Third Reflection for Deacons of Spirituality Week 2017
August 31, 2017
Very Rev. Denis Robinson, OSB
There can be no question that the
priesthood is a complex reality. In the seminary, we approach it from a variety
of angles: theological, pastoral, spiritual and human. Each angle gives us new
insight, an insight that likewise grows as our experience of the priesthood
deepens and broadens. Archbishop Sheen once remarked: “‘Increase and multiply’
is a law of sacerdotal life no less than biological life.” (The Priest Is Not His Own, 57). While
Sheen was speaking of the question of spiritual generation in the priest’s
ministry, the observation is no less valid of the evolving understanding of the
priesthood in the life of the seminarian and, indeed, of the priest throughout
his life. Our appreciation of the priesthood must continue to grow and change.
“Growth is the only evidence of life,” as Blessed John Henry Newman has
observed. This evolution of priestly realization is also innate in the rites
that create the priest. The identity of the priest naturally progresses through
the various ministries, candidacy, diaconate and, finally, presbyteral
ordination.
In the last reflection, I looked
rather carefully at the resolutions made by the deacon at his ordination. There
is so much of significance in the diaconate ordination, including constitutive
elements of the priesthood, the promise of celibacy and the Liturgy of the
Hours being the most prominent. In this reflection, I would like to turn to the
particular resolutions made by the priest. In our context, we speak most often
of a transitional diaconate. While the permanent diaconate, also a prominent
feature of the Saint Meinrad landscape, ultimately finds its spiritual energy
in the promises we discussed several weeks ago, those ordained to the
transitional diaconate know that the resolutions made at deacon ordination are
evolving resolutions; they will be augmented by the future ordination to the
priesthood. They are by no means abrogated. The promise to pray the Liturgy of
the Hours and the promise of celibacy remain the foundation of what will be
additionally taken on with priesthood.
The transitional deacon must prepare
himself for a strengthening of resolve with new promises. These new promises
continue to show forth the nature of priestly life and spirituality. With
presbyteral ordination, the deacon becomes an even more public person, a man
for the Church. This is true because, as a priest, he stands at the very
fulcrum of the Church’s life, the sacrifice of the Eucharist.
Before I reflect on the particular
promises of the presbyteral order, I would like to offer a few insights about
the nature of this public person. The priest affects the lives of his
parishioners in profound ways, ways that may not always be readily apparent. We
have heard it stated in many forums that the priest is a public person and must
always act accordingly. The priest, however, is more than a public person in
the sense of celebrities or politicians. The priest is a man whose engagement
with the public, that is, the people, is of a profound nature. The priest is a man
who is scrutinized and studied by the people not because his life is
interesting in itself, but because his life is presented as an icon of
discipleship. Our Holy Father Pope Benedict has expressed this well:
The priest is
a man of prayer, a man of forgiveness, a man who receives and celebrates the
sacraments as acts of prayer and encounter with the Lord. He is a man of
charity, lived and practiced, thus all the simple acts, conversion, encounter,
everything that needs to be done, become spiritual acts in communion with
Christ. (Meeting with the Clergy of the Diocese of Rome, 2007)
These acts are also acts meant to be
observed by others. In his prayer, in his moral life, in his example of
Christian living, everything is observed not because of prurience or any other
base motive, but because the priest has presented himself as an example for
others. He is an icon of discipleship. He shows himself as one who can live the
life of the Gospel, not perfectly but intentionally. His life shows the people
that it is possible. He is also a man of the Church. He faithfully represents
the Church and never represents any ideas or opinions that, as his own,
constitute a challenge to the Church’s way of thinking and acting. As a public
man of the Church, he cannot act contrary to the laws and the spirit of the
Church. He is watched. He is evaluated and, even when the people cannot quite
give expression to their misgivings, they know when he is inauthentic. They
know. We live today in a culture accustomed to casual communication. Facebook,
My Space and other social networking tools give us access to easy formats by
which we can express our opinions and ideas. A seminarian or a priest might
easily be tempted to make a comment or express an opinion on the wall of
Facebook that he would never consider saying in a classroom or in the pulpit.
After all, Facebook is “just among friends,” and yet, millions of persons have
access to these comments, many times more than would be the case in any parish
environment.
Our thoughts and our teachings are
analyzed, taken apart and taken to heart. As the poet Emily Dickinson once
wrote: “We must be careful what we say, no bird resumes its egg.” (Letters of Emily Dickinson). Is this observation meant to instill
some kind of paranoia or, worse, to silence the authentic voice of the priest
in his mission to “Go out to all the world and tell the Good News”? By no
means. Nevertheless, the priest must be constantly aware of that with which he
is dealing. As priests, we are touching people’s souls; we are trafficking in
the realm of their immortality. It is one thing to offer my opinion about the
quality of the latest film; it is another to comment on Church teaching or
liturgical practice when those teachings have the power to alter people’s
lives. As priests, we have the power to alter people’s lives, their eternal
lives, and that must give us pause; it must give us a sense of heightened
responsibility.
With ordination, we are taking on a
new identity, an identity that can never be set aside. I cannot begin to
instill in you an awareness of the tremendous damage done by priests who ask
others to listen intently to their opinions about the Church and its teachings
and then walk away, leaving a confused public to sort through what is authentic
and inauthentic in their words. There is no room in the Church today for
priests who present themselves as the saviors of the Church. There is one
savior, our Lord Jesus Christ. It is His message that our public ministry must
tirelessly proclaim. In the words of St. John the Baptist: “He must increase,
while I must decrease.”
With this insight into the public
nature of what we are doing, I turn now to the resolutions of the Rite of
Ordination for Presbyters.
Do you resolve to exercise the ministry
of the word worthily and wisely, preaching the Gospel and teaching the Catholic
faith?
The first resolution seems to be, at
least at first glance, in the intellectual mode. It focuses on the word. And
yet, perhaps the expression “ministry of the word” is more profound. While the
word might refer to the “logos” of our faith, it might equally refer to the
second person of the Holy Trinity. As priests, we are called to exercise the
ministry of the Word, of Jesus Christ. Pope Benedict has remarked: “The first
imperative of the priest is to be a man of God in the sense of a man in
friendship with Christ.” (Meeting with the Clergy of the Dioceses of
Belluno-Feltere and Treviso, 2007)
This can only be accomplished through
a complete identity with Christ the Word. In our lives as disciples, many
“words” compete for our attention. Some of these words are spoken internally,
the scripts that we learn in childhood and tend to rehearse throughout our
lives. We are constantly mulling over such scripted words as “unworthy,”
“stupid,” “broken” and a host of others, each unique to our personal
situations. Some of these scripted words may be near the surface of our
consciousness and some may be deeply embedded in our psychological makeup,
affecting our lives in adverse ways, robber-like against our knowledge and
will. Some of these competing words come from our socialization and
conditioning. The scripts of our cultural environment have a strong hold over
us; they often call for unqualified allegiance, even when we know, at least
intuitively, that they are at odds with what we profess as Christians and as
Catholics.
In childhood, we might refer to this
as the words spoken by peer pressure. Peer pressure does not evaporate as we
grow older; it merely becomes more sophisticated. It is always pressure. As the
historian Christopher Dawson has expressed: “Every society rests in the last
resort on the recognition of common principles and common ideals, and if it
makes no moral or spiritual appeal to the loyalty of its members, it must
inevitably fall to pieces.” What is left in the aftermath of this
disintegration of the social word than the ministry of the Word?
Internally or externally, we give our attention to these words and yet the Word
desires so completely to break into our lives.
The exercise of the ministry of the
word faithfully and wisely means, first and foremost, our ability to filter all
words that do not speak to us that single syllable that alone has meaning in
the heart of the priest: Christ. There is only one word for us to authentically
speak and that is Christ. Christ must be everything and our ministry of that
word becomes our sole direction, our singular purpose. I exercise the ministry
worthily when I put away all false representations of allegiance. “You call me
Lord and teacher and you are right, for so I am” (John 13:13). And yet, as
Cardinal Von Balthasar has noted: “It is in us
that Jesus wants to stand before the Father, indeed, in us that he wants to be
in the Father.” (Credo, 41). I am
worthy of the ministry (as much as I can be worthy of the ministry) insofar as
I live with an undivided heart. The landscape of my heart must be totally for
Christ and the expanses of my mind and my intellect, the horizons of my service
will be open and pure.
As much as that word is compartmentalized,
there is my unworthiness. Worthiness to minster the Word does not stem from
living a blameless life. There are no blameless lives. There are no lives in
which the cacophony of other wordiness does not interfere with a pure attention
to the voice of God. We all live conflicted lives. We all live lives of mixed
motives. We all live sinful lives. That is not the question. We are not, on our
own, worthy of the ministry of the word. But God makes us worthy and we
participate in that divine action by our desire. As much as I desire to live a
secret life or a double life, I am truly not worthy. As much as I desire to
make my life as a priest an open book, even in the midst of authentically
acknowledging my need for further growth, greater grace, I have been found
worthy.
In the rite of ordination, after the
call of the candidate, the bishop inquires of the one who has acted on behalf
of the Church in issuing the call if the candidate has been found worthy. There
is a testimony on his behalf that he has been found worthy. Another way to
phrase this interchange that gets at the heart of the spirituality of the
priest is that he has been found humble, humble enough to know himself, humble
enough to acknowledge his faults, humble enough to live a transparent life.
The candidate
for priestly orders resolves also to exercise his ministry wisely. Wisdom, in
this context, is intimately related to worthiness. Worthiness is directed
toward the development of the candidate’s personal character. Wisdom is
directed outward. What is this wisdom? It is the understanding that what is
within me (if I can authentically claim what is within me) is also within those
whom I serve in the ministry of the word. We do not pastor perfect sheep. There
is no perfection in the flock. Nor can we present ourselves as perfect pastors.
The wise shepherd does not expect the flock to be perfect; rather he knows in
an intimate way their imperfections. He has conditioned himself to this by his
own introspection, his own self-awareness.
Pastors can get
into real trouble when they fail to acknowledge the real situations of their
flocks. Trouble can only ensue when a pastor presents himself as faultless,
minister of an idealized church and then expects the flock to either conform or
be weeded out. That is not to say we do not need ideals; again, we do, but we
never reach the ideal without first wading through the mire, both internally
and externally. We are wise pastors when we know the sheep and help them along
because we know our selves and know how God has helped us along. Ministry that
is worthy and wise is the ministry of real men among real men and women.
Preaching and teaching can only proceed from this intimate knowledge. All other
preaching and teaching will be perceived as false, façade, mere Potemkin
villages of authentic discipleship.
In the
seminary, we certainly practice preaching and teaching. These are essential
communication skills for the priest. At another level, however, the seminary
must also be a seedbed of worthiness and wisdom. Regarding worthiness, as I
have stated many times before, it is necessary to inculcate here the ability to
express true humility through transparency. What does this transparency look
like but the development of mature character. As J.C. Watts has expressed so
eloquently: “Character is doing the right thing when
nobody’s looking. There are too many people who think that the only thing
that’s right is to get by, and the only thing that’s wrong is to get caught.”
The honesty that this character formation necessitates can only happen in an
atmosphere of mutual trust and respect. As pastor, it is essential for me to
set the tone. As a staff, we are called to be authentic examples of this. We
trust one another and we have respect for one another when we honestly communicate.
One way in which we do this is through our annual
self-evaluation process. Ideally, the seminarian should never hear anything in
that process from the evaluation team members that he has not already heard
many times from his dean, the vice rector or the rector. No seminarian should
be taken off guard by what appears in the evaluation. Likewise, the staff
should never be taken off guard by what happens in the evaluation. If I reveal
in the evaluation something that I have never revealed before in the external
forum, that indicates a lack of transparency. Wisdom and worthiness are not
qualities that happen overnight; they are not the magical results of
ordination, rather with the author of proverbs we know: “By wisdom a house is built, and through understanding it is
established; through knowledge its rooms are filled with rare and beautiful
treasures” (Proverbs 24:3-4) and “My son, preserve sound judgment and
discernment, do not let them out of your sight; they will be life for you, an
ornament to grace your neck. Then you will go on your way in safety, and your
foot will not stumble” (Proverbs 3:21-23).
Do
you resolve to celebrate faithfully and reverently, in accord with the Church’s
tradition, the mysteries of Christ, especially the sacrifice of the Eucharist
and the sacrament of Reconciliation, for the glory of God and the
sanctification of the Christian people?
Here we find the particular ministry
of the priest: The sacrifice of the Eucharist and the sacrament of
Reconciliation. These are the responsibilities of the priest and so the
character of priestly spirituality must be built around these responsibilities.
What does it mean to promise to faithfully and reverently celebrate the
sacrifice of the Eucharist? It entails a deep commitment to the reality of the
Eucharist and its place in the life of the world. As the Holy Father has
remarked, the secret of the priest’s sanctification lies
precisely in the Eucharist: “…the priest must be first and foremost an adorer
who contemplates the Eucharist” (Angelus, 18 September 2005).
The priest is called through his priestly ministry and identity to continually
point to the significance of the Eucharistic sacrifice for the life of the
world. He can never, by word or action or attitude, indicate any marginality of
this central truth of our faith. We need the Eucharist. The world needs the
Eucharist because it needs Christ. The sacrifice of the Eucharist as Christus prologatus is the presence of
God in the life of the world. This centrality is real and must be realized
whether we are believers or not.
There is nothing more central to the
world than the presence of Christ. Do we always realize that or do we
trivialize the importance of the sacrament by making its celebration just
another aspect of our day? The developing spirituality of the priest must be a
spirituality centered on the Eucharistic Christ. As stated in Presbyterorum Ordinis: “All ecclesiastical ministries and works of the
apostolate are bound up with the Eucharist and are directed towards it [14].
For in the most blessed Eucharist is contained the whole spiritual good of the
Church, [15] namely Christ himself our Pasch, and the living bread which gives
life to men through his flesh—that flesh which is given life and gives life
through the Holy Spirit.” This is accomplished, first and foremost, by
paying attention to the quality of our celebration of the Holy Mass each day.
Critical or judgmental attitudes about the Eucharistic celebration can have the
effect of devaluing the central mystery that we are acknowledging. Refusal to
participate in this or that aspect of the Holy Mass because it does not suit my
particular liturgical taste is insulting to the presence of the Divine Savior
on the altar, in the Word, in the ministerial priesthood and in the assembly.
Critical and judgmental attitudes inject a decided selfishness into the Mass.
The Eucharistic spirituality of the
priest is also cultivated in the daily Holy Hour. In the words of Pope John
Paul II: “Our communal worship at Mass must go together with our personal
worship of Jesus in Eucharistic adoration in order that our love may be
complete.” (Pope John Paul II, Redemptionis
Hominis). The Holy Hour is a privileged time not only because it is a time
spent with our Lord in silence and reverence, but also because the face-to-face
encounter with Christ in the tabernacle or in the monstrance is a reminder of
the truth that He is also present in palpable ways outside of the chapel. Our
encounter with Christ in the privileged Holy Hour is a rehearsal for additional
encounters made each day in more mundane but equally sacred settings: the
nursing home, the parish school, the RCIA group and dozens of others.
There is a beautiful image at the end
of Robert Hugh Benson’s novel, The Lord
of the World, of the end of time
and all of creation being drawn into the Lord present on the altar in the
monstrance. The cosmic implications of the Eucharist draw all of us into its
power. What a privilege and responsibility to be the custodians of that
sacramental presence. How can the entirety of our lives not be devoted to its
celebration? Eucharistic spirituality cultivated in the seminarian and realized
in the life of the priest is also the ability to closely identify oneself with
the Christ whom we make present in the sacrifice of the altar. “This is my
body. This is my blood” are not words we speak only on behalf of Christ, but
words that also echo our commitment to be in
persona Christi, to offer ourselves, our body and blood, for the people.
Fr. Stephen Rosetti has commented: “The priest at the altar dies and rises with
Jesus.” (Born of the Eucharist, 97).
Eucharistic spirituality is the cultivation of a healthy sacrificial
spirituality in the sense of not always putting my own needs first, of being
willing to go the extra mile, of carrying the cross and encouraging others. If
there is no cost to priesthood, then there is probably not a very authentic
expression of the priesthood. True, we must take care of ourselves, but at what
point does self-care become an attitude of privilege, entitlement or comfort?
The second aspect of this resolution
is faithfully celebrating the sacrament of Reconciliation. Quite obviously,
this means the need to hear sacramental confessions and offer absolution. We
know how much the world is in need of this sacrament and we also know how
little it is sometimes used. Reconciliation is a central ministry of the
priest. It is also tied to the Eucharist. We bring together in order to make
the body of Christ a real presence among us. Offering the sacrament of
Reconciliation is necessary for the exercise of authentic priesthood. “Priests must encourage the faithful to come to the
sacrament of Penance and must make themselves available to celebrate this
sacrament each time Christians reasonably ask for it” (CCC 1494). Canon law
requires the priest to regularly participate in this sacrament (CJC, 276, 5).
No priest can ever refuse to hear a confession unless he prohibited from doing
so because of particular relationships (for example, being rector of a
seminary). Priests must make themselves available for the celebration of this
sacrament when it is needed and required.
Reconciliation is also a central
attitude of the priest. In order to be a worthy minister of God’s forgiveness,
I need to experience that forgiveness in my life. My participation in the
sacrament of Reconciliation is a necessary precursor to my ability to be a good
confessor. Again in Presbyterorum Ordinis
we read: The priest receives grace for the healing of human weakness from the
holiness of Christ, who became for us a high priest, holy, innocent, undefiled,
separated from sinner.” Therefore, cultivation of the attitude of
reconciliation is also necessary outside of the formal confines of the Church’s
sacramental system. Am I an agent of peace and reconciliation in the community
or am I continually the cause of division? Gossip, the spreading of false or unsubstantiated
rumors, the inability to avoid controversy and drama, a persistent critical
attitude, the inability to confront others in charity, the inability to receive
correction, talking about people behind their backs, publicly processing
difficulties to all willing to listen to my complaints: all of these are
contraindications of the ability to cultivate the attitude of reconciliation
essential to the ministry of the priest. How can I effectively preach and
announce in the confessional the joy of heaven when I am forever raising hell
behind the scenes?
Eucharist and reconciliation are the
foundations of priestly life and spirituality. We cultivate our awareness of
these sacraments as necessary precursors to celebrating them. Why? The
resolution also tells us this: for the glory of God and the sanctification of
the people. Not for our glory do we cultivate and celebrate, but because God
gives us an agency to announce His Glory for the sanctification of His people.
God gives us the agency. It is a
profound responsibility when we see the centrality of these sacraments to the
life of the world. In the words of St. Paul: “To him alone be glory in the
Church, now and forever.”
Do
you resolve to implore with us God’s mercy upon the people entrusted to your care
by observing the command to pray without ceasing?
Pray without ceasing. St. Paul’s
injunction in the first letter to the Thessalonians (5:17) is central to the
life and ministry of the priest. At one level, this promise has already been
made in the promise of the deacon to pray the Liturgy of the Hours. Here the
stakes are raised a little higher. While the Liturgy of the Hours remains at
the core of clerical responsibility by virtue of its being the prayer of the
Church, the command to pray without ceasing goes further. The priest is called
to implore God’s mercy upon the people. The direction of our lives is toward
God through the people whom we serve. We live with a constant awareness of two
things: the needs of those whom we serve and the greatness of God to fulfill
those needs. The priest acts as a living conduit between these realities.
First, the spirituality of the priest is directed toward an awareness of the
needs of the people. We must know them. We must respect them. We must honor
them precisely in their brokenness. The priest is privileged to know the inner
lives of the people God has given him to serve. We know their fears, their
pain, their pasts, their addictions, their sins, their confusions, their
aspirations, their dreams and their disappointments.
Our task is to attend to these
realities. We must live among those whom we serve. We must be willing to hear
them, open to listening and responding. “I am the Good Shepherd. I know my
sheep and they know me” (John 10:27). This aspect of priestly spirituality
prohibits us ever sending messages that they are not welcome, that we are not
willing. Our response to all of these realities is to bring them to God. We
cannot solve the problems of the people. As your pastor in this community, I
cannot solve every dilemma you have. I can bring you to someone who can, Jesus
the Lord. The life of the priest, then, is a life of spiritual referral. We
constantly call upon the name of the Lord. We pray without ceasing from the
midst of life’s turmoil’s, tragedies and triumphs. In all things, we give God
the glory for He intends to do so much for us. Likewise, we witness the
efficacy of this conducting among the people by what God has done for us. If we
are not convinced that God is the author and caretaker of all in our lives,
then we will not be very credible witnesses to His power in the lives of
others. The exhortation of the first letter of St. Peter applies beautifully
here: “Tend the flock of God that is your charge, not by constraint but
willingly, not for shameful gain but eagerly,
not as domineering over those in your charge but being examples to the
flock”.
Do your resolve to be united more
closely every day to Christ the High Priest, who offered himself for us to the
Father as a pure sacrifice, and with him to consecrate yourself to God for the
salvation of all?
How can we hope to do this? We are
asked, in no uncertain terms, to consecrate ourselves completely to God. What
does this imply? One thing I believe: by little and by little, less of the
exasperating stumbling block of ego to inhibit the fulfillment of our mission.
Again Archbishop Sheen: “The priest is not only the shepherd who cares for his
sheep, he is also the lamb who is offered in caring for them.” (The Priest Is Not His Own, 29). How is
this sacrificial nature of the priesthood realized? I would say in three
distinct ways: (1) by the priest’s simplicity of life; (2) by his openness to
serve; and (3) by his singleheartedness. The priesthood must be lived with a
simplicity that is observable. Here I do not mean to imply that simplicity is
merely a matter of putting away material possessions. Material possessions play
a part in simplicity of life, without a doubt, but true simplicity of life is
not attained merely by possessing little. There are many bitter and
ideologically confused priests living in bare rooms.
True simplicity of life is obtained
by detachment. The philosopher Simone Weil has said: “There is no detachment where there is
no pain. And there is no pain endured without hatred or lying unless detachment
is present too.” We cannot hope to achieve the sacrificial aspects of priestly
service without regret, without hatred or lying, if we cannot separate
ourselves from that which, at times, we view as most essential to ourselves,
our opinions, our personal truths and our so-called freedoms. Bede Griffiths
said: “[Simplicity] is detachment from the self. This is the most radical
detachment of all. But what is the self? The self is the principle of reason
and responsibility in us. It is the root of freedom, it is what makes us men.”
It is not necessarily what makes us saints. Detachment and simplicity, which
lead to a kind of interior martyrdom, guide us to God because they instill in
us a desire for God alone. Detachment means putting aside all kinds of
ambition, self-determination and self-serving, striving after a single goal,
the goal of St. Paul in the letter to the Galatians: “It is no longer I who
live but Christ who lives in me” (Galatians, 2, 20). This desire is a kind of
self-immolation, and by that I mean not an immolation of the authentic and
wonderful aspects of our personalities. Detachment and self-denial are not
denials of my personal charms, charisms and perhaps quirks. They are rather a
desire to turn the particularity of my personal character to the service of God
alone.
Second,
this sacrificial quality is achieved by our openness to serve, truly serve, the
needs of others. As I stated above, part of this recognition of the needs of
the flock is a recognition of their desires. To serve the needs of others means
that I serve them in their needs and
not in my own. True, I must lead. I must provide a vision, but I cannot force
that vision on an unwilling flock when they are languishing in their own
questions, problems and authentic pastoral desires. It is the needs of the
flock that I must serve. My attitude as a pastor will make all the difference
in the way I will serve them. How open am I? Let’s consider that in the context
of what we must do here. What do my brothers need and how willing am I to
listen to those needs? As I stated in the opening reflection for this year, you
have ample opportunities to serve real pastoral needs in this community. Can we
begin to practice the art of sacrificial priesthood by authentically giving
ourselves in service to those real needs? “If
we do not love a brother, whom we have seen, we cannot love God, whom we have
not seen.” In the words of the Roman playwright, Terence: “Charity begins at
home.”
Finally,
a sacrificial priesthood is governed by singleheartedness. The poet Gerard
Manley Hopkins once said: “Christ plays in ten thousand places, lovely in eyes
and limbs not his – to the Father through the feature of men’s faces.”
Singleheartedness is not the dogged stubbornness of only seeking commerce with
the sacred, but in finding the sacred in the daily distillation of human life.
It is easy enough to choose the things of this world that are pleasing to my
spiritual sensibilities and live among them, detaching myself from the flotsam
and jetsam of reality. It is more difficult to find myself immersed in the
quicksand of culture and find God’s arms there. Our message is a message that
the reality of God pervades every aspect of His creation. Our hearts are
restless, however, because that reality has been coated, painted over,
disguised. God wants to shine forth in His creation and our determination to be
instruments of that illumination, monstrances of the divine persona showing
forth the presence of God in every circumstance is the sacrifice we must make
to live authentic priesthoods.
We
cannot become imbued with the cynicism of the world. We must be beacons of hope
and understanding, calling forth from the depths of the human experience the
light of Christ, a light that burns in all men and women, a light we must be
convinced burns in us. We cannot do this alone, but we can do it together; we
can support and encourage one another in dark times, through stormy days. We
can lift one another up in the ecstasy of prayer and in the simplicity of true
care, concern, love. We can be Christ for one another rather than agents of the
critical and unyielding devil. We can love. We can love with all our hearts.
God has given us the promise of single hearts, single and holy for Him and for
our brothers and sisters. He has given us the materials to make us saints and
to call us into that divine assembly. Give Him glory today. Love Him today in
the faces of one another. Become vessels of sacrificial love today, vessels
like that most precious of all disciples, the mother of priests, Our Blessed
Lady.
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