“St. Joseph and a Lesson in Obedience” by Jonathan Conrad.

 You can read the original text here.

 

There is something about our fallen nature that compels us to disobedience. Sometimes it’s full-blown, blatant disobedience. Other times it’s more subtle like our mom encouraging us to read a book that we just can’t find the time to read. We are all guilty of it…except one: St. Joseph (I’m not counting Mary because she was free from original sin). There is so much we can learn from what scripture says about him, his actions, and more importantly, his silence. Let’s look at one story in particular from scripture that leads us to a greater appreciation for his perfect obedience to the will of the Father.

 

The Flight into Egypt

Matthew 2:13 says, “Now when they had departed, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, ‘Rise, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you, for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him’”. Let’s break this down a bit and really dig into what Joseph is facing in this moment.

A Death Threat - Someone wants to kill Jesus, the son of God. We often overlook the subtleties because we know the whole story, but Joseph didn’t! All he knew was someone wanted Jesus dead. Why did the Lord have to flee anyways? He’s God. Theophylact of Ochrid makes a very strong point when he says, “Even the Lord flees, to confirm that He was truly man. For if He had fallen into the hands of Herod and had not been slain, it would have seemed that He had been made flush only in appearance.”

What this tells us about Joseph is that it wasn’t an act. Maybe it was part of the Divine plan, but it wasn’t on Joseph’s agenda. Joseph is scared, but there’s no time for that. He doesn’t ask the angel any clarifying questions which probably would have been cool considering the circumstances. Like, “Sure thing God. What am I supposed to do about work though? I don’t have a work visa in Egypt and I also don’t speak the language…Oh, and I doubt I’ll be able to fit all my tools on the donkey considering we need to eat….” Not a word.

A Long Journey - Egypt is far away. Really far. 430 miles far. That’s Chicago to Pittsburgh which, by car, is still 7 hours. The road wasn’t one of those paved nature trails with cool shade during the day and a lighted path at night. Also, there weren’t many Holiday Inn Express hotels back then. If they traveled 15 miles a day which is pushing it considering a child under the age of 2, and the strong likelihood they had only 1 donkey, that’s a journey of almost 30 days. You still have the unbearable desert heat, and the strong possibility of bandits and other miscreants.

Suffice it to say, this was a dangerous journey. Not to mention they were traveling with a young child. Unlike our culture today where you move wherever work takes you, people didn’t move…ever. I’m not just talking husband and wife, I mean generations didn’t move. So there’s Joseph, in the middle of the night being told by an angel to pack up and travel 430 miles to a foreign land, a land he’s never been to, and the same land where his people were persecuted for 215 years. This isn’t exactly the first place I’d think to go if my family in danger. Again, Joseph didn’t ask how he was supposed to do this, he didn’t ask for directions. He just went.

A One-Way Ticket - The last thing I want to point out is that Joseph didn’t get a timeline. It wasn’t, “Go to Egypt for 6 months,” it was, “…remain there until I tell you.” Can you imagine the conversation with your wife, “Hey honey, an angel just told me we need to move to Fargo…tonight. I don’t have a job lined up yet and we’re gonna stay for a while…ish. Oh, and we probably shouldn’t wait until tomorrow because the police want to murder our son.” Joseph was a carpenter, this was a pretty lowly job back then. It’s unlikely he had a nest egg just waiting for retirement. They lived job to job. If you can’t work, you can’t feed your family. There was no emergency fund laying around to cover 3 months of living expenses. This was a total and complete act of faith and obedience to the will of the Father.

St. Joseph was a true man. He did exactly what the Lord asked of him every time and without delay. He lived the fourth commandment to the letter. He is a model of obedience that we should all aspire to follow more closely.

 

Here’s my challenge to you: reflect on this story of St. Joseph. Imagine yourself in his shoes. Now think about your own life and where you are being called to obedience. Remember that obedience extends beyond just our parents. According to the Catechism (2199), “This commandment includes and presupposes the duties of parents, instructors, teachers, leaders, magistrates, those who govern, all who exercise authority over others or over a community of persons.” Pick something you’ve been ignoring, delaying, or flat out rejecting and do it. Do it for St. Joseph. I think you’ll be surprised by the blessings.

St. Joseph, Patron of Workers, pray for us.

“St. Ambrose, Religious Belief, and Political Action” by Dominicans of the Province of St. Joseph.

 

You can read the original source here.

 

7 December 20171

Today, the Church celebrates the feast of one of her great doctors, St. Ambrose of Milan, who offers us a model of public Christian witness. 

In 374 A.D., against his own wishes, St. Ambrose became archbishop of Milan, a city riven by the Arian heresy and at that time the residence of one of the Roman co-emperors. He quickly embraced an ascetical life, gave to the poor, and reformed the liturgy of his diocese. Enduring many hardships (including, according to the Golden Legend of Bl. James of Voraigne, O.P., an assassination attempt ordered by the Western empress herself), he strove to convert the heretics of his diocese back to belief in the divinity of Christ, soon establishing a reputation as an eloquent speaker and a prolific author on Christian doctrine. In fact, his intelligent exposition of the Christian faith played an instrumental role in the conversion of St. Augustine, whom St. Ambrose baptized in 387 A.D. 

St. Ambrose’s life and writings remain a stirring example of the apostolic life, one combining prayer with tireless effort for the salvation of souls. Preacher and scholar, liturgical reformer and defender of the poor, refuter of error and loving shepherd of wayward Christians, the holy archbishop of Milan showed the compatibility of roles too often assumed to be mutually exclusive in our present age. 

Since we live at a time in which civil authorities are often at odds with Church teachings, perhaps St. Ambrose is most exemplary as a champion of Christianity in the face of civil excesses. As a prominent churchman and archbishop of an imperial capital, the saint often interacted with the potentates of his day. On three occasions, St. Ambrose, himself a former magistrate, championed the liberty of the faith in the face of imperial encroachment. In 385 A.D., he refused to allow Valentinian II to quarter Arian soldiers in a basilica. In 388 A.D., when a certain bishop expressed his opinion in a way that angered the emperor Theodosius, Ambrose challenged Theodosius’ punishment that the bishop use Church funds to rebuild a house of worship for unbelievers. Most famously, St. Ambrose excommunicated Theodosius for ordering the massacre of 7,000 civilians in the city of Thessalonica. According to St. Augustine, the emperor responded to his chastisement with humility and did penance for his sins; St. Ambrose himself spoke movingly at the emperor’s funeral of the emperor’s contrition for his sin and fortitude in offering public penance. This of course is the salubrious purpose of ecclesiastical censures: to prevent the sinner from inducing others to sin and to encourage him to repent.

Since ours is a time when civil authorities increasingly countenance—and even engage in—immoral activities, St. Ambrose’s courageous actions show us that Christians cannot remain silent. All too often, Americans believe that the separation of Church and State necessitates the exclusion of religious belief from the public sphere. However, St. Ambrose anticipated many of these concerns in a letter pleading with Theodosius not to force the Church to rebuild a non-Christian house of worship: “But it is neither the part of an Emperor to deny liberty of speech, nor of a Bishop not to utter what he thinks.” He continues:

 

    For there is this difference between good and bad rulers, that the good love freedom, the bad slavery. And there is nothing in a Bishop so offensive in God’s sight, or so base before men, as not freely to declare his opinions… I prefer then, to have fellowship with your Majesty in good rather than in evil; and therefore the silence of a Bishop ought to be displeasing to your Clemency, and his freedom pleasing. For you will be implicated in the danger of my silence, you will share in the benefits of my outspokenness. I am not then an officious meddler in matters beyond my province, an intruder in the concerns of others, but I comply with my duty, I obey the commandment of our God. This I do chiefly from love and regard to you, and from a wish to preserve your well-being. But if I am not believed, or am forbidden to act on this motive, then in truth I speak from fear of offending God. (Ambrose, Epist. XL.2-3, trans. H. Walford, 1881)

 

By faith, Catholics believe that certain actions, such as murder and perjury, are objectively evil, regardless of whether or not the person performing them is a Christian. In such cases, it is, in fact, a work of mercy to rebuke the sinner. Moreover, the Church’s mission is to save all mankind, Catholics and non-Catholics, clergy and rulers, by leading them to accept the deposit of faith entrusted to her. For this reason, and on account of the superiority of the spiritual to the temporal, Pope Boniface VIII wrote in his bull Unam Sanctam, “It belongs to the spiritual power…to pass judgment [on the earthly power] if it has not been good.”

As Christians, we are called to be signs of contradiction. At times, this can mean speaking against the decisions of civil authorities, not seditiously, but for the salvation of all concerned. Doing so, however, in no way diminishes the dignity of Church or State by confusing what ought to remain separate; rather, it affirms the universal scope of the Christian faith and the integrity of all aspects of Christian living, spiritual and political. Let us pray then, through the intercession of St. Ambrose, to be faithful citizens.

Prayer for a Holy Death by St. John Henry Newman.

 

    Oh, my Lord and Savior,

    support me in that hour

    in the strong arms of your Sacraments,

    and by the fresh fragrance of your consolations.

    Let the absolving words be said over me,

    and the holy oil sign and seal me,

    and your own Body be my food,

    and your Blood my sprinkling;

    and let my sweet Mother, Mary, breathe on me,

    and my Angel whisper peace to me,

    and my glorious Saints (NN.) smile upon me;

    that in them all, and through them all,

    I may receive the gift of perseverance,

    and die, as I desire to live,

    in your faith, in your Church, in your service,

    and in your love. Amen.

Juliana of Liege, the 13th-century religious woman who brought us Corpus Christi

 by Joanne McPortland - May 29, 2016.

You can read the original source here.

 

 

How she helped the Church focus on unity in the Body and Blood of Christ

This weekend Catholics in the United States and many other regions around the world celebrate the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ, the feast more familiarly known by its Latin name, Corpus Christi.

Rome, and some regions that still follow the traditional calendar, celebrated on Thursday. The Feast of Corpus Christi is itself a transfer that hopped around a lot before settling into the Church’s universal calendar, so the timing of the feast is not something to argue about.

We owe this feast — and, by extension, Thomas Aquinas’ stunningly beautiful Office celebrating it — to a 13th-century Belgian nun named Juliana. Orphaned at the age of 5, she and her sister were housed on a small farm belonging to a double monastery of Norbertines (the French Augustinian canons known as Premonstratensians).

Juliana, who had a lifelong devotion to the Blessed Sacrament, entered religious life at the age of 13, serving in a hospice for lepers run by her community. From the age of 16 on she had a series of visions of the full moon obscured by a dark spot. At first fearing that her visions were of demonic origin, Juliana came to discern that instead the moon represented the Church’s liturgical year, and the dark spot a missing feast in honor of Christ present in the Sacrament.

While Holy Thursday commemorates the institution of the Eucharist, the joyful mystery of the transubstantiation was, Juliana believed, overshadowed by the solemn events of Holy Week. Juliana thought her visions were telling her to promote such a feast, to be celebrated on the Thursday after Trinity Sunday.

There being no blogosphere or Twitter, of course, she had no real means by which to do the promoting, so at first Juliana shared her ideas only with a few sympathetic sisters and a holy anchoress named Eve who lived nearby. Eventually, after having been named prioress of the monastery, she told her confessor, who told his superior, who told a bishop, who told a cardinal, and so on up the line to the Holy Father. Everybody agreed it would be no problem to celebrate such a feast, at least on the local level. So Juliana and her confessor composed the first Office for the feast.

But it wasn’t smooth sailing for Juliana. She lived in a time of political and religious turmoil. The same Church-and-State, Guelph-and-Ghibelline squabbles that were giving Dante fits also reached Juliana’s convent. She had instituted reforms to bring the monastery back to its strict Augustinian rule, but the male cleric appointed to oversee her — a corrupt politician who had obtained his position by bribery — made her life so miserable with constant harassment and trumped-up charges of financial mismanagement that Juliana twice fled her convent. The first time she found shelter in her friend Eve’s anchorhold. Later, she found a home among the Cistercians, with whom she lived until her death.

It was the anchoress Eve who continued to push for a universal celebration of the Feast of Corpus Christi, and Pope Urban IV finally relented, commissioning his friend Thomas Aquinas to write the Office we know so well.

 

Tantum ergo Sacramentum

Veneremur cernui:

Et antiquum documentum

Novo cedat ritui:

Praestet fides supplementum

Sensuum defectui.

 

Approved first only for clergy, the Feast of Corpus Christi was later extended to the universal Church. Juliana was canonized in 1869, largely on the basis of the virtues recounted in the biography composed by her friend, the anchoress Eve.

With all Juliana’s and her feast’s perambulations, it’s only fitting that the Eucharistic processions that once marked the celebration of Corpus Christi are coming back into fashion.

There’s much worth reflecting on in the story of Juliana at this moment in the Church, when Guelphs and Ghibellines are again fighting the battles of Church v. State, and Catholics on many fronts are in tension about where the line can be drawn between charism and heresy. It is Juliana’s vision of the moon, though, that carries the message about what was most important then and is most important now: the presence of Christ in the Eucharist binds us together, without which there is a dark spot, a shadow, on our unity.

Restoring the Eucharist to its central position in our lives is quite simply the only hope we have of getting through this particular dark night. I like to think that Juliana, like St Francis of Assisi, saw the Body of Christ—Corpus Christi—in the twisted and disfigured bodies of the lepers she served, letting faith supply where the senses fall short. If we can look beyond the accidents that divide and distort us and see the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ present in the Church and in one another, with God’s grace our light will shine brighter than any super moon.

For a beautiful Corpus Christi soundtrack, immerse yourself in Adoration at Ephesus, from the Benedictines of Mary, Queen of Apostles, which features several settings of material from Thomas’s Office, along with other Eucharistic hymns ancient and not-so-ancient.

 

A version of this article appeared on the author’s blog, Egregious Twaddle, in June, 2012.