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.

 

Prayer to Saint Joseph by Pope St. Pius X

 

O Glorious Saint Joseph, model of all those who are devoted to labor, obtain for me the grace to work in a spirit of penance for the expiation of my many sins; to work conscientiously, putting the call of duty above my natural inclinations; to work with thankfulness and joy, considering it an honor to employ and develop by means of labor the gifts received from God; to work with order, peace, moderation and patience, never shrinking from weariness and trials; to work above all with purity of intention and detachment from self, keeping unceasingly before my eyes death and the account that I must give of time lost, talents unused, good omitted, and vain complacency in success, so fatal to the work of God.

    All for Jesus, all through Mary, all after thy example, O Patriarch, Saint Joseph. Such shall be my watch-word in life and in death. Amen.

The 14 Holy Helpers or Auxiliary Saints.

 

   St. Christopher and St. Giles against the plague.
   St. Denis against headache.
   St. Blaise against ills of the throat.
   St. Catherine against the ills of the tongue.
   St. Erasmus against the ills of the abdomen.
   St. Barbara against fever.
   St. Vitus against epilepsy.
   St. Pantaleon is the patron of physicians.
   St. Cyriac is powerful in protection against temptations, especially those at the hour of death.
   St. Acacius is invoked in death’s agony.
   St. Margaret is invoked during pregnancy, labor, and childbirth.
  Sts. Christopher, Barbara, and Catherine were appealed to for protection against a sudden and unprovided death.
   St. Giles is prayed to for the graces to make a good confession.

“How to deal with intrusive thoughts” by Fr. Michael Rennier.

 You can read the original text here.

 

 

 

 published on 03/15/26

 

Here are four simple points for how to react when weird, horrible, unwanted thoughts come into our minds. And why we shouldn't be surprised.

Once, while standing on top of the white cliffs of Dover, I had a sudden, very strong mental picture of what it would be like to throw myself off. Now, to be very clear, I am not suicidal and never have been. That’s why the unwanted thought of doing so was so startling. It really bothered me. I wondered what had gone wrong in my brain. Why had the impulse come on so suddenly? Was something secretly wrong with me? I think, if I were scrupulous, I would have been additionally anxious to know if the impulse was sinful, perhaps even a mortal sin.

Intrusive thoughts are not sinful, but the thought that made its way into my brain that day without my consent played all sorts of mental havoc. I’ve since learned that the cliff-jumping phenomenon is widespread. L’appel du vide, or “the call of the void” is common and harmless. An estimated half of the population has experienced it, so it wasn’t a sign that something was deeply wrong with me but, still, the haunting feeling was hard to shake.

Intrusive thoughts seem to arrive at the worst possible times -- on top of a cliff, during prayer, on spiritual retreat, during Holy Mass. I’ve had the strangest thoughts during distribution of Communion at church. My mind has wandered to my grocery list while praying a psalm. It’s embarrassing to admit to much of what flits through my mind. It makes me wonder if my love for God is defective. Why can’t I just focus and pay attention? Why do evil, strange ideas have free reign in my mind?

Highly disturbing but quite common - Again, these unbidden thoughts are highly disturbing but are quite common. People often come to me seeking advice for this exact problem. They cannot get away from intrusive thoughts, which can range from simple distraction to absolutely horrible, gut-wrenching mental images and temptations. They can be so bad that people worry something is wrong, as if their thoughts spring up from a secret reservoir of evil within. For some, intrusive thoughts derail them entirely, convincing them they have a mental illness or deep-rooted sinfulness impossible to overcome. The thoughts keep coming and they are powerless to stop them.

The good news is that intrusive thoughts affect all of us and they aren’t a sign of entrenched evil. For instance, many of the saints complain about this exact battle. St. Thérèse of Lisieux and St. Ignatius of Loyola described it as a life-long struggle. St. Ambrose wrote a prayer to use before Holy Mass in which he asks God to protect the priest from “unguarded thoughts,” indicating that priests (and I can confirm this from personal experience) are often tempted in the middle of Holy Mass. There’s no escaping these experiences, no matter how far we remove ourselves from exterior temptations. St. Anthony of the Desert experienced them while in prayer after he’d been a hermit for many years. This tells me that we should always be prepared to battle unbidden thoughts.

St. Alphonsus Liguori speaks about this issue at great length, teaching that it’s an error to label each and every thought as sinful. The only sin we commit is if we consent to the thought and dwell on it with what he calls “the malice of the sin.” St. Augustine agrees, writing that where there is no consent there can be no sin. St. Bernard says the same, writing, “Ubi non est consensus.”

Based on the fact the saints experience intense, unbidden thoughts, I think we can even theorize that mental temptations actually increase when we’re in a state of grace. The reason is because, if a person is already in mortal sin, already lukewarm, or fallen away, Satan has no reason to increase the temptations. We’re already exactly where he wants us. It’s only when our faith is strong and our spiritual disciplines are consistent that he gets desperate and tries to get us off track. Knowing this, we should expect temptations to increase when we’re doing well. St. Ignatius teaches this principle in his Exercises and St. Alphonsus concurs, writing, “The devil labors harder to make the saints fall than to make the wicked sin.”

Intrusive thoughts are always going to be with us, so how do we handle them?

 

4 Points for how to react

1 Acknowledge but don’t over-react - Immediately acknowledge an intrusive thought, emphasizing clarity on the “intrusive” part. Note that Satan is tempting you, remind yourself you aren’t sinning, and move on.

2 Stop fighting the thought - Focusing on the thought and trying to battle it directly is a losing proposition. Doing this only makes the thought stronger and more distracting, which is exactly what Satan wants. Instead, rededicate yourself to what positive endeavor it was you were focusing on.

3 Re-frame the thought rationally - If the thought is a lie or a rehash of a past hurt and it’s prompting an emotional reaction, be sure to dismiss it with rationality. Sin is irrational and emotionalized, so when we remind ourselves of the truth it helps us move on.

4 Don’t dwell on the evil - Even if we know the thought comes from Satan and we dismiss it, a secondary temptation is to then focus on fighting against Satan directly. We don’t need to do that. Satan is already defeated, so we ought not fixate on him. He has no influence unless we allow it. Move on quickly from intrusive thoughts by turning to positive thoughts – the love of Christ, beauty, truth, virtue, and hope.

 

Above all be patient and prepared. If we know that intrusive thoughts are simply part of life, they won’t throw us so far off kilter. The bad news is that the thoughts are always with us. The good news is they have no power over us and, if we lift our minds to heaven, the victory is already within reach.

Saint Hermenegild, King and Martyr

 by Father Rohrbacher in 'The Lives of the Saints' (Volume VI, pp. 325-327).

You can read the original source (in Portuguese) here. 

 

Hermenegild was the son of Leovigild, king of the Visigoths in Spain, and of Theodosia, the king’s first wife. After the death of his wife, the Visigothic king married Goswinda, the widow of his brother Athanagild and mother of Brunehaut, wife of Sigebert, king of Austrasia. It was with a daughter of Sigebert and Brunehaut that Hermenegild married.

The wife of the future Martyr was called Ingund and she was Catholic. Now Goswinda, an Arian, harbored great hatred for Catholics and began to persecute her daughter-in-law. At first she used caresses and sweet words, trying to persuade Ingund to receive baptism in the Arian sect. Ingund, courageously and firmly, refused and began to receive the worst treatment from her mother-in-law.

One day, Leovigild, in order to put an end to the disputes between his wife and his daughter-in-law, decided to send Hermenegild and his young wife to Seville. From then on, Ingund sought by every means to lead her husband to the Catholic Faith. She began to catechize him, and Hermenegild, as soon as he understood the Truths that his good wife explained to him, seeing everything with great clarity, abandoned the errors he had embraced since birth and became Catholic.

When Leovigild learned of his son’s conversion, he furiously sought to kill him. The prince, in order to defend himself, allied himself with the Emperor of Byzantium, who was preparing to attack Spain.

One day, Hermenegild received messengers from his father, who said to him:

“Go and seek your father, for you both have matters in common to discuss.”

Hermenegild replied:

“I will not go. My father is my enemy, because I am Catholic.”

Faced with this answer, Leovigild marched against his son, who, calling upon the Greeks for help, advanced against his father. However, when the forces of the Saint encountered the army of the Visigothic king, they scattered and abandoned him. Without any hope, Hermenegild took refuge in a nearby church. There, praying to God, he said:

“May my father not come to attack me, for it is an impious crime for a father to be killed by a son, or a son by his father.”

Leovigild, encamped a short distance away, sent a deputy to him. Soon after, Recared, the young prince’s brother, spoke of the warm welcome their father wished to give him, and added:

“Come, kneel at our father’s feet, and he will forgive everything.”

Upon hearing this, Hermenegild went to meet the old king, who received him with a feigned embrace. Shortly afterwards, he was arrested. The Saint was taken to Seville and placed in a narrow prison. There, longing for Heaven, he prayed to God for strength to persevere to the end. The chains he bore, he carried with great resignation and immense sweetness, as if they were a hair shirt.

Firm in the Faith, Hermenegild was killed in the prison itself, on the orders of his wicked father, on the night of April 13, 586. Miracles were not lacking to manifest the glory of the king and Martyr.

The father, a heretic and parricide, recognized, with repentance, the Truth of the Catholic Faith, but, fearing the reaction of the nation, did not have the courage to embrace it [the end of the lukewarm is well known: they will be vomited out by God]. And Recared, after Leovigild’s death, did not follow his father’s example, but rather that of his martyr brother: he converted and became a good Catholic.

At the request of King Philip II, Pope Sixtus V authorized his cult throughout Spain, and Urban VIII extended the cult to the whole Church.

Saint Hermenegild is the patron saint of Seville.

“Can each washed dish save a soul?” By Sarah Robsdottir

 You can read the original text here.

 

published on 03/14/26

Of course, only Jesus can save souls. But there are many ways to pray ...

I was recently moved by a passage in Fr. Jacques Philippe's powerful book Thirsting for Prayer in which he likens an excerpt of the early 20th-century Polish mystic and nun St. Faustina Kowalska's spiritual diary to Moses' "holy haggling" in the Bible (Exodus 32: 11-14), where Moses approaches God confidently and persistently, begging him to have mercy on the Israelites.

The passage caught my eye because St. Faustina was chatting with Jesus while crocheting a sweater. And while crocheting is a talent I've tried but failed countless times to master, the spiritual angle of the sentiment has a broader application to any menial task. I keep thinking about it especially as I wash dishes, fold laundry, and take out the trash. The excerpt is from St. Faustina's diary Divine Mercy in My Soul and is copied in its entirety below:

 

    This morning after completing my spiritual exercises, I began at once to crochet. I sensed a stillness in my heart; I sensed that Jesus was resting in it. That deep and sweet consciousness of God's presence prompted me to say to the Lord …

    "O Most Holy Trinity dwelling in my heart, I beg You: grant the grace of conversion to as many souls as the number of stitches that I will make today with this crochet hook."

    Then I heard these words in my soul: "My daughter, too great are your demands."

    "Jesus, you know that for You it is easier to grant much rather than little."

    That is so, [Jesus replied] it is less difficult for Me to grant a soul much rather than a little, but every conversion of a sinful soul demands sacrifice.

    "Well, Jesus, I offer You this whole-hearted work of mine; this offering does not seem to me to be too small for such a large number of souls; You know, Jesus, that for thirty years You were saving souls by just this kind of work. And since holy obedience forbids me to perform great penances and mortifications, therefore I ask You, Lord: accept these mere nothings, stamped with the seal of obedience, as great things."

    Then I heard a voice in my soul: "My dear daughter, I comply with your request."

 

St. Faustina Kowalska is best known for her vision of Jesus in which two large rays -- one red, symbolizing blood, and the other white, symbolizing water -- are flowing from Jesus' side. She spread this vision and image of "Divine Mercy," its inscription and message: Jesus, I trust in you.

I often play a recording of the Divine Mercy Chaplet, singing and praying along when I cook and clean. Lately, it's been a joy to place each washed dish, fork, and spoon on my drying rack. I'll set down a damp bowl and lift up a cousin in prayer. I'll scrub a frying pan and ask that this tiny sacrifice merit graces for a nephew's ongoing conversion. With each fork and spoon, I'll picture the faces of strangers I chatted with at the grocery store that morning and imagine Jesus' mercies flowing into their souls; it's a habit that's certainly given new meaning to housework!

Not only do I seek St. Faustina's intercession while offering up each washed dish for the salvation of a specific soul, but I also ask a few other saints to pray with me. St. Martin de Porres, a 16th-century Dominican lay brother well known for his devotion to the poor, once famously said: “Everything, even sweeping, scraping vegetables, weeding a garden, and waiting on the sick, could be a prayer, if it were offered to God.”

Centuries later, St. Josemaria Escriva, the founder of Opus Dei, echoed the sentiment: "Add a supernatural motive to your ordinary professional work and you will have sanctified it" (The Way #359, Scepter Press).

In the Bible's Book of James, we clearly see there are many things we do not have simply because we haven't asked for them: "You have not because you ask not" (James 4:2). And in the Gospel of St. Mark, verse 9:29, Jesus makes it clear that there are certain things done with the power that comes when we "fast and pray."

It's a relief to know that as a busy parent, prayer doesn't have to always look like it does in the movies -- kneeling alone in a silent church with folded hands. Rather, a busy life provides countless opportunities to offer up in my flesh "what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body" (cf Colossians 1:24).

 

-- St. Faustina Kowalska, pray for us!

-- St. Martin de Porres, pray for us!

-- St. Josemaria Escriva, pray for us!