St. Joseph and the Tempter . . . and us

In this more lengthy reading, Pope Benedict explains part of the Christmas icon shown below:

The Christmas icon of the Eastern Orthodox Church developed its essential form as early as the fourth century and in it has captured the complete mystery of Christmas.  It represents the intimate connection between Christmas and Easter, between crib and Cross, the harmony between the Old and the New Testaments, the unity of heaven and earth in the song of the angels and the devotion of the shepherds.  Each figure in it has a profound underlying significance.  Remarkable in all this is the function reserved for St. Joseph.  He is sitting to the side, lost in deep reflection.  In front of him stands the Tempter, disguised as a shepherd, who addresses him, according to the text of the liturgy, in this way: “Just as your root cannot produce leaves, just as an old man cannot become a father anymore, so also the virgin cannot give birth.”  The liturgy then adds: In his heart there raged a storm of contradictory thoughts; he was confused; but enlightened by the Holy Spirit he sings Alleluia.  Through the figure of Saint Joseph the icon presents a drama that recurs time and again–the drama of ourselves.  It is always the same.  Time and again the Tempter tells us: There is nothing but the visible world, there is no Incarnation of God, and there is no birth of the Virgin.  This is the denial that God knows us, that he loves us, that he has the power to be active in the world.  And thus it is, in its core, the refusal to give God the honor.  It is the temptation of our time, which presents itself with so many clever and seemingly brand-new reasons as to appear utterly convincing.  Yet it is still the same old temptation.  We ought to pray to Almighty God that he may send into our hearts also the light of the Holy Spirit.  We ought to pray that he may grant to us also the grace to leave the stubbornness of our own reasoning behind, to gaze at his light with joy and to sing out, “Alleluia”–Christ is truly born, God has become man.  We ought to pray that in us also the words of the Easter liturgy may become reality: “We present to you a Virgin and Mother.  We present to you ourselves as well, more valuable than any gift of money: the wealth of true faith–to you, our God, and Savior of our souls.” Amen.  (Pope Benedict XVI, Lob der Weihnacht, p. 45)

“Let it penetrate your heart”

On this great gift of the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe, I can’t help but post Mary’s beautiful words to Juan Diego, words that she speaks to each one of us:

“Listen, and let it penetrate your heart, my dear little son; do not be troubled or weighted down with grief. Do not fear any illness or vexation, anxiety or pain. Am I not here who am your Mother? Are you not under my shadow and protection? Am I not your fountain of life? Are you not in the folds of my mantle? In the crossing of my arms? Is there anything else you need?”

 
“Let it penetrate your heart.”

The meaning of Mary’s “fiat”

I have been a faithful reader of Restoration, the monthly newsletter of Madonna House in Combermere, ON, for years.  I always read it from cover to cover.  One of my favorite columnists is Fr. Pat McNulty.  He’s one of the “salt of the earth.”  I thought I would share with you one of his Advent columns from past years.  His topic was the meaning of the word fiat, spoken by Mary in response to the angel at her Annunciation.  You can read it here.  I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did.

“Shining, whole, and Godward-turned”

I have many reasons to be thankful for this feast, that of the Immaculate Conception.  The first is that Christ was able to find someone who would give Him “an eager welcome”, who in no way would reject Him because of a sinful nature, who was pure love because He first loved us [her], because she received His love without hindrance.  And secondly, we can have great hope because in her we can see the promise God has for each of us.  Someday, through all the purifications and trials of this life, through our faltering yeses to Him, we shall become like her: “shining, whole, and Godward-turned.”  Someday, He will see His image clearly in us as well.   And someday we will never refuse His love for us.  O, sweet Mother, intercede for us.  We do thank Him for you.

December Eighth

 Beloved, Mother of us all,
Today we remember
That, of all earth’s millions,
You, Mary, in the womb,
Were shining, whole,
And Godward-turned.
You only, O Morning Star,
Lighted the clouds of sin and waiting.
You only, Immaculate Ark,
Glided above the depths of the primal curse;
For you were to bear safely over those waters
Emmanuel, your little Son, from whose baby hand
Streams the rainbow up which we climb to God.
You only, little white moon, are the crystal
Reflection of our Sun.
But for your whiteness, O Gate of Heaven,
We had never entered, nor seen our God.
But for your loveliness, O Mystic Rose,
We had never breathed the Rose of Sharon.
White Tower of David, Ivory Tower,
Princess whose beauty lured Love’s kiss when life began,
Mother, who died a thousand deaths for us,
We thank Him for you.
To-day, when He smiles to see His image in you, clear,
Remember us.

~Sr. St. Francis S.S.J. 
 (Robert, Cyril. Mary Immaculate: God’s Mother and Mine. New York: Marist Press, 1946.)

“Mary-darkness, faith’s walled place”

This Sunday’s poem is one by Jessica Powers, written in 1948:

Advent

I live my Advent in the womb of Mary.
And on one night when a great star swings free
from its high mooring and walks down the sky
to be the dot above the Christus i,
I shall be born of her by blessed grace.
I wait in Mary-darkness, faith’s walled place,
with hope’s expectance of nativity.

I knew for long she carried me and fed me,
guarded and loved me, though I could not see.
But only now, with inward jubilee,
I come upon earth’s most amazing knowledge:
someone is hidden in this dark with me.

               ~Jessica Powers, The Selected Poetry of Jessica Powers, p. 81.

A pure transparent pool

I’ve been thinking about how I would answer my own query at the end of yesterday’s post, and one thing that immediately came to mind that brings beauty into my own life is a little photo album of art prints and such that I have collected.  For many of them I have an accompanying quote on the facing page.  Often I use it as an accompaniment in prayer, a source of meditation.  One example of this can be found here.  And here is another example:

I find this image of Mary quite beautiful.  Its title is Mary, the Mother and Consolation of the Grieving.   The following is the poem I have placed opposite it:

THE POOL OF GOD

There was nothing in the Virgin’s soul
that belonged to the Virgin–
no word, no thought, no image, no intent.
She was a pure, transparent pool reflecting
God, only God.
She held His burnished day; she held His night
of planet-glow or shade inscrutable.
God was her sky and she who mirrored Him
became His firmament.

When I so much as turn my thoughts toward her
my spirit is enisled in her repose.
And when I gaze into her selfless depths
an anguish in me grows
to hold such blueness and to hold such fire.
I pray to hollow out my earth and be
filled with these waters of transparency.
I think that one could die of this desire,
seeing oneself dry earth or stubborn sod.
Oh, to become a pure soul like the Virgin,
water that lost the semblances of water
and was a sky like God.
~Jessica Powers

Above all seek the prayers of the saints

A “bonus” post today–from today’s Office of Readings.  A selection by St. Bernard, an encouragement to aim high, as did the saints who have gone before us:

Come, brothers [and sisters], let us at length spur ourselves on.  We must rise again with Christ, we must seek the world which is above and set our mind on the things of heaven.  Let us long for those who are longing for us, hasten to those who are waiting for us, and ask those who look for our coming to intercede for us. . . . That we may rightly hope and strive for such blessedness, we must above all seek the prayers of the saints.  Thus, what is beyond our own powers to obtain will be granted through their intercession.

We praise thee, Lord, for saints unknown

A Sunday-poem by Bishop R. Heber for this Feast of All Saints:

We praise thee, Lord, for all the martyred throng,
those who by fire and sword or suffering long
Laid down their lives, but would not yield to wrong:
                                                                Alleluia!

For those who fought to keep the faith secure,
For all those whose hearts were selfless, strong and pure,
For those whose courage taught us to endure:
                                                                 Alleluia!

For fiery spirits, held and God-controlled,
For gentle natures by his power made bold,
For all whose gracious lives God’s love retold:
                                                                 Alleluia!

Thanks be to thee, O Lord, for saints unknown,
Who by obedience to thy word have shown
That thou didst call and mark them for thine own.
                                                                  Alleluia!

The saints choose us

Do we choose our favorite saints–or do they choose us?

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I wrote in a blog at the beginning of October about a brief conversation I had with someone a few years ago.  He was a seminarian at the time studying at the North American College in Rome and was giving Sr. Ann and me a little tour of some places in Rome (including the Church of the Bones–but that’s another story).  We were chatting while riding the bus, and he relayed something one of his professors had said: “We don’t choose our favorite saints; they choose us.” That comment struck home with me, and I haven’t forgotten it.  It corroborated my own experience with my “favorite” saints.  It’s as if they initiated the relationship rather than vice versa, drawing me into a friendship with them.  

 That gives me a lot of hope: to know that the saints are actively looking out for us, seeking to befriend us if we’ll just be open to that working of the Holy Spirit. 

May God give us many new “friends” this coming year. A blessed All Saints Day!

In moments of weariness

I find it comforting to know that Mary is always there as a mother for us to turn to:

della Robbia VisitationAnd in moments of weariness, raise your eyes to Mary, the Virgin who, forgetting herself, set out ‘with haste’ for the hills to reach her elderly cousin Elizabeth who was in need of help and assistance.  Let her be the inspiration of your daily dedication to duty; let her suggest to you the right words and opportune gestures at the bedside of the sick; let her comfort you in misunderstandings and failures, helping you always keep a smile on your face and a hope in your heart.  (John Paul II, Rome 1979)

Which reminds me of another wonderful quote, this time from Bernard:

O you, whoever you are, who feel that in the tidal wave of this world you are nearer to being tossed about among the squalls and gales than treading on dry land, if you do not want to founder in the tempest, do not avert your eyes from the brightness of this star. When the wind of temptation blows up within you, when you strike upon the rock of temptation, gaze up at this star, call out to Mary. Whether you are being tossed about by the waves of pride or ambition or slander or jealousy, gaze up at this star, call out to Mary. When rage or greed or fleshly desires are battering the skiff of your soul, gaze up at Mary. When the immensity of your sins weighs you down and you are bewildered by the loathsomeness of your conscience, when the terrifying thought of judgment appalls you and you begin to founder in the gulf of sadness and despair, think of Mary. In dangers, in hardships, in every doubt, think of Mary, call out to Mary. Keep her in your mouth, keep her in your heart. Follow the example of her life and you will obtain the favor of her prayer. Following her, you will never go astray. Asking her help, you will never despair. Keeping her in your thoughts, you will never wander away. With your hand in hers, you will never stumble. With her protecting you, you will not be afraid. With her leading you, you will never tire. Her kindness will see you through to the end.