Author: Christine Jordan

Dear Friends,

Happy New Year, the first Sunday of Advent marks the beginning of a new Church year.  This year we’ll be reading from the Gospel of Mark.  Advent is a season that directs the mind and heart to await our Lord’s coming at Christmas but also our Lord’s Second coming at the end of time.  It’s supposed to be a period to heighten our devout and joyful expectation.   Now during this season of Advent we sing one of the most beautiful hymns, “O Come O Come Emmanuel.”  The word Emmanuel means God with us.  The next two lines are, “And ransom captive Israel, that mourns in lonely exile here.”

Centuries ago travel was very dangerous, especially if you were wealthy.  Criminals preyed upon the rich.  If they could they would capture them and hold them for ransom, usually holding them and hiding them away in a foreign country.  And there they were in this foreign country; captive, and exiled, and waiting and watching, and hoping, hoping that someone might pay for their release.

“O Come O Come Emmanuel and ransom captive Israel, that mourns in lonely exile here.”

We too, like Israel, are in exile; we live in a foreign country, we are on a pilgrimage through a foreign land, because Heaven is our true homeland.  Heaven is the place where we belong.  We were made for it.  And we too are held captive, captive to sin and captive to powers alien to God.  And so in our captive exile we hope and we wait, and we watch.

“Until the Son of God Appear.”

I have a story.  In Scotland in the 1600s Catholics were persecuted, both priests and laity had to flee the country or go into hiding to avoid imprisonment or even death.  One day a Bishop wanted to explore his diocese to see who was left of his flock, and to see how they were faring.  And so there he was walking from village to village in the mountains, dressed like a poor farmer to escape capture.  It was winter, and as the sun went down he became lost among the snow covered hills.  Almost exhausted with wandering, he finally saw a dim light in the distance, and made his way towards it.  It was a poor cottage on the edge of the woods; he knocked on the door.  The family welcomed him, warmed him at their fire, and prepared him some food.  He didn’t see any crucifix or image of Mary in the house, so he concluded they weren’t Catholic.  They were extremely kind and hospitable, and as he ate their delicious food, they conversed politely and pleasantly.  He didn’t bring up the topic of religion.

As the Bishop sat there he noticed that the family seemed sad underneath their good-natured hospitality.  And so he asked about this, and the mother explained that in the back room, on a bed of straw her father lay dying, but he refused to admit it, and so he was not preparing himself well for death.  The visitor offered to speak with him, and he was led to the back room.  Sure enough, the old man lay there, feeble and clearly dying.  The bishop offered words of sympathy, but the old man seemed to regain strength and said, “No sir, I am not yet going to die.  That is impossible.”  The disguised bishop asked why he was so sure, and after hemming and hawing, the old man asked quietly if the visitor was Catholic.

Assured that he was, the dying man gave this explanation.  “I also am a Catholic.  From the day of my first Communion until now I have never failed even for a single day to pray to Our Blessed Lady for the grace of not dying without first having a priest at my bedside to hear my confession and give me the Last Sacraments.”  “Now sir, do you think that my heavenly Mother will not hear me?  Impossible! So I am not going to die till some priest comes to visit me.”  Tears rolled down the bishop’s face as he realized that he was God’s faithful answer to this man’s humble and confident prayer.  The old man, in a faithful Advent spirit, hoped and waited, and watched.  And our God was faithful to him and ransomed him from his captivity.  Sending him his longed for priest to give him the sacraments.

Our God is a faithful God.  He fulfills his promises.  God didn’t abandon the human race after the Original Sin.  He promised to send a Savior, and he fulfilled his promise on the very first Christmas.  And God has also promised that this Savior, Jesus Christ, will come again to bring our earthly exile to its completion, just as he brought his Chosen people out of their exile.  God is faithful, he will fulfill his promises.  And with his grace we too can be faithful, just like that old man in Scotland.

St. Paul from our second reading writes, “He will keep you firm to the end, irreproachable on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ.  God is faithful, and by him you were called to fellowship with his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.”

And now for the last line of our Hymn’s first verse, “Rejoice!  Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.”

Peace and all good,

Fr. Christopher J. Ankley

Dear Friends,

Whenever we hear the name of Mark Twain, we usually think of Tom Sawyer or Huckleberry Finn, or maybe even Joan of Arc, which he said was his best book.  Mark Twain wrote prodigiously but today I want to focus on his book called The Prince and the Pauper.

It’s a story about two boys born in England on the very same day.  The first boy was born to the royal family and was the direct heir to the throne of England.  He was given the title of The Prince of Wales, and eventually he would become King Edward VI.  Commenting on his birth, Mark Twain writes, “England had so longed for him, and hoped for him, and prayed to God for him, and now that he was really there, the people went nearly mad for joy.  Everybody took a holiday, the high and low, the rich and poor, they feasted and danced and sang.”

Now on the very same day that the prince was born into the royal family in the palace of London, another boy was born, but born to a very poor family in the slums of London.  He was given the name of Tom Canty, and eventually he would become a beggar boy.  Commenting on his birth, Mark Twain writes, “He was an unwanted boy.  Nobody longed for him; nobody hoped for him; nobody prayed to God for him.  And now that he was in the world, nobody feasted, nobody danced, and nobody sang.”

Both boys grew up in totally different surroundings.  They grew up with totally different views of the world.

Now one day Tom Canty finds himself outside the gates to the royal palace.  And he is awestruck by its beauty.  As he edges closer to the gates to get a better look, the royal guards charge towards him and brutally throw him to the ground.  The young prince happens to see the incident and comes running to Tom’s defense.  And then to the surprise of the guards, the prince invites Tom inside to visit the royal palace.

Tom is flabbergasted.  He’s never seen anything like this before.  And the prince is charmed by the genuineness of his new friend.  Now as the prince was showing Tom the huge mirror in his room, the prince notices something, except for Tom’s rags and dirty face, he is a perfect look-alike for himself. He said to Tom the pauper, “You have the same hair, the same eyes, the same voice, and the same face.  If we were wearing the same clothes there is none who could say which was you and which was me, the Prince of Wales.”    And so they got the idea to switch places and play a trick on everybody.  The prince put on Tom’s beggar clothes and wandered off through the slums of London and rubbed elbows with the poor.  While Tom put on the prince’s clothes and rubbed elbows with the rich and famous.

After a time, however, the boys tired of their game.  And the prince returned to the palace and tried to enter, but the guards seized him, they didn’t recognize him.  And when he refused to go away, he was thrown into the palace prison.  No amount of persuasion would convince them that he was really the Prince of Wales.  Even Tom’s attempts to set things straight failed.

With time the situation resolved itself, but as a result of the “trading places” the prince knew first-hand what it meant to be poor and to be treated harshly.  The prince would eventually become king and he became one of the most merciful and best-loved kings ever to reign on the throne.  He looked after the poor.

Our Lord, the real King, the King of the Universe, in that Great Exchange, in that greatest of Trading Places, like the prince made himself poor, made himself poor so that we might be made rich in divinity.  This Solemnity of Christ the King was given to us in 1925 by Pope Pius XI.  It was given to us at a time when certain secular rulers were launching dictatorships which would become vehicles of hate and destruction.  Through this solemnity the Pope wanted to reassert the ultimate and universal Kingship of Jesus Christ and his law of love and truth.

On this great Solemnity of Christ the King I offer three points.  First:  what is a King supposed to do?  Second:  how does Jesus fulfill this?  And Third:  what does all this have to do with you and me today?

First, what are kings all about?  Many of us probably picture a king as someone clothed in luxury, sitting on a throne, being waited on hand and foot, and not having to really do much of anything.  But speaking Biblically, a king has three primary responsibilities:  1. to look out for widows and orphans, 2. to care for the poor, and 3. to go to war to protect his people.  Not merely to send troops out to battle, but to lead the battle himself, to be on the front lines, to risk his own life for the lives of his people.

Second point, how does Jesus fulfill all of this?  Let me focus on that third responsibility; to do battle for us.  The second reading tells us that Jesus, “The ruler of the kings of the earth, loves us and has freed us from our sins by His blood and has made us into a kingdom.”  Why is Christ the King?  He’s the King because He has gone to war for us.  He didn’t sit at home in Heaven and send angels to fight for us.  To save us from sin to conquer death and to destroy our ancient opponent, the devil.  He did it Himself!  He came here, born of the Virgin Mary, to do combat for us.  It was most fitting that He become man, became one of us, so that He could take up arms against our oppressors; against sin, against death, and against the devil himself.  He fought for us in our flesh.

As we know Jesus taught, he told parables, and he performed miracles.  But those aren’t the reasons He came.  He came to get His hands dirty, to get them bloody!  Out of His extraordinary love for you and me he came to do battle for us, to fight for us, to wage war for us.  The cross is not the tragic end, but the reason he came.  Rescuing us from the stronghold of death and the guilt of sin.  And in doing so He has shown us what a real King does:  a real king protects, a real king defends, and a real king fights for others, He has His eyes open wide to those around Him who are defenseless, helpless and in most need.

And finally our third point, what does all this have to do with you and me?   With baptism all of us have become sharers in Jesus’ Kingship.  It means that we, as the Body of Christ, are called to have what the Church often refers to as a “preference for the poor.”  We are challenged to ask the Holy Spirit to help us to look out into the world in which we live and with which we interact each day and to see those who are most in need and then to do something for them.  It means defending human life and working to promote laws that ensure the protection of every human being, especially those who are most in jeopardy, the unborn, the elderly, and the sick.  It means to be involved in efforts to feed the hungry and to cloth the naked.  It means getting out of our comfort zones maybe making a phone call to someone who is grieving or to visit a friend in the hospital, a nursing home, a hospice, or even a jail.  It means reaching out to the kid in school who doesn’t seem to have many friends, or is struggling somehow.  It means, having our focus on the other and their needs and not on me and my needs.

This week, let us ask our Lord to help us see someone who in some way needs to be defended or cared for, this might be at work, in school, or at home.  And then let’s pray for the grace to exercise our kingship and to do something for them.

Peace and all good,

Fr. Christopher J. Ankley

Dear Friends,

St. John of the Cross was born in 1542 in central Spain.  With the death of his father when he was only three years old, his mother and two brothers struggled to survive.  Learning of this an uncle, who was a priest, took them in and looked after them.  John was a very good student and at age 15 was admitted to the university where he pursued theology.  He felt called to the priesthood and planned to become a Carmelite friar, but was uneasy with what he perceived as laxity in the order.  A year before his ordination, while he was thinking of perhaps leaving the Carmelites and joining the Carthusians, he met St. Teresa of Avila.  Teresa and John had a “meeting of the minds,” and Teresa convinced John to work with her for the reform of their order.  While Teresa led the reform of the women Carmelites, John worked in establishing reform monasteries for men.

As you can imagine Teresa and John met many obstacles in their attempt to reform their order.  “Who are these two goodie goodies to tell us how to live?” The order as a whole didn’t appreciate their efforts, and resisted them rather vigorously.  At one point John’s own order abducted him from the church where he was serving, they blindfolded him, and brought him to one of their monasteries where he was placed in solitary confinement, with little light, no change of clothing, and very poor food.  At regular intervals he was beaten and pressured into denying his efforts of reforming the order.  You can see why they were in need of reform.

John’s cell measured 6’ x 10’, there was no heat, and there was only one tiny window high up near the ceiling.  Yet in that darkness, cold, and desolation, his love and faith became his fire and light.  In that tiny cell he had nothing left but God and God brought John his greatest joys.  After nine months John escaped by unscrewing the lock on his door and sneaking past the guard.  Taking only the poetry he had written on scraps of paper.  He climbed out a window using a rope made from strips of blankets.  With no idea of where he was he followed a dog who led him to a nearby town.  He hid in a convent infirmary where he read his poetry to the nuns.

Eventually John and Teresa were allowed to work freely at reforming the Carmelites.  John was asked if he harbored any hatred or ill will for those who had kidnapped him and beaten him.  Emphatically he answered saying, “no” also adding, “Where there is no love, put love, and you will draw out love.”  Adding further he said, “When God the Father didn’t find love in the human race, He put love in the human race, in the Incarnation of His son.  Then, He found love; he found love in His son Jesus and in all who had become part of His body.”

This line, “Where there is no love, put love, and you will draw out love,” speaks of our Gospel today.  Jesus I think is partial to images taken from the business world.  He uses investment, risk, and return as a model for the spiritual life.  The men who received 5 and 2 talents invested them, they were willing to risk, they put their money (talents) out into the world and in return they saw their money grow.  The man who kept his (money) talent buried saw no such return, and is called wicked and lazy.

God is a giver.  He exists in gift form; He is the one who gives.  If we want God’s life in us to grow we must be conformed to his way of being and that means giving.

Where there is no love, put love, risk it.

Where there is no hope, put hope, risk it.

Where there is no faith, put faith, risk it.

Where there is no joy, put joy, risk it.

Where there is no life, put life, risk it.

The men with the five and two talents invested in the world, they risked, and they saw their money double.  The man with one talent clung to it, he was not willing to put it out into the world and as a result it was taken away.  Spiritually speaking he withered.  Divine life (love, hope, faith, joy, peace, etc.) cannot be clung to, it must be given away, it must be risked on the world.  Instead of filling ourselves up with all these good things we empty ourselves as soon as we receive.  And in the measure we give it away it will grow within us.  If we give a lot we will receive a lot.  In the very act of sharing our faith, hope, love, joy, peace, etc. we find our own faith, hope, love, joy, and peace increasing and growing stronger.

Divine life is planted within us at Baptism; it’s supported by Holy Orders and Marriage, it’s nourished by the Eucharist and strengthened by Reconciliation.  Within us we have this bank of Divine life, a bank to be drawn on, to plant, to invest, to put in places where there is none.  St. John of the Cross put his faith, hope, and love into a community where he found very little but this act of giving/risking gave a return of riches.  The divine life is no private matter it’s meant to be shared.  Let us be like the first two servants putting love where there is no love, putting divine life where there is no divine life and drawing back a fortune with the Lord saying to us at the end, “Well done my good and faithful servant come share your master’s joy.”

Let us be great Saints,

Fr. Christopher J. Ankley

From a homily at the Canonization of Saint Frances Xavier Cabrini by Pope Pius XII

A humble woman who lived a virtuous life

Inspired by the grace of God, we join the saints in honoring the holy virgin Frances Xavier Cabrini. She was a humble woman who became outstanding not because she was famous, or rich or powerful, but because she lived a virtuous life. From the tender years of her youth, she kept her innocence as white as a lily and preserved it carefully with the thorns of penitence; as the years progressed, she was moved by a certain instinct and a supernatural zeal to dedicate her whole life to the service and greater glory of God.

She welcomed delinquent youths into safe homes and taught them to live upright and holy lives. She consoled those who were in prison and recalled to them the hope of eternal life. She encouraged prisoners to reform themselves and to live honest lives.

She comforted the sick and the infirm in the hospitals and diligently cared for them. She extended a friendly and helping hand especially to immigrants and offered them necessary shelter and relief, for having left their homeland behind, they were wandering about in a foreign land with no place to turn for help. Because of their condition she saw that they were in danger of deserting the practice of Christian virtues and their Catholic faith.

Where did she acquire all that strength and the inexhaustible energy by which she was able to perform so many good works and to surmount so many difficulties involving material things, travel and men?

Undoubtedly she accomplished all this through the faith which was always so vibrant and alive in her heart; through the divine love which burned within her; and, finally, through constant prayer by which she was so closely united with God from whom she humbly asked and obtained whatever her human weakness could not obtain.

In the face of the endless cares and anxieties of life, she never let anything turn her aside from striving and aiming to please God and to work for his glory for which nothing, aided by God’s grace, seemed too laborious, or difficult, or beyond human strength.

From a sermon of St Bernard of Clairvaux

Let us make haste to our brethren who are awaiting us

Why should our praise and glorification, or even the celebration of this feast day mean anything to the saints? What do they care about earthly honors when their heavenly Father honors them by fulfilling the faithful promise of the Son? What does our commendation mean to them? The saints have no need of honor from us; neither does our devotion add the slightest thing to what is theirs. Clearly, if we venerate their memory, it serves us, not them. But I tell you, when I think of them, I feel myself inflamed by a tremendous yearning.

Calling the saints to mind inspires, or rather arouses in us, above all else, a longing to enjoy their company, so desirable in itself. We long to share in the citizenship of heaven, to dwell with the spirits of the blessed, to join the assembly of patriarchs, the ranks of the prophets, the council of apostles, the great host of martyrs, the noble company of confessors and the choir of virgins. In short, we long to be united in happiness with all the saints. But our dispositions change. The Church of all the first followers of Christ awaits us, but we do nothing about it. The saints want us to be with them, and we are indifferent. The souls of the just await us, and we ignore them.

Come, brothers, let us at length spur ourselves on. We must rise again with Christ, we must seek the world which is above and set our mind on the things of heaven. Let us long for those who are longing for us, hasten to those who are waiting for us, and ask those who look for our coming to intercede for us. We should not only want to be with the saints, we should also hope to possess their happiness. While we desire to be in their company, we must also earnestly seek to share in their glory. Do not imagine that there is anything harmful in such an ambition as this; there is no danger in setting our hearts on such glory.

When we commemorate the saints we are inflamed with another yearning: that Christ our life may also appear to us as he appeared to them and that we may one day share in his glory. Until then we see him, not as he is, but as he became for our sake. He is our head, crowned, not with glory, but with the thorns of our sins. As members of that head, crowned with thorns, we should be ashamed to live in luxury; his purple robes are a mockery rather than an honor. When Christ comes again, his death shall no longer be proclaimed, and we shall know that we also have died, and that our life is hidden with him. The glorious head of the Church will appear and his glorified members will shine in splendor with him, when he forms this lowly body anew into such glory as belongs to himself, its head.

Therefore, we should aim at attaining this glory with a wholehearted and prudent desire. That we may rightly hope and strive for such blessedness, we must above all seek the prayers of the saints. Thus, what is beyond our own powers to obtain will be granted through their intercession.

From St Ambrose’s book on the death of his brother Satyrus

Let us die with Christ, to live with Christ

We see that death is gain, life is loss. Paul says: For me life is Christ, and death a gain. What does “Christ” mean but to die in the body, and receive the breath of life? Let us then die with Christ, to live with Christ. We should have a daily familiarity with death, a daily desire for death. By this kind of detachment our soul must learn to free itself from the desires of the body. It must soar above earthly lusts to a place where they cannot come near, to hold it fast. It must take on the likeness of death, to avoid the punishment of death. The law of our fallen nature is at war with the law of our reason and subjects the law of reason to the law of error. What is the remedy? Who will set me free from this body of death? The grace of God, through Jesus Christ, our Lord.

We have a doctor to heal us; let us use the remedy he prescribes. The remedy is the grace of Christ, the dead body our own. Let us then be exiles from our body, so as not to be exiles from Christ. Though we are still in the body, let us not give ourselves to the things of the body. We must not reject the natural rights of the body, but we must desire before all else the gifts of grace.

What more need be said? It was by the death of one man that the world was redeemed. Christ did not need to die if he did not want to, but he did not look on death as something to be despised, something to be avoided, and he could have found no better means to save us than by dying. Thus his death is life for all. We are sealed with the sign of his death; when we pray we preach his death; when we offer sacrifice we proclaim his death. His death is victory; his death is a sacred sign; each year his death is celebrated with solemnity by the whole world.

What more should we say about his death since we use this divine example to prove that it was death alone that won freedom from death, and death itself was its own redeemer? Death is then no cause for mourning, for it is the cause of mankind’s salvation. Death is not something to be avoided, for the Son of God did not think it beneath his dignity, nor did he seek to escape it.

Death was not part of nature; it became part of nature. God did not decree death from the beginning; he prescribed it as a remedy. Human life was condemned because of sin to unremitting labor and unbearable sorrow and so began to experience the burden of wretchedness. There had to be a limit to its evils; death had to restore what life had forfeited. Without the assistance of grace, immortality is more of a burden than a blessing.

The soul has to turn away from the aimless paths of this life, from the defilement of an earthly body; it must reach out to those assemblies in heaven (though it is given only to the saints to be admitted to them) to sing the praises of God. We learn from Scripture how God’s praise is sung to the music of the harp: Great and wonderful are your deeds, Lord God Almighty; just and true are your ways, King of the nations. Who will not revere and glorify your nature? You alone are holy; all nations will come and worship before you. The soul must also desire to witness your nuptials, Jesus, and to see your bride escorted from earthly to heavenly realities, as all rejoice and sing: All flesh will come before you. No longer will the bride be held in subjection to this passing world but will be made one with the spirit.

Above all else, holy David prayed that he might see and gaze on this: One thing I have asked of the Lord, this I shall pray for: to dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, and to see how gracious is the Lord.

Dear Friends,

There was a man named Camillus and he lived in 16^th century Italy.  He was a big man; they say probably 6 foot 6.  He was obstinate, aggressive, and had a violent temper.  His mom couldn’t control him; in fact she was scared of him.  And so she allowed him to do whatever he wanted.  At the age of 16 he left home and hired himself out as a soldier, he did this for a living; always working for the man who could pay him the most.  As a soldier his bad habits got even worse, he even added gambling to his list of vices.

But even among the soldiers Camillus was too great a disturbance.  His gambling aggravated his violent temper, which led to quarrels, which led to insubordination, which led to him being kicked out.  Kicked out of the army he began wandering from town to town, using gambling as a means of support.  He was soon destitute, living in rags.  It was at this time he began to reflect on his life, he began to remember what his Mom had taught him about the Faith.  He repented, went to confession, the first time in years.

Camillus with a new found freedom went to find his uncle, a Franciscan brother; and he asked to join the Franciscans.  The uncle received him warmly but wasn’t convinced of his conversion and he was turned away.  Camillus was not ready for religious life.  He went back to gambling and brawling.  Camillus was soon again reduced to rags and no money and he developed a wound on his leg that just wouldn’t heal.  He was in Rome at the time and went to St. Giacomo Hospital looking for help.  He had no money so they wouldn’t treat him but they did offer him a job.  Which he gladly took, again Camillus repented and for a time he was the best hospital orderly.  His leg was getting treated, he had a place to sleep and he had food to eat.  The director of the hospital grew to depend on him.  Things were looking up, until he became bored one day and wound up on the roof gambling and fighting.  Camillus fell from grace and again he was kicked out.  Soon he was reduced to begging for food, sitting outside of churches waiting for handouts.  An old Capuchin brother saw him one day and wondered why such a big young man was sitting there begging.  This old Capuchin offered Camillus a job at the Monastery where they were in the middle of a building project.  This old Capuchin saw that his chronic wound was cared for and that Camillus had plenty to eat.  Camillus again repented and this time he really began to reform his life.  There were more slip ups to follow but he always repented and he slowly grew in holiness.

He went on to be ordained and eventually founded the Order of Clerks Regular, Camillians for short.  They worked as health care providers in hospitals and on the battle fields.  Camillus made use of his war experience.  All Camillians wear a large red cross on their cassock; even today they still wear this Red Cross.  It represents charity and service.  It represents Camillus’ great love for God and neighbor.

To grow in our spiritual life is to grow in trust of our Lord.  Can we always and readily say “Jesus I trust you!”  It took St. Camillus many years to get to that level of trust.  To always be able to say, “Jesus I trust you!”  One spiritual writer put it this way; our spiritual life is like playing poker with the devil.  And we always have the winning hand.  The devil can never beat the hand we’ve been dealt.  And we can trust this.  In our hand we have been given first:  Jesus, who took all of our sins upon Himself, taking them up to the cross, crucifying them along with his body, and rising from the dead He conquered sin and death, opening heaven for each of us.  In our hand we have been given second:  the Communion of Saints, all of our friends around us and those in Heaven/Purgatory who help us with their constant prayers.  In our hand we have been given third:  the Church founded by Jesus with her Magisterium, her Scripture, and her Tradition all of which guide us on that narrow road to Heaven.  In our hand we have been given fourth:  the seven sacraments, the Eucharist especially, the sacraments are the very life of God Himself, given to us to wash, nourish, heal, and strengthen our souls.  And in our hand we have been given fifth:  the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, the perfect prayer to the Father, a time machine of sorts that allows us to join ourselves to Jesus as He offers Himself to the Father at Calvary.  We have the opportunity to give ourselves totally to the Father along with Jesus.

With these cards we always have the winning hand.  We can trust this.  The devil’s hand is always a loser.  The problem is; the devil is a liar, he’s the master of lies, he’s very good at it. He knows us well and he bluffs and we sometimes believe him.  We believe his lies and we fold.  We put down our winning hand without even showing it (or trying it).

He might tempt us to believe that we are worthless and it’s no use trying.  It’s a lie!

He might tempt us to believe it’s useless to continue going to confession, when we confess the same sins over and over.  It’s a lie!

He might tempt us to believe God has forgotten us and that we are on our own.  It’s a lie!

He might tempt us to believe that as long as we’re nice it doesn’t matter what we do, everyone goes to heaven anyway.   It’s a lie!

He might tempt us to believe that because we don’t “feel” anything happening at Mass that we should stop coming, or go elsewhere, God understands.  It’s a lie!

St. Camillus was canonized in the 18^th c. he went from being an aggressive fighter and gambler to singing the praises of God in Heaven forever, loving God with all his heart, soul, and mind.  He stopped believing the lies realizing what a treasure he held within his hands, Jesus, the Church, the Communion of Saints, the Mass, and most especially the Eucharist.  He was loved with an extraordinary and exuberant love, and with time he learned to trust that Divine love.  And with time and patience he grew to love our Lord with all his heart, his soul, and his mind.

We too are loved with an extraordinary and exuberant love and the same awaits each of us and that should fill us with great hope.

Let us be great Saints,

Fr. Christopher J. Ankley

Dear Friends,

Not long ago I had the privilege of attending Mass at a Franciscan Monastery, the Saint Clare Monastery.  This monastery had a beautiful and relatively new chapel, and across from my pew was a stained glass window with the words, “He who is like God.”  It was a window with the image of St. Michael the Archangel and Michael means one who is like God.  But before seeing the Archangel all I saw were the words and I took it as a question, “Who is like God?”  Answer:  you and I are like God and we find this answer in the Bible.  In Genesis (1:27) it’s written, “So God created man in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.”  You and I are made in the image of God.

In today’s Gospel we hear about images, the first one being the image of Caesar on the Roman coin.  The Pharisees and the Herodians are trying to be clever.  They want to trap Jesus by trying to corner him into a catch-22.  These two groups the Pharisees and the Herodians are neither friends nor allies of each other. They despise each other.  The Pharisees are religious patriots, bitterly opposed to Roman rule, whereas the Herodians are content to work together with the Roman Gentile powers.  This present uneasy alliance is made solely for the purpose of bringing down the Messiah. They want to entrap him and get him out of the way.  They think their question, “Is it lawful to pay the census tax to Caesar or not?”   has only a “yes” or “no” answer.  If Jesus answers, “yes, pay the tax” the zealous Jews would run from him and they had come to regard him as the Messiah.  Jesus would no longer have a following.    If Jesus answers, “no, don’t pay the tax” the Jewish priests of the temple could have the Roman soldiers arrest him for trying to overthrow the government.  With either response the Pharisees and Herodians think they can discredit Jesus and be rid of him.  Jesus would cease to have any influence.

However, Jesus is wise to them and doesn’t answer their question with a simple “yes” or “no.”  He confounds them and frustrates them when he holds up the coin and asks, “Whose image is this and whose inscription?” They have to answer that Caesar’s image is on the coin.  Jesus then says something that has been quoted over a million times throughout the centuries, “Repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God.”  Paying taxes, giving back to Caesar what belongs to Caesar, brings us roads, a school system, police and fire departments, a society of law and order and everything a good government should provide.  As Christians we have a duty to be good citizens and to fight for and promote a good government based on our faith.  We can’t be silent about our faith.  Our faith needs to influence every one of our decisions.

The second part of the quote is a little more difficult, Jesus was looking at the crowd, made up of men and women, when he said, “Repay to God what belongs to God.”  The coin has the image of Caesar so giving it back to Caesar is easy, but where do we find the image of God?  And this brings us back to the stained glass window I saw in the St. Clare Monastery with its question, “Who is like God?”  We are like God.  We’re made in His image and like the coin that goes back to Caesar; we’re to go back to God because we’re made for God. Jesus looks into the faces of the crowd standing before Him.  And its as if He’s saying to them, “ You are mine, I created you in my image and likeness, come to me, come to me all you who labor and are burdened, I will give you rest.”   We go back to God.   We give ourselves to Him, by spending our life getting to know Him, by loving Him, and by serving Him.  And at the end of our life we hope to finally join Him in Heaven.

Here on earth there are two dimensions of going to God.  First, there is the worship of God where we strive to give ourselves to Him totally with our whole heart, soul, and mind. At the beginning of the Liturgy of the Eucharist at the offertory the priest says, “Pray, my brothers and sisters, that my sacrifice and yours may be acceptable to God, the almighty Father.”  The priest says it this way to remind us that the he stands in the person of Christ.  When the priest says “my sacrifice” he is saying it as Christ.  Everyone in the assembly also participates in that sacrifice since we are all part of the mystical body of Christ due to our Baptism.  So we bring our gifts our material and spiritual gifts.  We bring what we have and what we are, and we acknowledge that it all comes from God and it all belongs to God.  So we bring him our lives, our sorrows, our joys, our sufferings, everything we are and offer them in union with the sacrifice of Christ. We give ourselves to Him totally.

The second dimension of going to God is the giving of ourselves to God through the service to others.  A sacrifice of self for others.   Because others are also made in the image of God and we serve God by serving them.  All of us are expected to give ourselves to our neighbor, even the one who seems unlovable.  Maybe, all we can do is pray for them but whatever we do for our neighbor, good or bad, we are giving to God.

As images of God we have the opportunity to build God’s kingdom, because we can bring God’s kingdom into all the places we enter; the Church, the home, the workplace, the school, and even the voting booth.  Building God’s kingdom, giving ourselves to God, can’t be kept within the privacy our home, it has to be everywhere. Don’t make faith a private matter.

Let us be great Saints,

Fr. Christopher J. Ankley

From a sermon of St. Bernard of Clairvaux

We should meditate on the mysteries of salvation

The child to be born of you will be called holy, the Son of God, the fountain of wisdom, the Word of the Father on high. Through you, blessed Virgin, this Word will become flesh, so that even though, as he says: I am in the Father and the Father is in me, it is still true for him to say: “I came forth from God and am here.”

In the beginning was the Word. The spring was gushing forth, yet still within himself. Indeed, the Word was with God, truly dwelling in inaccessible light. And the Lord said from the beginning: I think thoughts of peace and not of affliction. Yet your thought was locked within you, and whatever you thought, we did not know; for who knew the mind of the Lord, or who was his counselor?

And so the idea of peace came down to do the work of peace: The Word was made flesh and even now dwells among us. It is by faith that he dwells in our hearts, in our memory, our intellect and penetrates even into our imagination. What concept could man have of God if he did not first fashion an image of him in his heart? By nature incomprehensible and inaccessible, he was invisible and unthinkable, but now he wished to be understood, to be seen and thought of.

But how, you ask, was this done? He lay in a manger and rested on a virgin’s breast, preached on a mountain, and spent the night in prayer. He hung on a cross, grew pale in death, and roamed free among the dead and ruled over those in hell. He rose again on the third day, and showed the apostles the wounds of the nails, the signs of victory; and finally in their presence he ascended to the sanctuary of heaven.

How can we not contemplate this story in truth, piety and holiness? Whatever of all this I consider, it is God I am considering; in all this he is my God. I have said it is wise to meditate on these truths, and I have thought it right to recall the abundant sweetness, given by the fruits of this priestly root; and Mary, drawing abundantly from heaven, has caused this sweetness to overflow for us.

Making wine is a long and arduous process.  Long before a bottle of wine ever gets opened, many seasons have passed and hundreds of steps have taken place.  The land has to be bought, the soil has to be made right, plowed and prepared before the seeds/vines can be planted.  We hear a little about the process in the first reading from Isaiah and again in the gospel.  The wine press has to be hewn, and a watchtower has to be built.  This doesn’t even speak of the need for proper weather conditions, the laborious work of the harvest, and the pressing of the grapes and seemingly never-ending wait during the fermentation process.   It takes years to achieve something truly amazing when it comes to wine.  The same can be said of the Christian, it can take years to achieve something truly amazing.

The soil of our hearts has to be right for the seed of God’s Word to take root and grow.  It’s only through our connectedness to God that we can withstand the difficulties of the seasons.  Sometimes we suffer.  Sometimes our prayer life is very dry.  Sometimes we are persecuted like Christ was by others.  We, like the grapes, undergo a great deal of duress but, with time, those are the grapes that produce the best juice and have the sweetest taste.  Through all these ups and downs and through all of these seasons, if we remain connected to Him who is true and if we remain connected to that which is “honorable, just, pure, lovely, and gracious” as we hear from St. Paul, then we will know peace and we will, in time, bear great fruit.  As St. Paul wrote it’s in “Making our requests known to God,” that we come to trust in His plan, His timing, and ultimately, His will for our lives.

In 1901 Yvonne Beauvais was born. She was French and she would eventually become Mother Yvonne Aimee of Jesus, at the Monastery of Malestroit in Brittany.   And as St. Paul wrote, she made her requests known to God, and with time she came to trust our Lord’s plan, and His timing, and His will.  Very early on in her life Yvonne entrusted herself to Our Lord.  Saying, “Jesus, I give myself to you completely, make me a saint, a great saint, a very great saint.”  Not shy in asking, she made her request known.  And our Lord did make her a saint, but that didn’t mean she didn’t suffer or experience ups and downs, and seasons of dryness.

When she was a young sister, she was attacked and tortured by three men she knew well.  It was a crime against her and what the Church represented.  She forgave.  During World War II she struggled to keep her sisters safe.  But she also helped the French resistance by hiding French soldiers within her monastery.  She made them dress like nuns.  If a German inspector were to look into her chapel he would see many sisters at prayer, never knowing that hiding beneath the bulky habits and heavy veils, half of those praying were men.  Again she forgave.

Mother Yvonne had a way with troubled souls, she was able to calm the most distressed of people.  She communicated joy and hope to those who despaired.  Early on in her life as a sister, Yvonne Aimee received the inspiration of a small prayer, “O Jesus, King of Love, I trust in your merciful goodness.”  She found it very helpful for those who suffered, to remind them that they are loved and not forgotten.   It became a popular prayer within France.  She had cards and medals made with the prayer on it.  Even Pope St. John XXIII gave them away.  She had a goal:  to draw souls to trust in the Heart of the King, to hope in His merciful goodness, and to abandon to Him all their worries, their fears, their cares and even their sins.

It can take years to achieve something truly amazing when it comes to wine.  The same can be said of the Christian, it can take years to achieve something truly amazing.  Mother Yvonne died in 1951 at the age of 49.  Now her full religious name was Mother Yvonne Aimee of Jesus.    As Christians each one of us can add that to our name – of Jesus.  It means He is our cornerstone.  And so we make our requests known to Jesus, we give to Him all our worries, we give to Him all our fears, we give to Him all our cares, and we give to Him all of our sins.

And in return, maybe even after many seasons, he makes us his saints, his very great saints, which means he gives us His Heaven.  “O Jesus, King of Love, I trust in your Mercy.”

Pax et Bonum,

Fr. Christopher J. Ankley

Dear Friends,

In our gospel we hear of a man who had a change of heart, he changes his mind, he had a conversion.  St. Augustine is my go to Saint when talking about a conversion of heart.  St. Augustine was born in Africa in the year 354. His young adulthood was a stormy period and it included fathering a child out of wedlock with the family’s maid.  In his twenties, Augustine moved to Milan, Italy, where he became a professor of rhetoric.  His personal life, however, continued to be stormy and wayward.  While in Milan, two things happened to him.  First, he became increasingly unhappy with his personal life and second, he became attracted to Christianity.  It was in this frame of mind that he sat down one day and began to think about his life.  And this made him cry, he wasn’t happy with the direction of his life, he began to cry out to God saying, “And you Lord! How long will you be angry with me?  Forever? Why not at this very hour put an end to my evil life?”

Augustine said later:  “I was crying out like this when, suddenly I heard the voice of a child say, “Take and read, Take and read!!”  “I stood up” he said, “because it seemed like a command from God for me to read the Bible.  I got a Bible and opened it up.”  “The first words my eyes fell upon were from the letter of Paul to the Romans.  He read: “Throw off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light: let us conduct ourselves properly as in the day, not in orgies, and drunkenness… not in rivalry and jealousy.  But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the desires of the flesh.”

When Augustine read this, he stopped.  There was no need to go on. He says:  “My heart was suddenly flooded with a light that erased all my doubts.  And my soul was filled with a deep peace.”  That episode triggered Augustine’s’ conversion to Christianity.

This change of heart that Augustine experienced is the same kind of change of heart that Jesus talks about in today’s Gospel.  The young man at first says no to his father but he later repents saying yes instead to the father’s will. It’s also the same kind of change of heart that Ezekiel talks about in today’s first reading.  This might make us ask ourselves a question:  What causes a person to undergo a change of heart?  What causes a person to undergo a conversion?

A political activist once outlined the steps for bringing about a political revolution in a country.  He said the first step was to create a psychology of discontent among the people of the country.  Unless people are discontented with their existing political situation, they will never seek to change it.  The same is true of us.  Unless we are discontented with our life, we will never seek to change it.

The case of St. Augustine illustrates this.  He was so discontented with his personal life that he sat down and cried.  And so the first step in the conversion process is dissatisfaction with one’s personal life or some aspect of it.   What has God’s grace brought to light in our life that causes dissatisfaction and a want of change for the better?   The second step is called the trigger step.  It’s some episode that lights a fire under us, or triggers us to do something about our personal life.  It’s a grace that we respond to.  In Augustine’s case this was the experience of opening the Bible and reading Paul’s letter to the Roman’s.    And then finally the third step in the conversion process is making the all-important first move in the direction of a new life.  It’s doing something practical and concrete about changing our present life, and at the same time always supported by God’s grace.

Again, we see this in the life of St. Augustine.  After reading Paul’s words to the Romans about throwing off the works of darkness, he took an immediate and concrete step toward changing his life.  He became a catechumen, he studied the Catholic faith.  And so the conversion process involves three steps.  First, involves being discontented with our personal life.  Second involves having something trigger us to do something to change our life, a grace of some sort.  Third, involves taking a concrete first step in the direction of a new life.

So what about us?  How content are we with our present life?  Is there a “No” to God’s will somewhere in my life that needs to become a “Yes?”  Am I dissatisfied with my present relationship with God?  Do I want a closer relationship with Jesus?  Do I want to be more loving toward others?  If the answer to these questions is yes, then today’s Scripture readings could be that trigger or that spark of grace that prompts you to do something.

And if it is, what first step might we take to do something about these things?  Maybe that step is simply to present ourselves more frequently at the Sacrament of Reconciliation.  Maybe it’s to begin tonight to spend a few more minutes in prayer before going to bed.  Maybe it’s to begin reading more scripture/spiritual books.  Maybe it’s a resolution to come to Mass every Sunday.  Maybe it’s to become more generous and patient with the people in my life.

God has a plan for each of us, a plan for our good.  And sometimes that plan is only made clear after a conversion of heart.  Let us continually strive to be open to God’s grace of changing our “no” to his will, no matter how small into a “yes.”

Pax et Bonum,

Fr. Christopher J. Ankley