Author: Christine Jordan

Dear Friends,

We read today’s gospel in continuity with last week’s gospel.  Last week we heard that Jesus will build his Church on the rock foundation of Peter’s confession; Peter said to Jesus, “You are the Christ the Son of the living God.”  And this Church founded by Christ will be a militant Church, invading the sinful world with the power of God’s grace; the gates of Hell will not prevail.  And today Jesus lays out the cost of doing this; He must go to Jerusalem, suffer, be killed, but then be raised on the third day.  He will go to Jerusalem as a bearer of Divine Love; He goes to the capital with a hard and true message. 

But as we read in the Gospel Peter won’t have any of this; he treats Jesus like a little kid in need of instruction.  You know you’re in a bad place spiritually when you begin to tell Jesus what to do.  In a world injured by Original Sin, Divine Love is met with resistance.  The world will try to block it.  But our Lord is always willing to lay down his life in the divine struggle and if we are to be a bearer of that same love then we too will suffer.  Christian life cannot be lived without the Cross; Christian life cannot be lived without suffering love.  To love another sometimes hurts. 

St. Jane de Chantal founder of the Visitation Order of Sisters lived in 17^th century France.  Before founding her order, however, she was a wife and mother.  And in her life like all the saints she lived with suffering love.  Jane married a man named Baron Christopher de Chantal.  He was a soldier and courtier in the service King Henry IV.  And even though Jane and Christopher came to love each other dearly, the marriage began with a few problems.  From the outside looking in everything looked fine.  They were rich, they had lots of land and a castle but Christopher had some rough edges, he was a spender with large debts and he was a bit of a ladies man.  Soon after they were married, Christopher conceived a child with his mistress. 

Now Jane loved her husband and her response to this affair can tell us a lot about suffering love.  She could have given Christopher the cold shoulder, she could have left him, she could have taken a lover of her own, she had no lack of suitors.  She could have given voice to a great anger, venting to everyone she knew.  But she chose a different path, she chose the way of the cross and strengthened by her prayer life and daily Mass, she chose to forgive.  She leaned into that Cross and forgave her husband, even going one step further and taking the illegitimate daughter into their home raising the little girl with her own children.  Instead of making life miserable for her husband, Jane won his heart.  Her forgiveness and kindness, in fact, laid the foundation for a home so happy that Christopher took an early retirement from active service.  He wanted to be with Jane.  He’s recorded as saying worldly splendors paled beside the virtues of his beloved wife. 

Soon after retiring Christopher went hunting with a neighbor.  And this neighbor accidently shot Christopher.  It was nine agonizing days before he died.  Now Christopher quickly forgave the neighbor and asked that Jane do the same.  But Jane had a hard time in forgiving this neighbor, she had finally gotten her husband back, their marriage was back on track.  And she just couldn’t do it.  It took her four years before she was able to forgive.  Her spiritual director told her not to seek out this neighbor but if you happen to see him by chance, “Forgive him,” he told her ,“I want your heart to be gentle, gracious, and compassionate, even though I know without any doubt that your heart will be distressed, and that your blood will boil.”    After four years Jane found herself in a room with this neighbor and she was able to forgive him.  Jane leaned into the Cross and forgave with gentleness, graciousness, and compassion even going so far to be the Godmother of this neighbor’s newborn baby.

Christian life cannot be lived without the Cross; Christian life cannot be lived without suffering love.  Everyone reading this is meant to be a bearer of Divine Love into the world.  That is our mission, to be bearers of Divine Love.  And this always involves suffering because it involves self-denial and self-denial hurts.  It would have been so much easier for Jane to give into anger, revenge, and self-pity.   But instead, she leaned into her Crosses and learned charity, forgiveness, magnanimity, gentleness, graciousness, compassion, and much more.  When the cross comes our way we can ask our Lord, “What are you teaching me Lord?  What virtue must I grow in?  Where do I need healing?  What am I to learn from this cross?”  “Is it Patience, forgiveness, mercy, fortitude, faith, trust, or is it love?”  Sometimes a cross is such a terrible burden, we ask ourselves, “How can God allow this?”  In those moments we pray for help and then reach out for help reach out to a Simon or a Veronica.  Our Lord had help on the Way of the Cross.  Simon of Cyrene carried his cross for a time and Veronica wiped his brow offering some comfort.  Those around us may not even be aware of how much we are hurting and in need of help.  Ask for help, we don’t have to do this alone.  And we too need to be aware of those around us.  Is there someone close by who needs me to be a Simon or a Veronica?

The Cross does not last forever; the Cross is our bridge to Heaven.  At the end of our days when we have laid down our cross our Heavenly Father will meet us and call out to us in the words of the Song of Songs:

“Come then, my love,

My lovely one, come.

For see, winter is past,

The rains are over and gone. 

The flowers appear on the earth,

The season of glad songs has come…

Come then, my love,

My lovely one, come.

Show me your face,

Let me hear your voice;

For your voice is sweet and your face is beautiful (Song of Songs 2:10-14)

Pax et Bonum,

Fr. Christopher J. Ankley

Dear Friends,

We all remember that famous Gospel passage where Jesus says, “Unless you turn and become like little children, you shall not enter the Kingdom of God” (Matthew 18:3).  What Jesus means by this seems obvious: salvation involves a return to a state of moral innocence, like children.  Yet, are children as innocent as their reputation makes them?  Don’t infants show signs of selfishness and self-centeredness from the very beginning?  Don’t toddlers give their parents’ constant headaches with their rebellious antics?  Don’t kindergartners need to be disciplined so that they stop lying and tormenting their siblings?  Over at our school I’ve seen the kids line up outside the principal’s office.  They got sent to the office because they misbehaved. 

So maybe Jesus was referring to a different kind of innocence when he made that statement.  Referring instead to, the innocence of wonder.  For children, the world is a new and wonder-filled place.  Sea shells, pine cones, bugs, worms, the stars; all of it wonderfully mysterious.   God’s creation inspires fascination and excitement.  And that’s how it should be.   That’s the way Adam and Eve would have seen the world before the original sin, they would have seen the world as an inspiring collection of magnificent gifts given to them by their Creator.

Creation is an awe-inspiring gift from an all-powerful God a wise and loving Father.  An attitude of wonder and awe in the face of God’s gifts is something shared by all the saints.  Sometimes this wonder and awe is called a fear of the Lord.  And this fear of the Lord, this wonder and awe, applies not only to natural gifts, but even more to the supernatural gifts of salvation and redemption.  That is why St Paul, after spending three chapters of his Letter to the Romans analyzing and explaining the complex twists and turns of salvation history, breaks out in a hymn of wonder and awe, as we heard in our 2^nd reading St. Paul shouts out:  “Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God!”  This is the cry of a childlike, grace-filled, healthy Christian heart.  The majesty of God fills him with amazement. 

St Paul tells us that God’s judgments are “inscrutable” and his ways are “unsearchable.” Not in a bad sense, but in a wonderful sense.  God is always using creative ways to bring about his magnificent plan of salvation. As we often hear, God can write a straight line out of the crooked lines we give to Him.    We should always pray that God brings some good out of our failures.

The actor who played Judas in Mel Gibson’s movie The Passion of the Christ is a good example.  Lucca Lionello grew up Catholic, but after confirmation he stopped going to Mass and left his faith behind.  By the time he started working on The Passion, he was a confirmed and convinced atheist living in an irregular marriage and having an un-baptized daughter.  He enjoyed working on the film, but he made sure that the other cast and crew members knew he didn’t believe in Jesus.  I’m an atheist he would say over and over, I don’t believe in all this stuff. 

Then they filmed the scene where Judas gave in to despair and took his own life.  During that scene, Lucca was forced to think deeply about what it meant to have a soul that was torn apart by sin and separated from friendship with God.  What is it like to have one’s soul separated from God?  He had to think about that, because he had to portray it on screen.  He had to act it out on screen for everyone to see.  And he couldn’t get it out of his mind, even after the scene was finished – even after all the filming was done.  He kept thinking about that separation from God.  A few months later, he was back on the set to re-record some of his lines.  While he was waiting around, he saw a priest near the sound studio, he was the movie consultant. Lucca went over and started up a conversation.  The conversation ended up going much longer than he had anticipated.  Soon afterwards, Lucca returned to the sacraments, had his marriage sanctified, and had his nine-year- old daughter baptized.  In all His wonder God used the role of Judas as a way to bring a prodigal son back home. 

A healthy sense of wonder and awe in the face of God’s natural and supernatural gifts helps us grow in wisdom and peace of mind. This healthy sense of wonder and awe increases a peace of mind because it reminds us that God really can guide history towards that eternal happy ending he has promised – in spite of all the tragedies and sufferings that our sins cause along the way.  He can always bring good.  In overturning the original sin of Adam, God the Father has given us his Son Jesus and Heaven. Out of the happy fault of Adam we have received so much more, so in spite of all the tragedies and sufferings that our sins cause along the way, God can always bring good.   Nothing escapes his providence: as St Paul writes, “From him and through him and for him are all things.”  “To Him be glory forever.”  St. Paul has a sense of wonder and awe before God and that lead him to give great glory to God. 

This week for homework we pray for the grace and we work at increasing our wonder and awe, our Fear of the Lord.  And maybe a good place to begin is to contemplate your own soul. You soul was created by God with a one-of-a-kind love.  He knew you and loved you from before all time.   And at baptism your soul was washed of Original Sin and branded, indelibly marked, as forever belonging to God, it became His dwelling place.  The God who created 200 billion galaxies and 200 billion stars in each of those galaxies, knowing each one by name, chooses to dwell in your soul, chooses to be your Father.  I hope that fills us with wonder. 

St. José Maria Escriba in a meditation writes about how God should first and foremost reign in our soul.  He writes, “But in order for him to reign in me, I need his abundant grace.  Only in that way can my every heart beat and breath, my least intense look, my most ordinary word, my most basic feeling be transformed into a Hosanna to Christ my King.” 

Like St. Paul may we have a well-developed sense of awe and wonder before God so that we can’t help but give God great glory. 

To Him be glory forever. 

Pax et Bonum,

Fr. Christopher J. Ankley

Dear Friends,

In the middle ages when a young man wanted to join a Benedictine Monastery he’d show up on their doorstep and ask to join the community.  Many times, the young man would be turned down and the door would be shut in his face.  If he was persistent, however, he’d sit by the door and wait.  He’d wait in the cold and rain or whatever the weather threw at him.  Maybe a day or so later a brother would open the door and tell him to, “Go away, we have no room.”  But if the young man really wanted to join the community he’d stay right there by the door.  This might go on for quite some time, days or weeks, with a brother opening the door every few days to discourage the young man telling him, “You’re not wanted,” or “You’re unfit for monastic life,” or “Come back next year,” or “We’re not accepting applications right now, thank you for your interest.”  If that young man persisted and stayed by that door eventually he’d be let in to become a novice.  That community of monks knew, by his persistence, that the young man waiting by their door was truly hungry for God.    Many of the young men waiting by the door walked away becoming discouraged by the test.  Only those who were really starving for God were let into the community.  Those starving for God persisted.

In today’s Gospel we see a model of persistence, a model of persistence in prayer.    This Canaanite woman is met with rejection three times before our Lord acquiesces to her request.  She is met first with silence, “Jesus did not say a word in answer to her.”   I’m sure we’ve all had a similar experience.  We’ve asked God for something, something that isn’t trivial or selfish and we are met with silence.  We can identify with this woman.  This woman, however, does not give up she’s not put off by our Lord’s non-response, she continues to call out him.  The disciples say, “Send her away, for she keeps calling out after us.”

In the second rejection our Lord tells her, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”   The Canaanite woman is not fazed by this rejection.  It’s not her fault she’s not an Israelite.  So, she prostrates herself acknowledging Jesus as Lord saying, “Lord, help me.”  She says something many Israelites aren’t willing to say.   Again, our Lord rejects her, a third time, saying, “It is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs.”  Again, the woman is not put off by the rejection; she is humble not disagreeing with Jesus, saying, “Even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from table of their masters.”  I’m sure our Lord had a smile on his face when he heard this clever comeback, telling her, “O woman great is your faith!  Let it be done.”   

What do we make of these three rejections and then the granting of her prayer?  Theologians tell us Jesus is testing the woman so she can know how great her faith is.  In this seeming three-fold rejection our Lord is preparing the Canaanite woman to receive the gift, the healing of her daughter.  When we are inspired to persevere in prayer, when prayer is not answered right away, our Lord is giving us time to let our hearts and souls expand in faith and trust so that we are one day able to fully receive the gift. So that we’ll be in a position to properly appreciate what we are given.   Seeming divine resistance strengthens faith, just as resistance training strengthens a muscle.

Spiritual masters will say that not a single one of our prayers is ever lost.  Sooner or later, each will be answered; perhaps not at the time or in the way we imagine, but when and as God wants, in his plans that surpass our understanding.  Our prayers are not always answered as we would want, but the act of expressing them, giving voice to them, always brings us closer to God and attracts a certain grace that we will one day see very clearly and that will fill us with wonder.  What is most important about praying for something is not the something but the connection with God that’s established and developed by means of it. 

We look to St. Monica as an example of one who prays well.  A woman who established that connection with God.  Her feast day is later this month on August 27^th.  If we go to Mass on that day in the collect we’ll hear, “O God who console the sorrowful and who mercifully accepted the motherly tears of St. Monica for the conversion of her son Augustine.”  Monica prayed over 15 years for the conversion of her son.  St. Augustine, her son, in his autobiography wrote that God graciously heard her and did not despise the tears that watered the earth in whatsoever place she prayed.   St. Monica in persisting in this prayer of petition became a saint. Faithfully praying for her son expanded Monica’s heart and soul expanding her humility, her faith, and her trust.  She needed 15 years of expansion.  And that prayer connection to God bore fruit, she became a saint.  Praying for her son was her path to sanctity.  A prayer connection to God will always bear fruit, both for ourselves and for the people for whom we pray.    Bearing fruit in ways we would never imagine.  So, we never give up on prayer, even if God seems to be responding in silence.      

My prayer for us today is that we imitate both the young would be Benedictine and the Canaanite woman, always persistently standing outside the door calling to our Lord.  In faith we know the door will open.

Pax et Bonum,

Fr. Christopher J. Ankley

Dear Friends,

In Charte Cathedral, 50 miles SW of Paris France there is a statue of Adam asleep and he’s resting his head on the lap of God the Father.  To look at it one is struck by an overwhelming sense of peace.  Adam is asleep; he has not a care in the world.  He’s asleep in the safest place in the whole universe and beyond.  To look at that scene one gets a sense of peacefulness, safety, prayerfulness, and above all a sense of quiet.  Adam’s asleep there is no noise or a worldly cacophony to awaken him.  To sit in the quiet presence of God is to sit in peace. 

Cardinal Sarah, Prefect of the Congregation for Divine Worship, once wrote that silence and prayer are the strongest weapons against evil.  God works in silence and evil never has the last word.  In our first reading we heard of a strong and heavy wind, where rocks were crushed, then an earthquake, and then a fire, all the noises of the world.  But the Lord was not in any of them.  Not the wind, not the earthquake, not the fire.  Not in any of them.  The Lord was only heard in a tiny whispering sound.  A sound only heard in an atmosphere of silence. 

As we know the devil and his minions sow discord and hatred.  They make a lot of noise and racket.  They create a lot of societal wind, and quakes, and fire.  Just look at our news.   All of these things just to prevent us from resting in God, however, the devil will not be able to reach us in the stronghold of silence. 

I have a story from the life of St. Clare of Assisi; her feast day was on Friday the 11^th. St. Clare found our Lord in Silence and she would not let go.   St. Clare was 18 when she first heard St. Francis speak.  He was giving a Lenten mission and what she heard set her heart on fire.   In secret she went toSt. Francis to ask his help so that she too could live the Holy Gospel like he did.  On Palm Sunday that year, in the middle of the night, St. Clare ran away from home.  St. Francis and his brothers met her at the door of the Chapel of Our Lady of Angels.  She was received into their community.  Her hair was cut short and she received a veil and a tunic of sackcloth which was tied about her with a cord.  Since she was the first woman to enter that community, they didn’t yet have proper housing.  So she was taken to a nearby Benedictine Convent. 

The next day when St. Clare’s family realized what had happened, they were not happy.  She was spoiling their plans for an advantageous arranged marriage.  And so they stormed the convent breaking down the front door.  Once inside, they searched for her and after a while they found her in the quiet darkened chapel.  She was kneeling in front of the altar praying, praying before the exposed Blessed Sacrament.  And so they went for her, to grab her, and to drag her out.  But St. Clare resisted, she grabbed onto the altar and would not let go.  With all her God-given strength she held on.  She held onto that privileged and sacred place where our Lord is made present.  She had found her Bridegroom and nothing would separate them.   Her family could not drag her away.  All the powers of the world, all the promises of the world could not drag her away.  All the noise and discord of the world couldn’t drive her or pull her away from our Lord.  It was a mystical moment.  Her family gave up and left.

Every Friday from 9:30 to 5:00 we have Eucharistic adoration in the Church, and every week from Sunday 2:00pm until Wednesday 8:00am we have adoration in the Parish Center Chapel (St. Cyril Chapel).  Time set aside for peace and silence in the presence of Jesus.   Come sit and pray in the stronghold of silence, away from all the winds, earthquakes, fires, and noises of the world.  Come listen for that still small voice, that tiny whispering sound.  If you fall asleep, that’s ok; there is no better place to sleep. Our Lord once said this to a mystic who was worried that he wasn’t spending enough time in Eucharistic adoration.  Our Lord said, “Give Me the little moment of adoration and of love and I will multiply it, making it possible for you to give me hours of adoration and of love, as they become available in your life.  Too many souls try to do too much, and end up doing nothing.  It is better to begin by doing what is very little, and by entrusting the little offering to Me, confident that I will receive it and turn it to My glory and to the glory of My Father.” 

Even if you can only spend a few minutes in adoration, come and pray, come and look upon our Lord in peace and silence, even if only for a few minutes.  St. Peter only begins to sink into the water when he takes his eyes off of Jesus.  He sinks when he begins to focus on the noise of the world, to focus on how strong the wind is.  But when looking on Jesus, who is peace personified, he walks on water.  Like St. Clare may we find our Lord in silent adoration, never letting go, never looking away.

Pax et Bonum,

Fr. Christopher J. Ankley

Upon Mount Tabor, Jesus revealed to his disciples a heavenly mystery. While living among them he had spoken of the kingdom and of his second coming in glory, but to banish from their hearts any possible doubt concerning the kingdom and to confirm their faith in what lay in the future by its prefiguration in the present, he gave them on Mount Tabor a wonderful vision of his glory, a foreshadowing of the kingdom of heaven. It was as if he said to them: “As time goes by you may be in danger of losing your faith. To save you from this I tell you now that some standing here listening to me will not taste death until they have seen the Son of Man coming in the glory of his Father.” Moreover, in order to assure us that Christ could command such power when he wished, the evangelist continues: Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter, James and John, and led them up a high mountain where they were alone. There, before their eyes, he was transfigured. His face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as light. Then the disciples saw Moses and Elijah appear, and they were talking to Jesus.

  These are the divine wonders we celebrate today; this is the saving revelation given us upon the mountain; this is the festival of Christ that has drawn us here. Let us listen, then, to the sacred voice of God so compellingly calling us from on high, from the summit of the mountain, so that with the Lord’s chosen disciples we may penetrate the deep meaning of these holy mysteries, so far beyond our capacity to express. Jesus goes before us to show us the way, both up the mountain and into heaven, and – I speak boldly – it is for us now to follow him with all speed, yearning for the heavenly vision that will give us a share in his radiance, renew our spiritual nature and transform us into his own likeness, making us forever sharers in his Godhead and raising us to heights as yet undreamed of.

  Let us run with confidence and joy to enter into the cloud like Moses and Elijah, or like James and John. Let us be caught up like Peter to behold the divine vision and to be transfigured by that glorious transfiguration. Let us retire from the world, stand aloof from the earth, rise above the body, detach ourselves from creatures and turn to the creator, to whom Peter in ecstasy exclaimed: Lord, it is good for us to be here.

  It is indeed good to be here, as you have said, Peter. It is good to be with Jesus and to remain here forever. What greater happiness or higher honor could we have than to be with God, to be made like him and to live in his light?

  Therefore, since each of us possesses God in his heart and is being transformed into his divine image, we also should cry out with joy: It is good for us to be here – here where all things shine with divine radiance, where there is joy and gladness and exultation; where there is nothing in our hearts but peace, serenity and stillness; where God is seen. For here, in our hearts, Christ takes up his abode together with the Father, saying as he enters: Today salvation has come to this house. With Christ, our hearts receive all the wealth of his eternal blessings, and there where they are stored up for us in him, we see reflected as in a mirror both the first fruits and the whole of the world to come.

Dear Friends,

Graham Greene was an English Catholic novelist.  He died in 1991 and almost everything he wrote had a Catholic theme.  He once wrote a short story entitled, “A Hint of an Explanation,” which in summary goes like this.  David is a young boy growing up as a Catholic in a small village in Scotland in which nearly everyone goes to Church.  The exception is a man by the name of Blacker.  He is both the village baker and the village atheist.  He is widely known to detest Catholics and the Catholic Church. 

There’s a toy shop in the town and in the window of that toy shop there is a long and beautiful train.   David stops to look at it every day.  Blacker has seen David looking into that window and how he is obviously dying to have that set of trains.

One day Blacker meets David in the street and says that he has a deal to propose.  If David would only pretend to receive communion one Sunday and to put the host in his pocket and later deliver the host to him, he would deliver the train set to his front doorstep the next morning.  “It’s got to be consecrated!  It’s no good if it’s not consecrated,” Blacker said.  “Why do you want the Host?”  David asked.  Never you mind.  That’s my business,” said Blacker.  Blacker even threatened him with a razor, saying he had a master key to all the houses in town.  If David didn’t help him he’d make him bleed in the middle of the night.

David actually started to do the terrible thing Blacker suggested.  He took the host out of his mouth and placed it in his pocket.   He later wrapped it in a bit of newspaper.  And he spent one terrible day and one terrible sleepless night with what, he was becoming more conscious of by the hour, was the Blessed Sacrament, our Lord himself present in his divinity and present in his betrayed, sacrificed, and risen humanity. 

Morning came.  Blacker appeared beneath his bedroom window.  “Have you got it, boy?” “Give it to me” he said, “Quick!” “You shall have the train in the morning.” “You can’t have Him,” “Go away!” yelled David.  “I’ve got the razor,” threatened Blacker.  David reasoned that the only safe place for the Host was inside of him and so he consumed the host, paper and all. 

Until that moment David had been bored by Mass and he had received Communion more out of routine than anything else.  It’s just what you did.  But in that moment, with Blacker standing beneath his window, David realized what a treasure he held all wrapped in newspaper.  This was our Lord, this was Jesus.  David found his treasure, he came to his senses, and he was willing to give up something he dearly wanted.  That train set just didn’t matter anymore. 

Today’s Gospel invites us to make our Lord and His Kingdom the number one priority in our life.  One way to grow more and more in making Him and His kingdom number one is to spend more time with Him.  Spend more time with Him here in the Church.  He’s in the tabernacle just waiting for a visitor.   Come sit with Him at some point during the week.  The farmer sells all that he has in order to obtain the treasure.  The merchant does the same, selling everything to buy the pearl.  What would you be willing to give up in order to spend extra time with our Lord here present in the tabernacle, the treasure of our Church. 

Our Lord’s heart beats with love in the Sacrament of the Altar, and his heart is wounded, sliced open, always ready to receive us, to receive our petitions, our pleas, and our desires.  Go to His Heart wounded by love and present in the most Holy Sacrament.  Be bold and confident in what you ask.  His heart is open and ready to receive you and all your petitions. 

Pax et Bonum,

Fr. Christopher Ankley

Dear Friends,

Not long ago I went to the hospital to see a woman who’s dying.  I went there to anoint her.  And when I entered the room I said, “Hello, you’re on our hospital list.”  But she wasn’t hearing so well and she thought I’d said you’re on our impossible list.   She smiled after saying this, but it got me to thinking.  Nobody’s on an impossible list, everything is possible with God.

Back in the 3^rd century there was a Roman priest by the name of Hippolytus.  He was a brilliant theologian with a huge ego.  He was a gifted preacher but also one of the least forgiving men the Church has ever known.  He caused great harm to the Mystical Body of Christ, the Church.

In 217, a Roman priest named Callixtus had been elected pope.  Callixtus was a man with a past:   He had been an embezzler, a brawler, and a convict.  But he had repented and reformed his life, and the change was so complete that the majority of the clergy of Rome (who elected the pope at this time) considered Callixtus a worthy successor to St. Peter. 

It wasn’t just Callixtus’ past that galled Hippolytus, it was also his policies.  Pope Callixtus absolved penitent adulterers and fornicators, and readmitted to the Church heartbroken Christians who, out of fear of torture and death, had renounced their faith and sacrificed to the pagan gods.  Hippolytus insisted that such sinners should be cut off forever.  He was all justice and no mercy.  Priests who took the same hard line met and elected Hippolytus as their pope.  Historians call him the anti-pope.  He was a rival to the true pope and he led many people away from the Church.  He caused a great schism in the Church.

The split dragged on for 19 years.  Even after the martyrdom of St. Callixtus, the election and martyrdom of the next pope, Pope St. Urban I and the election of Pope St. Pontian.  Through all of this Hippolytus still insisted that he was the true pope. 

In 235 Rome got a new emperor, Maximinus.  And almost immediately the emperor launched a new persecution of Christians, taking special care to target the leaders of the Church.  Pope Pontian and the antipope Hippolytus were both seized in the roundup and deported to the mines in Sardinia.  For the sake of the Church, Pontian resigned the papacy so a new pope could be elected.  This act of selfless concern for the good of the Church appears to have pricked Hippolytus’ conscience.  In Sardinia he repented his schism and begged Pontian to reconcile him to the Church.

Both men died of harsh treatment in the mines.  Christians were able to recover their bodies and give them decent burial in the catacombs.  To the Christians of Rome, Hippolytus’ repentance and martyrdom wiped his schismatic past, and they venerated him as a saint, along with Pontian and Callixtus. 

Why have I told this story?  I’ve told it because I think because it’s a story that gives hope, because in the eyes of God nobody is a lost cause. Nobody’s on the impossible list.  The Gospel always calls us to repentance.  Repentance and conversion are always possible and sometimes they’re even miraculous.  An early Christian once commented on this Gospel about the weeds and the wheat by saying, “See the unspeakable love of God for man!  He is prompt to bless them and slow

to punish.” This call to repentance is also combined with divine patience.  We are given more time to bear fruit. God is patient. The weeds are allowed to live in the field until the harvest.  They are given time to repent and time to cease being a weed.  There is great hope here. 

We have friends, we have family members who maybe aren’t living as close to the Lord as we would like.  So like St. Monica we storm Heaven with prayers.  We pray for them, we fast for them, and we gently speak the Gospel to them sometimes using words when the right opportunity arises.  We can’t force them to accept the Gospel but because our God is so very good and patient there is always hope.  And with our rationalizations and stubbornness in not wanting to always follow the narrow way or the good path we need a God who is patient.  Because we are all, at one time or another a little weed like.  But God lavishes us with his grace waiting for us to produce abundant fruit.  Nobody’s on the impossible list.

Peace and all good,

Fr. Christopher J. Ankley

Dear Friends,

There is an expression that says, the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.  In the middle of the 17^th century nine years after the Jesuits Isaac Jogues and John de Brebeuf were tomahawked by Iroquois warriors, a baby girl was born near the place of their martyrdom, that place is now known as Auriesville, in upstate New York.

That baby girl would one day be known as St. Kateri Tekakwitha.  Her feast day was celebrated on Friday July 14th.  Kateri’s mother was a Christian Algonquin, taken captive by the Iroquois and given as wife to the chief of the Mohawk clan.  The Mohawks were the boldest and fiercest warriors of the Five Nations of Native Americans.   Kateri’s mom taught her children the prayers and the basics of the Catholic faith.  When she was 14 a small pox epidemic swept through her village, many people died including her entire family.  Kateri was very sick and after recovering her face was left disfigured with pock marks and she was left half blind from the disease.  She was adopted by an uncle who succeeded her father as chief. 

When Kateri was 19 the Jesuits (black robes) finally made their way to her village.  They were amazed to find a young woman among the Mohawks who knew about Jesus and the Catholic faith.  Kateri remembered and practiced all that she had been taught, very impressive for the culture in which she lived.   She loved Jesus and wanted to learn more.  

Her uncle and many of the Mohawks hated the coming of the Black robes – Jesuit missionaries- but they could do nothing to them because of a peace treaty with the French that allowed their presence in the villages with native Christian captives.  Kateri was moved by the words of the Black robes and she soon got up the courage to ask for baptism.  On Easter Sunday when she was 19 she was baptized and given the name of Catherine, Kateri in her language.  With her baptism and refusal to take a husband, life got very hard for her.  She was treated as a slave and because she would not work on Sunday, she received no food on that day.  But even with these difficulties her life in grace grew rapidly.  She told a missionary that she often meditated on the great dignity of being baptized and was powerfully moved by God’s love for human beings and saw the dignity of each of her people, even though they treated her terribly. 

Because of her conversion Kateri was in great danger.  At times stones were thrown at her and she was beaten with sticks.  To get away from the abuse each day, she would go into the woods to pray before a cross she had made out of twigs.  Eventually Kateri escaped to a Christian village near Montreal.  And it was 200 miles of walking to get there.  In that village her faith bloomed.  She made her first communion and made a private vow of virginity.  Kateri lived a simple life of prayer and charity caring for the sick and the orphans.  Every day she went to the chapel to pray in front of the Blessed Sacrament.  The chapel opened at 4:00am and she was always the first one there.  It’s said that during adoration her face would take on an almost angelic glow.  It was very powerful, so powerful, that people would come to the church just to watch her pray.  She inspired many people with her devotion and her penitential practices and her charity in caring for the sick, aged, and orphaned.  Their faith was strengthened by her example. 

So what about us?  Is the faith of others, the faith of those around us, strengthened and edified by our example?  The majority of us in the pews this Sunday don’t need to worry about being the “seed on the path” or the “seed on the shallow soil.”  if we were that kind of seed, we probably wouldn’t still be coming to Mass.  I think that the majority of us need to watch out for the third type of soil:  “some seed fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it.”  Our Lord tells us that the seed among the thorns does not die, it just becomes unfruitful.  In the same way we may show up for Mass on Sunday but the rest of the week is lived disconnected from Sunday.  We might be getting caught up in the distractions of American culture.  Spiritual writers will say that the greatest threat to Christians in Western countries is the constant allure of a culture of comfort and ease, where Christians are more concerned about their 401k than about eternal life.  Is there evidence that we are living this life with the Next Life in view? 

St. Kateri, every day, spent some time in front of the Blessed Sacrament, the practice kept her fruitful.  That’s probably not possible for everyone, but I would challenge everyone, to at some point this week make a visit to a Church. Sit before our Lord present in the Tabernacle. Maybe even mediate on the following:

O my beloved Jesus, I am happy to be in Thy presence.  Thy psalmist said it:  “To be near God is my happiness.”  There are no words to describe what it is to have Thee – God from God, Light from Light, Very God from Very God – so close. 

Thou art hidden, but I see Thee.

Thou art silent, but I hear Thee.

Thou art immobile, but Thou reachest out to draw me in and hold me against Thy Heart. 

One, who possesses Thee in the Sacrament of Thy love, possesses everything.

Because Thou art here, I lack nothing.

Because Thou art here, I have nothing to fear.

Because Thou art here, I cannot be lonely.

Because Thou art here, heaven itself is here and myriads of angels adoring Thee and offering Thee their songs of praise.

Because Thou art here, I need not search for Thee anywhere else.

Because Thou art here, my faith possesses Thee, my hope is anchored to Thee, my love embraces Thee and will not let Thee go. 

Bring our Lord your stress, your anxieties, your problems, and then in silence, listen.  Let Him till the soil of your heart, let Him pull the weeds and thorns choking your heart.   To sit before the Eucharistic Face of our Lord is to become ever more fruitful. 

St. Kateri died at the age of 24 and the last words out of her mouth were, “Jesus, I love you.”  These were also her first words the moment she stepped into eternity, “Jesus I love you.”  May these words always be ours as well, seven days a week, bearing fruit a hundredfold.

Pax et Bonum,

Fr. Christopher J. Ankley

Dear Friends,

Some Bible scholars call today’s Gospel St. Matthew’s most precious pearl.  In this passage Jesus addresses his father revealing his identity within the Trinity.  He says, “I give praise to you Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to little ones.  All things have been handed over to me by my Father.”  The essence of God’s life, the essence of the Trinity, is this play of giving and receiving.  The Father forgetting himself gives to the son.  And the Son forgetting himself gives to the Father.  And that gift of self is so strong and charitable we call Him the Holy Spirit.  God’s own life is the looking toward the other with infinite charity.  And we are called to live in the midst of that charity.    And all of this has been revealed to little ones.  Little ones get it because little ones are always dependent.  Little ones always look to another to have their needs fulfilled.  Little ones wait to receive.  Little ones can’t run their own show.  Little ones look to another for direction.  This is our Lord’s spiritual program, the heart and soul of his teaching; to be little, to be humble, is to receive everything from the Father.  And Jesus wants to live his life within in us; he wants to live his life within each one of us, where he will continue to receive from the Father.  As St. Paul once wrote, “It is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me.”  Are we little enough to receive?  Humble enough to receive everything the Father wants to give. 

By the world’s standards the little ones are the unskilled and ineloquent.  But as Psalm 18 says, “Thou hast made the tongues of these infants eloquent, so that their sound is gone out into all the earth, and their words unto the ends of the world.”  In other words, the voice of the humble is heard everywhere. 

I have a story about one of those humble voices heard everywhere.   I’ve written of her before because she’s one of my favorites, Maria Goretti. July 6^th was her feast day and so I have to mention her.   Maria was born in 1890 in Northern Italy.  She was born into a poor farming family and her father died when she was very young.  Her mom struggled to put food on the table for Maria and her five siblings.  Even though young, Maria worked hard to help her mother.  On a hot July day in 1902 Maria sat outside mending a shirt while looking after two sleeping babies, everyone else was in the field working.  A neighborhood boy by the name of Alexander came to the house.  This boy had been in the habit of always pestering Maria with unwanted advances.  She always resisted and told him to go home.  On this day, however, he dragged her into the house and because of her resistance he attacked her with a knife stabbing her repeatedly.     

An ambulance brought Maria to the hospital and it was seen at once that she couldn’t possibly survive.  In those next few hours Maria, while enduring a lot of pain, showed more concern for her family and the man who attacked her than she did for herself.  She prayed for Alexander and she forgave him, hoping to one day “See him in Heaven”, she said.  “I want him in Heaven with me.”  Maria Goretti is a saint today not because she resisted her attacker but because she forgave him.  She offered forgiveness at a moment of deep physical pain when no one would have blamed her if she had thought only of herself.  She was only 11.  She didn’t want revenge.  She thought of the other.  She was merciful instead of being hardhearted.  And for this she is a saint. 

By the world’s standards the little ones are the unskilled and ineloquent.  But as Psalm 18 says, “Thou hast made the tongues of these infants eloquent, so that their sound is gone out into all the earth, and their words unto the ends of the world.”  In other words the voice of the humble is heard everywhere.  The voice of the saint is heard everywhere.

Little ones are not dominated by ego; everything does not depend on a little one.  Little ones are quick to forgive.  Think back to when you were a kid and how quickly you forgave your sibling after a knockdown drag-out fight.  Maybe you didn’t have to say a word, you just started playing together again.  The fight was soon forgotten.  Little ones respond to promptings of God without the ego getting in the way.  They cooperate with grace. 

In the Gospel our Lord says, “You have hidden these things from the wise and the learned.”  The wise and the learned that Jesus was referring to are those who rely on themselves.  Depending on themselves to complete their own agenda.  Living life on their own terms, instead of God’s terms, with the mindset of, “My life, my rules.  My body, my rules.”  They are not like children receptive and obedient to the Gospel.  When we live this way it can be  a burden, because everything depends on me.

Our Lord then said, “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you.”     Now Jesus is the ultimate little one.  He is the son who receives everything from the Father. And to be yoked to Jesus means that we too receive from the Father.  We receive from the Father through Jesus.  We don’t have to be burdened by trying to do it on our own.  Our Lord then says, “And you will find rest.”  This rest is not the rest we find while reclining in a lazy boy, this rest is fulfillment and joy and peace.  To be yoked to Jesus means living in intimacy with the Father where we find fulfillment, joy, and peace. 

I want to end with an analogy about what it means to live in this yoke to live in this divine joy and fulfillment and peace.   Have you ever gone with your father to a place where you’ve never been, maybe on a vacation or to attend a sporting event in a big city like Detroit or Chicago?  And then at the end of the day when you’re tired you come back to the car.  Your dad tells you to get into the backseat.   And there you are in the back seat, you don’t know where you are, you don’t know the way home, but you trust, you trust that your father will get you home safely.  And your trust is so complete that you fall asleep, knowing you’ll arrive home safely.  To be yoked with our Lord means living in intimacy with the Father, sitting in that backseat, knowing he’ll bring us home safely. 

Pax et Bonum,

Fr. Christopher J. Ankley

Dear Friends,

For a number of years I was able to be a part of the St. Phil Senior Class trip to Rome and Assisi.  And the last year I went, during some free time in Assisi, when everyone had scattered, I visited St. Mary Major.  It wasn’t part of our tour and I wanted to go in for a look and for some prayer and for some cool air.  As I entered I saw a new grave, it was a simple mausoleum covered in notes and prayer requests that people had left in cracks and crevices.  It was the grave of Blessed Carlo Acutis.   And he had recently been moved from a cemetery to the Church.  They say his body is incorrupt.  I’d heard of Carlo Acutis but I had no idea he was buried in Assisi.  It was a graced find.  And so I added him to my litany of Holy Helpers, my own litany of Saints, my friends in Heaven, who I ask to pray for me.  We should all make our own litany of saints, our own list of friends in heaven that we are always asking to pray for us. 

Carlo was 15 when he died of leukemia in 2006.  He’s known for being a computer genius and for creating a website devoted to 196 Eucharistic miracles.  It’s still in operation today.  Carlo was a great proponent of Eucharistic adoration.  He once said, “To sit in the presence of the Sun you become tan.  To sit in the presence of the Eucharist you become a Saint.”   His mother Antonia told a reporter that Carlo had developed a devotion to Jesus at a very young age, such that he wanted to enter every church we walked in front of. 

This devotion to Catholicism did not come from his parents; they were not practicing Catholics when Carlo was born.  His mother readily admits that by the time Carlo was born, she had been to Mass just three times in her life.  Carlo seems to have been introduced to Jesus by his Catholic Pre-School.  What a difference a Catholic school can make.  Carlo began asking his parents deep questions about God that they could not answer.  His mom said, “He pushed me

to do research and to read.  I began to take theology courses and reflect on life.  I discovered the beauty of my faith.  We are all on a journey in the spiritual life, but because of Carlo, I was inspired to start that journey.”  “Carlo saved me,” she added. 

Carlo lived in the presence of God.  He knew that he lived in the presence of God.  Wherever he went he knew he was in the presence of God.  Do we live in the presence of God; do we know that we live in the presence of God?  Now I bring up this story about Blessed Carlo Acutis, because he was one who realized he was a little one.  Our Gospel said, “Whoever gives only a cup of cold water to one of these little ones to drink because he is a disciple – Amen, I say to you, he will surely not lose his reward.”   To be a little one is to be a disciple, to take Jesus at his word, to have simplicity of spirit, to be like children.  This does not necessarily mean innocence, it mean incompetence.  Little kids are not always innocent; they can sometimes lie, cheat, and bully each other.  But, little kids they are incompetent.  They are incompetent in taking care of themselves, they can’t take care of themselves, they need adults, they need someone to lead them. 

In the spiritual life the little ones are the ones who know they are incompetent; they are incompetent in getting to Heaven on their own.  They can’t do it.  They cannot find their own way to Heaven.  They know they need to be led there, to be led there by our Lord.  They know they need Jesus. And so despite their sins, they are precious to our Lord because, unlike the clever and learned, they’re ready to take our Lord at his word.  This is what thrills our Lord.  The little one welcomes Him and since they welcome him he dwells with them.  He lives in their heart and soul.  And their lives begin to resemble His.  The little one, the incompetent one lives in the presence of God, and knows it.  And

on top of all of this our Lord rewards those who are good to his little ones. 

If you haven’t yet realized your own holy incompetence, of not being able to do it on your own, pray for that grace, that grace of total dependence on God.

Pray for that holiness of being set apart for God, making the Lord #1 in your life, praying not just to be good, but to be holy.  When we love Him above all we find ourselves loving mom, dad, sister, brother even more. 

If this seems like a lot then maybe the best place to begin is sitting here in front of the Eucharist.  Blessed Carlo Acutis often said, “To sit in the presence of the Sun you become tan.  To sit in the presence of the Eucharist you become a Saint.”  

“To sit in the presence of the Eucharist you become a Saint.”

Pax et Bonum,

Fr. Christopher J. Ankley