O Raphael, lead us towards those we are waiting for, those who are waiting for us! Raphael, Angel of Happy Meetings, lead us by the hand towards those we are looking for! May all our movements, all their movements, be guided by your Light and transfigured by your Joy.
Angel Guide of Tobias, lay the request we now address to you at the feet of Him on whose unveiled Face you are privileged to gaze. Lonely and tired, crushed by the separations and sorrows of earth, we feel the need of calling …
I’m having a pretty easy plague season.
I read the news and I know that out there are people who are very sick, who are dying or who have died, who have recently lost someone close to them. I know that out there are people whose life-work has been put on hold or disappeared altogether. I know that out there are people who worry about how they will feed their children.
And here I am, having a pretty easy time of it. What I do for a living is sit in a room and write; that hasn’t changed. I live in a county that has managed to keep its COVID numbers down because, by and large, residents maintain distance, wear masks, wash their hands. I personally know only a handful of people who have gotten sick, and only one person who has died. I feel guilty even writing about this pandemic because it hasn’t affected me in the myriad ways it’s affecting others.
And yet I’m tired. I’m tired of the precautions we have to take when we go anywhere. I’m tired of standing in a carefully distanced line at the grocery store. I’m tired of prefacing all my emails with hopes the person I’m addressing is okay. I’m tired of not being able to get together with friends for a trivia night or go to the theatre or occasionally eat out. These are not serious problems, and I’m actually quite embarrassed whenever I even think them, much less share them, but that doesn’t make them any less real. And I believe there are a lot of other people feeling the same thing.
The weariness we’re all feeling isn’t just because of the inconveniences of our daily lives in this “new normal;” it’s deeper. Bone-deeper. Soul-deeper. How much pain can we continue to bear seeing on the nightly news? How many more deaths today? When will this be over? Why are people suffering? Where is God?
And, right on time, all three of today’s readings answer those questions. “Salvation,” Isaiah reminds us, “we have not achieved for the earth.”
But your dead shall live, their corpses shall rise
Awake and sing, you who live in the dust
for your dew is a dew of light…
As Isaiah knew him, God didn’t fit into the picture of utter injustice and misery rampant in eighth-century Israel. To God, as Isaiah knew him, persons mattered. God is making a very concrete promise to his people: there is something beyond your suffering, beyond living in the dust of pain and uncertainty. Hold on. Something else is on the horizon.
Psalm 102 is known as a prayer of the afflicted—a reasonably good description of what people are experiencing today. Earlier in the passage, the psalmist talks about going through a crisis, one that’s mental, physical, social, and spiritual. We know how he feels!
But now, in these later verses, he reveals how the story will end. We are going to experience—are experiencing—those same mental, physical, social, and spiritual trials. But that isn’t all. Like the psalmist, we have to rely on God’s word, and that word tells us this is not forever.
And then the words of Isaiah and the words of the psalmist make way for the words of Jesus, which show where his predecessors were going all that time, where their promises were leading: “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened,” he says, “and I will give you rest.”
That’s it. It’s that simple. Not simplistic, like magazine articles that promise 6 Ways to Feel Better or How to Relieve Your Weariness in 3 Days. Jesus is simply offering himself as the universal solution to everything that hurts, troubles, or burdens us. To all our weariness, our pain, our anger, our suffering. “I will give you rest.”
The only rest we can find, the only rest that matters is the rest of hope. This isn’t the frivolous idea of hope we express when we say we hope tomorrow will be sunny or we’re hopeful the Red Sox will win; this is a hope that is deeper, that is in fact one of the virtues. I recently had a conversation with Kris Frank, author of a book on hope and inner-city youth minister not unacquainted with people’s pain, and he told me that “it’s natural at times like this to react by going to one extreme or the other. But the problem with extremes is that, while they allow you to get through, in the process you’re putting aside everyone’s pain and suffering. So what I’m saying is that it’s in the middle of these extremes that you’ll always find virtue. Hope isn’t about either ignoring or wallowing: it’s about knowing that things are not okay, but we will be okay. Things have a remedy, and that remedy is Jesus.”
This is the hope that Jesus is extending to us today: that we can rest in the hope of Christ. And that’s what I’m holding on to as I put on my mask and grab my hand sanitizer for a trip to the supermarket. Isaiah gives me hope. The psalmist gives me hope. And Jesus promises me rest.
That helps me with my plague season. I hope it helps you with yours.
Jeannette de Beauvoir is a writer and editor with the digital department of Pauline Books & Media, working on projects as disparate as newsletters, book clubs, ebooks, and retreats that support the apostolate of the Daughters of St. Paul at http://www.pauline.org.
According to my resources, the name Carmen is a derivation of Carmel which is one of the titles given to Our Blessed Mother, namely, Our Lady of Mount Carmel. This is the patronal feast of the Carmelites. The Order of Carmelites takes its name from Mount Carmel, which was the first place dedicated to the Blessed Virgin and where a chapel was erected in her honor before her Assumption into Heaven. July 16 is also the feast of the “Scapular of Mount Carmel”. On that day in 1251, pious …
O Father of mankind,
who hast given unto me these my children,
and committed them to my charge to bring them up for Thee,
and to prepare them for everlasting life:
assist me with Thy heavenly grace,
that I may be able to fulfil this most sacred duty and stewardship.
Teach me both what to give and what to withhold;
when to reprove and when to forbear;
make me gentle, yet firm;
considerate and watchful;
and deliver me equally from the weakness of indulgence,
and the excess …
In the study of science, form and function refers to the relationship between the structure of a thing and the way it functions. Today’s Gospel reading gives us a beautiful opportunity to look at both the form and function of one of Jesus’s prayers.
“At that time, Jesus exclaimed…”
Can you imagine what it would be like to hear Jesus praying in person? Mind-blowing, even to imagine, isn’t it? In today’s Gospel, Jesus’s prayer functions to bring glory and praise to the Father. He names God as Father and Lord of heaven and earth, teaching us about who God is and who we are in relationship to God. God has hidden this understanding from those who consider themselves wise and learned and has instead chosen to reveal himself to the childlike. Coming on the heels of the Beatitudes, the childlike are the poor of the Beatitudes and theirs is the kingdom of heaven. And Jesus’s “Yes, Father,” echoes Mary’s Fiat which teaches us about the relationship between mother and son, joined in their dedication to the Father’s will. (CCC 2603)
But let’s think about the form for a minute. Why would Jesus, one and consubstantial with the Father, bother to speak his prayers out loud? Notice the term used in the English translation, “exclaimed”.
Not “Jesus said” or “Jesus whispered” or “mumbled”, the word chosen is “exclaimed”.
Exclaimed (past tense verb) to cry out or speak in sudden, strong emotion (Mirriam Webster Dictionary)
When was the last time a prayer came out as a cry in sudden, strong emotion?
We can learn from the function of this prayer to acknowledge God and who we are before him. We can humble ourselves to become like the poor of the Beatitudes so that we too may enter into the kingdom of heaven. We can learn from the form of the prayer, that our prayers should not be mere words, but should spill from the depths of our hearts. Jesus is tapping into our human nature, the way we were created. We are body and spirit and we have a need to translate our interior feelings externally. CCC (2702)
This all has a very practical application. When we are distracted in prayer, the distraction reveals to us the stuff to which we have attached ourselves. Instead of denying distraction, we can embrace it and allow it to humble us before God, asking him to set fire to our hearts and awaken our preferential love for him. Distraction is the call to make a choice of which master we serve. By turning into the distraction and offering it to God, we put ourselves in a position so that God can work in us. (CCC 2729) We need to pay attention to both the form and the function of our prayer.
In the words of St. John Chrysostom, “Whether or not our prayer is heard depends not on the number of words, but on the fervor of our souls.”
Sheryl delights in being the number 1 cheerleader and supporter for her husband, Tom who is a candidate for the Permanent Diaconate in the Diocese of Kalamazoo. They are so grateful for the opportunity to grow together in this process whether it is studying for classes, deepening their prayer life or discovering new ways to serve together. Sheryl’s day job is serving her community as the principal for St. Therese Catholic School in Wayland, Michigan. Since every time she thinks she gets life all figured out, she realizes just how far she has to go, St. Rita of Cascia is her go-to Saint for intercession and help. Home includes Brea, a Bernese Mountain dog and Carlyn, a very, very goofy Golden Retriever.
St. Bonaventure, Bishop and Doctor of the Church (Feast day-July 15) St. Bonaventure, known as “the seraphic doctor,” was born at Bagnoregio, in the Lazio region of central Italy, in 1221. He received the name of Bonaventure in consequence of an exclamation of St. Francis of Assisi, when, in response to the pleading of the child’s mother, the saint prayed for John’s recovery from a dangerous illness, and, foreseeing the future greatness of the little John, cried out “O Buona …
O my God, I am sorry for my sins because I have offended you. I know I should love you above all things. Help me to do penance, to do better, and to avoid anything that might lead me to sin. Amen.
In the days of Ahaz, king of Judah, son of Jotham, son of Uzziah,
Rezin, king of Aram,
and Pekah, king of Israel, son of Remaliah,
went up to attack Jerusalem,
but they were not able to conquer it.
When word came to the house of David that Aram
was encamped in Ephraim,
the heart of the king and the heart of the people trembled,
as the trees of the forest tremble in the wind.
Then the LORD said to Isaiah: Go out to meet Ahaz,
you and your son Shear-jashub,
at the end of the conduit of the upper pool,
on the highway of the fuller’s field, and say to him:
Take care you remain tranquil and do not fear;
let not your courage fail
before these two stumps of smoldering brands
the blazing anger of Rezin and the Arameans,
and of the son Remaliah,
because of the mischief that
Aram, Ephraim and the son of Remaliah,
plots against you, saying,
“Let us go up and tear Judah asunder, make it our own by force,
and appoint the son of Tabeel king there.”
Thus says the LORD:
This shall not stand, it shall not be!
Damascus is the capital of Aram,
and Rezin is the head of Damascus;
Samaria is the capital of Ephraim,
and Remaliah’s son the head of Samaria.
But within sixty years and five,
Ephraim shall be crushed, no longer a nation.
Unless your faith is firm
you shall not be firm!
R. (see 9d) God upholds his city for ever.
Great is the LORD and wholly to be praised
in the city of our God.
His holy mountain, fairest of heights,
is the joy of all the earth.
R. God upholds his city for ever.
Mount Zion, “the recesses of the North,”
is the city of the great King.
God is with her castles;
renowned is he as a stronghold.
R. God upholds his city for ever.
For lo! the kings assemble,
they come on together;
They also see, and at once are stunned,
terrified, routed.
R. God upholds his city for ever.
Quaking seizes them there;
anguish, like a woman’s in labor,
As though a wind from the east
were shattering ships of Tarshish.
R. God upholds his city for ever.
R. Alleluia, alleluia.
If today you hear his voice,
harden not your hearts.
R. Alleluia, alleluia.
Jesus began to reproach the towns
where most of his mighty deeds had been done,
since they had not repented.
“Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida!
For if the mighty deeds done in your midst
had been done in Tyre and Sidon,
they would long ago have repented in sackcloth and ashes.
But I tell you, it will be more tolerable
for Tyre and Sidon on the day of judgment than for you.
And as for you, Capernaum:
Will you be exalted to heaven?
You will go down to the nether world.
For if the mighty deeds done in your midst had been done in Sodom,
it would have remained until this day.
But I tell you, it will be more tolerable
for the land of Sodom on the day of judgment than for you.”
For the readings of the Memorial of Saint Kateri Tekakwitha, please go here.
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Lectionary for Mass for Use in the Dioceses of the United States, second typical edition, Copyright © 2001, 1998, 1997, 1986, 1970 Confraternity of Christian Doctrine; Psalm refrain © 1968, 1981, 1997, International Committee on English in the Liturgy, Inc. All rights reserved. Neither this work nor any part of it may be reproduced, distributed, performed or displayed in any medium, including electronic or digital, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
“Take care you remain tranquil and do not fear; let not your courage fail.”
This line, from today’s first reading, perfectly sums up the saint whose memorial we celebrate today – Saint Kateri Tekakwitha – and also gives us a perfect attitude for the world we face today.
The first Native American to be canonized, Kateri displayed extraordinary courage throughout the whole of her life. Her parents and her little brother died of smallpox which also left Kateri disfigured and partially blind at four years old. Thanks to the presence of Jesuit missionaries in her community, she converted to Christianity at age 19. Although her uncle who was caring for Kateri did not formally oppose her conversion, it was met with disdain in her Native American community. Kateri also refused an arranged marriage, which was the norm for Native American women. Eventually, she left her village and began trekking on foot to Montreal, where she died of tuberculosis at the young age of 26. Finally, Kateri dedicated herself to virginity throughout her life and her virginity is recognized by the Church in today’s memorial.
What bold courage! No wonder Kateri made it all the way to the rank of a saint – overcoming great loss within her family, the obstacles she faced in her conversion, opposing her arranged marriage, dedicating herself to virginity, leaving her community and dying at a young age. Just one of those instances would require overwhelming fortitude, let alone all of them.
We find ourselves in the midst of unprecedented times, which demands great courage from us as well. COVID-19 does not seem to be going anywhere; instead, appears to be surging again in many of our states. The sin of racism continues to stain our country. Our political parties are violently opposed to each other in this election year, and so much more that I’m probably missing.
The first part of the Bible verse quoted at the beginning of this blog also says, “do not fear.” Fear, I believe, is just as prevalent as the issues stated above and, in the face of fear, we need courage. Courage to press forward. Courage to make change. Courage to love one another.
Today, how can we exemplify the courage shown by Saint Kateri Tekakwitha? Pray through this great saint, for an increase in this tremendous virtue of courage/fortitude.
Erin is a Cleveland native and graduate of the Franciscan University of Steubenville. Following graduation, she began volunteering in youth ministry at her home parish of Holy Family Church. Her first “big girl” job was in collegiate sports information where, after a busy two years in the profession on top of serving the youth, she took a leap of faith and followed the Lord’s call to full-time youth ministry at St. Peter Church. She still hopes to use her communication arts degree as a freelance writer and statistician, though. You can catch her on the Clarence & Peter Podcast on YouTube as well as follow her on Twitter @erinmadden2016.
St. Kateri Tekakwitha is the first Native American to be recognized as a saint by the Catholic Church. She was born in 1656, in the Mohawk village of Ossernenon. Her mother was an Algonquin, who was captured by the Mohawks and who took a Mohawk chief for her husband.
She contracted smallpox as a four-year-old child which scarred her skin. The scars were a source of humiliation in her youth. She was commonly seen wearing a blanket to hide her face. Worse, her entire family died during the …