, and fasting which prepares us for Christ's Resurrection on Easter Sunday, through which we attain redemption.
Why we receive the ashes
Following the example of the Nine vites, who did penance in sackcloth and ashes, our foreheads are marked with ashes to humble our hearts and reminds us that life passes away on Earth. We remember this when we are told
"Remember, Man is dust, and unto dust you shall return."
Ashes are a symbol of penance made sacramental by the blessing of the Church, and they help us develop a spirit of humility and sacrifice.
The distribution of ashes comes from a ceremony of ages past. Christians who had committed grave faults performed public penance. On Ash Wednesday, the Bishop blessed the hair shirts which they were to wear during the forty days of penance, and sprinkled over them ashes made from the palms from the previous year. Then, while the faithful recited the Seven Penitential Psalms, the penitents were turned out of the church because of their sins -- just as Adam, the first man, was turned out of Paradise because of his disobedience. The penitents did not enter the church again until Maundy Thursday after having won reconciliation by the toil of forty days' penance and sacramental absolution. Later, all Christians, whether public or secret penitents, came to receive ashes out of devotion. In earlier times, the distribution of ashes was followed by a penitential procession.
The Ashes
The ashes are made from the blessed palms used in the Palm Sunday celebration of the previous year. The ashes are christened with Holy Water and are scented by exposure to incense. While the ashes symbolize penance and contrition, they are also a reminder that God is gracious and merciful to those who call on Him with repentant hearts. His Divine mercy is of utmost importance during the season of Lent, and the Church calls on us to seek that mercy during the entire Lenten season with reflection, prayer and penance.
Pope Francis
“I desire mercy, and not sacrifice” (Mt 9:13).
The works of mercy on the road of the Jubilee
1. Mary, the image of a Church which evangelizes because she is evangelized
In the Bull of Indiction of the Extraordinary Jubilee of Mercy, I asked that “the season of Lent in this Jubilee Year be lived more intensely as a privileged moment to celebrate and experience God’s mercy” (Misericordiae Vultus, 17). By calling for an attentive listening to the word of God and encouraging the initiative “24 Hours for the Lord”, I sought to stress the primacy of prayerful listening to God’s word, especially his prophetic word. The mercy of God is a proclamation made to the world, a proclamation which each Christian is called to experience at first hand. For this reason, during the season of Lent I will send out Missionaries of Mercy as a concrete sign to everyone of God’s closeness and forgiveness.
After receiving the Good News told to her by the Archangel Gabriel, Mary, in her Magnificat, prophetically sings of the mercy whereby God chose her. The Virgin of Nazareth, betrothed to Joseph, thus becomes the perfect icon of the Church which evangelizes, for she was, and continues to be, evangelized by the Holy Spirit, who made her virginal womb fruitful. In the prophetic tradition, mercy is strictly related – even on the etymological level – to the maternal womb (rahamim) and to a generous, faithful and compassionate goodness (hesed) shown within marriage and family relationships.
2. God’s covenant with humanity: a history of mercy
The mystery of divine mercy is revealed in the history of the covenant between God and his people Israel. God shows himself ever rich in mercy, ever ready to treat his people with deep tenderness and compassion, especially at those tragic moments when infidelity ruptures the bond of the covenant, which then needs to be ratified more firmly in justice and truth. Here is a true love story, in which God plays the role of the betrayed father and husband, while Israel plays the unfaithful child and bride. These domestic images – as in the case of Hosea (cf. Hos 1-2) – show to what extent God wishes to bind himself to his people.
This love story culminates in the incarnation of God’s Son. In Christ, the Father pours forth his boundless mercy even to making him “mercy incarnate” (Misericordiae Vultus, 8). As a man, Jesus of Nazareth is a true son of Israel; he embodies that perfect hearing required of every Jew by the Shema, which today too is the heart of God’s covenant with Israel: “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God is one Lord; and you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might” (Dt 6:4-5). As the Son of God, he is the Bridegroom who does everything to win over the love of his bride, to whom he is bound by an unconditional love which becomes visible in the eternal wedding feast.
This is the very heart of the apostolic kerygma, in which divine mercy holds a central and fundamental place. It is “the beauty of the saving love of God made manifest in Jesus Christ who died and rose from the dead” (Evangelii Gaudium, 36), that first proclamation which “we must hear again and again in different ways, the one which we must announce one way or another throughout the process of catechesis, at every level and moment” (ibid., 164). Mercy “expresses God’s way of reaching out to the sinner, offering him a new chance to look at himself, convert, and believe” (Misericordiae Vultus, 21), thus restoring his relationship with him. In Jesus crucified, God shows his desire to draw near to sinners, however far they may have strayed from him. In this way he hopes to soften the hardened heart of his Bride.
3. The works of mercy
God’s mercy transforms human hearts; it enables us, through the experience of a faithful love, to become merciful in turn. In an ever new miracle, divine mercy shines forth in our lives, inspiring each of us to love our neighbour and to devote ourselves to what the Church’s tradition calls the spiritual and corporal works of mercy. These works remind us that faith finds expression in concrete everyday actions meant to help our neighbours in body and spirit: by feeding, visiting, comforting and instructing them. On such things will we be judged. For this reason, I expressed my hope that “the Christian people may reflect on the corporal and spiritual works of mercy; this will be a way to reawaken our conscience, too often grown dull in the face of poverty, and to enter more deeply into the heart of the Gospel where the poor have a special experience of God’s mercy” (ibid., 15). For in the poor, the flesh of Christ “becomes visible in the flesh of the tortured, the crushed, the scourged, the malnourished, and the exiled… to be acknowledged, touched, and cared for by us” (ibid.). It is the unprecedented and scandalous mystery of the extension in time of the suffering of the Innocent Lamb, the burning bush of gratuitous love. Before this love, we can, like Moses, take off our sandals (cf. Ex 3:5), especially when the poor are our brothers or sisters in Christ who are suffering for their faith.
In the light of this love, which is strong as death (cf. Song 8:6), the real poor are revealed as those who refuse to see themselves as such. They consider themselves rich, but they are actually the poorest of the poor. This is because they are slaves to sin, which leads them to use wealth and power not for the service of God and others, but to stifle within their hearts the profound sense that they too are only poor beggars. The greater their power and wealth, the more this blindness and deception can grow. It can even reach the point of being blind to Lazarus begging at their doorstep (cf. Lk 16:20-21). Lazarus, the poor man, is a figure of Christ, who through the poor pleads for our conversion. As such, he represents the possibility of conversion which God offers us and which we may well fail to see. Such blindness is often accompanied by the proud illusion of our own omnipotence, which reflects in a sinister way the diabolical “you will be like God” (Gen 3:5) which is the root of all sin. This illusion can likewise take social and political forms, as shown by the totalitarian systems of the twentieth century, and, in our own day, by the ideologies of monopolizing thought and technoscience, which would make God irrelevant and reduce man to raw material to be exploited. This illusion can also be seen in the sinful structures linked to a model of false development based on the idolatry of money, which leads to lack of concern for the fate of the poor on the part of wealthier individuals and societies; they close their doors, refusing even to see the poor.
For all of us, then, the season of Lent in this Jubilee Year is a favourable time to overcome our existential alienation by listening to God’s word and by practising the works of mercy. In the corporal works of mercy we touch the flesh of Christ in our brothers and sisters who need to be fed, clothed, sheltered, visited; in the spiritual works of mercy – counsel, instruction, forgiveness, admonishment and prayer – we touch more directly our own sinfulness. The corporal and spiritual works of mercy must never be separated. By touching the flesh of the crucified Jesus in the suffering, sinners can receive the gift of realizing that they too are poor and in need. By taking this path, the “proud”, the “powerful” and the “wealthy” spoken of in the Magnificat can also be embraced and undeservedly loved by the crucified Lord who died and rose for them. This love alone is the answer to that yearning for infinite happiness and love that we think we can satisfy with the idols of knowledge, power and riches. Yet the danger always remains that by a constant refusal to open the doors of their hearts to Christ who knocks on them in the poor, the proud, rich and powerful will end up condemning themselves and plunging into the eternal abyss of solitude which is Hell. The pointed words of Abraham apply to them and to all of us: “They have Moses and the prophets; let them hear them” (Lk 16:29). Such attentive listening will best prepare us to celebrate the final victory over sin and death of the Bridegroom, now risen, who desires to purify his Betrothed in expectation of his coming.
Let us not waste this season of Lent, so favourable a time for conversion! We ask this through the maternal intercession of the Virgin Mary, who, encountering the greatness of God’s mercy freely bestowed upon her, was the first to acknowledge her lowliness (cf. Lk 1:48) and to call herself the Lord’s humble servant (cf. Lk 1:38).
From the Vatican, 4 October 2015
Feast of Saint Francis of Assisi
FRANCIS
Angela Miceli Stout
These last weeks have revealed, with increasing ardor, a horror in our nation. The undercover videos showing top Planned Parenthood doctors discussing the sale of aborted baby parts for experimentation and profit have utterly made my heart break. It is so easy to feel despair, hopelessness, numbness, and incredible sadness when we see it, and even more so when we see the response of so many of our friends who defend the practice. Even the president of the organization, Cecile Richards, defended this practice saying that it is “life-saving research,” and “important and compassionate.” Such a tragedy, ending lives needlessly in a vain attempt to save others. If such an ethic seems mind-boggling to you, that is because it is. Such an ethic simply does not work because it is premised upon the killing of others. Willful destruction of life never bears good fruit.
But this post isn’t about despair in the face of such horror; rather it is a reflection on life, in particular on the life of a woman, a saint, whose feast we celebrate today. She, like us, faced unprecedented horror, but she ended up its victim. Edith Stein, St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, faced a regime that devalued human life in a manner very similar to what we have seen in these videos. Yet, Edith Stein’s life and death reveals beauty, hope, and a depth of self-sacrificial love in the face of absolute sorrow and horror. Hers is a response for us to reflect upon and emulate in our own time.
Edith was born in Breslau, Germany on October 12, 1891 to Jewish parents Siegfried and Auguste Stein. Stein’s unfinished autobiography, Life in a Jewish Family, chronicles her very normal and happy family life from her birth until 1916, which as far as she had written before the Nazis took her off to the death camps. She shows great affection for her family and friends reveals her own spiritual journey to the Church. Edith began this book in the 1930’s as an antidote to the rising anti-Semitism in her beloved Germany. She dearly loved Germany, loved its history, loved being a Germany citizen, but she was also keenly distressed at its tempestuous political situation during WWI and in the decades the followed. Edith even took a leave of absence from her university studies during WWI to serve as a nurse for wounded soldiers. To the end, she loved her German identity.
Edith’s autobiography reveals a woman who valued relationships. She loved her 7 older siblings and ministered to many of them in times of suffering. She deeply cared for her friends and had a gift to understand their characters and see each of them with the utmost charity. She deeply loved the country that would not let her work as a university professor because she was a Jew and a woman. She loved those countrymen who, in the end, sent her and so many fellow Jews to her horrific, untimely and cruel death. She understood with a profound clarity that all human persons depend on each other and are responsible for each other.
Edith was known as an extremely intelligent and gifted child. She says that although her mother was quite religious and did observe the basic tenants of Judaism, Edith and her siblings were not very religious and often ridiculed their mother’s piety. As a young teenager, Edith self-consciously decided that she did not believe in God. It was not until she went on to receive her doctorate in philosophy that Edith would find herself attracted to the Catholic faith.
Edith studied for her doctorate under the famed professor of phenomenology, Edmund Husserl. It was also here that she began to be more open to the Christian faith, as most of her friends were Christians, both Protestant and Catholic. She was a brilliant student, and all her friends and family teased her for her great passion to study with Husserl. She writes that on one New Year’s Eve before she left to study in Goettingen for her doctorate, her sisters and friends wrote a little verse about her: “Many a maiden dreams of ‘busserl’ [kisses in German], Edith, though, of naught but Husserl. In Goettingen she soon will see Husserl as real as real can be.” (Life in a Jewish Family, p. 220). This anecdote not only shows her passion for the intellectual pursuit of truth, but it reveals her humanness and the fondness of her friends and family.
While she was visiting a friend in 1921, she providentially found a copy of Teresa of Ávila’s autobiography. She read it in one sitting and immediately felt that the saint’s words in the book fulfilled the desires of her heart, and on January 1, 1922, Edith Stein became a Catholic. Although her family was far from pleased by her decision, Edith remarked that they all respected her because they knew that Edith ardently sought truth with her whole being. She was keenly aware of the impact of her conversion on those she loved. Because her mother was so devastated by her conversion to Catholicism, Edith waited 11 years to fulfill the desire of her heart. In 1933, she entered the Carmel in Cologne, Germany. She made her final vows in 1938, taking the name Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, which means “Teresa Blessed of the Cross” (or “Blessed by the Cross” in some translations.)
Her name reflects her beloved spiritual sister and fellow Carmelite, Teresa of Ávila, and her fate of sharing in the Cross of Christ in a very tangible, visible way. Edith, now Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, viewed her own life as a sacrificial offering to God for her people. In 1939, she offered her life to God for all those she loved: for the Church, for the Carmelite Order, for the Jewish people, for her family, and for “the deliverance of Germany and peace throughout the world.” (Waltraud Herbstrith, Edith Stein: A Biography. Ignatius Press, 1992, p. 162). Rather than give in to despair, darkness, and hopelessness, Edith offered her own life and sufferings to God for others—even for those who murdered her. She saw herself as her brothers’ keeper, and asked Our Lord to accept her life for theirs.
By 1938, the threat of the Nazis was so great in Germany that the nuns moved Edith to another Carmelite convent in Echt, Holland. It was here, as we know, that Edith and her sister Rosa were brutally taken in 1942 to their deaths in Auschwitz after the Dutch bishops took a strong stand against the Nazis. But even on the journey to her death, Edith’s great love made a lasting impression on all those who were with her.
A Jewish businessman from Cologne, Julius Markan, who had been put in charge of the prisoners at Westerbork Camp, remembers how she cared for those around her as they faced death. He wrote:
“Amongst the prisoners who were brought in on the 5th of August, Sister Benedicta stood out on account of her calmness and composure. The distress in the barracks and the stir caused by the new arrivals were indescribable. Sister Benedicta was just like an angel, going around amongst the women, comforting them, helping them and calming them. Many of the mothers were near to distraction; they had not bothered about their children the whole day long, but just sat brooding in dumb despair. Sister Benedicta took care of the little children, washed them and combed them, attending to their feeding and other needs. During the whole of her stay there, she washed and cleaned for people, following one act of charity with another, until everyone wondered at her goodness.”
Another person who met her on the way to her death, Dr. Wielek, recalled a conversation he had with her in Westerbork just before she was transferred to Auschwitz:
“In one conversation she said to me: ‘The world is made up of opposites, but in the end nothing remains of these contrasts. What only remains is great love. How is it possible for it to be otherwise?’”
Indeed in this world, we do experience such opposites: good and evil, joy and suffering, life and death. “What only remains is great love.” Edith’s final conviction teaches us how to suffer, how to offer ourselves, and how to embrace a world so seemingly full of violations against the human person. Edith shows how to live as a balm for these wounds in the world—and how such a life lived for Christ will ultimately heal it.
St. Therese
Patience is the virtue which makes us accept for love of God, generously and peacefully, everything that is displeasing to our nature, without allowing ourselves to be depressed by the sadness which easily comes over us when we meet with disagreeable things.
Patience is a special aspect of the virtue of fortitude which prevents our deviating from the right road when we encounter obstacles. it is an illusion to believe in a life without difficulties. many difficulties are surmounted and overcome by an act of courage; others, on the contrary, cannot be mastered. We must learn to bear with them, and this is the role of patience - an arduous task, because it is easier to face obstacle directly, than to support the inevitable oppositions and sufferings of life, which, in time, tend to discourage and sadden us. By fixing our glance on Jesus, the divinely patient One, we can learn to practice patience most effectively. When we see Him who came into the world to save us, living from the first moment of His earthly existence in want, privation, and poverty, and later in the midst of misunderstanding and persecution; when we see Him become the object of the hatred of His own fellow citizen, calumniated, doomed to death, betrayed by a friend, and tried and condemned as malefactor, our souls are stirred: we realized that we cannot be his disciples unless we follow the same road. If Jesus, the Innocent One par excellence, bore so much for love of us, can we, sinnners who are deserving to suffer, not endure something for love of Him? Whatever the total suffering in our lives, it will always be very small, and even nothing, compared with the infinite sufferings of jesus; for in His Passion Christ not only endured the suffering of one life or several human lives, but that of all mankind.
It is very consoling for me to remember that You, the God of might, knew our weaknesses, that You shuddered at the sight of the bitter cup which earlier You had so ardently desired to drink.
In spite of this trial which robs me of all sense of enjoyment, i can still say: 'You have given me, O Lord, a delight in Your doings.' For is there any greater joy than to suffer for Your love, O my God? the more intense and the more hidden the suffering, the more do You value it. And even if, by an impossibility, You should not be aware of my affliction, I should still be happy to bear it, in the hope that by my tears I might prevent or atone for one sin against faith" (St Therese - "Letters" "The Story of the Soul")
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St Therese of Child Jesus "Letters", Story of the Soul
The Passion of Jesus teaches us in a concrete way that in the Christian life we must be able to accept suffering for the love of God. This is a hard and repugnant task for our nature, which naturally prefers comfort and happiness. Suffering in itself is an evil and cannot be agreeable; but Jesus willed to embrace it in all its plenitude for our sake, he offers it to us and invites us to esteem and love it - as the only means to accomplish the sublime good of our redemption and the sanctification of our souls. God willed to exempt our first parents from suffering by preternatural gifts, but through sin, these gifts were lost forever, and suffering inevitably entered our life. the gamut of sufferings which has harassed humanity is therefore direct outcome of the disorder caused by sin, not only by original sin, but also by actual sins. Yet Church chants: O happy fault! Why? The answer lies in infinite love of God which transform everything and draws from the double evil of sin and suffering the great good of the redemption of the human race. When Jesus took upon Himself the sins of mankind, He also assumed their consequences, that is, suffering and death; and this suffering, embraced by Him during his whole life, and especially in His Passion, became the instrument of our redemption. Let St Therese speak on the value of suffering:
"O Lord, You do not like to make us suffer, but You know it is the only way to prepare us to know You as You know Yourself, tp prepare us to become like You. You know well that if You sent me but a shadow of earthly happiness, I should cling cling to it with all the intense ardour of my heart, and so You refuse me even this shadow... because you wish that my heart be wholly Yours.
Life passes quickly that it is obviously better to have a most splendid crown and a little suffering, than an ordinary crown and no suffering. When I think that, for a sorrow borne with joy, i shall be able to love You more for all eternity, I understand clearly that if You gave me the entire universe, with all its treasures, it would be nothing in comparison to the slightest suffering. Each new suffering, each oang of the heart, is a gentle wind to bear to You, o Jesus, the perfume of the soul that loves You; then you smile lovingly, and immediately make ready a new grief, and fill the cup to the brim, thinking the more the soul grows in love, the more it must grow in suffering too.
What a favour, my Jesus, and how You must love me to send me suffering! Eternity itself will not be long enough to bless You for it. Why this predilection? it is a secret which You will reveal to me in our heavenly home on the day when You will wipe away all our tears.
I am happy not to be free from suffering here; suffering united with love is the only thing that seems desirable to me in this vale of tears (St Therese of Child Jesus "Letters", Story of the Soul)
Thérèse of the Child Jesus
From Céline's (Sr. Geneviève's) testimony at the diocesan inquiry into the life of St. Thérèse, given as a part of the process for the cause of canonization.
Source: St. Thérése of Lisieux by Those Who Knew Her. Edited by Christopher O'Mahony. Dublin: Pranstown House, rep. 1989, pp. 128-129.
"On 9 June of the same year 1895, the feast of the Blessed Trinity, she received a very special grace during Mass, and felt within herself an urge to offer herself as a holocaust victim to Merciful Love. After Mass she took me with her to mother prioress; she seemed beside herself and did not say a word. When we found Mother Agnes, for it was she who was then prioress, she asked her if both of us could offer ourselves as victims to Merciful Love, and gave her a short explanation of what that meant. Mother Agnes was at a loss; she did not seem to understand too well what was going on, but she had such confidence in Sister Thérèse's discretion that she gave her full permission. It was then that she composed the act called 'An Offering to Love', which she carried next to her heart ever afterwards."
St. Thérèse's "Act of Oblation to Merciful Love"
Source: Story of A Soul, translated by Fr. John Clarke, O.C.D. Copyright (c) 1976 by Washington Province of Discalced Carmelites, ICS Publications, 2131 Lincoln Road, N.E., Washington, DC 20002 U.S.A., pp. 276-278.
ACT OF OBLATION TO MERCIFUL LOVE
J.M.J.T.
Offering of myself
as a Victim of Holocaust
to God's Merciful Love
O My God! Most Blessed Trinity, I desire to Love You and make you Loved, to work for the glory of Holy Church by saving souls on earth and liberating those suffering in purgatory. I desire to accomplish Your will perfectly and to reach the degree of glory You have prepared for me in Your Kingdom. I desire, in a word, to be saint, but I feel my helplessness and I beg You, O my God! to be Yourself my Sanctity!
Since You loved me so much as to give me Your only Son as my Savior and my Spouse, the infinite treasures of His merits are mine. I offer them to You with gladness, begging You to look upon me only in the Face of Jesus and in His heart burning with Love.
I offer You, too, all the merits of the saints (in heaven and on earth), their acts of Love, and those of the holy angels. Finally, I offer You, O Blessed Trinity! the Love and merits of the Blessed Virgin, my Dear Mother. It is to her I abandon my offering, begging her to present it to You. Her Divine Son, my Beloved Spouse, told us in the says of His mortal life: "Whatsoever you ask the Father in my name he will give it to you!" I am certain, then, that You will grant my desires; I know, O my God! that the more You want to give, the more You make us desire. I feel in my heart immense desires and it is with confidence I ask You to come and take possession of my soul. Ah! I cannot receive Holy Communion as often as I desire, but, Lord, are You not all-powerful? Remain in me as in a tabernacle and never separate Yourself from Your little victim.
I want to console You for the ingratitude of the wicked, and I beg of you to take away my freedom to displease You. If through weakness I sometimes fall, may Your Divine Glance cleanse my soul immediately, consuming all my imperfections like the fire that transforms everything into itself.
I thank You, O my God! for all the graces You have granted me, especially the grace of making me pass through the crucible of suffering. It is with joy I shall contemplate You on the Last Day carrying the sceptre of Your Cross. Since You deigned to give me a share in this very precious Cross, I hope in heaven to resemble You and to see shining in my glorified body the sacred stigmata of Your Passion.
After earth's Exile, I hope to go and enjoy You in the Fatherland, but I do not want to lay up merits for heaven. I want to work for Your Love Alone with the one purpose of pleasing You, consoling Your Sacred Heart, and saving souls who will love You eternally.
In the evening of this life, I shall appear before You with empty hands, for I do not ask You, Lord, to count my works. All our justice is stained in Your eyes. I wish, then, to be clothed in Your own Justice and to receive from Your Love the eternal possession of Yourself. I want no other Throne, no other Crown but You, my Beloved!
Time is nothing in Your eyes, and a single day is like a thousand years. You can, then, in one instant prepare me to appear before You.
In order to live in one single act of perfect Love, I OFFER MYSELF AS A VICTIM OF HOLOCAUST TO YOUR MERCIFUL LOVE, Asking You to consume me incessantly, allowing the waves of infinite tenderness shut up within You to overflow into my soul, and that thus I may become a martyr of Your Love, O my God!
May this martyrdom, after having prepared me to appear before You, finally cause me to die and may my soul take its flight without any delay into the eternal embrace of Your Merciful Love.
I want, O my Beloved, at each beat of my heart to renew this offering to You an infinite number of times, until the shadows having disappeared I may be able to tell You of my Love in an Eternal Face to Face!
Marie, Françoise, Thérèse of the Child Jesus
and the Holy Face, unworthy Carmelite religious.
This 9th day of June,
Feast of the Most Holy Trinity,
In the year of grace, 1895
Vatican Radio (Linda Bordoni)
Pope Francis is asking us to live this Lenten period as a favourable time for conversion during the Extraordinary Jubilee of Mercy.
In his message for Lent entitled “I desire mercy and not sacrifice. The works of mercy on the road of the Jubilee” the Pope reiterates the importance of the corporal and spiritual works of mercy and condemns the attitude and actions of the proud, the powerful and the wealthy who refuse to open the doors of their hearts to God and to the poor.
Listen to the report by Linda Bordoni:
By reflecting upon and putting into practice the corporal and spiritual works of mercy – Pope Francis says - Christians will be able to reawaken their consciences which too often have grown dull in the face of poverty.
In his Message for a special Lenten period which takes place this year within the Extraordinary Jubilee of Mercy, the Pope says that it is a season to be lived more intensely as a privileged moment to celebrate and experience the transforming miracle of divine Mercy.
Pointing out that poor have a special place at the heart of the Gospel, he warns of the “blindness” and of the “illusion of omnipotence” which often afflicts the rich and powerful who close their hearts to the poor and end up themselves – he says - being the poorest of the poor.
This illusion of omnipotence, the Pope continues – can “likewise take social and political forms as shown by the totalitarian systems of the twentieth century, and in our day by the ideologies of monopolizing thought and techno-science which would make God irrelevant and reduce man to raw material to be exploited”.
The powerful message - presented on Tuesday morning in the Vatican Press Office – calls on believers to practice the works of mercy and to listen to God’s Word.
“Let us not waste this season of Lent – Pope Francis says – so favourable a time for conversion!”.
Please find below the full text of Pope Francis’ message for Lent:
“I desire mercy, and not sacrifice” (Mt 9:13).
The works of mercy on the road of the Jubilee
1. Mary, the image of a Church which evangelizes because she is evangelized
In the Bull of Indiction of the Extraordinary Jubilee of Mercy, I asked that “the season of Lent in this Jubilee Year be lived more intensely as a privileged moment to celebrate and experience God’s mercy” (Misericordiae Vultus, 17). By calling for an attentive listening to the word of God and encouraging the initiative “24 Hours for the Lord”, I sought to stress the primacy of prayerful listening to God’s word, especially his prophetic word. The mercy of God is a proclamation made to the world, a proclamation which each Christian is called to experience at first hand. For this reason, during the season of Lent I will send out Missionaries of Mercy as a concrete sign to everyone of God’s closeness and forgiveness.
After receiving the Good News told to her by the Archangel Gabriel, Mary, in her Magnificat, prophetically sings of the mercy whereby God chose her. The Virgin of Nazareth, betrothed to Joseph, thus becomes the perfect icon of the Church which evangelizes, for she was, and continues to be, evangelized by the Holy Spirit, who made her virginal womb fruitful. In the prophetic tradition, mercy is strictly related – even on the etymological level – to the maternal womb (rahamim) and to a generous, faithful and compassionate goodness (hesed) shown within marriage and family relationships.
2. God’s covenant with humanity: a history of mercy
The mystery of divine mercy is revealed in the history of the covenant between God and his people Israel. God shows himself ever rich in mercy, ever ready to treat his people with deep tenderness and compassion, especially at those tragic moments when infidelity ruptures the bond of the covenant, which then needs to be ratified more firmly in justice and truth. Here is a true love story, in which God plays the role of the betrayed father and husband, while Israel plays the unfaithful child and bride. These domestic images – as in the case of Hosea (cf. Hos 1-2) – show to what extent God wishes to bind himself to his people.
This love story culminates in the incarnation of God’s Son. In Christ, the Father pours forth his boundless mercy even to making him “mercy incarnate” (Misericordiae Vultus, 8). As a man, Jesus of Nazareth is a true son of Israel; he embodies that perfect hearing required of every Jew by the Shema, which today too is the heart of God’s covenant with Israel: “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God is one Lord; and you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might” (Dt 6:4-5). As the Son of God, he is the Bridegroom who does everything to win over the love of his bride, to whom he is bound by an unconditional love which becomes visible in the eternal wedding feast.
This is the very heart of the apostolic kerygma, in which divine mercy holds a central and fundamental place. It is “the beauty of the saving love of God made manifest in Jesus Christ who died and rose from the dead” (Evangelii Gaudium, 36), that first proclamation which “we must hear again and again in different ways, the one which we must announce one way or another throughout the process of catechesis, at every level and moment” (ibid., 164). Mercy “expresses God’s way of reaching out to the sinner, offering him a new chance to look at himself, convert, and believe” (Misericordiae Vultus, 21), thus restoring his relationship with him. In Jesus crucified, God shows his desire to draw near to sinners, however far they may have strayed from him. In this way he hopes to soften the hardened heart of his Bride.
3. The works of mercy
God’s mercy transforms human hearts; it enables us, through the experience of a faithful love, to become merciful in turn. In an ever new miracle, divine mercy shines forth in our lives, inspiring each of us to love our neighbour and to devote ourselves to what the Church’s tradition calls the spiritual and corporal works of mercy. These works remind us that faith finds expression in concrete everyday actions meant to help our neighbours in body and spirit: by feeding, visiting, comforting and instructing them. On such things will we be judged. For this reason, I expressed my hope that “the Christian people may reflect on the corporal and spiritual works of mercy; this will be a way to reawaken our conscience, too often grown dull in the face of poverty, and to enter more deeply into the heart of the Gospel where the poor have a special experience of God’s mercy” (ibid., 15). For in the poor, the flesh of Christ “becomes visible in the flesh of the tortured, the crushed, the scourged, the malnourished, and the exiled… to be acknowledged, touched, and cared for by us” (ibid.). It is the unprecedented and scandalous mystery of the extension in time of the suffering of the Innocent Lamb, the burning bush of gratuitous love. Before this love, we can, like Moses, take off our sandals (cf. Ex 3:5), especially when the poor are our brothers or sisters in Christ who are suffering for their faith.
In the light of this love, which is strong as death (cf. Song 8:6), the real poor are revealed as those who refuse to see themselves as such. They consider themselves rich, but they are actually the poorest of the poor. This is because they are slaves to sin, which leads them to use wealth and power not for the service of God and others, but to stifle within their hearts the profound sense that they too are only poor beggars. The greater their power and wealth, the more this blindness and deception can grow. It can even reach the point of being blind to Lazarus begging at their doorstep (cf. Lk 16:20-21). Lazarus, the poor man, is a figure of Christ, who through the poor pleads for our conversion. As such, he represents the possibility of conversion which God offers us and which we may well fail to see. Such blindness is often accompanied by the proud illusion of our own omnipotence, which reflects in a sinister way the diabolical “you will be like God” (Gen 3:5) which is the root of all sin. This illusion can likewise take social and political forms, as shown by the totalitarian systems of the twentieth century, and, in our own day, by the ideologies of monopolizing thought and technoscience, which would make God irrelevant and reduce man to raw material to be exploited. This illusion can also be seen in the sinful structures linked to a model of false development based on the idolatry of money, which leads to lack of concern for the fate of the poor on the part of wealthier individuals and societies; they close their doors, refusing even to see the poor.
For all of us, then, the season of Lent in this Jubilee Year is a favourable time to overcome our existential alienation by listening to God’s word and by practising the works of mercy. In the corporal works of mercy we touch the flesh of Christ in our brothers and sisters who need to be fed, clothed, sheltered, visited; in the spiritual works of mercy – counsel, instruction, forgiveness, admonishment and prayer – we touch more directly our own sinfulness. The corporal and spiritual works of mercy must never be separated. By touching the flesh of the crucified Jesus in the suffering, sinners can receive the gift of realizing that they too are poor and in need. By taking this path, the “proud”, the “powerful” and the “wealthy” spoken of in the Magnificat can also be embraced and undeservedly loved by the crucified Lord who died and rose for them. This love alone is the answer to that yearning for infinite happiness and love that we think we can satisfy with the idols of knowledge, power and riches. Yet the danger always remains that by a constant refusal to open the doors of their hearts to Christ who knocks on them in the poor, the proud, rich and powerful will end up condemning themselves and plunging into the eternal abyss of solitude which is Hell. The pointed words of Abraham apply to them and to all of us: “They have Moses and the prophets; let them hear them” (Lk 16:29). Such attentive listening will best prepare us to celebrate the final victory over sin and death of the Bridegroom, now risen, who desires to purify his Betrothed in expectation of his coming.
Let us not waste this season of Lent, so favourable a time for conversion! We ask this through the maternal intercession of the Virgin Mary, who, encountering the greatness of God’s mercy freely bestowed upon her, was the first to acknowledge her lowliness (cf. Lk 1:48) and to call herself the Lord’s humble servant (cf. Lk 1:38).
(Linda Bordoni)
Lent Reminds Us That We Have A Place In God´s Heart | Pope Francis
Written byPope Francis
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
Lent is a time of renewal for the whole Church, for each communities and every believer. Above all it is a “time of grace” (2 Cor 6:2). God does not ask of us anything that he himself has not first given us. “We love because he first has loved us” (1 Jn 4:19). He is not aloof from us. Each one of us has a place in God’s heart. He knows us by name, he cares for us and he seeks us out whenever we turn away from him. He is interested in each of us; his love does not allow him to be indifferent to what happens to us. Usually, when we are healthy and comfortable, we forget about others (something God the Father never does): we are unconcerned with their problems, their sufferings and the injustices they endure… Our heart grows cold. As long as I am relatively healthy and comfortable, I don’t think about those less well off. Today, this selfish attitude of indifference has taken on global proportions, to the extent that we can speak of a globalization of indifference. It is a problem which we, as Christians, need to confront.
When the people of God are converted to his love, they find answers to the questions that history continually raises. One of the most urgent challenges which I would like to address in this Message is precisely the globalization of indifference.
Indifference to our neighbour and to God also represents a real temptation for us Christians. Each year during Lent we need to hear once more the voice of the prophets who cry out and trouble our conscience.
God is not indifferent to our world; he so loves it that he gave his Son for our salvation. In the Incarnation, in the earthly life, death, and resurrection of the Son of God, the gate between God and man, between heaven and earth, opens once for all. The Church is like the hand holding open this gate, thanks to her proclamation of God’s word, her celebration of the sacraments and her witness of the faith which works through love (cf. Gal 5:6). But the world tends to withdraw into itself and shut that door through which God comes into the world and the world comes to him. Hence the hand, which is the Church, must never be surprised if it is rejected, crushed and wounded.
God’s people, then, need this interior renewal, lest we become indifferent and withdraw into ourselves. To further this renewal, I would like to propose for our reflection three biblical texts.
1. “If one member suffers, all suffer together” (1 Cor 12:26) – The Church
The love of God breaks through that fatal withdrawal into ourselves which is indifference. The Church offers us this love of God by her teaching and especially by her witness. But we can only bear witness to what we ourselves have experienced. Christians are those who let God clothe them with goodness and mercy, with Christ, so as to become, like Christ, servants of God and others. This is clearly seen in the liturgy of Holy Thursday, with its rite of the washing of feet. Peter did not want Jesus to wash his feet, but he came to realize that Jesus does not wish to be just an example of how we should wash one another’s feet. Only those who have first allowed Jesus to wash their own feet can then offer this service to others. Only they have “a part” with him (Jn 13:8) and thus can serve others.
Lent is a favourable time for letting Christ serve us so that we in turn may become more like him. This happens whenever we hear the word of God and receive the sacraments, especially the Eucharist. There we become what we receive: the Body of Christ. In this body there is no room for the indifference which so often seems to possess our hearts. For whoever is of Christ, belongs to one body, and in him we cannot be indifferent to one another. “If one part suffers, all the parts suffer with it; if one part is honoured, all the parts share its joy” (1 Cor 12:26).
The Church is the communio sanctorum not only because of her saints, but also because she is a communion in holy things: the love of God revealed to us in Christ and all his gifts. Among these gifts there is also the response of those who let themselves be touched by this love. In this communion of saints, in this sharing in holy things, no one possesses anything alone, but shares everything with others. And since we are united in God, we can do something for those who are far distant, those whom we could never reach on our own, because with them and for them, we ask God that all of us may be open to his plan of salvation.
2. “Where is your brother?” (Gen 4:9) – Parishes and Communities
All that we have been saying about the universal Church must now be applied to the life of our parishes and communities. Do these ecclesial structures enable us to experience being part of one body? A body which receives and shares what God wishes to give? A body which acknowledges and cares for its weakest, poorest and most insignificant members? Or do we take refuge in a universal love that would embrace the whole world, while failing to see the Lazarus sitting before our closed doors (Lk 16:19-31)?
In order to receive what God gives us and to make it bear abundant fruit, we need to press beyond the boundaries of the visible Church in two ways.
In the first place, by uniting ourselves in prayer with the Church in heaven. The prayers of the Church on earth establish a communion of mutual service and goodness which reaches up into the sight of God. Together with the saints who have found their fulfilment in God, we form part of that communion in which indifference is conquered by love. The Church in heaven is not triumphant because she has turned her back on the sufferings of the world and rejoices in splendid isolation. Rather, the saints already joyfully contemplate the fact that, through Jesus’ death and resurrection, they have triumphed once and for all over indifference, hardness of heart and hatred. Until this victory of love penetrates the whole world, the saints continue to accompany us on our pilgrim way. Saint Therese of Lisieux, a Doctor of the Church, expressed her conviction that the joy in heaven for the victory of crucified love remains incomplete as long as there is still a single man or woman on earth who suffers and cries out in pain: “I trust fully that I shall not remain idle in heaven; my desire is to continue to work for the Church and for souls” (Letter 254, July 14, 1897).
We share in the merits and joy of the saints, even as they share in our struggles and our longing for peace and reconciliation. Their joy in the victory of the Risen Christ gives us strength as we strive to overcome our indifference and hardness of heart.
In the second place, every Christian community is called to go out of itself and to be engaged in the life of the greater society of which it is a part, especially with the poor and those who are far away. The Church is missionary by her very nature; she is not self-enclosed but sent out to every nation and people.
Her mission is to bear patient witness to the One who desires to draw all creation and every man and woman to the Father. Her mission is to bring to all a love which cannot remain silent. The Church follows Jesus Christ along the paths that lead to every man and woman, to the very ends of the earth (cf. Acts 1:8). In each of our neighbours, then, we must see a brother or sister for whom Christ died and rose again. What we ourselves have received, we have received for them as well. Similarly, all that our brothers and sisters possess is a gift for the Church and for all humanity.
Dear brothers and sisters, how greatly I desire that all those places where the Church is present, especially our parishes and our communities, may become islands of mercy in the midst of the sea of indifference!
3. “Make your hearts firm!” (James 5:8) – Individual Christians
As individuals too, we have are tempted by indifference. Flooded with news reports and troubling images of human suffering, we often feel our complete inability to help. What can we do to avoid being caught up in this spiral of distress and powerlessness?
First, we can pray in communion with the Church on earth and in heaven. Let us not underestimate the power of so many voices united in prayer! The 24 Hours for the Lord initiative, which I hope will be observed on 13-14 March throughout the Church, also at the diocesan level, is meant to be a sign of this need for prayer.
Second, we can help by acts of charity, reaching out to both those near and far through the Church’s many charitable organizations. Lent is a favourable time for showing this concern for others by small yet concrete signs of our belonging to the one human family.
Third, the suffering of others is a call to conversion, since their need reminds me of the uncertainty of my own life and my dependence on God and my brothers and sisters. If we humbly implore God’s grace and accept our own limitations, we will trust in the infinite possibilities which God’s love holds out to us. We will also be able to resist the diabolical temptation of thinking that by our own efforts we can save the world and ourselves.
As a way of overcoming indifference and our pretensions to self-sufficiency, I would invite everyone to live this Lent as an opportunity for engaging in what Benedict XVI called a formation of the heart (cf. Deus Caritas Est, 31). A merciful heart does not mean a weak heart. Anyone who wishes to be merciful must have a strong and steadfast heart, closed to the tempter but open to God. A heart which lets itself be pierced by the Spirit so as to bring love along the roads that lead to our brothers and sisters. And, ultimately, a poor heart, one which realizes its own poverty and gives itself freely for others.
During this Lent, then, brothers and sisters, let us all ask the Lord: “Fac cor nostrum secundum cor tuum”: Make our hearts like yours (Litany of the Sacred Heart of Jesus). In this way we will receive a heart which is firm and merciful, attentive and generous, a heart which is not closed, indifferent or prey to the globalization of indifference.
It is my prayerful hope that this Lent will prove spiritually fruitful for each believer and every ecclesial community. I ask all of you to pray for me. May the Lord bless you and Our Lady keep you.
