St. Matthew, Venerable Bede, and Uncommon Commons

Another re-run. But I like it.

Call of St. Matthew  (Caravaggio)

We use the Common of Apostles 12, no, 13 times a year. (Don't forget Paul).Well, now that I'm thinking about it,maybe 14, because Peter&Paul share a feast, but then there's Chair of Peter and Conversion of Paul. Whatever. 

 It's nice to use Commons because we don't have them half-memorized the way we do the weekdays of the 4-week psalter. Unfamiliar elements will jump out at you.  For instance, the intercessions in Morning Prayer are not really intercessions, if intercessions = petitions. They are Praises.  The intercessions do return to their normal petionary tone at Evening Prayer.

Then, antiphon I of Evening Prayer , You are the men who have stood by me in my time of trial, strikes one on first reading as the height of irony. I mean, the apostles most certainly did not stand by Our Lord in His time of trial, right?   So then, you have to think this over.....oh, right. If we think of "me" as the Church, the body of Christ, then the apostles really did have a chance to make up for what they did in Gethsemane, not only standing by, but giving their lives.

Although the apostles share a common, they get proper gospel canticle antiphons, concluding prayers,and, their own second readings in the Office of Readings. Matthew's reading comes from St. Bede the Venerable--aka  the Venerable Bede.  It opens with this verse from today's Gospel: Jesus saw a man called Matthew, sitting at the tax office, and he said to him: Follow me.  Bede then rivets our attention on the verb saw. Jesus saw Matthew. Really saw him. "Jesus saw Matthew not merely in the usual sense, but more significantly with his merciful understanding of men. He saw the tax collector and, because he saw him through the eyes of mercy and chose him, he said to him: Follow me.

There's plenty more to the reading, but this is enough to take away for the day. Because, just as Jesus saw Matthew, he saw me. And sees me. With the eyes of mercy. It's not in spite of, but because of my being a poor, pathetic slob, attached to slingback pumps and snickers bars and many, many dumb things, that he calls me to follow him. In my better moments I want nothing more than to be lost in that merciful gaze.  Then I put away the breviary and with typical spiritual ADHD begin obsessing about whether I'm using the right facial moisturizer, or whether the living room needs new window treatments.

But he still sees me.

With mercy.

Thank God.

Let's Ramp Up our Office for Advent

Advent is a time of  preparation for the Second Coming, right? We want to be found ready when that happens, whether "that" is the Lord's final coming in glory, or just His ordinary, garden variety "coming" for each of us when we die. One way to do this is to expand our prayer life. And a great way to do this is to take the best prayer there is--the Liturgy--and increase our participation therein.

For some of us, this might mean the effort to get to daily mass, or maybe one or two daily  masses per week. For anyone who already participates in the Liturgy of the Hours, there's lots of ways to expand it. Here's a few:

1. If your practice of the Divine Office is patchy or irregular, strive to be consistent with the hours you already do say.
2. If you aren't already praying all of the liturgical hours, try adding one more. Or even part of one,say,  the psalmody or just the readings. For example, the Office of Readings. Maybe you don't have time for the whole thing. But for advent, doing just the Bible readings (Lots of Isaiah  and other prophetic texts),or just the second readings from the church fathers and saints would be  a really worthwhile  project.
3.  Stick with the hours you already pray, but to resolve to pray them with greater mindfulness. Perhaps make a project of focusing on one part of each day's office:  noticing  how the three antiphons  fit together, or asking yourself how you can better conform your heart to whatever the concluding prayer says.
4. Resolve to encourage a friend or family member to pray the morning or evening prayer with you during advent.

Realize that you only have to ramp up your liturgical prayer for the season of advent. Maybe what you choose to add during advent will become a new habit, maybe not. There is nothing wrong with doing something extra for a time, and then stopping.

My own plan is to be more consistent on Night Prayer, as it is the hour I'm most likely to skip. What I should do is try to get in the habit of saying  it by 9 or 10 each night rather than waiting for the bitter end when I'm collapsing into bed and can't keep my eyes open.

If you are planning to go deeper into the Liturgy of the Hours for Advent, tell us what your plans are. Maybe we can check up on each other as Advent proceeds.

Musing On Martin

There's more to St.Martin of Tours than the cloak and  beggar story. We tend to obsess  on this event because: 1. It's a terrific story about serving Jesus in  the poorest of the poor, 2. It's a  cool story, containing a soldier with a sword, thus 3. the part of Martin's life we emphasize to our small male children. Unlike  the uncool parts about Martin turning pacifist and becoming a bishop.

But really, Martin was a pretty interesting  bishop. He managed to maintain a lifestyle of poverty even while he was a bishop. And when not involved in preaching,destroying pagan temples, combating heresy, and other bishop's business, lived in hermit-like seclusion, up on a cliff in the wilderness. That's something little boys could get into, I'm thinking.

Today's Office of readings contains an account of the end of Martin's life by his contemporary  Sulpicius Severus. Bishop Martin was visiting a remote parish with the purpose of conciliating two quarrelling factions of clergymen. While there, he fell ill and prepared himself for death. But his people would not let him slip away:

"Father, why are you deserting us?" they cried. "Who will care for us when you are gone? Savage wolves will attack your flock, and who will save us from their bite when our shepherd is struck down? We know you long to be with Christ, but your reward is certain and will not be any less for being delayed. You will do better to show pity for us, rather than forsake us."

Their tone strikes me as whiny. Trying to make their saintly bishop feel guilty for dying. Poor guy. He deserved better.

Moved by pity for his flock, just as he had been moved by the beggar years before, Martin put the matter before God, stating his willingness to remain behind if he was still needed. Fortunately for Martin, God stuck with the original program. Thus, says Serverus, St. Martin "left this life a poor and lowly man and entered heaven rich in God's favor.

Padre Pio and Me

The only connection between this post and the Divine Office is that today is St. Pio's memorial. But since the subtitle above does say that I'll occasionally write about other stuff. This is one of those occasions. 

My parents learned about Padre Pio during the late sixties. I was eight or nine. Mom showed me pictures of the Italian friar who bore the wounds of Christ, and told me stories of how he could heal the sick, tell penitents in the confessional their forgotten sins, and appear miles from his cloister to help those in trouble. I was annoyed that the Pope couldn't declare Padre Pio a saint while he was still alive, since it seemed to me that these miracles were all the evidence of holiness necessary. When news of Pio's death was broadcast on the morning news on September 23, 1969, I remember thinking that now, surely, the Pope would get on with the canonization, at once! I had a deep desire for there to be a Real Saint whose time on this earth intersected with mine. That would mean that sanctity wasn't just the stuff of history and legend, but possible even now.

As the years rolled by, I grew to respect the rigor and even skepticism with which the Church examines saints, signs and wonders before giving them formal recognition. Given the monumental task of sorting through the legends and controversies that had sprung up around the Padre Pio, it's a miracle in itself that it took only 33 years before the canonization took place in 2002.

St. Pio has always been a “friend of the family”-- part of our personal cloud of witnesses that includes St. Joseph, St. Therese, and several other favorites. We'd ask his intercession for healthy pregnancies and “a safe delivery of a happy and healthy baby” . He generally came through for us, although I'd wished I'd given more explicit instructions: one of those healthy babies manifested the symptoms of autism at age two. Although Michael is rarely sick, and is in mischievously good spirits most of the time, this isn't exactly the kind of happy and healthy that I had in mind.I've reminded St. Pio of that more than once.

This summer, as we drove Michael to his special needs summer camp in eastern Pennsylvania, the GPS steered us onto a different route from last year. We saw a billboard that read “National Padre Pio Center – 1 mile ahead.” I'd heard about this place before, but had never been there. I recalled reading that it was built in gratitude by the family of a child who had experienced a spectacular healing at the hands of Padre Pio. “Let's pull in,” I told my husband. “We'll take a quick look around, make a bathroom stop, and be on our way.”

We got out of the car and walked along a colonnade towards a building complex that imitated the style of an Italian monastery. Entering a large chapel, I knelt down in front of a statue of Padre Pio. I offered a brief intention for each of my seven children. When I got to Michael, I said, “Give him more words—give him a voice.” Autism is above all else, a severe deficit in language ability. Michael understands many words, but rarely remembers to use them. When he does talk, his articulation is garbled. I could also have asked for less hyperactivity, some social skills, and an end to obsessive behaviors, but I was in a hurry.

Michael, my husband, and I left the large chapel and went into the smaller one, a replica of the chapel in the saint's monastery. A volunteer motioned us toward the front pew. We sat down, and were given to opportunity to venerate a relic. Michael sat down between Bill and me, and began tapping his finger on the plexiglass that protected one of St. Pio's brown woolen gloves that protected his stigmata from the gaze of the curious. The volunteer launched into a prayer of intercession. My first reaction was “Oh, no. How long will Michael sit still for this before he jumps up and screams to get out of here.?”

Instead, Michael began repeating, word for word, with beautifully clear articulation, each phrase that the volunteer uttered. It wasn't exactly a miracle—Michael will repeat things for me when I tell him to—but this time he did it  with no prompting,  for a perfect stranger, and in an unfamiliar setting. To hear polysyllables like “intercession” and “resurrection” flowing from his lips with such clarity was pretty startling. We left wondering if this was the beginning of a  some sort of miraculous improvement.

It wasn't. Michael continues to be moderately  mentally delayed, extremely hyperactive, and given to a whole menu of odd , repetitive behaviors. His speech therapist still finds him frustrating to work with. So what were God and the capuchin saint trying to tell me with that one minute of fluent speech? I'm guessing it is something like this: God has Michael in the palm of His hand. He can—and may yet—bring about changes in Michael's abilities. I am to trust in His plan for Michael as it unfolds, since His plan and timeline are for Michael's greatest good and, no doubt, for mine as well.

And I'm to keep praying.

Here's the  prayer from the shrine website. 

O God, you gave St. Pio of Pietrelcina, capuchin priest, the great privilege of participating in a unique way in the passion of Your Son, grant me through his intercession the grace of (name intention) which I ardently desire; and above all grant me the grace of living in conformity with the death of Jesus, to arrive at the glory of the resurrection. (Glory be...three times)

Padre Pio,and digital breviaries

Today is the feast of St. Pio of Pietrelcina, aka Padre Pio. Since his canonization was recent, you won't find his proper in a hard copy breviary. But happily, we have DivineOffice.org and Ibreviary.com (to the left of this page-the app is free--get it!) to keep us up to date on all the latest saints.

Even if you don't regularly do all the psalms and prayers for the Office of Readings, it's worth turning (clicking) to this hour on any saint's feast  and scrolling down to the second reading, which often as not is something written by the saint himself, or written about him by someone who knew him. (or her, etc. please don't make me bother with the inclusive stuff, we all know what "him" means in these contexts.) Today's second OOR reading is Padre Pio's own account, given to his superior, of receiving the stigmata. If you are reading this after 6:00 PM, the ibreviary widget will already have turned to Saturday's prayers, so for your benefit I've pasted the reading at the end of this post.

I think the lesson we can take away from this somewhat disturbing account is that: 1. God's love for those in close union with him is beyond our ability to fathom, which is why we find this account sort of scary, and 2. St. Pio's profound embarrassment over the outward manifestation of the stigmata is the best proof there is against critics who suggest he caused these wounds either deliberately or thorough some weird psychic self-suggestion.

Out of obedience I am obliged to manifest to you what happened to me on the evening of the 5th of this month of August 1918 and all day on the 6th.

I am quite unable to convey to you what occurred during this period of utter torment. While I was hearing the boys’ confessions on the evening of the 5th, I was suddenly terrorized by the sight of a celestial person who presented himself to my mind’s eye. He had in his hand a sort of weapon like a very long sharp-pointed steel blade which seemed to emit fire. At the very instant that I saw all this, I saw that person hurl the weapon into my soul with all his might. I cried out with difficulty and felt I was dying. I asked the boy to leave because I felt ill and no longer had the strength to continue. This agony lasted uninterruptedly until the morning of the 7th. I cannot tell you how much I suffered during this period of anguish. Even my entrails were torn and ruptured by the weapon, and nothing was spared.

From that day on I have been mortally wounded. I feel in the depths of my soul a wound that is always open and which causes me continual agony. What can I tell you in answer to your questions regarding my crucifixion? My God!! What embarrassment and humiliation I suffer by being obliged to explain what you have done to this wretched creature!

On the morning of the 20th of last month, in the choir, after I had celebrated Mass I yielded to a drowsiness similar to a sweet sleep. All the internal and external senses and even the very faculties of my soul were immersed in indescribable stillness. Absolute silence surrounded and invaded me. I was suddenly filled with great peace and abandonment which effaced everything else and caused a lull in the turmoil. All this happened in a flash. While this was taking place I saw before me a mysterious person similar to the one I had seen on the evening of 5 August. The only difference was that his hands and feet and side were dripping blood. This sight terrified me and what I felt at that moment is indescribable. I thought I should die and really should have died if the Lord had not intervened and strengthened my heart which was about to burst out of my chest. The vision disappeared and I became aware that my hands, feet and side were dripping blood. Imagine the agony I experienced and continue to experience almost every day. The heart wound bleeds continually, especially from Thursday evening until Saturday.

Dear Father, I am dying of pain because of the wounds and the resulting embarrassment I feel deep in my soul. I am afraid I shall bleed to death if the Lord does not hear my heartfelt supplication to relieve me of this condition. Will Jesus, who is so good, grant me this grace? Will he at least free from the embarrassment caused by these outward signs? I will raise my voice and will not stop imploring him until in his mercy he takes away, not the wound or the pain, which is impossible since I wish to be inebriated with pain, but these outward signs which cause me such embarrassment and unbearable humiliation. The person of whom I spoke in a previous letter is none other than the one I mentioned having seen on 5 August. He continues his work incessantly, causing me extreme spiritual agony. There is a continual rumbling within me like the gushing of blood. My God! Your punishment is just and your judgment right, but grant me your mercy. Lord, with your Prophet I shall continue to repeat: O Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger; do not punish me in your rage! Dear Father, now that my whole interior state is known to you, do not refuse to send me a word of comfort in the midst of such severe and harsh suffereing.


In my next post--a story about my own experience with Padre Pio.

Another Reason to use Digital Breviaries

If I had stuck with my print breviary today I'd have missed the Office of Readings for St. Andrew Kim Taegon and companions. (aka Korean martyrs). This memorial was added to the universal calendar recently, so our print breviaries do not contain its propers.  The second reading is St. Kim's farewell exhortation from prison. It includes this statement:

"The Lord is like a farmer and we are the field of rice that he fertilizes with his grace and by the mystery of the incarnation and the redemption irrigates with his blood, in order that we will grow and reach maturity."

That field of rice is a small but sweet reminder of how the Church can adapt to and serve any people and culture. He continues:

Dearest brothers and sisters: when he was in the world, the Lord Jesus bore countless sorrows and by his own passion and death founded his Church; now he gives it increase through the sufferings of his faithful. No matter how fiercely the powers of this world oppress and oppose the Church, they will never bring it down. Ever since his ascension and from the time of the apostles to the present, the Lord Jesus has made his Church grow even in the midst of tribulations.
For the last fifty or sixty years, ever since the coming of the Church to our own land of Korea, the faithful have suffered persecution over and over again. Persecution still rages and as a result many who are friends in the household of the faith, myself among them, have been thrown into prison and like you are experiencing severe distress. Because we have become the one Body, should not our hearts be grieved for the members who are suffering? Because of the human ties that bind us, should we not feel deeply the pain of our separation?
But, as the Scriptures say, God numbers the very hairs of our head and in his all-embracing providence he has care over us all. Persecution, therefore, can only be regarded as the command of the Lord or as a prize he gives or as a punishment he permits.
Hold fast, then, to the will of God and with all your heart fight the good fight under the leadership of Jesus; conquer again the diabolical power of this world that Christ has already vanquished.

Andrew Kim was martyred in 1839. But his words might have  been written by St.Perpetua in the year 203, or by  Blessed Miguel Pro in 1927.  Or any of the blessed thousands (millions?) known and unknown to history, who gave their lives for Christ and His Church.

Celebrating? the sorrows of Our Lady

It's   sort of...jarring, to be reading the glorious, hyper-rejoicing psalmody of Sunday Week I while holding in mind an image of, well, "4th station--Jesus meets his sorrowful mother." Or especially, since today I used ibreviary, having just sung the hymn, which was At the Cross Her Station Keeping.   I might have been better prepared if I had read the correct office yesterday (Triumph of the Cross), but my mind was elsewhere.  Without a glance at the calendar I read the regular weekday instead, so I didn't make the usual "14th:Cross; 15th: O.L. of Sorrows" connection that I usually do.

So why is it appropriate to "celebrate" this feast with rejoicing? We're not happy that Mary had so much to be sad about. But maybe it will help to remember that each Marian feast celebrates some gift Mary received, and that each of these was a "first fruits" situation, heralding the fact that we also receive that gift, even if not in the exact manner that Our Lady did.   The feast of the Immaculate Conception anticipates or heralds our baptism, when we too will begin a new life without original sin and filled with grace. The Assumption holds out hope of the Resurrection of the Body.  

This feast is about Our Lady's privilege of being the first human being for whom suffering, joined to Christ's perfect sacrifice, could have meaning. Could have redemptive value. Our suffering is not just something to be experienced and endured. Thanks to Jesus, is something that can be offered and consecrated. Today's Divine Office frequently reminds  us of this truth:

Let us adore Christ, the Savior of the World, who called his Mother to share in his passion. (Invit. antiphon)
Let us rejoice that we have been made sharers in Christ's passion. (Morning prayer, antiphon 2)
In my own flesh I fill up what is lacking in the sufferings of Christ. (Morning prayer, reading, Colossians 1:24)
I bear with all this for the sake of those whom God has chosen, in order that they may obtain the salvation to be found in Christ Jesus and with it eternal glory....if we have died with him we shall live with him. If we hold out to the end we shall reign with him. (evening prayer reading, 2 Timothy 2:10-12)

And the closing prayer this evening is all about Mary and the church sharing Christ's sufferings so as to share in the resurrection.

So that's something to be glad about. Our Lady of Sorrows leads the way in showing that our sufferings have a use, a purpose, and a nobility when joined to those of her Son. That is a reason to rejoice.

  A most blessed Easter Monday  to everyone.   Triduum here was lovely, thank you, with lots of liturgy, lots of family, lots of food. I am glad that the Church states that evening prayer and/or Office of Readings on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night are not meant to be done by those attending church on those three occasions. I for one would not have had time!     Easter Vigil in our country parish was a thrill as always--nothing beats the sight of the new light leaping up to the vaulted ceiling of our pitch dark church.   We also made it to the late morning mass on Sunday to hear the gorgeously chanted  sequence between the readings:

Death and life have contended in that combat stupendous: The Prince of life, who died, regins immortal. 

Then home to brunch, where we preface grace before meals by shouting The Lord is risen, alleluia! He is truly risen alleluia! This is the day the Lord has made! Let us rejoice and be glad alleluia!  We'll do that before meals every day this week. It's just about my favorite Easter custom.

My second favorite is to live off leftovers from yesterday's Easter dinner for the rest of the week--a much needed custom after several days of much prayer, shopping, cooking, and not too much sleep. Think I'll go curl up right now with a good novel (G.K. Chesteron's Manalive, newly reissued by Ignatius Press), and if I lapse into a morning nap, so much the better.

If anyone is actually here today, share your favorite way to keep Easter Joy alive during this octave week. I'm always up for new ideas (so long as they are easy to implement for a happy but tired woman) for celebrating the best week of the year.