“These 2 women are the first female saints mentioned at Mass” by Philip Kosloski

 You can read the original text here.

published on 03/07/26

 After the Blessed Virgin Mary, Sts. Perpetua and Felicity are the first women mentioned during the Eucharistic prayer at Mass.

A custom arose in the first few centuries of the Roman Catholic Church to recall a number of saints during the Eucharistic prayer. This was done during the recitation of what became known as the Roman Canon, also called Eucharistic Prayer I.

Those included make up an ancient list, one that was originally smaller and focused only on local saints who died in Rome.

According to the Catholic Encyclopedia, "Benedict XIV quotes from Adalbert, 'De Virginitate,' that St. Gregory I, having noticed that no female saints occur in the Canon, added these seven here."

The list is not in any way alphabetical, as it begins with "Felicity" and ends with "Anastasia." It's possible that the list of women is ordered according to "date of death," beginning with the earliest Christians and ending with the latest ones.

It's also possible that the list simply reflects the popularity of the saints at the time it was created in the 7th century. Sts. Perpetua and Felicity were very popular, and their legendary life was immortalized in the text "The Passion of Sts. Perpetua and Felicity."

Whatever the reasoning might have been for the order, Perpetua and Felicity are the first ones mentioned after the Blessed Virgin Mary. The reference to them in the Eucharistic Prayer should prompt us to pause and reflect on their lives.

Two holy women - St. Felicity was a young and pregnant enslaved woman of the 2nd century. She was persecuted by the Romans for her Christian faith and sentenced to death with St. Perpetua in the amphitheater at the public games.

Being eight months pregnant, it is said that Felicity was actually worried that the Romans wouldn't kill her and she might lose the "crown of martyrdom." She ended up giving birth to a daughter while in captivity and was later led to the arena to be killed.

St. Perpetua was a noblewoman of Carthage and was thrown into the same prison as Felicity for refusing to deny her Christian faith. She chronicled her experience in a diary up until the day of her death. This account was highly popular for many centuries after her death.

The Church continues to hold up these two women as models for us to imitate, especially because of their courageous faith in the face of martyrdom.

“Ash Wednesday Catholics: What Are they Saying to Us?” by Msgr. Charles Pope

 

You can read the original text here.

 

Reflecting on last week’s Ash Wednesday Masses it is possible to observe an unusual and puzzling sight. On this day, almost every priest looks out into a congregation that is barely recognizable. To be sure there are many familiar faces of those who regularly attend. But almost half (!) or more of the congregation is populated by faces unknown. Have tour busses unloaded their riders from distant lands? Is this the holiday season where many are here visiting family? No, this is Ash Wednesday, a most peculiar day. Even days before, the phones start ringing and rather urgent voices on the other end ask, “When will ashes be given?” One might almost think that ashes were necessary for salvation. Sadly, to none of the Sacraments is such urgency attached, even among the more faithful. Baptisms, confessions, marriages and Mass itself are often delayed, or even wholly omitted. But come Ash Wednesday there is an urgent and laser-like focus exhibited by large numbers of otherwise disinterested Catholics, it seems like many are majoring in the minors.

 

We may lament this, but what can we learn from this? Somehow, even if unwittingly, the Church has powerfully connected with a large segment of otherwise non-practicing Catholics as well as the unchurched. Ashes are awesome! Really? It’s pretty humbling isn’t it? The usual Catholic attempts to seem positive and “relevant” such as trendy music and positive “welcoming” themes are often found wanting. But then, these ashes, which break all the “rules” and theories of modern evangelization powerfully connect with the very folks we are trying to reach. Maybe we have things to learn!

Consider that the message of Ash Wednesday and the imposing of ashes is not one of our more joyous and positive messages. The fundamental message of this sacramental is, “You are going to die.” Sure we use a little poetry to say it: “Remember you are dust and unto dust you shall return.” But, its fundamental message is still the same: “You are going to die.” Even if one uses the alternate formula, “Repent and believe the Gospel”, repent is not one of our more cheerful or “welcoming” messages. People are not piling into Church to hear John 3:16 (God so loved the world…) and take some valuable or lasting token like a holy card or religious medal. They are lining up to have dirty ashes smeared on their forehead and to hear that they are going to die and need to repent before it’s too late. The Prophet Joel and St. Paul issue urgent warnings that we should weep and fast on account of our sins, that we must repent and be reconciled to God.

This is hardly what most modern evangelizers tout as the way to reach souls. But souls line up for it every year. Granted, many are not convicted enough to come again until next year, but the point is that the one time they DO come is on a day that breaks almost every precept of the  “welcoming community” message at the heart of modern Church out-reach.

Why is this and what can we learn? In answering this I do not have vast polling data on which to rely. I have only anecdotal data from years of talking to Ash Wednesday Catholics and from hearing what others have discovered in their conversations. So, take what you like from my thoughts and leave the rest. Here then are a few thoughts.

Belonging seems to be deeper than membership or practice.

Many have left the formal practice of the faith and active membership. Some have angry differences with the Church, other have simply drifted or are indifferent. But, when it comes time to answer a survey question of their religious identity, they still check “Catholic.” Ash Wednesday somehow taps into this belonging and identity. It is a day, through the wearing of ashes or the participation in a well known rite that many of these Catholics say, “I still belong….These are my roots…I may not be a “good” Catholic, but Catholic I am.” In some sense, one might leave the Church but the Church never really leaves them; something is still there nudging them not to forget. To a lesser degree Palm Sunday serves a similar purpose and that little piece of palm leaf displayed in the home, usually on or near the crucifix gives voice to Mother Church’s tug on our heart. Though it, some Catholics say, “Through I am distant, I still belong.” In places like Mexico and the U.S., some Hispanics have gone to the Evangelical denominations, but the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe is still prominent in their homes. It is as if to say, “You can take the Man out of the Church, but you can’t take the Church out of the Man.”

Yes, belonging has deep roots, and somehow, people ritually express a kind of “forget me not” to the Church. Clearly we want to offer them more, but at least there is still some connection, some homing beacon that reminds us and them that they “still belong.”

 

A serious and sober message carries weight.

Though the message associated with the imposition of ashes is not a cheerful one, it does carry weight; it is something to take seriously and something which commands respect. Hence the Church is attractive when she preaches and teaches in a way that is substantial and respectable. Most people know that not everything is right in their lives and the message of Ash Wednesday resonates with this instinct. Most people, in seeking a doctor, want one who takes disease seriously and is willing to have an honest conversation about what must be done. Even if they are not ready or willing to follow all of his or her advice, they ultimately want the truth and will not respect a doctor who is not serious or engages in mere flattery. To a significant degree we have lost a sense of this in the Church.

 

As noted above, there has been a tendency in the past fifty years to “lighten up.” Great emphasis is put on “positive themes” such as God’s mercy and goodness, but little emphasis on repentance, which is the key that unlocks that mercy. There is almost a pathological avoidance of controversial moral teachings or more “negative” themes such as death, judgment, heaven and hell. No one should ever be upset and the fear of consequences should not be elicited. Parishes should be welcoming and non-judgmental, homilies encouraging and uplifting, sacrifices and reparation for sin and the demands of discipleship are soft-pedaled. And of course, “God is Love,” but that “love” is more often presented as a soft kindness, rather a strong love that seeks to set things right and bring us to the healing of holiness. Affirmation too often eclipses transformation. As for the liturgy, it is often not often celebrated in a way that says something profound and healing is taking place here. And while some think this is the necessary approach today to win converts, our churches have been steadily emptying through this period of “Catholic Lite.”

 

Further, such a pastoral strategy does not elicit the respect and reverence necessary if the Church is going to preach the Gospel with authority.  And though many modern liturgists fear that negative themes will repulse modern man, Ash Wednesday calls such fears into question. So too Palm Sunday whose theme is the Passion. The Palm Sunday Gospel is long and intense; the suffering due to our sins is made quite clear. Yet attendance is also very good, in some places, even better than Easter or Christmas.

 

So here are some things to learn in terms of Evangelization. These observations are not intended in an absolute sense. Balance is needed where the bad news of sin, death and our need to repent are blended with the good news of mercy, healing and salvation. There is an old saying, “If you don’t know the bad news, the good news is no news.” Collectively we have been too averse to presenting the bad news. But as Ash Wednesday and Palm Sunday show, many of the unchurched are willing to hear it and fundamentally know it is true. The bad news also highlights how wonderful the good news is.

It is also clear that, whatever respect Ash Wednesday and Palm Sunday command, it is not enough. Only rarely do attendees at an Ash Wednesday Mass experience the conversion that helps the Church seal the deal. Looking to the future we do well to ponder how we might make use of evangelical moments such as Ash Wednesday, Palm Sunday, as well as funerals, weddings and baptisms. Many unchurched are encountered in such moments and simply preaching light-heartedly may need to be balanced with sober calls for repentance and a decision to walk with the Lord in the Church and in the Sacred Liturgy.

Warnings have their place and as Ash Wednesday shows, such messages are not as unappealing as many in the Church think. If we want Ash Wednesday Catholics to become All Sunday Catholics, maybe we can learn to build on what brings them in the first place and be less anxious to echo the opening words of Jesus’ public ministry, “Repent and Believe the Gospel!”

Rejoice, Christ Lives!

 

Saint Irmund von Jülich.

 

Saint Irmund von Jülich (also known as Irmonz or Irmund von Mündt) is venerated as a popular saint and the patron of cattle. He is traditionally depicted wearing a hermit’s robe, carrying a shepherd’s staff, and accompanied by livestock. His name is of Anglo-Saxon origin and is commonly interpreted as meaning “great protection.”

According to tradition, Irmund lived as a shepherd and hermit in the 4th century, during the time of Bishop Severin of Cologne. He is said to have dwelled at the Hahnerhof, east of the present-day district of Mündt near Titz. Irmund is credited with introducing Christianity to this region, and records attest to the existence of a church in Mündt as early as the year 650—considered the predecessor of today’s Church of St. Urban.

On a scorching, drought-stricken summer he caused a spring to burst forth from the earth, saving both people and animals from thirst. This spring, known today as St. Irmund’s Well, is still believed to possess curative powers for humans and livestock alike.

After his death, Saint Irmund was buried in the church at Mündt. Though the church was destroyed in 1602 during a raid by Batavian troops, his bones and relics have survived miraculously. They are still preserved today in a chapel dedicated to him, built on the Hahnerhof in 1672. Adorned with a Baroque altar, the chapel has been a destination for pilgrimage for over six centuries.

Saint Irmund’s feast day is celebrated on January 28.

 

 

"The Path of Happiness and the Flame of Hope" by Fr. Paulo Ricardo.

 You can reand or listen the original source (in Portuguese) here.

1 February 2026

Far from being a mere display of Jesus’ eloquence, the Beatitudes constitute a true itinerary that leads us to Heaven. This is because the complete happiness we constantly seek is found in nothing of this world, but solely in God.

 

Helen Thomas Robson - My Friend.

The Gospel of Our Lord Jesus Christ according to Saint Matthew (Mt 5:1–12a)

At that time, when Jesus saw the crowds, He went up the mountain and sat down. His disciples came to Him, and He began to teach them, saying:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.

Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.

Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.

Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.

Blessed are you when people insult you and persecute you, and utter every kind of evil against you falsely on My account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in Heaven.”

 

This Sunday, the Church proclaims the Gospel of Saint Matthew, chapter 5, verses 1 to 12. This passage is the Sermon on the Mount—the first of the five great discourses narrated by Saint Matthew—in which Our Lord proclaims the Beatitudes that we shall live fully in Heaven.

It is striking to observe that Jesus’ very first word here is “blessed,” that is, “happy.” It seems that Christ begins with the end, for He opens by speaking of the ultimate goal of our lives—happiness—and shows that He Himself is the path that leads to it. We all desire to be happy, yet we tragically do not know the way to happiness. This drama belongs to the human condition. Cows, monkeys, and small animals do not suffer from the anguish of seeking fulfillment in life; they do not become anxious, worried, or desperate. With us, however, the situation is different: we are anguished because there is always the possibility that our life might simply not turn out well.

Here, Jesus immediately touches the wound, showing us that we seek happiness where it cannot be found. Because He desires our happiness, Christ shows us the way. The hard truth is that we can indeed fail in this life, and this is precisely the evil Jesus wishes to heal. Happiness exists in Heaven, with God; yet we do not know how to reach it. Our Lord not only wants us to be happy, but also tells us what we must do in order to attain happiness. This is the very heart of the Gospel of the Beatitudes.

In short, we will not find perfect happiness in this world. Every form of happiness presented by Jesus is a reward of Heaven. And to reach it, we must do one thing: imitate Our Lord. With the help of grace, we must form our hearts according to the Heart of Jesus, for the Beatitudes are nothing other than a reflection of the very Person of Christ. As He Himself said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me” (Jn 14:6).

The Gospel presents us with eight Beatitudes, divided into two parts: in the first, Jesus tells us what we must do; in the second, He reveals the reward awaiting us in Heaven. It is important to emphasize that everything Jesus promises belongs to Heaven. Indeed, He begins by saying, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.” He goes on to speak of comfort for those who mourn, inheritance for the meek, satisfaction for the hungry and thirsty, mercy, and finally divine filiation. All of this stands in stark contrast to this valley of tears in which we live—the fallen world.

In the Beatitudes, Jesus speaks to us of Heaven, where we shall be called “children of God.” Saint John writes: “Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we shall be has not yet been revealed” (1 Jn 3:2). This is the hope of Heaven. Finally, Jesus speaks of those who are persecuted for love of Him: “Blessed are you when people insult you and persecute you, and utter every kind of evil against you falsely on My account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in Heaven” (Mt 5:11–12). Everything points toward Paradise.

Christ wishes to free us from the foolish notions of happiness we cultivate in this world. He says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit.” Jesus Himself was the first and greatest of the poor in spirit, for He humbled Himself completely on the Cross, shattering by His example our attachments to worldly things. It is noteworthy that He says “blessed are the poor,” even though common sense often claims the opposite. Our country is economically unstable; we are constantly facing crises. As a result, it is common for us to chase after money and financial security. It almost seems as though happiness will only arrive once our name disappears from the list of debtors or when we finally purchase the latest smartphone. Yet one does not even need faith to recognize the illusion behind this attachment to money—a truth already acknowledged by ancient philosophers.

Once, I met an elderly man who had lived a dignified and honest life, working for decades to provide the best for his family. At the end of his life, however, he realized that all the money he had accumulated could not buy his health back. Material goods do not bring happiness. But must one really live to be eighty to discover a truth that could already be understood at twenty? It makes no sense to distress ourselves over things that will pass away. Christ invites us to imitate Him in poverty, for it is in this way that we shall be happy.

Does this mean, then, that we will experience no happiness at all in this life? Certainly not. The Beatitudes themselves make this clear. When we hear about true happiness in Heaven and what we must do to attain it, hope is born in our hearts—and hope itself is already the beginning of happiness. When someone who is gravely ill is told that there exists a medicine capable of saving his life, simply hearing this good news already brings joy. The illness remains, but the face is illuminated by hope. Such is the logic of the Beatitudes proclaimed by Jesus. We shall live them fully only in Heaven, but even now we possess the joy of hope, because we believe in the Word of God.

We must obey the Lord, following the path to happiness that He has shown us. To help us, we have the grace of God. We are like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, walking in the company of Jesus: “Were not our hearts burning within us while He spoke to us on the way?” (Lk 24:32). They had not yet seen the risen Christ, yet their hearts were already aflame. Such is the condition of Christians.

Let us look to the lives of the saints. They are rightly called “blessed,” for they are in Heaven, though they lived troubled lives on earth. Indeed, if we wish to understand suffering, we need only look at the saints. Yet even amid suffering, they nourished the flame of hope in their hearts, and this was already a source of great joy—even in this world. We are called to suffer not as the despairing, but with the flame of hope burning within our souls.

So far, we have seen our goal—Heaven. But how do we reach it? The path that leads to Paradise begins with poverty of spirit, that is, the wise resolve never to place our hope in earthly goods: “Blessed are the poor in spirit.”

Second: “Blessed are those who mourn.” Our society flees from any form of suffering or affliction and believes that happiness lies in sensual pleasure. For many, happiness is found in sex, food, comfort, and the like. This is a grave illusion. Jesus is clear: happiness does not lie in what appeals to disordered desire.

The third Beatitude of Our Lord is: “Blessed are the meek.” How many wars, conflicts, and disputes would be avoided if we simply followed this exhortation of the Lord.

According to Saint Thomas Aquinas, these Beatitudes are proper to beginners—those taking their first steps on the path of purification. Even at this early stage, we already begin to lose much of our attachment to the things of this world.

Therefore, let us take courage! Our Lord begins the Sermon on the Mount with the end, showing us that true happiness does exist. Hearts lifted high, then! How many priests and members of the Church live discouraged lives! How many people surrender to a worldly outlook because they no longer see a solution to the problems afflicting the Church! Sadly, in the face of worldly pressures, many prefer to capitulate, wishing the Church to adapt itself to the spirit of the age. Yet here Christ feeds us with hope. He shows us the path of grace, by which—if we break with worldly illusions—we shall receive our reward in Heaven.

Let us, then, have true hope. Yes, we live the drama of the human condition, but authentic happiness does exist. A light has shone upon a people who walked in darkness. Our true happiness is in Heaven. To reach it, let us ask for the grace to imitate Christ in the Beatitudes, thus breaking free from the illusions of this world. In this way, we may one day attain the eternal reward. Therefore, let us listen to Our Lord, who says: “Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in Heaven” (Mt 5:12a).