The Holy Eucharist, an On-going Romance by Fr. Seraphim McCune

I have many friends, Catholic and Protestant alike, who wonder why I am so enamored by my belief in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist. I am constantly promoting it without reservation (if you’ll pardon my pun). But why? In our day and age increasing numbers of Catholics, Orthodox, and other sacramental Christians are questioning this doctrine – a doctrine that was never questioned until the beginnings of the Radical Reformation. I went the other direction. From a mocking unbelief to utter belief.

It all started in the late 1990’s. I had been raised as a Mormon (a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints). The Mormon church denies anything like the sacramental understanding of the Holy Eucharist of historic Christianity.  Like many Protestants, most Mormons mock the Catholic belief in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist. I was no different. I looked down over my nose at those ignorant and superstitious Catholics.

In the early 1990’s I converted to Christianity in its Pentecostal variety. Pentecostals generally have no use for sacramental theology, either. Not much changed for me there. Then I began to attend a Seventh-day  Adventist church. Adventists are generally nice people and sincere in their faith, but for them anything whatsoever that they associate with Catholicism is utterly anathema, from the anti-christ. The “wafer god” of Catholicism is not just mocked, but derided as a satanic counterfeit. In short, everything in my Christian experience set me up for just this sort of future.

Back to the late 1990’s. It was November, 1998. I was working grave yard shift in an auto parts supplier factory in northeastern Michigan. We were working 7 day weeks with only an occasional and rare day off. One of those nights I sat up listening to the radio as my wife slept in the next room. I decided that I would find one of those good Christian stations on the AM dial that came in after dark. I stumbled on this pious sounding preacher man and stopped to listen. It was not long before he had started preaching on the rosary and the Blesséd Virgin Mary. That angered me. I believed that not only was veneration of the Saints a violation of the First Commandment, but that the Virgin Mary had absolutely no contact with this sinful world and would roll over in her grave if she could see the “worship” all those awful Catholics were rendering her!

I determined right then and there that I was going to start doing my homework, deeply researching Roman Catholicism’s unique claims and I was going to write the tell-all, end-all refutation of Roman Catholicism. But God had other ideas.

      • I was at that same time very interested in the “Celtic Church” (which I mistakenly believed to be a proto-Protestant body). I decided that they were, if I interpreted Thomas Cahill correctly, the precise model that I would offer the reader as a counter-Catholic model from the ancient Church. I had started my interest in the Celtic Church after reading Cahill’s How the Irish Saved Civilization. That had happened about the same time as I had noticed that Protestant churches that had competing claims were always saying that they did things “just like the Apostles did it.”

      •  It was all a big, potent, and very Providentially timed mix. As I said, I had my ideas, but God had His. And they weren’t the same.

      •  As I began to study Roman Catholicism, I read the Catechism of the Catholic Church and kept saying to myself, “They’re right! Oh my gosh, I did not know that!” and lots of similar things. About the same time I began to understand the Roman view of the Eucharist, I also noticed that the pre-Roman Celtic view, as well as that of the Orthodox, the Copts, and other branches of the Christian Faith were all saying the same thing about the Eucharist: Christ is Really Present in the Blesséd Sacrament. I was cornered by the evidence to agree with what I had set out to refute.

      •  It led me to seek out a Celtic church that would have me as a priest. I approached several bodies. Then, a short time later, I discovered the Independent Catholic Movement. I found a body, Friends Catholic Communion, one of whose bishops would take me on as a candidate for Holy Orders. The more I studied, the more I came to love St. John’s Gospel, chapter 6, where Jesus gives His “Great Eucharistic Discourse.” In time I would discover a book on the Real Presence given at the English College in Rome in the Nineteenth Century by an archbishop who was a Protestant convert himself.

      •  In time I would experience three Eucharistic miracles. At the request of Father General Myke Beckett, I am sharing them with you. Please share them with others who you believe will benefit from them or who will at least be respectful of our belief in the Real Presence. If you are so lead by the Holy Spirit, share it with the disdainful. It may be a seed of faith for them, or else water a seed already planted.

      •  First: I was in my apartment in Beaverton, Oregon, just outside Portland. I was saying mass for a small house church we had started. One of our regulars had brought a guest. I counted out just enough hosts for everyone present to receive. The guest declined to receive and when I went to put away the one left over Host, there were two! The extra one was carefully placed in my mass kit as a precious relic of the Faith.

      • The second time: We had been homeless in Bryan, Texas. I had gotten work and with some help we got into a trailer house of our own. I celebrated a mass of thanksgiving the first Sunday in our new home. Again, I counted out just enough hosts for those present (just my family this time). When I went to put the paten away after communing my last child, there was one Host left again! This extra Host was added to the last one. (Eventually, I built two monstrances by hand for them and one was gifted to the Augustinian order I would briefly join as a oblate member.)

      •  The third time was a much more precious story. After getting to Texas, God began to start teaching me about the real meaning of Divine Providence, that is, the care He has for His creation in all things. It was an hard lesson to learn. Part of that lesson was that God does everything He does for multiple reasons. After four and an half years of being either on time or early with our rent, we were cornered into seeking legal help against a property manager who was abusing the lease. In the end it cost us because a vengeful land lord told us we would be able to renew the lease only to be told just days before it came to an end that we would not be allowed to do so.

      •  I fled from Bryan to Austin, Texas to look for new work and housing. Work was easy, but I knew I faced homelessness again. I lived with my best friend in my van for about a month as we prepared to bring my family to Austin. One night as I sat in the van in a grocery store  parking lot eating canned chow mein I realized that we were low on gas. My friend, John, knew where I could get a voucher, but to be there in time (they only took the first fifty people needing help) we’d have to be there at 4:30 in the morning. We decided to sleep in the church parking lot that night. I went to start the van and the starter gave the most horrible grinding noise I have ever heard from a car. I was terrified that my van had just died and I was about to be out of a job.

      •  About an hour later, I got the guts up to try again and the engine turned over just fine. I pulled out with a huge sigh of relief. There was micro-SUV coming at us that I wanted to beat to that left-turn lane (because it was a short green with a very long red after it at the light). I looked back in my rear-view mirror. Mom, Dad, and two car-seated small children. I commented how little tiny plastic SUV’s should be illegal because they are so dangerous in accidents. When I looked up, the light turned green. I pulled out. As I look to my left, there are two headlights coming at me at a tremendous speed – well above the speed limit. I rammed the gas and turned to deflect as much of the impact as possible and told John to “hold on! We’re about to get hit!”

      • I found myself in a chapel with no doors and no windows. The place was candle lit, but did not need the light. There were flowers in the vases at the front, but they were fully alive. In the center of the altar at the front was a monstrance. The host glowed with a light far above the noon-day sun, but not blindingly. There was no awareness of anything beyond this room. I was barely aware of the room as I contemplated the Eucharistic Lord in the monstrance. I began to sing Tantum Ergo in Latin with deep devotion. Then, as my custom usually is, I began to sing it in English. Then the Voice said to me, “Stop. You can’t sing that now.” I began to form the question, “But why?” but before it even formed in my mind the Voice answered me like Isaiah promised (i.e. “Before you call, I will answer”), “You have to go back.”

      •  I suddenly was aware once more of my family, my earthly life, all those things I had “left behind” in coming to this place. I began to cry. I did not want to go back. This place was so beautiful, so peaceful, so desirable. I so did not want to go back! Then the Voice spoke again, “Your family still needs you. They’re not done with you yet. You need to go back.” I knew that this was not an option, and yet there was no violation of my free will. I really don’t understand that, but I just know that it was. “You need to go back,” the Voice said one more time. I acquiesced that my family needed me and that I had to go back.

      •  When I woke up a cop was looking at me and asking, “Are you okay?” Blood was all over my face and chest, but I walked from the accident. I had been hit by a drunk who had hit me at 55+ miles per hour. My 3,300 pound all metal full-sized van had absorbed the impact. When I looked back at the micro-SUV that I was in such a hurry to get in front of, I realized that had I gotten behind them, I would be witnessing the death of the child and probably Dad who was driving. They would at the very least be cut out with the ‘jaws of life.’ God never does anything for a single reason – of that I am sure. God knew that confronted with Him asking me to take the place of that micro-SUV, I would have done it, so He simply put me up front. God compensated me with a personal audience – a visit to Him I could never have dreamed of.

      •  Two days later, as John and I surveyed the damage in the tow yard, we realized that we had totally forgotten about the container of pres-Sanctified Gifts that we had with us. John said, so poignantly, “Jesus was with us in the accident. I have been in a car wreck with Jesus!”

      • And so it was. That day, I went from believing ardently in the Real Presence, to knowing the reality of it. For me, this is no longer a matter of faith. It is not “the evidence of things not seen,” as the writer of Hebrews says.  It is clear and present knowledge for me. When Jesus said, “I will neither leave you nor forsake you,” He meant so much more than we know. “Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the age,” is no simple platitude. He really meant it.

Blessed John Dominici, B.C.O.P.

Memorial Day: June 10th

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John is an example of the triumph of spirit over difficulty, and an indication that God can use any type of instrument He chooses, if He has a certain work to be done. John was almost rejected by the Dominicans because he had such a severe speech defect that the superior felt he would never be able to preach–a real impediment in the Order of Preachers.

The saint was born into a poor Florentine family. His early years were noted for piety. In fact, if anyone came looking for him, his mother would say, “Go and look in the church. He spends most of his time there.” He had a special love for the Dominican church of Santa Maria Novella, and he haunted it from early morning to late at night. It was not a surprise to anyone when, at the age of 17, he decided to enter the Dominican order.

Here several difficulties presented themselves. John had no background of education, which was absolutely necessary in an order of scholars. To make matters worse, he had the speech defect. Some of the fathers felt that he should support his parents, although they protested that this should not stand in the way of their son’s vocation. It was two years before John was allowed to begin his novitiate at Santa Maria Novella. The order soon discovered the treasure they had. John excelled in theology and Sacred Scripture, and so he was sent, with the other superior students, to finish his studies in Paris.

Now he was face to face with the difficulty that his superiors had seen from the beginning. An ordained priest, member of a preaching order, he must fulfill his vocation by preaching. His superiors attempted to forestall any embarrassment by assigning him work in the house. John felt that the intervention of heaven was required, so with the utmost simplicity he prayed to Saint Catherine of Siena, who had just died, to cure him. The impediment disappeared, and John joyfully began to preach. He became one of the most famous Dominican preachers.

In 1392, after years of successful missionary work in all the cities of Italy, John was appointed vicar-provincial of the Roman province. It was a task that, both intellectually and spiritually, called for a giant.

The plague had cut into the order with such devastating effect that regular life barely existed. The convent of Santa Maria Novella had lost 77 friars within a few months; other convents were in even worse condition. The mortality had been higher among the friars than anywhere else, because they had gone quite unselfishly to the aid of the stricken people. However, this misfortune had left the order perilously understaffed, and there were a good many members who believed quite sincerely that the conditions of the time called for a mitigated observance of the rule. Many of the houses were already operating in this fashion. It was to be the principal work of Blessed John Dominici to right this condition, and bring back the order to its first fervor.

He began his work with a foundation at Fiesole. Before he had even erected the new convent, four young men received the habit, one of whom was Antoninus–future saintly archbishop of Florence. Two years later, two of the most gifted young artists in Italy, whom history would know as Fra Angelico and his brother, Fra Benedetto, received the habit. With these and other earnest young men, John Dominici set about the difficult work of building anew an order that had suffered a diminution of its original fervor. Soon the house at Fiesole,and others modeled upon it, could be described, as the first houses of the order were, the “homes of angels.”

Difficult days were in preparation for John Dominici. He was appointed cardinal in 1407, named archbishop of Ragusa, and chosen as confessor to the pope. Due to schism, there were two claimants to the papacy. The situation grew even worse when, after another election, no less than three powerful men claimed to have been lawfully elected pope.

Largely through the diplomacy and wise counsel of John Cardinal Dominici, the rival claimants to the papal throne agreed to withdraw their claims, and the groundwork was laid for the election of a new and acceptable candidate. At this time, John Dominici publicly renounced his cardinalate, thus indicating to the enemies who accused him of political ambition that he cared nothing for honors in this world.

John was preaching in Hungary against the heresies of John Hus at the behest of the pope when he died. He was buried in the Church of Saint Paul the Hermit in Buda. Many miracles were worked at his tomb before it was destroyed by the Turks (Benedictines, Dorcy).

Born: 1356 at Florence, Italy

Died: June 10, 1419 of a fever at Buda, Hungary; buried in the Church of Saint Paul the Hermit in Buda; his tomb became noted for miracles, and was briefly a pilgrimage point; it was destroyed by the Turks

Beatified: 1832 (cultus confirmed); 1837 (beatified) by Pope Gregory XVI

Blessed Diane, Blessed Cicely & Blessed Amata, V V.O.P.

Memorial Day: June 9th

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Diana, Caecilia, and Amata were the first members of Saint Agnes Dominican Convent in Bologna, Italy. They all knew Saint Dominic personally. Little is known of Sister Amata except that she was a good friend of Saint Dominic, who, according to legend, gave her the name Amata (‘beloved’). Dominic either sent her to the reformed convent of Saint Sixtus when the nuns left Saint Mary’s across the Tiber during a time of drastic reform, or he was instrumental in allowing her to stay there. There was an Amata from whom Dominic cast out seven devils, but it was probably not this Amata.

Caecilia Caesarini was a high-spirited young Roman of an ancient family; she threw her considerable influence into the reform movement at the time Saint Dominic was attempting to get the sisters into Saint Sixtus and under a strict rule. When the saint came to speak to the sisters at Saint Mary’s, it was Caecilia (then 17) who urged the prioress to support his cause. She was the first to throw herself at Dominic’s feet and beg for the habit and the rule he was advocating, and her hand is evident in the eventual working out of the touchy situation. In 1224, Caecilia and three other sisters from Saint Sixtus, including Amata, went to Saint Agnes in Bologna to help with the new foundation. Sister Caecilia was the first prioress there and proved to be a very strict one.

Caecilia is responsible for relating nearly everything now known about the personal appearance and habits of Saint Dominic. In her extreme old age, she was asked by Theodore of Apoldia to give him all the details of the saint’s personality, and all that she could recall of the early days of the order, so that he could record them for posterity. Though nearly 90, her memory was keen and specific. She recalled how Dominic used his hands, the precise shade of his hair, the exact line of his tonsure. If she erred, there were still people alive who could have corrected her, though there was probably no one with her descriptive power left to tell the tale.

Through a woman’s eyes, she saw the founder from a different angle than his fellow preachers were apt to see, and remarked on his gentleness with the sisters, and the little touches of thoughtfulness so characteristic of him. While the men who worked with him would recall his great mind and his penances, and appreciate the structural beauty of the order he had founded, Caecilia saw the glow of humanity that so many historians miss.

The most colorful of the three was Sister Diana, the spoiled and beautiful daughter of the d’Andalo and Carbonesi families of Bologna, who lost her heart to the ideal of the Dominicans when listening to Reginald of Orléans preach. She espoused the cause of the friars, who were new in Bologna, and begged her father until she obtained from him the church of Saint Nicholas of the Vineyards, of which he had the patronage.

Having established the brethren, she wanted a convent of the Dominican sisters in Bologna. When Saint Dominic came there on his last journey, she talked with him, and all her worries departed. She knelt at his feet and made a vow to enter the Dominicans as soon as it should be possible to build a convent at Bologna. Saint Dominic, going away to Venice on a trip from which he would only return to die, made sure before leaving that the brethren understood about Diana. Four of the fathers from the community of Saint Nichola were under obedience to see that her convent was built.

In the meantime, Diana’s father refused her permission to enter the convent. Stealing a leaf from the life of Saint Clare, she ran away to the Augustinians outside the city. In full armor, her brothers came after he, and Diana was returned, battered but unconvinced, to the paternal home. She nursed a number of broken ribs and several explosive ideas in silence.

The death of Saint Dominic was a great grief to Diana, as she was still living in a state of siege at home, waiting for some action on the question of the new convent. However, she soon acquired a new friend, who was to be her greatest joy in the years of her mortal life–Jordan of Saxony, master general of the order following Dominic. Jordan, as provincial of Lombardy, inherited the job of building the Bologna convent, but his relations with Diana were not to be merely mundane. Their friendship, of which we have the evidence in Jordan’s letters, is a tribute to the beauty of all friendship, and a pledge of its place in religious life.

Diana was resourceful. She made another attempt to elope to the convent. This time her family gave up in despair. She remained peacefully with the Augustinians until the new convent was built. In 1223, Diana and several other young women received the Dominican habit from Jordan of Saxony. Diana was the prioress for a time, but perhaps Jordan felt that she was too volatile for ruling others, because, as soon as the sisters came from Saint Sixtus, he established Sister Caecilia as prioress. Diana, who was used to being not only her own boss, but the one who gave orders to others, seems to have made no protest.

If we had the letters written by Diana, we should possess a fascinating picture of the early years of the order and the people who made it what it is. We are indebted to Diana for what we do have of the correspondence, for she carefully saved all of Jordan’s letters. They tell us of the progress made by the friars in various lands, and ask her to remind the sisters to pray for the missionaries. Jordan counts the successes when many good novices have come into the order, begging her prayers in the low moments when promising novices leave.

More than this, these are letters of spiritual direction, which should give a pattern to all such correspondence, for they infer that Diana is a willing and energetic Christian who will follow the advice she is given, not simply keep the correspondence going for the joy of it.

Diana died in 1236. She was buried in the convent of Saint Agnes. Her remains were transferred when a new convent was built, and Sister Caecilia–who died 60 years later–was buried near her, along with Sister Amata. The relics were transferred several times, all three together. The head of Blessed Diana was placed in a reliquary near the tomb of Saint Dominic.

Born: twelfth century

Died: thirteenth century

Beatified: Pope Leo XIII confirmed their cult in 1891

Blessed James Salomonio (Salomone), C.O.P.

Memorial Day: June 5th

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In a little chapel in Forli, built as a tomb for honored dead, there are three Dominicans laid in close proximity. One side is occupied by Blessed Marcolino of Forli. The center position is held by Carino of Balsamo, the assassin of saint Peter Martyr, whose long penance and popular holiness are now under consideration for his possible beatification; the third place is that of Blessed James of Saomomio, who was the spiritual director of Carino.

James was born in Venice, in 1231, the only child of noble parents. His father died when he was very small, and his mother became a Cistercian nun, leaving him to the care of his grandmother. She did well by her orphaned grandson, and James became a good and studious boy who responded eagerly to any spiritual suggestions. Under the direction of a Cistercian monk, he learned to meditate, and on the monk’s counsel, James became a Dominican at the convent of Sts. John and Paul, in Venice, as soon as he was old enough. He gave most of his money to the poor, and arrived at the convent with just enough left to buy a few books. Seeing that one of the lay brothers there was in need of clothing, he gave his small sum to the lay brother and entered empty-handed.

James wore the Dominican habit with dignity and piety, if not with any worldly distinction, for sixty-six years. He was humble and good and obedient, and there was nothing spectacular about his spirituality. He was well-known for his direction of souls, but he fled even from the distinction this work brought him.

Even his retiring habits did not protect him, for the people of Venice beat a path to his door. In self -defense, he transferred to another house, that of Forli. This was a house of strict observance and very poor. Nothing could suit him better. For the remainder of his life he worked and prayed in Forli, going out to visit the sick in the hospitals and spending long hours in the confessional. His charity to the poor and the sick gave him the name ” Father of the Poor.” He is represented in art surrounded by a horde of petitioners of this sort.

 

Born: 1231 at Venice, Italy

Died: March 31,1314 of cancer at Forli, Italy; buried in the chapel at Forli

Beatified: He was beatified in 1526 by Clement VII

Patronage: invoked against cancer

Representation: Dominican surrounded by a horde of petitioners; Dominican with a staff and book and the Christ-child over his heart; Dominican holding a heart with the letters “IHS” on it.

 

Blessed Peter Sanz, B., & Companions, MM.O.P.

(also known as Peter Sans i Jordá, and Martyrs of China)

Memorial Day: June 3rd

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The viceroy of Peking wrote this about the five martyrs that included Peter Sanz: “What are we to do with these men? Their lives are certainly irreproachable; even in prison they convert men to their opinions, and their doctrines so seize upon the heart that their adepts fear neither torments nor captivity. They themselves are joyous in their chains. The jailors and their families become their disciples, and those condemned to death embrace their religion. To prolong this state is only to give them the opportunity of increasing the number of Christians.”

Peter Sanz was among the first group of martyrs in Tonkin, which also included Bishop Francis Serrano, Father Joachim Royo, Father John Alcober, and Father Francis Diaz.

Peter Sanz was professed a Dominican at Lerida when he was 18 (1697). He was ordained in 1704, volunteered for the Chinese missions, and was sent to Manila, The Philippines, in 1713. After studying the language for two years, he entered China where he spent 31 years evangelizing the Chinese before he was captured. In 1730, he was nominated vicar apostolic of Fukien and titular bishop of Mauricastro. When a renewed persecution of Christians flared up in 1746, he was accused of breaking the laws by converting thousands to Christianity by a man to whom he had refused to lend money, according to one account.

The five men, bound together by their vows and their work, were brought more closely together during their imprisonment at Foochow. Fathers Serrano, Alcober, and Diaz were captured first, and tortured to reveal the whereabouts of Bishop Sanz. They did not break down, but the bishop and Father Royo, hearing about the torture, surrendered in the hope of sparing their brothers’ suffering, says another account.

The five priests were dragged in chains to the emperor’s court, where they were subjected to frightful torments. All of them, with a catechist named Ambrose Kou, were sentenced to death in December 1746. During the long imprisonment, a Dominican, Father Thomas Sanchez, managed to see them. He brought them some clothes and a little money, and all the news he could find.

On May 25, 1747, Bishop Sanz was beheaded at Fu-tsheu. Even the pagans were impressed with his gentle demeanor as he was led out to die, and a fellow prisoner who had been converted in prison, followed him closely through the mob, openly proclaiming his sanctity. As the headsman prepared to swing the axe, the venerable bishop looked at him and said, “Rejoice with me, my friend; I am going to heaven!”

“I wish I were going with you!” blurted out the unhappy man.

Laying his head upon the block, the bishop preached his last sermon: “If you want to save your soul, my friend, you must obey the law of God!” Pagan friends of the priests scurried through the crowd, gathering up the relics which they saved for the Christians. Many of these people, including the executioner, were later baptized.

On October 20, 1747, after the death of Sanz, word arrived that Father Serrano was had been appointed titular bishop of Tipsa and coadjutor to Blessed Peter Sanz. At that point, he and the others were summarily executed at Fukien.

Born: September 22, 1680 in Ascó, Catalonia, Spain

Died: beheaded on May 26, 1747 in Fuzou, China

Beatified: May 14, 1893 by Pope Leo XIII

 

Am I Good Enough?

Last Sunday, I was received into the Rerformed Catholic Church.  Am I good enough? Here recently I keep asking myself that question more and more. Am I good enough to claim the title, Child of God? Honestly, I am so not worthy, and I find myself questioning Him, (I know, I know, I shouldn’t), as to the reasons He chose me to go forth, and spread word of His grace and love. Surely God, I query, they are others more devout, more spiritual, more willing to do good works?  Oh it’s not that I don’t want to be a worthy vessel of God’s love, but some days I struggle with that big question: WHY? As I look around me at the works of others more spiritual than myself, I just cannot believe my beloved Father, has in His tender mercies, chose me to be a Sister, in the Dominican Order. My fellow Brothers and dear Father Myke Beckett are obvious choices. But ME, nope just could never imagine God’s reasons, then I read the scripture for today, and there is my answer.

Ephesians 2:1-10
2:1 You were dead through the trespasses and sins
2:2 in which you once lived, following the course of this world, following the ruler of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work among those who are disobedient.
2:3 All of us once lived among them in the passions of our flesh, following the desires of flesh and senses, and we were by nature children of wrath, like everyone else.
2:4 But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us
2:5 even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ–by grace you have been saved–
2:6 and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus,
2:7 so that in the ages to come he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.
2:8 For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God–
2:9 not the result of works, so that no one may boast.
2:10 For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.

Now let us examine this line by line. 2:1 You were dead through the trespasses and sins
2:2 in which you once lived, following the course of this world, Don’t know about you, but my trespasses and sins would make one blush, yet He set my feet on a different course, despite my past. And He will you, all ya gotta do is ask. Honestly, its that easy.

2:3 All of us once lived among them in the passions of our flesh, following the desires of flesh and senses, and we were by nature children of wrath, like everyone else. “Like everyone else” I like that because it shows me that despite my past, or your past, God does understand. He gets it, knows we are all human and have made mistakes in the past. Though our sins may be different, it really doesn’t matter now. As long as we acknowledge our past, and ask for His forgiveness.

2:4 But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us
2:5 even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ–by grace you have been saved—Hmmmm, seems pretty self explanatory here. But let’s explore it further, Not only is God showing us mercy, but love and grace. And through such tender blessings, He is making “us alive together with Christ”.  He is lifting us up; wiping away our past sins, such as a Mother would do as she wipes shed tears from a child’s checks, and saving us by His merciful grace. Sounds awesome, doesn’t it?

2:6 and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus,
2:7 so that in the ages to come he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.  When God does something, He surely doesn’t do it halfway. Not only is He promising to save a seat for us in heaven, but he is demonstrating here that He’s in this for the long term.

2:8 For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God–2:9 not the result of works, so that no one may boast. Now we come to the answer to my question of WHY. See, it’s not anything you, or I have done or not done, but it is by faith we are saved. You say faith is doing something, to have faith is to believe, and to believe is an action, but seriously folks, is it so hard to believe in a loving God? Yes, I will admit here I struggled with faith for a while, but a funny thing happened. I asked…….I simply asked God to show me how, and He did, in so many ways that I am still amazed at his power and love. And let me also mention here that one word, GIFT. See you and I have been given a gift by God, one that keeps on giving, and He further goes on to state that this gift is not the result of our works, it just is simply a gift from God.

2:10 For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life. He made us to do his work, no other purpose, But its for good works, and is to be our way of life. “For we are what he has made us”……….this is a powerful message here. You and I were not created by accident; we are not just here on earth for any purpose. We are “created in Christ Jesus for good works”, meaning our lives have purpose, and direction.

There’s my answer as to WHY me? I am here for God’s purpose, not my own. I was saved by faith and not by anything I’ve done or didn’t do, and I am not alone. I now know why He chose me, all that’s left is to praise Him for the love, and grace He has shown me, and to share this message with His children.

Blessed Sadoc & Companions, MM.O.P.

Memorial Day: June 2nd

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Saint Dominic’s dreams of converting the Tartars found realization in his sons. Missionaries did, in fact, go to the North during his lifetime, and many more were sent out by Blessed Jordan of Saxony. The more settles tribes of Poland and Hungary readily accepted the Gospel, and the North was not long in blooming with Dominican convents. But, in the thirteenth century, the restless millions of the East were riding down upon the fertile plains of Central Europe. Wild Tartar tribes soon destroyed what has been done for their more peaceful relatives, and scarcely a missionary survived to preach his message of peace to them.

Paul of Hungary and his band of ninety died as martyrs, probably in 1241. They were popularly honored as saints from earliest times. Soon to follow was the group headed by Blessed Sadoc, which had its headquarters at Sandomir, in Poland. So tragic was the early history of the Dominicans in Poland that, even in that martyred country, it is remembered. Polish Dominicans today wear a red cincture to recall the martyred hundreds who shed their blood that Poland might receive the light of truth.

Blessed Sadoc was a student at the university of Bologna when he met Saint Dominic and was received unto the Order. Being himself a Slav, he was eager to go to the North to preach the word of God. This he was given a chance to do when he and Paul of Hungary were given charge of the northern mission band. He soon accumulated a number of eager young students and novices, and proceeded to Poland with them. On his first night in the mission field, so say the old chronicles, the devil appeared to Sadoc and reproached him for disturbing his works: “And with such children as these,” he said bitterly, pointing to the young novices. With such as these, Sadoc did make havoc with the kingdom of evil: he won many souls to God, and, in Sandomir, he soon had the satisfaction of seeing a large community working for the glory of God.

In 1260, the Tartars made a fresh invasion into Poland and attacked Sandomir. Blessed Sadoc and his community had assembled for midnight Matins when they received warning of their approaching deaths. A novice, reading the martyrology for the following day, was amazed to see, lettered in gold across the pages of the martyrology, the words: ” At Sandomir, the passion of forty-nine martyrs.” On investigation, it was discovered that it was not merely a novice’s mistake, but an actual warning which they understood to be from heaven.

They spent the day in preparation for death. During the singing of the “Salve Regina,” after Compline, the Tarttars broke into the church and the slaughter began. One novice, terrified at the thought of death, fled to the choir loft to hide, but hearing his brothers singing, he realized that they were going off to heaven without him, and he returned to the choir to die with the others.

From this martyrdom came the customs of singing the “Salve Regina” at the deathbed of a Dominican-priest, sister, or brother. It is fitting that a life dedicated to God and Our Lady should end thus, with the battle cry “HAIL HOLY QUEEN!” echoing up from this valley of tears to be joined by the voices of Dominicans in heaven, who can now see forever the clement, loving, and sweet Virgin Mary.

Born: Various years within the Thirteenth century

Died: died 1260

Beatified: Their cult was confirmed in 1807 by Pope Pius VI

Blessed Alphonsus Navarette & Companions, MM.O.P.

Memorial Day: June 1st

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Dominicans were the first missionaries to Japan, and 1530 is given as the date of their martyrdom. However, no conclusive proof exists regarding their names or number, and Saint Francis Xavier rightly holds the title of apostle to this island kingdom.

Following in Xavier’s footsteps came other missionaries, and, for about 40 years, they worked with great results among the people. Then, in the closing years of the century, persecution flared, and the blood of martyrs cried out with a louder voice than that of the preachers.

Ferdinand took the Augustinian habit in Mentilla, and in 1603, was sent to Mexico, and thence to Japan in 1605 as vicar provincial. He worked at Osaka with great success until his capture and execution en route to Omura.

The first Dominican to die in the great persecution was Alphonsus Navarrete. When Alphonsus was very young, he gave up his inheritance to enter the Dominican Order in Valladolid and, after he had completed his studies, was sent to the Philippine missions. The great persecution had just begun in Japan. The year before Alphonsus left Spain, a group of 26 Christians, including many Franciscans and three Japanese Jesuits, were crucified in Nagasaki.

Despite the dangers, the Dominicans, who had been excluded from Japan for several years, yearned to go into the perilous mission field. Alphonsus in particular, after a trip to Europe to recruit missionaries in 1610, begged to be allowed to go to Japan. In the following year his offer was accepted and he was sent as superior of the missionary band. During the short interval of peace, they began their work, and, during six years of growing danger, they instructed the people and prepared them for the dreadful days to come.

The missionary career of Alphonsus was brief, and it was always overshadowed by the threat of death that beset the Christians in that unhappy country. However, in the few years of his apostolate, his accomplishment was immeasurable. Like his Divine Master, he went about teaching and baptizing the people. He is called the “Vincent de Paul of Japan,” because it was he who first began the tremendous task of caring for the abandoned babies there. He anticipated the work of the Holy Childhood Society by gathering up the homeless waifs and providing for their support from money he begged of wealthy Spaniards.

The warning bell of the great persecution was sounded with the martyrdom in Omura of two priests, a Franciscan and a Jesuit. Alphonus Navarrete and his Augustinian companion Ferdinand went to Omura with the intention of rescuing the relics of the martyrs and consoling the Christians. They were captured on the way, and with a young native catechist, were beheaded. Their bodies were thrown into the sea.

Five years later, on the hill of the holy martyrs of Nagasaki, more than 50 Christians sealed their faith with their blood. Some of the martyrs were beheaded, some were burned at the stake. In the group were nine Jesuits, including the famous Father Charles Spinola, nine Franciscans, and nine Dominicans, among whom were the Blesseds Alphonsus de Mena, Angelo Orsucci, and Hyacinth Orphanel. Louis Bertrand, a nephew of the saint of that same name, perished in the same persecution.

Thousands of Japanese Christians, from tiny children to old grandparents, died amid terrible torments in the profession of their faith. The anger of the persecutors was turned against all priests, brothers, and catechists, tertiaries, and Rosarians, and they made fearful attempts to stamp out all traces of the hated religion in the country. Pope Pius IX, in 1867, solemnly beatified 205 of the martyrs, among whom were 59 Dominicans of the first and third orders and 58 members of the Rosary Confraternity. Although all did not die at the same time nor place, they are listed under the name of Alphonsus Navarrete, who was the first to die.

 

Born: Various dates in the sixteenth century

Died: died the most terrible torments in Japan in 1617

Beatified: Pius IX beatified them in 1867

Blessed Andrew Franchi, B.C.O.P

Memorial Day: May 30th 

Blessed Andrew was born into the noble dei Franchi Boccagni family. He entered the Dominican Order at Pistoia about 1351, when the Italian peninsula was still under the shadow of the plague and was deeply involved in fratricidal wars. Another theory has it that he entered at Florence in 1348, which was the year the plague reached its peak. Whichever date he entered, he did so to give attention to his immortal soul, at a time when the world around him was apparently falling to pieces.

Andrew proved to be a good religious and an able administrator. He served as prior in three convents while still quite young. In 1378, he was appointed bishop of Pistoia, an office he filled with distinction and holiness for 23 years.

It is written of Andrew that he devoted himself to the poor, and spent his revenues to relieve their misery and to rebuild the ruined churches. He had a great personal devotion to Our Lady, to the Holy Childhood, and to the Three Holy Kings. As bishop, he lived a life of extreme simplicity, retaining his religious habit, and as much as he could of the rule. A year before his death, he resigned his office and retired to die at his old convent of Pistoia.

Born: Born in Pistoia, Italy, in 1335

Died: died 1401

Beatified: Benedict XV in 1921 declared him Blessed

Blessed William Arnaud, O.P. & Companians, M.M.

“Martyrs of Toulouse”

Memorial Day: May 29th

Nothing is known about William’s early life. In 1234, he and two other Dominicans were commissioned as inquisitors by Pope Gregory IX to combat Albigensianism in Languedoc, France. He and his companions were driven out of Toulouse, Narbonne, and several other towns by the heretics.

With him on the preaching mission were a fellow Dominican, Bernard of Rochefort; the Franciscans, Steven of Narbonne and Raymond of Carbonier, and two unnamed others; the Benedictine, Prior Raymond; the clerks, Bernard Fortanier and Admer; and the Dominican lay brother, Garcia d’Aure; and Peter the Notary. There were others who worked with him through the long and difficult years in Toulouse, but these were the ones who died in the martyrdom of Avignonet.

After the death of Saint Dominic, the party of Count Raymond of Toulouse rose to power again. In a short time it regained possession of Toulouse and several armed strongholds nearby. When William Arnaud and his companions came into the vicinity, they found every gate closed against them. None of the cities under the command of Raymond’s troops would allow them to come in, and, by order of the heretic commander, the citizens of Toulouse were forbidden under pain of death to supply the inquisitor’s party with any food. They took refuge in a farmhouse outside of Avignonet and preached around the countryside for some time. Because they had some measure of success, the heretics intensified their efforts to entrap and kill the inquisitors.

The members of the commission realized that they were only one step from death. They might have escaped and gone safely to some other part of the country had they chosen to do so. Instead, they remained where obedience had assigned them, and at the end of May 1242, they were given a heavenly warning that they were about to receive the crown of martyrdom. William was absent from the rest of the group when the plot was formed to kill them. Being told of a vision of martyrdom by one of the brothers, he hurried back to rejoin his group. The heretics completed their plans to massacre the entire party.

Scheming carefully, they set the scene at the country castle of one of the wealthy members of their group. In order to make sure of getting the inquisitors into the trap, they sent word to William that a confirmed heretic of his acquaintance wished to abjure his heresy and return to the faith.

Knowing well that it was a trap, William still could not refuse to go. He and his eleven companions went, on the evening of the Ascension, May 28, to the castle of Count Raymond VII of Toulouse. The soldiers of Raymond were concealed in the great hall. They fell upon the helpless group and killed all but four of the members. These four were taken out by friends who had know about the plot and hurried to the church.

William Arnaud and Steven of Narbonne were murdered in the sanctuary of the church as they sang the Te Deum. This was a crime almost unparalleled in medieval times when the right of sanctuary was one of the few strongholds against barbarism. The bodies of the martyrs were thrown into a deep ravine, and rocks were rolled down on them. During the night, some hours after the martyrdom, bright lights radiating from the bodies of the martyrs brought the faithful to gather up the relics.

The church of Avignonet was placed under interdict because of the sacrilege, and for 40 years no Mass was said there. The doors remained closed. Finally, when the interdict was lifted, the bells rang of themselves, according to legend, to let people know that Avignonet was once more a member of the living Church.

There is a striking footnote to this story of martyrdom. Shortly after the interdict was lifted, there appeared one day on the steps of the church a fairly large statue of the Blessed Virgin. Who had put it there has never been discovered. It is difficult to see how anyone in such a small town could have successfully concealed a statue of that size, for small towns are notoriously poor places to hide secrets. The statue appeared on the steps in broad daylight, yet no one saw it being placed there. The people took it as a sign that they were forgiven for their part in the outrage, and also as a sign that they should rebuild the devotion to Our Lady, which the Dominicans had preached. The statue was named “Our Lady of Miracles,” and they petitioned for a special feast in honor of their own Miracle lady.

Until very recently, a beautiful little ceremony was held in the Church of Our Lady of Miracles on every May 28. It was a night ceremony, in memory of the night martyrdom of William Arnaud and his companions, and it was called “The Ceremony of the Vow.” Carrying lighted candles, the people proceeded across the entire width of the church on their knees, praying for forgiveness for the people who committed the massacre.

Born: ?

Died: 1242

Beatified: Pius IX confirmed their cult in 1866

Patronage: Blessed William Arnaud is invoked by people who suffer from neuralgia, in memory of a miracle of healing which he performed on one of the sisters of Prouille.