Go, sweep your house, that is, your conscience, and be a good Christian.
The recollection of injury is…a rusty arrow and poison for the soul.
Be lovers of peace, the most precious treasure that anyone can desire.
You are already aware that our sins drive God to anger, so you must repent of them. that God in his mercy may spare you.
What men conceal is open to God. Turn to him with a sincere heart. Live in such a way that you bring upon yourselves the blessing of God, and that the peace of God our Father may be with you always.
Look, Monsignor: for those who love God, anything is possible! (said while handing burning coals in his bare hands to a priest who was critical of his austerity).
At church, we have come to Bethlehem. We have sat with Jesus, listening and learning in the the synagogue at Nazareth. When we look up, we are at a wedding. The Wedding at Cana.
Cana
Three decades before the Wedding at Cana, the shepherds came to the stable. They spoke excitedly about what an angel had told them about the child in the manger.
For to you is born this day in the City Of David a savior, who is Christ the Lord.
—Luke 2:11
Mary had heard similar words before.
He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob for ever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.
— Luke 1:32-33
But now, with the baby in her arms, there came no Magnificat.
…Mary kept all these words, pondering them in her heart. — Luke 2:19
Her child would leave her one day. And his leaving would not be like that of other sons. In fact, Simeon would soon confirm her thoughts for her.
‘And a sword will pierce your heart.’ — Luke 2:35
Jesus was to be for many, not just for her. Mary’s fiat brought him. And, one day, it would let him go. But not today.
When Jesus was 12, he, Mary and Joseph went up to Jerusalem for the Passover. Maybe he was being a typical teenager. Perhaps he was feeling his divine oats. He was, after all, in Jerusalem in the Temple. The locus of his mission.
Three day. It took Mary and Joseph three days to find him after returning to Jerusalem when they realized he was missing. Mary was worried for his safety, upset about missing him. And Jesus took her a giant step forward in her concern.
‘Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?’
There is no spoken answer. Poor Joseph. And poor Jesus. Mary is not a young girl anymore. She is a mother with experience, and what experience! I can imagine what she was thinking: I brought you into this world! I will tell you when it’s time to leave. Not today! It must have shown on her face and in her eyes.
Then he went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them. His mother kept all these things in her heart.
— Luke 2:51
And so we come to Cana, for this is where we are as we sit in church.
It is 3 days since Nathanael became the first to acclaim him to be the Son of God. Three days since Jesus has chosen his first disciples. He has brought them to the wedding and Mary is there. Does she have tears for the bride, or for the bridegroom who is her son?
When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, ‘They have no wine.’ And Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.’ — John 2:3-4
But she knows it has. Today is the day for the bridegroom has come. And he is hers alone no more. Does she gaze into his eyes as she offers her fiat one last time?
‘Do whatever he tells you.’ — John 2:5
Is she speaking only to the servants. Or is she also speaking to her son?
You are here, in church, in Cana. What do you think?
Bar Mitzvah ritual at the Wailing wall. Boy who has become a Bar Mitzvah is morally and ethically responsible for his decisions and actions.
Entering the church through its doors is like entering Bethlehem. But when we listen to the readings from the Hebrew scriptures, we are in Nazareth during the childhood of our Lord. He, too, listened to these scriptures in the synagogue, learning them as a Jewish boy. They would eventually become the center of his preaching, and, enlightened by his divine understanding, be the words of the Word to make us the light of the world.
The Psalms were the basis of Jewish prayer at the time, and still are. We tend to view them as songs, not much unlike those in our hymnals. But they are King David’s songs which are prayers in themselves.
And they are the songs of Christ. He sang them right up to the Crucifixion:
35 While Jesus was teaching in the temple, he said, “How can the scribes say that the Messiah is the son of David? 36 David himself, by the Holy Spirit, declared,
‘The Lord said to my Lord,
“Sit at my right hand,
until I put your enemies under your feet.”’ (Psalm 110:1)
37 David himself calls him Lord; so how can he be his son?” And the large crowd was listening to him with delight.
—Mark 12:35-37
5 Then the devil took him to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, 6 saying to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written,
‘He will command his angels concerning you,’
and ‘On their hands they will bear you up,
so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’” (Psalm 91:11-12)
7 Jesus said to him, “Again it is written, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’”
—Matthew 4:5-7
17 But he looked at them and said, “What then does this text mean:
‘The stone that the builders rejected
has become the cornerstone’? (Psalm 118:22)
18 Everyone who falls on that stone will be broken to pieces; and it will crush anyone on whom it falls.” 19 When the scribes and chief priests realized that he had told this parable against them, they wanted to lay hands on him at that very hour, but they feared the people.
—Luke 20:17-19
23 When the soldiers had crucified Jesus, they took his clothes and divided them into four parts, one for each soldier. They also took his tunic; now the tunic was seamless, woven in one piece from the top. 24 So they said to one another, “Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it to see who will get it.” This was to fulfill what the scripture says,
“They divided my clothes among themselves,
and for my clothing they cast lots.” (Psalm 22:18)
25 And that is what the soldiers did.
—John 19:23-25
45 From noon on, darkness came over the whole land[p] until three in the afternoon. 46 And about three o’clock Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” that is, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”(Psalm 22:1. See the entire psalm.)
—Matthew 27:45-46
46 Then Jesus, crying with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”(Psalm 31:5) Having said this, he breathed his last.
—Luke 23:46
During the readings, are you sitting and listening with Jesus in the synagogue at Nazareth? Because Jesus is sitting and listening with you.
1- While the world changes, the cross stands firm.
2-Only those who have experienced the solitude and the silence of the wilderness can know the benefit and divine joy they bring to those who love them.
3- No act is charitable if it is not just.
4- When you observe true obedience with prudence and enthusiasm, it is clear that you wisely pick the most delightful and nourishing fruit of divine Scripture.
5- The unclean spirit enters easily into a man, and easily goes out from him.
6- For the devil may tempt the good, but he cannot find rest in them; for he is shaken violently, and upset, and driven out, now by their prayers, now by their tears of repentance, and now by their almsgiving and similar good works.
7- The Cross is steady while the world is turning.
A woman stands inside the Carmine Maggiore Church.
There are 12 mystical places we visit at mass. How is this possible? A Catholic Church is a holy place. It is a living and breathing house built by humans and spirited by God — part earth, part heaven, and, in the earthly realm of Time, yesterday, today and tomorrow. When we enter a Catholic church for Mass, itself an event out of time, we visit surprising places that coexist there. And we are met by one that comes to visit us in a way not humanly imaginable.
In this mystery to which we are blinded and hope to see, which is true and not imaginary, what is expected of we who are the guests?
How to Be During a Visit to a Mystical Place
Here are two sets of verses that generally approach that question:
Then I said, “Here I am;
in the scroll of the book it is written of me.
I delight to do your will, O my God;
your law is within my heart.
As for me, I am poor and needy,
but the Lord takes thought for me.
You are my help and my deliverer;
do not delay, O my God.
—Psalm 40:7-8,17
I hope to come to you soon, but I am writing these instructions to you so that, if I am delayed, you may know how one ought to behave in the household of God, which is the church of the living God, the pillar and bulwark of the truth.
—1 Timothy 3:14-15
Now, let’s see what we can learn from the 12 wonderful places that we visit at Mass.
Bethlehem
We don’t know if there was any type of gate at the entrance of the stable in Bethlehem where Jesus was born. If there was one, it would have been pretty humble, for animal control like a low wall keeps cows local. As we enter our church, it is often through a great set of doors, in some cases quite formidable. Yet, it may as well be a shepherd’s gate, easy to enter in order to reach the humblest of scenes, our infant God lying in a manger, a food trough. He is the Bread of Life. The Son of God wants the children of God to be unhindered for,
I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh. — John 6:51
In Hebrew, Bethlehem means “The House of Bread.”
And this is the simple, gentle, silent night image we have of the Christmas Nativity that blessedly fills our hearts with momentary serenity until the unwrapping begins.
But “Bethlehem” has a second meaning, one that King Herod knew.
Do you recall the Parable of the Tenants? A landowner planted his vineyard and rented it out to tenants. When he sent his servants to collect his share, the tenants abused them, beat them, and killed them. So the landowner sent his own son, to whom he expected the tenants to show the respect due to himself. But the tenants killed his son, expecting to take his inheritance.
“Therefore, when the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those tenants?” —Matt. 21:40
In Bethlehem, God has come to His vineyard where the sinful have rejected His messengers from the beginning. The war between holiness and sinfulness, Heaven and Hell, is no longer a “proxy war,” as we say today. The Lord has come to earth and stands on the battlefield to mete out justice, to defend His saints, and to begin the ultimate defeat of Satan. In Bethlehem, Heaven has invaded the realm of sin. The first counter-attack comes from Herod, who orders the execution of Bethlehem’s newborns, in an attempt to end God’s intervention and Heaven’s invasion.
Herod knew that “Bethlehem” also means “The House of War.” Think of what you are about to witness as you enter those formidable Church doors on your next visit. Where should your focus be? Will you pray for the grace to hold incredible joy and frightening gravity within your heart at the same time? Or will you sip coffee and chat?
This is not a new idea. After all, we begin the Mass with the Sign of the Cross.
The man pushed his gas-powered, unassisted drive lawn mower back and forth across the lawn. He muscled the machine forward and back, left and right, in a search for perfectly straight lines. The sun beat down on him, then flared in his eyes as the hours passed.
At last he released the dead man’s bar. As the engine sputtered to an exhausted stop, he raised both fists to the sky in triumph. But he froze, as in the new deep silence he heard something. A small sound, but of words that could break stars. A voice of all voices echoing a simple thing like a fugue. Finally, he made sense of it.
And God said to the man, “You missed a spot.”
Since that day, the man has been on his knees searching for that spot. Some day, he may sit up and ask, “Can you show it to me?” On that day he will have found it.
Charles Bosseron Chambers. St. Joseph and the Infant Christ. Public Domain.
On this Feast of St. Joseph, I’m reminded and awed by the sacrifice and faith of this man of whom we know so little. Yet he stands as the protector of the Church. It seems to me that his sacrifice was, at the very least, an image of the Passion of his “foster” son.
We remember Mary and the sword that pierced her heart because of what she knew would come, and what she witnessed when it came. St. Joseph, as far as we know, knew nothing beyond the fact that God commanded him to take Mary as his wife, and that her child was holy. Did he overhear Simeon’s prophecy? Did Mary ever tell him? He witnessed her labor and his birth. He led them into safety and then led them home. St. Joseph searched for Jesus in Jerusalem. He stood back when Mary spoke on finding him “at my Father’s business.” He was long gone by the time of the Crucifixion and Resurrection.
He was also the only man to ever live with the only two sinless people in history.
What feelings he must have had in his heart each morning, seeing them for the first time, and knowing that the treasure and hope of all humanity had been placed in his imperfect hands, though neither really belonged to him?
Catholics remember the Seven Dolours (Sorrows) of Mary on the Feast of Our Lady of Sorrows on September 15th. The sword that Simeon told her would pierce her heart is represented as seven separate blades:
The prophecy of Simeon (Luke 2:25-35)
The flight into Egypt (Matthew 2:13-15)
Loss of the Child Jesus for three days (Luke 2:41-50)
Mary meets Jesus on his way to Calvary (Luke 23:27-31; John 19:17)
Crucifixion and Death of Jesus (John 19:25-30)
The body of Jesus being taken from the Cross (Psalm 130; Luke 23:50-54; John 19:31-37)
The burial of Jesus (Isaiah 53:8; Luke 23:50-56; John 19:38-42; Mark 15:40-47
Though not celebrated by a particular feast, and not a unique teaching of the Church or her tradition, could we not also see seven sorrows in the life of St. Joseph? It just happens that the Confraternity of St. Joseph provides such a list:
The Doubt of St. Joseph on being made aware of the message of the angel of the Annunciation.
The Poverty of Jesus’ Birth and how this must have felt to St. Joseph who knew for whom he was called to provide.
The Circumcision when Jesus first shed his blood and St. Joseph, as his legal father, understood what this might mean for the one he named “Jesus,” “God saves.”
The Prophecy of Simeon, which foretold his inability to protect his beloved Mary from the sword that would pierce her heart.
The Flight Into Egypt, a dangerous journey, spurred by a lethal threat, into an unfamiliar land.
The Return From Egypt, repeating the trek through a dangerous wilderness. St. Joseph was not able to settle his family in his hometown for fear of Herod’s heirs.
Losing Jesus in Jerusalem for three days, after which his legal son announced that St. Joseph was not his Father.
This is the last we hear of St. Joseph. Tradition has him on his deathbed with Mary and Jesus by his side. God spared St. Joseph, who had silently endured his sorrows and did as he was told to do, the temptation to stop the crucifixion of the Son of God out of duty and love.
This carpenter, whose only conversations in the gospels were with angels, forever stands guard to protect the Church and our souls.
Fatherhood has been the great penance and joy of men from Adam to St. Joseph to us. It is right and just. Adam gave up everything by placing his will into the hands of another. Joseph regained everything by having God’s will placed into his hands. This is the great privilege of sharing in the fatherhood of the Father, which made St. Joseph more father than foster. It is the passion at the center of true fatherhood.
I was walking to Universitatis in a land of peacock stones of the sea and vast luminous green fields, dotted with thatch-roofed cottages. I rounded a hillock and was greeting by a lovely pastoral scene, like the painting of an artist longing for home.
There was a young man there, tending sheep, though for all intents and purposes he seemed to be enjoying the day while leaning up against a tree and keeping to its shade. With him were two boys. All were wearing the clothing of shepherds, though the boys’ dress was slightly cleaner and fancier than the young man’s. All three looked up at me as I approached and offered them my best impression of a local greeting. They turned to each other and smiled. But before the boys’ smiles could turn into laughter, the young man held up a finger and spoke to them.
“What can you teach me today of what you have learned since last time?” he asked them. I just stood there quietly; it seemed the thing to do.
The older replied, “We learned your prayer like you taught us, but I can say it fastest!”
“No you can’t!” The words became a brief physical battle until both boys began reciting speedily, switching back and forth, with an occasional punctuation delivered by foot or elbow.
“Pater noster…”
“Ár n-Athair atá ar neamh…”
“Sanctificetur nomen tuum…”
“Go naofar d’ainim…”
“Go dtagfadh do regnum tuum”
“Fiat voluntas tua, sicut an talamh mar a dhéantar ar neamh.”
They ended together with a resounding, “Amen!”
After a brief silence, as the breeze reclaimed the ether, and our heads nodded slightly with the branches, intelligence slowly returned to our faces.
“Did we do it right, Druid?” asked the eldest timidly.
“Well…” said the shepherd. “Well, yes, you did. And don’t call me Druid.” The boys didn’t know whether to smile or not.
“Boys, remember I taught you one prayer in two different languages. Next time, straighten them out into two and you will have time to learn the second half in each language.” The boys nodded eagerly.
“Practice a little bit now…quietly…before it’s time to go home. And I will also practice.”
The boys’ voices blended like a psalm as they helped each other to learn.
To the shepherd, it was like a bard’s gentle song over babies meant to be sleeping. He sat comfortably with his back to the tree, eyes closed and mind at ease. If a gnat landed on his nose, or a raven cried overhead, he would open one eye slowly, very slowly, until the interruption had passed. He would occasionally ask a question about something being said, or about anything at all, though he didn’t always seem to require an answer. Every so often, he would correct a mispronounced word, or ask that a line be repeated. He wondered if their efforts were answering their need, or if they were listening to what they were saying.
I could tell he was praying.
Today, one of the interruptions to his listening and meditating was the clanking of the bells of two cows grazing in the nearby field. A question for his students suddenly came to him from the sound under the sun and the dark beneath his eyelids.
“Ciúnas a pháisti!” he suddenly said. “Be quiet, children!” The ones who had been reciting, stopped. I, who had been dozing, awoke. The three of us stared at the shepherd.
“I have a question for you,” he told us. We all stood up at attention, listening.
“Imagine two cows, one black, one brown. They are being led into the upper pastures…”
“Like at Beltaine?” offered the younger boy.
“No, not like at Beltaine,” said one wagging, silent finger.
“Now, as the two cows approach the pasture gate, only one may pass between the posts at a time. So, one cow is leading, the other cow is close behind. But the second cow wishes to arrive at the upper pasture first. She tries to push past the first cow, which moves to block her way. Tails are swishing, horns are tossing. Suddenly, there is a bellow of pain from the first cow. The horns of the other have poked through the thick skin of her rump.” The shepherd paused.
“Do you all understand what has happened here?” he asked us.
“Yes!” came the boys’ voices and my nod
“Now, here is the question…are you ready for it?”
“Yes!” they shouted in one voice.
“Then here it is.” The shepherd looked long and hard into the face of each child as he asked, “Which cow can say, ‘I have both tail and horns at the same end?'”
The oldest spoke up first. “The first cow!” he guessed confidently, and the other nodded in agreement.
“Níl ceart!” the shepherd shouted back with a grimace. “Not right!”
“The second cow!” said the younger, while his brother agreed with his answer.
“Níl ceart!”
“Both cows?” asked the eldest timidly. The other repeated this answer, which was the only possible one remaining.
“Níl ceart!” was the shepherd’s answer, once again.
The boys and I looked at each other, wondering what the answer could be. What had we missed? Not the first cow. Not the second cow. Not both cows. They asked the shepherd if he would repeat the question.
He took a deep breath and retold the story of the two cows fighting for first place between the posts of the narrow pasture gate. He described how the horns of the one behind poked the behind of the one in front. Then he repeated his question, “Which cow can say, ‘I have both tail and horns at the same end?'”
“The first cow?”
“The second cow?”
“Both cows?”
To each answer came the same “Níl ceart!” from the shepherd, who slapped his palm against the ground each time.
The boys looked at each other’s blank faces and saw no glimmer of understanding. “We give up,” was their unspoken admission.
The shepherd then, at last, turned to me, his face showing that he expected an answer. All I could do was offer a sad shrug.
The shepherd glared at me, then at the boys. But his grim expression softened into grin.
“Neither cow could say it,” he told them. “In your eagerness to seem wise, to be first, you have forgotten what you have known all along. Cows cannot speak.” The boys slapped each other on the back for being equally ignorant.
“So, you, one walking to Universitatis. What do you have to tell me?”
“If you are he for whom this message is meant, and I know you are, I am to tell you, ‘Behold, your ship is ready.’”
“I see. The one who shrugs as if he is dumb, speaks like an angel. Boys, come here.”
They rushed to him and he patted their heads in blessing. “I am leaving and you will need to watch the sheep for a while. You will also need to tell your father that I have gone.” They nodded.
“Make certain you tell him in a timely way. There will be two sheep missing this evening, and you will find them but you will also get home too late and must jump into bed. In the morning, your father will leave for the outer fields before you rise, so you will have to wait until he gets home. He will no doubt be very tired, so you may have to wait to tell him by the following morning.”
“Or the next!” the boys blurted out laughing.
“Now, show respect to your Dadaí. He has shown respect enough to me for these past six years.”
He blessed them again and dismissed them, telling them to go watch the sheep. He said he would see them again when they had turned into men, and were no longer dumb cows vying to be first. Then he looked at me, nodded, and walked away.
I turned back onto the path on which I had been walking, the path to Universitatis. At one point, I reached a fork. One way was wide and seemed to lead to a beautiful valley. The other was rocky and narrow and it was impossible to see where it led.
I sat down on a stone, thinking. There was a day when I would not hesitate to take that wider path.
I am still sitting on the stone crutch of the fork, trying to decide which way to go.
All past persecutors of the Church are now no more, but the Church still lives on. The same fate awaits modern persecutors; they, too, will pass on, but the Church of Jesus Christ will always remain, for God has pledged His Word to protect Her and be with Her forever, until the end of time.
Without confidence and love, there can be no true education. If you want to be loved…you must love yourselves, and make your children feel that you love them.
If one is to do good, he must have a little courage, be ready for sacrifice, deal affably with all and never slight anybody. By following this method I have always had significant success, in fact, marvelous success.
Act today in such a way that you need not blush tomorrow.
This was the method that Jesus used with the apostles. He put up with their ignorance and roughness and even their infidelity. He treated sinners with a kindness and affection that caused some to be shocked, others to be scandalized and still others to hope for God’s mercy. And so He bade us to be gentle and humble of heart.
If young people are educated properly, we have moral order; if not, vice and disorder prevail. Religion alone can initiate and achieve a true education.
Run, jump, shout, but do not sin.
Do not try to excuse your faults; try to correct them.