The tragedies of this world take on their full meaning when one looks at life from a realistic point of view... We should not struggle against what has been decided by God. Men are only instruments, and if this seems obscure to those living in the world, it is not so for those who must share in this work of mercy. Certainly, it is not easy, and we must endure a very painful ordeal, but with the trial come graces, and then sadness is turned into joy.
Believe me, Mama, there is no injustice willingly accepted that does not bear fruit a hundredfold, and receive its just reward, prodigal beyond our comprehension. Do not think that all the sorrows that have overwhelmed our family in recent years are useless. On the contrary, they are necessary, in order that just reparation may be made, and that through this the love of Christ may be given us in all its fullness. The law of life is that some pay for others, young branches full of sap are cut back and old, unproductive boughs left in their place. This seems unjust, and it would be, if compensation far outweighing anything life could offer were not given to these victims, who are by the very fact privileged. Joy, then, not sadness! If life is worth living and if you feel weary and exhausted to the point of death, it is because your soul is famished for the life-giving nourishment which will yield unending joy.
It is only recently that I have come to understand the meaning of the cross. It is at once prodigious and atrocious: prodigious because it gives us life, and atrocious because if we do not accept to be crucified all life is denied us. This is a great mystery, and blessed are the persecuted.
--Jacques Fesch
Showing posts with label God’s ways. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God’s ways. Show all posts
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Saturday, August 17, 2013
Respect for the Poor
"Assistance to the unfortunate honors when it treats the poor man with respect, not only as an equal, but as a superior--since he is suffering what perhaps we are incapable of suffering; since he is a messenger of God to us, sent to prove our justice and charity, and to save us by our works."
--Frederick Ozanam, quoted by James Patrick Derum in Apostle in a Top Hat
--Frederick Ozanam, quoted by James Patrick Derum in Apostle in a Top Hat
Monday, June 4, 2012
The Tale of Two Cities
"I would ask you, dearest, to be very generous with him always, and very
lenient on his faults when he is not by. I would ask you to believe
that he has a heart he very, very seldom reveals, and that there are
deep wounds in it. My dear, I have seen it bleeding."
-The Tale of Two Cities, Book the Second: The Golden Thread, Chapter 20: A Plea
"There is nothing more to do," said he, glancing upward at the moon, "until to-morrow. I can't sleep."
It was not a reckless manner, the manner in which he said these words aloud under the fast-sailing clouds, nor was it more expressive of negligence than defiance. It was the settled manner of a tired man, who had wandered and struggled and got lost, but who at length struck into his road and saw its end.
-The Tale of Two Cities, Book the Third: The Track of a Storm, Chapter 9: The Game Made
"I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die."
Now, that the streets were quiet and the night wore on, the words were in the echoes of his feet, and were in the air. Perfectly calm and steady, he sometimes repeated them to himself as he walked; but, he heard them always.
The night wore out, and, as he stood upon the bridge listening to the water as it splashed the river-walls of the Island of Paris, where the picturesque confusion of houses and cathedral shone bright in the light of the moon, the day came coldly, looking like a dead face out of the sky. Then, the night, with the moon and the stars, turned pale and died, and for a little while it seemed as if Creation were delivered over to Death's dominion.
But, the glorious sun, rising, seemed to strike those words, that burden of the night straight and warm to his heart in its long bright rays. And looking along them, with reverently shaded eyes, a bridge of light appeared to span the air between him and the sun, while the river sparkled under it.
-The Tale of Two Cities, Book the Third: The Track of a Storm, Chapter 9: The Game Made
"It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known."
-The Tale of Two Cities, Book the Third: The Track of a Storm, Chapter 15: The Footsteps Die Out For Ever
-The Tale of Two Cities, Book the Second: The Golden Thread, Chapter 20: A Plea
"There is nothing more to do," said he, glancing upward at the moon, "until to-morrow. I can't sleep."
It was not a reckless manner, the manner in which he said these words aloud under the fast-sailing clouds, nor was it more expressive of negligence than defiance. It was the settled manner of a tired man, who had wandered and struggled and got lost, but who at length struck into his road and saw its end.
-The Tale of Two Cities, Book the Third: The Track of a Storm, Chapter 9: The Game Made
"I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die."
Now, that the streets were quiet and the night wore on, the words were in the echoes of his feet, and were in the air. Perfectly calm and steady, he sometimes repeated them to himself as he walked; but, he heard them always.
The night wore out, and, as he stood upon the bridge listening to the water as it splashed the river-walls of the Island of Paris, where the picturesque confusion of houses and cathedral shone bright in the light of the moon, the day came coldly, looking like a dead face out of the sky. Then, the night, with the moon and the stars, turned pale and died, and for a little while it seemed as if Creation were delivered over to Death's dominion.
But, the glorious sun, rising, seemed to strike those words, that burden of the night straight and warm to his heart in its long bright rays. And looking along them, with reverently shaded eyes, a bridge of light appeared to span the air between him and the sun, while the river sparkled under it.
-The Tale of Two Cities, Book the Third: The Track of a Storm, Chapter 9: The Game Made
"It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known."
-The Tale of Two Cities, Book the Third: The Track of a Storm, Chapter 15: The Footsteps Die Out For Ever
Sunday, April 1, 2012
The Veil of the Temple
Brideshead Revisited, Evelyn Waugh
...and Lord Marchmain made the sign of the cross. Then I knew that the sign I had asked for was not a little thing, not a passing not of recognition, and a phrase came back to me from my childhood of the veil of the temple being rent from top to bottom.
...and Lord Marchmain made the sign of the cross. Then I knew that the sign I had asked for was not a little thing, not a passing not of recognition, and a phrase came back to me from my childhood of the veil of the temple being rent from top to bottom.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
The Mysteries Revealed to Children
In this temporal life we are led along a narrow path, at the end of which is a little door opening onto true life. In order to pass through that door we must first let ourselves be crucified on the cross which stands at the entrance. If suffering and fear turn us away, we will not enter.
It is true that for the most part our advice is not asked -- otherwise how few of the elect would pass through! But with trial comes faith, and with faith, graces, which are not distributed parsimoniously but with profusion. The yoke becomes sweet and the sorrow is turned into joy. What is hidden from the eyes of men becomes luminous for those whom the Lord is drawing. "Do not fear those who can kill the body and who after that can do no more."
Do you know this word of Christ: "I give you thanks, Father, for having revealed these things to little ones and having hidden them from the wise." It is true. All that is despised by the world becomes precious for the Lord's sake. What a troop of lame men, thieves, and assassins must surround him!...
These are great mysteries we are living through. Do not let us struggle against redemption, under the pressure of egotistical thoughts. The ways are numerous and varied, but the end is one. In the same way a mountain nine thousand feet in height, with a base fifty miles in circumference, has only one summit, yet there are hundreds of ways leading to it. Each one follows his own path and sees only what is within his range. If you climb up the northern side you can't see the southern, but once the top is reached the same panorama stretches out before all.
Jacques Fesch (died 1957) was a murderer who experienced a profound conversion before his execution in a French prison.
It is true that for the most part our advice is not asked -- otherwise how few of the elect would pass through! But with trial comes faith, and with faith, graces, which are not distributed parsimoniously but with profusion. The yoke becomes sweet and the sorrow is turned into joy. What is hidden from the eyes of men becomes luminous for those whom the Lord is drawing. "Do not fear those who can kill the body and who after that can do no more."
Do you know this word of Christ: "I give you thanks, Father, for having revealed these things to little ones and having hidden them from the wise." It is true. All that is despised by the world becomes precious for the Lord's sake. What a troop of lame men, thieves, and assassins must surround him!...
These are great mysteries we are living through. Do not let us struggle against redemption, under the pressure of egotistical thoughts. The ways are numerous and varied, but the end is one. In the same way a mountain nine thousand feet in height, with a base fifty miles in circumference, has only one summit, yet there are hundreds of ways leading to it. Each one follows his own path and sees only what is within his range. If you climb up the northern side you can't see the southern, but once the top is reached the same panorama stretches out before all.
Jacques Fesch (died 1957) was a murderer who experienced a profound conversion before his execution in a French prison.
The Stealthy Raid on Our Nature, Paul Claudel
When God took possession of the human form, when he appropriated it for his own use, when he placed himself withing it in hypostatic union, he committed an unpardonable offense against justice, good sense, and propriety. Until the end of time, intellectuals will respond with alternating indignation and amusement. There are certain things that are simply not done. Let us therefore plant on the forked gibbet, in the sight of heaven, for the edification of all ages, this transgressor caught in the very act of stealing back a possession we had every reason to regard as exclusively ours.
In procuring from us the means to die, he robbed us of that right to annihilation which, since the original sin, has constituted the most obvious part of our basic capital. He embezzled our funds for his own profit. In one stroke he reclaimed for his Father all that cultivated estate which we considered ours by tenants’ rights, under the terms of a hard-won agreement. This is why he deserved the name of Thief that he himself officially assumed. Is it not written that "He who does not enter... by the door," where the devil mounts guard, "but climbs in by another way is a thief and a robber" (Jn 10: 1)?
Thanks to the complicity of the Virgin, there has been a stealthy raid on our nature. The damage is permanent; henceforth our walls are marred by a crack that for all our industry can never be mended again. "By my God I can leap over a wall," says the Psalmist (18: 30). Our homes are no longer our own.
Paul Claudel (died 1953) was a poet, a playwright, a diplomat, and a member of the French Academy.
In procuring from us the means to die, he robbed us of that right to annihilation which, since the original sin, has constituted the most obvious part of our basic capital. He embezzled our funds for his own profit. In one stroke he reclaimed for his Father all that cultivated estate which we considered ours by tenants’ rights, under the terms of a hard-won agreement. This is why he deserved the name of Thief that he himself officially assumed. Is it not written that "He who does not enter... by the door," where the devil mounts guard, "but climbs in by another way is a thief and a robber" (Jn 10: 1)?
Thanks to the complicity of the Virgin, there has been a stealthy raid on our nature. The damage is permanent; henceforth our walls are marred by a crack that for all our industry can never be mended again. "By my God I can leap over a wall," says the Psalmist (18: 30). Our homes are no longer our own.
Paul Claudel (died 1953) was a poet, a playwright, a diplomat, and a member of the French Academy.
Canticle of Mary; Luke 1: 46-55
Magnificat
My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord,
my spirit rejoices in God my Savior
for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant.
From this day all generations will call me blessed:
the Almighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his Name.
He has mercy on those who fear him
in every generation.
He has shown the strength of his arm,
he has scattered the proud in their conceit.
He has cast down the mighty from their thrones,
and has lifted up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has come to the help of his servant Israel
for he has remembered his promise of mercy,
the promise he made to our fathers,
to Abraham and his children for ever.
My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord,
my spirit rejoices in God my Savior
for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant.
From this day all generations will call me blessed:
the Almighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his Name.
He has mercy on those who fear him
in every generation.
He has shown the strength of his arm,
he has scattered the proud in their conceit.
He has cast down the mighty from their thrones,
and has lifted up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has come to the help of his servant Israel
for he has remembered his promise of mercy,
the promise he made to our fathers,
to Abraham and his children for ever.
Jeremiah 29: 11-14
I know well the plans I have in mind for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare, not for woe! plans to give you a future full of hope. When you call me, when you go to pray to me, I will listen to you. When you look for me, you will find me. Yes, when you seek me with all your heart, you will find me with you, says the Lord, and I will change your lot; I will gather you together from all the nations and all the places to which I have banished you, says the Lord, and bring you back to the place from which I have exiled you.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
"Some who had been cured of evil spirits" by Fr. de Caussade
The Master always begins by making himself known, loved, and appreciated in a sensible manner. Later he deprives the soul of these consolations in order to withdraw it from the grossness of the senses and to bring it into more excellent, more intimate, and more enduring union with himself in pure faith and pure spirit. To complete this purification, these deprivations must be followed by sufferings (interior if no other), interior rebelliousness, diabolical temptation, distress, helplessness, and distaste for all good, which themselves can sometimes amount to a kind of agony. All these serve admirably to rid the soul of its self-love and to give it certain features of resemblance to its crucified Spouse. All these agonies are so many blows which God levels at us to make us die to ourselves.The more self-love resists this spiritual death, the more savage these blows appear and the more cruel the agonies. The divine love is a double-edged sword that smites self-love until it is completely destroyed. Our pain has its source in that stout resistance offered by this accursed love of ourselves which hates to relinquish the control it has acquired over our heart and to allow the love of God to reign there in peace. If that love of God finds no obstacle to its divine ardors and no foe to resist it, it will make none but sweet and delightful impressions upon the heart.
Father Jean-Pierre de Caussade, S.J. (died 1751) was a French Jesuit, a writer, and a revered spiritual director.
Father Jean-Pierre de Caussade, S.J. (died 1751) was a French Jesuit, a writer, and a revered spiritual director.
Luke 7:31-35
Jesus said to the crowds: "To what shall I compare the people of this generation? What are they like? They are like children who sit in the marketplace and call to one another,
'We played the flute for you, but you did not dance.
We sang a dirge, but you did not weep.'
For John the Baptist came neither eating food nor drinking wine, and you said, 'He is possessed by a demon.' The Son of Man came eating and drinking and you said, 'Look, he is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.' But wisdom is vindicated by all her children."
'We played the flute for you, but you did not dance.
We sang a dirge, but you did not weep.'
For John the Baptist came neither eating food nor drinking wine, and you said, 'He is possessed by a demon.' The Son of Man came eating and drinking and you said, 'Look, he is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.' But wisdom is vindicated by all her children."
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Dealing with the Devil, by Father de Caussade
You should remember all your life that one of the principal causes of the small progress made by certain good people is that the devil continually fills their souls with disquiet, perplexities, and troubles, which render them incapable of serious, gentle, and constant application to the practice of virtue. The great principle of the interior life lies in peace of the heart: it must be preserved with such care that the moment it is in danger everything else should be abandoned for its re-establishment, just as when the house is on fire, one leaves everything in order to extinguish it... This blessed peace of soul is the high road to heaven. And the reason of this is that peace and tranquility of spirit alone give the soul great strength to achieve all that God wills, while trouble and disquiet turn the soul into a weak, languishing invalid. In that state, one feels neither zest nor attraction for virtue, but, contrariwise, disgust and discouragement by which the devil never fails to profit. This is why he makes use of all his ruses to rob us of this peace on a thousand specious pretexts: at one time on pretence of examination of conscience or of sorrow for our sins, at another time on the ground that we are abusing grace and that our total lack of progress is our own fault, in short that God is about to abandon us; and by means of a hundred other dodges against which few are able to defend themselves. This is why the masters of the spiritual life give this great principle for distinguishing the true inspirations of God from those which come from the devil, namely, that the former are always gentle and peaceful and lead us to confidence and humility while the latter are agitating, unquiet, and turbulent, leading to discouragement and suspicion, or even to presumption and the following of our own will. We must, therefore, firmly reject all that does not bear this mark of peace, submission, gentleness, and confidence, the impressions as it were of God's seal; this point is of great importance for the whole of our life.
Father Jean-Pierre de Caussade, S.J., (died 1751) was a French Jesuit, a writer, and a revered spiritual director.
Father Jean-Pierre de Caussade, S.J., (died 1751) was a French Jesuit, a writer, and a revered spiritual director.
Friday, December 23, 2011
On Human Nature
Yesterday, worn our with anxieties, away from others
I was in a shady grove, my soul consumed.
For how I do so love this drug for sufferings,
to speak in quiet, me with my own soul...
But privately, my mind in a whirlpool spinning,
I had this sort of battling round of words:
Who was I? Who am I? What shall I be?
I don't know clearly.
Nor can I find one better stocked with wisdom.
But, as through thick fog, I wander
every which way, with nothing, not a dream,
of the things I long for...
What's in fact the good of life? God's light?
But then hateful and jealous darkness
keeps me from it.
Nothing's of any use to me.
And what is there of no use to the wicked?
If only they were equally endowed,
with troubles especially!
I lie helpless. Divine terror has bowed me.
I'm worn out by worries, night and day...
The ache exists for each one of our race...
Stop. Everything is secondary to God.
Give in to reason.
God didn't make me in vain. I am turning
my back upon this song: this thing was from our feeblemindedness.
Now's a fog, but afterwards the Word,
and you'll know all,
whether seeing God, or eaten up by fire.
Now, when the beloved mind had sung for me
these things, it digested its pain.
And late from the shady grove I headed home,
now laughing at this self-estrangement,
then once again
heart in anguish smoldering, from a mind at war.
Saint Gregory Nazianzen (died 390) was a monk, a bishop, and a writer of letter, prayers, and poems.
I was in a shady grove, my soul consumed.
For how I do so love this drug for sufferings,
to speak in quiet, me with my own soul...
But privately, my mind in a whirlpool spinning,
I had this sort of battling round of words:
Who was I? Who am I? What shall I be?
I don't know clearly.
Nor can I find one better stocked with wisdom.
But, as through thick fog, I wander
every which way, with nothing, not a dream,
of the things I long for...
What's in fact the good of life? God's light?
But then hateful and jealous darkness
keeps me from it.
Nothing's of any use to me.
And what is there of no use to the wicked?
If only they were equally endowed,
with troubles especially!
I lie helpless. Divine terror has bowed me.
I'm worn out by worries, night and day...
The ache exists for each one of our race...
Stop. Everything is secondary to God.
Give in to reason.
God didn't make me in vain. I am turning
my back upon this song: this thing was from our feeblemindedness.
Now's a fog, but afterwards the Word,
and you'll know all,
whether seeing God, or eaten up by fire.
Now, when the beloved mind had sung for me
these things, it digested its pain.
And late from the shady grove I headed home,
now laughing at this self-estrangement,
then once again
heart in anguish smoldering, from a mind at war.
Saint Gregory Nazianzen (died 390) was a monk, a bishop, and a writer of letter, prayers, and poems.
The Human Heart
"More torturous than all else is the human heart." What the rich man was looking for in fine garments and sumptuous dining he was meant to find in the beggar on his doorstep. For every person that God puts on our path becomes the way to the fulfillment we seek. Jeremiah warns, "Cursed is the man whose heart turns away from the Lord"--that is, the one who refuses the unexpected ways God makes himself present in our life.
Isaiah 55:8-9
My thoughts are not your thoughts,
nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord.
As high as the heavens are above the earth,
so high are my ways above your ways
and my thoughts above your thoughts.
nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord.
As high as the heavens are above the earth,
so high are my ways above your ways
and my thoughts above your thoughts.
Who can know the mind of God?
O who can know the mind of God,
And who dare call his name,
Whose glory is the rising sun,
Whose ev’ry word is flame?
Who else surrounds in boundless deeps
The island of the mind?
Who else in clouds of silence keeps
Long watch for humankind?
Too high for us, O Lord, your ways,
Too vast your works: through them
We reach with trembling words of praise
To touch your garment’s hem.
And who dare call his name,
Whose glory is the rising sun,
Whose ev’ry word is flame?
Who else surrounds in boundless deeps
The island of the mind?
Who else in clouds of silence keeps
Long watch for humankind?
Too high for us, O Lord, your ways,
Too vast your works: through them
We reach with trembling words of praise
To touch your garment’s hem.
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