​St. Thérèse of Lisieux was born in 1873 at Alençon, France to Louis and Zelie Martin, who lived a model Christian life that led to five of their daughters, including Thérèse, joining religious orders.  

Thérèse wanted to join two older sisters and join the convent at Lisieux so badly that she actually approached Pope Leo XIII by herself on a family trip to Rome and asked his permission to join when she was only fifteen years old.  He deferred to the superior of the convent, however, who had told her she was not yet old enough.

She experienced what she called her “complete conversion” after nine years of childhood grieving over the loss of her mother which was compounded when her older sisters entered the Carmelite monastery (Pauline had been like a second mother to her). She finally halted her grieving and self-pity for the sake of her father and others. Writing about this ten years later she said: 
 
In an instant Jesus, content with my good will, accomplished the work I had not been able to do in ten years." After nine sad years she had "recovered the strength of soul she had  lost when her mother died and, she said, she was to retain it forever". 

Her little way underscores the truth that we can rely upon the mercy of Jesus if we place our trust wholeheartedly in Him. In the face of her littleness she trusted in God to be her sanctity.  Not having “the facility to perform great ones” she performed little virtues. Thérèse admitted that she was not attracted to the great acts of mortification of the Saints and never made acts of penance because of her “cowardliness.”  

St. Thérèse returned over and over to the theme of littleness, referring to herself as a grain of sand, an image she borrowed from Pauline...'Always littler, lighter, in order to be lifted more easily by the breeze of love.'  She wanted to go to heaven by an entirely new little way. "I wanted to find an elevator that would raise me to Jesus". The elevator, she wrote, would be the arms of Jesus lifting her in all her littleness.  

St. Thérèse’s little sacrifices included spending time with another religious sister who annoyed her in almost everything and being kind to her. She wrote:

“Not wishing to give in to the natural antipathy I was experiencing I told myself to doing for this Sister what I would do for the person I loved the most.”

Once when someone took her lamp at night by mistake after night prayers, she remained in the dark without complaining, observing that by virtue of the exterior darkness, “I was interiorly illumined!” 

When unjustly blamed for something that was not her fault, she decided not to defend herself and accept the verbal correction without making any excuses consoling herself that everything would be revealed at the Last Judgment. 

She thought her assignment of kitchen duty was a good way of “putting my self-love in its proper place, i.e., under my feet.”  She gives countless examples of this sort from refraining from chatting to not complaining when dirty laundry water was splashed on her and not asking questions she was curious about novices while training them.  All of these and many more she offered to the Lord.  These humble submissions and small sacrifices were the stuff of the “Little Way.”

But she did not get overconfident and expected daily to discover other imperfections in herself to work on.  She saw her own weakness not something to be depressed about, but rather as an opportunity to receive more of the treasury of God’s mercy. This she believed would be a sign that He wanted to “live more deeply in her” (Martin, The Fulfillment of all Desires, p. 149). 

She was also a realist and knew she was not perfect. If a situation arose which she thought exceeded her level of virtue, she tried to avoid the situation so as not to fail in charity.  She wrote, “My last means of being defeated in combats is desertion.”  

One of the weaknesses she considered most embarrassing, was falling asleep during prayer times, but she was confident that the Lord was mindful of our littleness and that she was forgiven.

During the course of her novitiate, contemplation of the Holy Face had nourished her inner life. This is an image representing the disfigured face of Jesus during His Passion. And she meditated on certain passages from the prophet Isaiah (Chapter 53). Six weeks before her death she remarked to Pauline, "The words in Isaiah: 'no stateliness here, no majesty, no beauty,...one despised, left out of all human reckoning; How should we take any account of him, a man so despised (Is 53:2-3) --these words were the basis of my whole worship of the Holy Face. I, too, wanted to be without comeliness and beauty...unknown to all creatures."[75] 

St. Thérèse admitted that she had spoken of dryness as her daily bread, yet she was a very happy creature confident in God’s love. For Thérèse sanctity was “a disposition of the heart which makes us humble and small in the arms of God, conscious of our weakness, and confident to the point of audacity in the goodness of our Father” (Fr. Jean C.J. D’Elbee, I Believe in Love: A Personal Retreat Based on the Teaching of St. Therese de Lisieux).

She worked at abandoning herself to Jesus by submitting to everything within the limits of the possible and reasonable, in order to obey God, to humbly live in conformity with the will of God, which gradually becomes our will.  

St. Thérèse’s confidence in God’s mercy even in the midst of her suffering from the tuberculosis that would take her life is extraordinary.  She wrote to Sr. Marie of the Sacred Heart on her littleness:
 
Oh, Jesus, how much I could say to all little souls about how ineffable Your  condescension is . . . I feel that if (though this would be impossible) [If] You were to find a soul more weak and little than mine, You would be pleased to shower upon it even greater favors, if it abandoned itself to You with complete confidence in Your infinite mercy.”

When St. Thérèse was dying and too sick to receive the Eucharist, it was she who consoled the other sisters saying, “No doubt, it is a great grace to receive the sacraments.  When God does not permit it, it is good too! Everything is a grace!” She, of course, still had the consolation of her spiritual communions.  

She was convinced she too was dying of love, as our Lord did on the Cross in anguish.  She was dying of suffocation from tuberculosis in her lungs, only one of which was functioning at that point. In the Infirmary where she was staying she pinned to her curtains pictures of the Holy Face of Christ, the Blessed Virgin and Blessed Théophane Vénard, a young Fr. priest martyred in Vietnam.  She expressed her desire to spend her heaven in God’s service to others and indeed, she has been one of the most popular saints of the modern era.

Just before she died with all of her sisters present, she gazed at the crucifix and exclaimed, “Oh!  I love Him!” and finally, “My God, I love you!”  Just before she died she seemed to be in ecstasy with a mysterious smile upon her face.  She is beautiful and her “little way” is something to be emulated by us all.  

St. Therese pray for us!

The writings of the first century Jewish historian Flavius Josephus, who was employed by the Romans to write The Jewish War and was also the author of the work entitled, The Antiquities of the Jews, support the account of the life of Christ on a number of important points.  All the extant manuscripts of the Josephus work on the Antiquities of the Jews contain a passage which discusses the life, miracles, crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior. Though Josephus was not a Christian he shows Jesus to be something more than a man.  For example in this passage translated by the noted scholar of Josephus, H. St. John Thackeray, he writes:

     Now about this time arises Jesus, a wise man.  If indeed he should be called a man. For he was a doer of marvellous deeds, a teacher of men who receives the truth with pleasure: and won over to himself many Jews and many of the Greeks (nation).  He was the Christ.  And when, on the indictment of the principal men among us, Pilate had sentenced him to the cross, those who had loved (or perhaps rather 'been content with') him at the first did not cease:  for he appeared to them on the third day alive again, the divine prophets having (fore)told these and ten thousand other wonderful things concerning him.  And even now the tribe of Christians, named after him, is not extinct.

This passage is found only in the Slavonic  or Old Russian translation that was first edited and published in 1906.  Jewish scholar Robert Eisler presents a strong case, despite his anti-Christian animus and uncalled for theorizing that the Slavonic version was translated from an early version of the work, The Jewish War.  

There are other important passage referring to Jesus in The Jewish War, including this one:

It was at this time that a man appeared--if "man" is the right word--who had all the attributes of a man but seemed to be something greater.  His actions, certainly, were superhuman, for he worked such wonderful and amazing miracles that I for one cannot regard him as a man; yet in view of his likeness to ourselves I cannot regard him as an angel either.  Everything that some hidden power enabled him to do he did by an authoritative word. Some people said that their first Lawgiver had risen from the dead and had effected many miraculous cures; others thought he was a messenger from heaven. However, in many ways he broke the Law--for instance, he did not observe the Sabbath in the traditional manner.  At the same time his conduct was above reproach.  He did not need to use his hands:  a word sufficed to fulfill his every purpose.

Josephus continues:

Many of the common people flocked after him and followed his teaching. There was a wave of excited expectation that he would enable the Jewish tribes to throw off the Roman yoke. As a rule he was to be found opposite the City [Jerusalem] on the Mount of Olives, where also he healed the sick.  He gathered around him 150 assistants and masses of followers.  When they saw his ability to do whatever he wished by a word, they told him they wanted him to enter the City, destroy the Roman troops, and make himself king, but he took no notice . . . . When the crowds grew bigger than ever, he earned by his actions an incomparable reputation. The exponents of the Law were mad with jealousy, and gave Pilate 30 talents to have him executed [sic].  Accepting the bribe, he gave them permission to carry out their wishes themselves.  So they seized him and crucified him in defiance of all Jewish tradition . . . .

In the days of our pious fathers this curtain [of the Temple] was intact, but in our own generation it was a sorry sight, for it had been suddenly rent from top to bottom at the time when by bribery  they had secured the execution of the benefactor of men--the one who by his actions proved that he was no mere man. Many other inspiring "signs" happened at the same moment.  It is also stated that after his execution and entombment he disappeared entirely.  Some people actually assert that he had risen; others retort that his friends stole him away.  I for one cannot decide where the truth lies.  A dead man cannot arise by his own power; but he might rise if aided by the prayer of another righteous man. Again, if an angel or other heavenly being, or God himself, takes human form to fulfill his purpose, and after living among men dies and is buried, he can rise again at will. Moreover, it is stated that he could not have been stolen away, as guards were posted around his tomb, 30 Romans and 1000 Jews. 

​While Josephus obviously got some of the details wrong, this historical testimony is a valuable addition to the Gospels themselves and the writings of the Early Church Fathers.  These quotations can be found in Thackeray's book Josephus on pages 129-131, 141-142 and 144-146.  A good discussion of these passages and their significance may be found in Warren H. Carrol's A History of Christendom, volume 1, The Founding of Christendom, pp. 296-297.  Carrol concludes, "In light of these considerations, the Christian need not hesitate to proclaim the Incarnation a fact of history, as well attested as any other historic fact in ancient times, indeed better documented than most. 

Carrol adds, "Some may doubt or deny the historical reality of the Incarnation, just as all human testimony, no matter how truthful or well substantiated, may be doubted or denied by members of a fallen [sinful] race.  But by all normal standards of historical judgment on sources and evidence the Incarnation is a fact, and would unquestionably be almost universally recognized as such if existing testimony and evidence referred o any morally and spiritually neutral even reported for this period." 

​St. Antony of the Desert and African and Eastern Monasticism
 
            The Ascetic movement produced a new icon of ideal Christian life, the monk or ascetic.  This movement began earlier as various Christians lived ascetical lives in a severe way, with much self-denial and mortification.  The founder of Western monasticism is St. Anthony (Antony) of Egypt (250-356), the first Christian hermit.  As a young man he was converted to a radical following of Christ.  He gave up his family wealth and eventually (age 35 yrs.) went to live in an old fort in the desert.  He is often referred to as St. Antony of the Desert as a result.
 
He felt he had to escape the sin of the city.  He had already led an ascetical life and studied other ascetics.  By 305 A.D. curiosity seekers went out to find him and found he was aglow with spiritual joy, leading many to follow his way (but he only agreed to be their spiritual guide after years of this).  He is the father of eremitical monasticism. He was 54 years old at the time he founded his monastery with scattered cells.  
 
His Life by St. Athanasius says that Satan tortured him with temptations including boredom, laziness and the phantoms of women, but he overcame these with intense prayer.  The devil harassed him with images of demons in the form of wild beasts who inflicted blows on him.  He lived for 20 years in an old Roman fort in the desert and kind people fed him by throwing food over the wall.  He refused to see anyone, but a colony of ascetics formed around him on the mountain, who wanted him to be their spiritual guide. He spent 5 or 6 years instructing them and organizing them before withdrawing to the solitary desert again.
 
On only two occasions he went to Alexandria, once to strengthen Christian martyrs in the persecution of 311 at the age of 60 years old (expecting to be martyred himself) and once to preach against the Arians near the end of his life when he was 88 years old (d. 356).  He died at the age of 105 years old in 356 or 357 according to St. Jerome.  In his humility after living 45 years in the desert, he requested his grave be kept secret so that people would not come out to it and reverence him.  To this day, his rule for monks, which may have been written up by one of his monks, is followed in Syria and Armenia. 
 
The word monk comes from the Gr. monos, which means literally, one or alone.  Later another Egyptian, St. Pachomius, founded communal monasticism (substituting the cenobitical or communal life for the eremitical one).  He was born in 286 and had an ascetic master, Palemon, and about 320 A.D., he founded a community of ascetics near Tabenna (Tabennisi) and attracted many followers (eventually 7000 who spend time alone in prayer but gathered in community for meals, liturgy, and sometimes for special celebrations).  He refused the priesthood when St. Athanasius offered it to him. He died about 348 having brought together 7000 monks.
 
Monasticism became so popular that the population of the monasteries rivaled that of secular towns.  One book was the Desert of Cities. The title reflects the exodus of people wanting to live in the desert. People wanted to live a radical expression of their faith (white martyrdom vs. former red martyrdom of blood).  They devoted themselves to prayer and penance, spawning the religious life models that followed. These ascetics were celibates and they made celibacy an ideal in the religious mind—following the example of Christ.  Later this became the norm for priests in the West and for bishops in the East. In his book, The Apostolic Origins of Priestly Celibacy, Fr. Christian Cochini argues that this emphasis on celibacy was not a new departure but rather a harkening back to the apostolic example. He cites, for example, canons of the Councils of Elvira (Spain) and Arles (314), which specifically prohibit marital relations of married clergy after ordination on penalty of being “deposed from the honor of the clergy” (p. 161).
The ascetic movement was also a great new source of evangelization and spirituality for the Church.  It spawned a witness to Christ and heightened spirituality

Saint Stephen of Hungary
Hungary’s conversion was largely the work of St. Stephen, who became king after putting down a pagan rebellion.  Born a pagan, probably at Esztergom in 975 A.D., his father was the chief of the Magyars, who came to Hungary in the ninth century.  Although he and his parents were baptized in 985 A.D., he was actually the first member of his family to actually become a Christian. 

​At age 20 he married Blessed Gisela of Hungary, who was the sister of future emperor, St. Henry. 
In order to gain the throne, which was contested, he had to defeat his cousin Koppany, who was supported by a large number of pagan warriors. He subsequently fought a series of wars in order to unify the country.

When he succeeded to the crown, he brought Christianity (i.e., Catholicism) to his people. Crowned by Pope Sylvester II, probably at Christmas in 1001 A.D., he subsequently asked the Holy Father to assist in the organization of Hungary as a Catholic nation.  He established one archbishopric, six bishoprics and three Benedictine monasteries.

He founded a monastery in Jerusalem and hospices for pilgrims at Rome, Constantinople and Ravenna (Italy). He established a system of tithes to support the Church and for the relief of the poor. He provided that one of every ten towns had to build a Catholic Church and provide for the support of the priest. He ended most pagan customs, but not without a struggle that was sometimes violent and commanded marriage, except for the clergy.

He gave some important advice to his son in a letter:

“Be humble in this life, that God may raise you up in the next. Be truly moderate and do not punish or condemn anyone immoderately. Be gentle so that you may never oppose justice. Be honorable so that you may never voluntarily bring disgrace upon anyone. Be chaste so that you may avoid all the foulness of lust like the pangs of death.”
 
He was a good friend with St. Bruno of Querfurt and corresponded with St. Odilo, Abbot of the great Cluny monastery. He groomed his son Emeric to succeed him as a Christian prince, but when he died on a hunt in 1031, there was a struggle for the succession and the king’s nephews attempted to kill him.  He died in 1038 A.D.  His incorrupt hand is the most sacred relic in the nation of Hungary.
 

​When Constantine defeated his rival Maxentius at the Milvan Bridge in the battle for Roman and its Empire in the West, Constantine was indeed the victor. Maxentius, a brutal and ambitious general, drown in the Tiber River during the chaos of the battle. It was the beginning of Constantine's identification of himself as a Christian.  In January, 313, he agreed with Licinius the new Emperor in the East, to issue an edict, the Edict of Milan, to legally recognize Christianity as a religion. This marks a turning point in the history of the Church and of Europe.  Constantine’s letters from 313 on leave no doubt that he considered himself a Christian who believed his imperial duty was to maintain the unity of the Church.

His writings show that he genuinely believes it was the true religion as does his legislation favoring Christianity (though he did not outlaw paganism).  Shortly after his great victory he said that he owed the Christian “God my whole soul, every breath and every stirring of my mind, wholly and completely.”  He said that Christianity was the divine law and he consecrated himself for fighting for the causes of the Christian God. But this presented a challenge because he chose to remain an unbaptized cateuchmen until shortly before his death and all too often allowed his political dominance to take steps that should have been those of the Church to handle.

Constantine wanted to promote Christianity and protect its unity, but was misguided.  This has led some critics of the Catholic Church to allege that Catholicism emerged with the Emperor Constantine, because some people equate Catholicism (which they distinguish from “Christianity”) with the Church in the Middle Ages, where you have unity of Church and state.  So they say claim that before Constantine there was zealous biblical Christianity (the persecuted Church), but after Constantine it became the state religion, cultural Christianity (not because of true belief in Christ).  This equating of Constantine with Catholicism is an error because the basic structure of the Church and the initial creeds were already being formulated before Constantine and the faith that was embraced was decided upon without the emperors, even though they did their best to try to manipulate and maneuver the debate.  Ultimately it was God who triumphed because it was the bishops and not the emperors who determined the shape of the Church.  

For example, let's look at the Nicene Council which created an orthodox creed for the Church at a time when the divinity of Christ was being undermined by the Alexandrian priest, Arius, after whom the heresy of Arianism is named. Arius may have good motives in wanting to protect the unity of God, but unfortunately believing that the Son of God could not be fully equal to the Father, but must be the highest, most perfect creature of God.  He believed that there was once a time when the Son was not (i.e., he was a created creature of God).  He denied the divinity of Christ (and also of the Holy Spirit). As early as 320 or 321 St. Alexander, Bishop of Alexandria, convoked a council at Alexandria at which more than one hundred bishops from Egypt and Libya anathematized Arius.

Constantine called the Council of Nicaea in 325 A.D. (after defeating Licinius and unifying the empire) which condemned Arius’ position and adopted the term homoousis or homoousion (of the same substance).  [Pope Dionysius (260-268) had used the term homoousios (or consubstantial) to correct Bishop Dionysius of Alexandria, who had gone too far in combating Trinitiarian heresies and was presenting Christ as a lesser divinity.]  The Nicene Creed passed almost unanimously, but for the opposition led by Euseubius of Nicomedia, who was later deposed.  For the next 60 years the arguments persist.  The idea of an ecumenical council being the last word was not yet understood.  The word homoousis was not a biblical term, but the main reason for the arguments were the political influence exerted by followers of Arius.  Constantine himself, was swayed by one of his advisors, Bishop Valens, and changed his position though he never changed the doctrine of the Church.

On the contrary, the battle continued into the reigns of his son Constantius and later Valens, both avowed Arians.  Arianism was a great apostasy, but the common people never embraced it, and the Catholic Church prevailed in the long struggle, led by St. Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria and St. Basil the Great, key bishops who maintained the integrity of the Church's Trinitarian theology as annunciated at the Council of Nicaea despite the overt threats and intimidation of the Arian emperors just mentioned.

As Rod Bennett concludes in his 2015 book, The Apostasy that Wasn't: The Extraordinary Story of the Unbreakable Early Church:

"The Nicene party, on the other hand, was the party of the common herd, the hoi polloi, both the Christian laity and their democratically minded well-wishers.  And their creed, laid out at the very start of the crisis, before any tampering had ever begun, expressed the faith of these common folk--which is why it succeeded.  The Nicene Creed, in other words, was actually the great roadblock to the paganization of Christianity in the age of Constantine--and the Great Apostasy is exactly what its champions were struggling (and suffering) to prevent" (p.287).

Paganism really did make an assault on Christianity (Catholicism) during the fourth century and caesaropapism (Caesar trying to be the pope or vicar of Christ) was  a real challenge but the Church and not the Arians prevailed. As Bennett wrote, "The Church was Catholic because it was intended by its divine founder [Jesus Christ] to be universal--found everywhere, united wherever it was found, meant for everyone, the new spiritual home of humanity."

Bennett continues, "The same Church was Orthodox because it was "right-thinking" in matters of the Faith--because it believed and proclaimed the unspoiled doctrine of its divine founder as he taught it to the apostles [orally] and that was  passed down by them to future generations."

There was no great apostasy of true Christianity.  Reading the thousands of pages of the Early Church Fathers, including among them Athanasius and Basil the Great, makes it abundantly clear that the Church Christ established lived both before and after the time of Constantine as it does today. It relies on the words of Christ, who promised to Peter and to all of us, "And I tell you, you are Peter and on this rock, I will build my Church and the gates of Hades shall not prevail against it.  I will give you the keys to kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven" (Matthew 16: 18-19). 

Jesus also said, "I will ask the Father and he will give you another Paraclete to be with you always; the Spirit of Truth, whom the world cannot accept, since it neither sees nor recognizes him, but you can recognize him because he remains with you and will be within you" (John 14:16).


 

Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen says that our Lord has a “divine sense of humor” because he revealed the universe was sacramental, in that it possesses both a visible and an invisible aspect. The visible can be seen, tasted or touched but the invisible can only be perceived with eyes of faith (2 Cor 5: 7).  The universe is full of signs that point to God, full of what might be termed “poetry,” and it is a sin to turn it into prose, refusing to recognize the deity in his words and works.  Just as Christ used his human nature as the instrument of divinity and used material things as signs and symbols of the reconciliation he offered, so he now employs other human natures and material things for the communication of the same divine life through the sacraments.[1]

Christ gave us three beautiful sacraments of initiation into himself, namely, Baptism, Confirmation and Eucharist. The early Church Fathers were well aware of the relationship between Baptism and Eucharist, seeing in the latter a more complete incorporation into the death and resurrection of Christ.  As Pope John Paul II has written, “The Eucharist is indelibly marked by the event of the Lord's passion and death, of which it is not only a reminder but the sacramental re-presentation.”[2]  The pierced side of Christ was a reminder of these two sacraments of initiation, with the water being a symbol of Baptism and the blood, a sign of our redemption in Christ.  Baptism raises us “to the dignity of the royal priesthood,” Confirmation configures us more closely to Christ, and the Eucharist gives us the great privilege of participating in the “Lord’s own sacrifice.”[3]
 
 
I. The Eucharist: Source and Summit of Ecclesial Life
The Savior instituted the Eucharistic sacrifice of his Body and Blood at the Last Supper:
in order to perpetuate the sacrifice of the Cross throughout the centuries until He should come again, and so to entrust to His beloved spouse, the Church, a memorial of His death and resurrection: a sacrament of love, a sign of unity, a bond of charity, a paschal banquet in which Christ is eaten, the mind is filled with grace, and a pledge of future glory is given to us.”[4]
 
The Eucharist is the Body, Blood, soul and divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ and an anticipation of eternal glory.[5] The sacrifice of the cross is eternal and applies to all men until the Second Coming of the Lord.

The Eucharist is a pure offering, a sacrifice of thanksgiving and praise. It is a gift from the Father for he handed his Son over to sinners in order to reconcile us with himself and it is the free love offering of his life by the Son through the Holy Spirit in reparation for our disobedience.[1]  The bread became Christ’s Body, when at the Last Supper he said, “This is my body which is given up for you.  Do this in memory of me” (Lk 22: 19).  By consuming the Eucharist in the divine liturgy, the once for all sacrifice of Christ, symbolized by the broken bread, we enter into communion and form one body in him.  “Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread” (1 Cor 10: 17).  The Holy Eucharist is as St. Augustine wrote, sacramentum unitatis ecclesiae and when we receive his Body, we are nourished and strengthened “by a divine, ineffable bond are united with each other and with the Divine Head of the whole Body.”[2]  St. John Chrysostom explains:
​
For what is the bread? It is the body of Christ. And what do those who receive it become? The Body of Christ – not many bodies but one body. For as bread is completely one, though made of up many grains of wheat, and these, albeit unseen, remain nonetheless present, in such a way that their difference is not apparent since they have been made a perfect whole, so too are we mutually joined to one another and together united with Christ.[3]
 
When the words of Christ are spoken by the priest during the Holy Mass along with the epiclesis, the bread and wine become the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Christ.  The whole Christ is truly, really and substantially contained therein.  “This presence is called ‘real’ not to exclude the idea that the others (e.g., Christ’s presence in the bishops) are ‘real’ too, but rather to indicate presence par excellence, because it is substantial and through it Christ becomes present whole and entire, God and man.”[4]  The mode of Christ’s presence is unique. It raises the Eucharist above all the sacraments as “the perfection of the spiritual life and the end to which all the sacraments tend.”[5] The Holy Eucharist is the “Sacrament of sacraments’ to which all the others are ordered “as to their end.”[6]


[1] CCC, 2643 and 614.

[2] Pope Pius XII, Mystici Corporis Christi, 19. St. Cyprian also referred to the Eucharist as “the sacrament of unity” in his great work ecclesiae catholicae unitate, 6-7 according to Enrico Mazza, The Celebration of the Eucharist: The Origin of the Rite and the Development of its Interpretation (Collegeville: Liturgical press, 1999), p. 131.

[3] In Epistolam I ad Corinthios Homiliae, 24, 2: PG 61, 200 quoted in EE, 23.

[4] Pope Paul VI, Mysterium Fidei, 39.  Hereafter cited as MF.

[5] CCC, 1374.

[6] CCC, 1211.



[1] Fulton J. Sheen, These are the Sacraments, New York: Hawthorn Books, 1962, online version at http://www.ewtn.com/library/DOCTRINE/SACRAMEN.TXT.

[2] Pope John Paul II, Ecclesia Eucharista, 11. Hereafter cited as EE.

[3] Catechism of the Catholic Church (Rome: Vatican, 2nd Edition, 1997), 1322.  Hereafter cited as CCC.

[4] Sacrosanctum Concilium, 47. Hereafter cited as SC.

[5] CCC, 1402.

The Mighty Augustine and the Bible:
from Pope Leo XII in Providentissimus Deus
 
 
“. . . the rule so wisely laid down by St. Augustine-not to depart from the literal and obvious sense, except only where reason makes it untenable or necessity requires;(40) a rule to which it is the more necessary to adhere strictly in these times, when the thirst for novelty and unrestrained freedom of thought make the danger of error most real and proximate.  Neither should those passages be neglected which the Fathers have understood in an allegorical or figurative sense, more especially when such interpretation is justified by the literal, and when it rests on the authority of many. For this method of interpretation has been received by the Church from the Apostles, and has been approved by her own practice, as the holy Liturgy attests; (PD 15)
 
"On my part I confess to your charity that it is only to those Books of Scripture which are now called canonical that I have learned to pay such honor and reverence as to believe most firmly that none of their writers has fallen into any error. And if in these Books I meet anything which seems contrary to truth, I shall not hesitate to conclude either that the text is faulty, or that the translator has not expressed the meaning of the passage, or that I myself do not understand."( Ep. lxxxii., i. et crebrius alibi.)
 
Wherefore, as no one should be so presumptuous as to think that he understands the whole of the Scripture, in which St. Augustine himself confessed that there was more that he did not know, than that he knew,( ad lanuar. ep. lv., 21) so, if he should come upon anything that seems incapable of solution, he must take to heart the cautious rule of the same holy Doctor: "It is better even to be oppressed by unknown but useful signs, than to interpret them uselessly and thus to throw off the yoke only to be caught in the trap of error. "( De door. chr. iii., 9, 18.)
 
….as St. Augustine warns us, "not to make rash assertions, or to assert what is not known as known."(51) If dissension should arise between them, here is the rule also laid down by St. Augustine, for the theologian: "Whatever they can really demonstrate to be true of physical nature, we must show to be capable of reconciliation with our Scriptures; and whatever they assert in their treatises which is contrary to these Scriptures of ours, that is to Catholic faith, we must either prove it as well as we can to be entirely false, or at all events we must, without the smallest hesitation, believe it to be so."(52) To understand how just is the rule here formulated we must remember, first, that the sacred writers, or to speak more accurately, the Holy Ghost "Who spoke by them, did not intend to teach men these things (that is to say, the essential nature of the things of the visible universe), things in no way profitable unto salvation."(53) Hence they did not seek to penetrate the secrets of nature, but rather described and dealt with things in more or less figurative language, or in terms which were commonly used at the time, and which in many instances are in daily use at this day, even by the most eminent men of science. Ordinary speech primarily and properly describes what comes under the senses; and somewhat in the same way the sacred writers-as the Angelic Doctor also reminds us - `went by what sensibly appeared,"(54) or put down what God, speaking to men, signified, in the way men could understand and were accustomed to.
 
"Those," he says, "who are zealous in the work of preaching must never cease the study of the written word of God."(20) St. Augustine, however, warns us that "vainly does the preacher utter the Word of God exteriorly unless he listens to it interiorly;"
 
the "examination of older tongues,"(30) to quote St. Augustine, will be useful and advantageous. But in this matter we need hardly say that the greatest prudence is required, for the "office of a commentator," as St. Jerome says, "is to set forth not what he himself would prefer, but what his author says."
 
This is inculcated by St. Jerome, and still more frequently by St. Augustine, who thus justly complains: "If there is no branch of teaching, however humble and easy to learn, which does not require a master, what can be a greater sign of rashness and pride than to refuse to study the Books of the divine mysteries by the help of those who have interpreted them?"
 
But he must not on that account consider that it is forbidden, when just cause exists, to push inquiry and exposition beyond what the Fathers have done; provided he carefully observes the rule so wisely laid down by St. Augustine-not to depart from the literal and obvious sense, except only where reason makes it untenable or necessity requires;(40) a rule to which it is the more necessary to adhere strictly in these times, when the thirst for novelty and unrestrained freedom of thought make the danger of error most real and proximate
 

St. Clement of Alexandria (150-216 A.D.) 

Titus Flavius Clemens, St. Clement of Alexandria was probably born a pagan in Athens about 150 A.D. He was one of the first great leaders in Christian Africa. After his conversion, he traveled to Italy, Syria and Palestine seeking Christian teachers. He met a most impressive one by the name of Pantaenus in Alexandria, became his pupil, associate and succeeded him as the head of a school for catechumens (converts) by 200 A.D.

He speaks of the apostolic tradition he received his teachers. He had no doubt, known some who recalled Ignatius and Polycarp or perhaps, even some who as children had heard St. John speak of our Lord's commands. He could claim to be in the next succession after the apostles.
Principal works comprise a trilogy focused upon Christ and this threefold relationship with the believer. He converts the heart/mind, disciplines and then imparts wisdom. His focus is upon Christ the Incarnate Word, whom he sees at work in the depths of our souls, leading us toward the moment of encounter in His divinizing presence.

He sees all the values the Greeks held dear, in mythology, philosophy and their mystery cults, fulfilled in Christ, who is the true mystagogue and the dispenser of wisdom.  He see Christ as the ministrel who gives harmony to the universe and makes music to God.  He sees the divine Word as the Sun of Righteousness enlightening the whole world. He urges converts to resist the siren call of pleasure and cling instead to the wood of the Cross in order to be freed from corruption.  Cardinal Dulles in his book, A History of Apologetics, says, “he is above all a Christian humanist, who moves easily amid the arts and letters of classical civilization combining Christian piety with the highest values of ancient culture” (p. 41).

He has two quotations in the Catechism of the Catholic Church:

• “Just as God’s will is creation and is called ‘the world,’ so his intention is the salvation of men, and is called ‘the Church.’” (CCC 760)
• Speaking of the principle of the Church’s unity: “What an astonishing mystery!  There is one Father of the universe, one Logos of the universe, and also one Holy Spirit, everywhere one and the same; there is also one virgin become mother, and I should like to call her ‘Church.” (CCC 813)
• The Blood of our Lord, indeed is twofold. There is His corporeal Blood, by which we are redeemed from corruption; and His spiritual Blood, that with which we are anointed. That is to say, to drink the Blood of Jesus is to share in His immortality . The strength of the Word is the Spirit, just as the blood is the strength of the body.  Similarly, as wine is blended with water, so the Spirit with man. The one, the Watered Wine, nourishes in faith, while the other, the Spirit, leads us on to immortality. The union of both, however,--of the drink and of the Word,--is called the Eucharist, a praiseworthy and excellent gift. Those who partake of it in faith are sanctified in body and in soul. By the will of the Father, the divine mixture, man, is mystically united to the Spirit and the Word.

​A persecution by Roman Emperor Septimius Severus in about 203 forced him to close the school and flee to Egypt. His writings are the first to discuss the relationship between faith and reason. His great treatises constitute a moral and dogmatic theology as well as an apologetic (defense) of the faith. He died in Cappadocia between 211-215 A.D.

This post is a homily on the Gospel for September 25, 2016, which is the parable concerning the treatment of the beggar St. Lazarus and the rich man, who died and went to his just punishment as a result of failing to show compassion and help Lazarus while he lived (Luke 16: 19-31).  The homily is by Fr. Joseph Cisetti.

                 
                                                                                                         
                                                  THE COCOON
 
                                               
          One of the many wonders of nature is a cocoon.  A caterpillar, a worm like creature that crawls upon the ground encloses itself in a type of tomb and then emerges transformed and flies through the air.  We rightly see that as a type of death and resurrection. 
 
          An image for the Gospel today is that of a cocoon but it is a different type of a cocoon.  Rather than a transformation into beauty, there is a deformation into misery that takes place.  The Gospel never says that this rich man committed an atrocity or killed anyone, but it is as if he is closed in on himself.  Perhaps without being fully aware of it, he is lulled into a self-absorbing stupor that does not seem to go beyond his clothes, his meals and his own doorstep.  His wealth is something that he spends on himself and not something he shares with others, not something that he uses to bless others.  He is drawn himself so tightly into his cocoon that he cannot seem to see beyond himself. 
 
          In the end, our possessions are not owned by us, but loaned to us.  They are entrusted to us; obviously so that we can meet our basic needs, but also so that we can help and even bless others.
 
          In Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, early on in story, Ebenezer Scrooge says to the ghost of Jacob Marley, “But you were always a good man of business, Jacob.”  And the ghost exclaims, “Business!  Mankind was my business.  The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, benevolence, were all my business.” 
 
          This disturbing parable tells us to pay attention, to wake up and to not be absorbed by ourselves.  St. Augustine described sin as being caved in on oneself.  Sin closes us in on ourselves and charity draws us out of ourselves and that is where we find joy.  The word “ecstasy” literally means to stand outside of oneself.
 
          We are called to live lives of intentional faith that include actions of intentional faith at times perhaps in big ways but also in every little way because mankind is our business.  The common welfare is our business; charity, mercy, forbearance, benevolence, are all our business.
 
          This parable tells to pay attention to Moses and the prophets, that is, to pay attention to God’s word given to us in the Scriptures and to God’s word made flesh in the person of Jesus, who did return from the dead and who calls us to new life with Him.  Compared to the rest of the world, most of us, even those of modest means, can seem to be the rich man. 
 
          The five brothers represent us.  We are not to expect some sort of special personalized message, but rather we listen to what we have been told and an also act on it loving God and our neighbor.   
 
          Growing up, parents and teachers may have reminded us that our actions have consequences but today the Gospel reminds us that our inactions also have consequences.  There is more to being good than not being bad.  We can sin by what we do but we can also sin by what we fail to do. 
 
          Mother [now Saint] Teresa remarked that you can find Calcutta all over the world, if you have eyes to see.  So too, we can find Lazarus all over the world if we have eyes to see.  Lazarus can be all around us in those physically suffering, but also in those spiritually suffering and to help serve Him we have the corporal and spiritual works of mercy.
 
          The corporal works of mercy, based largely on Matthew 25, are to feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, to visit the sick and imprisoned, to clothe naked and welcome the stranger and to bury the dead.  The spiritual works of mercy are to counsel the doubtful and comfort the afflicted, to instruct the ignorant and to admonish sinners, to bear wrongs patiently and forgive offenses willingly and to pray for the living and the death.  May we have eyes to see Lazarus, hearts to love him and arms to serve using that with which we have been blessed to bless him.  
 
          Informed by the word, sustained by prayer, encouraged by one another and nourished by the Eucharist, let us ask for the grace to not be imprisoned in the cocoon of self-absorption but rather live generous and joyful lives aware of the consequences of selfishness and inaction.
 
          Mankind is our business.  The common welfare is our business; charity, mercy, forbearance, benevolence, are all our business.  

One major problem affecting our country, our world, sometimes our families, and even possibly ourselves, is addiction.  Addictions can take over and destroy lives.  It may be in the form of drugs, alcohol, gambling, or pornography.  What seems to be an exercise of freedom:  I can do what I want because I’m free; instead, becomes a form of slavery: I cannot, not do this.  It is often very cruel slavery.
                    
In the gospel (Luke 14: 1, 7-14) Jesus warns against another type of addiction.  It is something we all want and to a certain extent need: attention, recognition, prestige and honor.  When we become addicted to these things we put our lives or at least our emotional well being into the hands of others.  Why?  Why would we make our happiness and our self worth dependent upon what others do or not do? 

            Jesus speaks both of being a guest and being a host.  What he gives in both instances is not just pointers about good manners, although that can be important.  What he shares is a way of life and an insight into the kingdom of God.  Jesus speaks of humility and generosity.

            We can see humility as weakness, being a doormat, putting ourselves down, lack of ambition to do good, etc. but this is false humility. Real humility is something different.

            Real humility is rooted in one word–honesty, about ourselves, about others and about God.  Real humility is neither exalting ourselves nor putting ourselves down. These two extremes are in fact rather similar.  Whether you speak well of yourself or speak poorly, you are still talking about yourself. 

            Real humility is how we come to know God as the first reading from the Book Sirach (Sir 3: 17-18, 20, 28-29) tells us.  Real humility is the narrow way we that we heard Jesus speak of last week.  Real humility includes the ability to listen to really listen to another person

Perfect humility is to realize the depths of God’s love for us.[1]

            Humility is something freeing; pride is a high maintenance item.  When we are humble, we don’t care where we are seated at the table.  When we are humble we do not get too worked up over who is named employee of the month.   To be proud is to be worried about many things, but to be humble is to be free.

            A couple of months ago I was in a conversation with a group of people.  There was an older woman who was recounting a young man she had known in her youth.  She said, “I thought he was the handsomest thing.”  Then she added, “Of course, he thought the same thing.”  In the end, she preferred a man a little less handsome but a little more humble.   In other words, humility is attractive.

            Jesus says the truth will set you free.   If humility is based on truth than humility will also set you free.

            We have models of humility in our own lives:  People who live their lives and their faith with quiet dignity and virtue.  We see the same in the saints.  We have another, more important model in Jesus.  Jesus was humble but not weak.  Jesus was humble but not a doormat.  Jesus was humble and yet he spoke very challenging words both about himself and to others.

            As Catholic Christians we are to share the sometimes challenging truths of our faith not arrogantly but with a confident humility and a humble confidence.

            In his humility, Jesus took the last place, not in the corner of a banquet hall but in front of the world, with the fate of a common criminal, mocked, naked and tortured to death on a cross.  Jesus took that last place as a model of strong humility.  Because of this, God highly exalted him and he sits at the banquet of kingdom of heaven.  On the Cross, Jesus not only saved us, he gave us model of humility that is not weak but very strong.

            Humility leads us to generosity.  In truth, in humility, we come to realize that all is gift and as we have been given so should we give.  St. Paul understood this.  St. Therese understood this.  The cornerstone of our church quotes her who said, “Everything is grace.” 

            That is why Jesus says to give when you cannot be repaid.  Otherwise, generosity and hospitality just become forms of self-seeking.  True generosity involves the sincere gift of self, it is glad when it cannot be repaid. 

            Again, we have models of this in those around us and in the saints.   Again, our model of generosity is also found most perfectly in Jesus.  On the cross he not only showed humility but generosity, a generosity carried on by his resurrection and a generosity that continues to overflow to us in this and every celebration of the Eucharist. The Eucharist is the new covenant we hear of in the second reading.  The covenant made in sincerity and truth.  It says that the blood of Christ is more eloquent than that of Abel.  The blood of Abel cried out for vengeance.  The blood of Christ cried out for forgiveness and mercy.

            The way of Christ is the way of humility and generosity.  It is the way of freedom.  It frees us from the addiction to honors and recognition.  To do this is also an act of faith.  It calls us to trust and lead lives of intentional faith which can lead us to intentional humility and intentional generosity.

            As disciples of Jesus we are to be ready to take the last place.  Jesus may put us somewhere else but Christians are ready to take the last place.  Should Jesus take us by the hand and lead us to the last place with him,[2] may we respond with humility and generosity.  The way of Christ is the way of humility and generosity.  The way of Christ is the way of freedom.                                                            


  [1]Cf. The Cloud of Unknowing, (New York: Image Books, 1973), 65.
  [2]Cf. Clarence Enzer, Everyone’s Way of the Cross (Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1986).

Author:  Reverend Joseph I. Cisetti
September 1, 2013–22nd Sunday of Ordinary Time

Indulgences: Springboard for Revolution During the Time of Martin Luther

The Catholic Encyclopedia online notes: 

Once it is admitted that Christ left the Church the power to forgive sins, the power of granting indulgences is logically inferred. Since the sacramental forgiveness of sin extends both to the guilt and to the eternal punishment, it plainly follows that the Church can also free the penitent from the lesser or temporal penalty. This becomes clearer, however, when we consider the amplitude of the power granted to Peter (Matthew 16:19): ‘I will give to thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven. And whatsoever thou shalt bind upon earth, it shall be bound also in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth, it shall be loosed also in heaven.’ (Cf. Matthew 18:18, where like power is conferred on all the Apostles.)[1]

Indulgences are a remnant of early penitential practice when penances were publically performed. Mortal sin was punished by exclusion from the Eucharist, sometimes for years of penance, during which fasting and prayer were called for.  The early Church withheld “absolution” (but not of guilt) until satisfaction was made.   “Regarding the nature of this absolution given by the bishop, various opinions have been put forward. According to one view, it was the remission, not of guilt but of the temporal punishment; the guilt had already been remitted by the absolution which the penitent received in confession before he entered on the public penance.”  Public penances for mortal sin could be severe.  Penances were lessened for those who were ill or in danger of death.   Among the forms of commutation of the penance were pilgrimages, especially to places like Jerusalem or Rome. It was the report of the ill treatment given these pilgrims by the Muslims that led to the Crusades. At the Council of Clermont in 1095 where the First Crusade was organized they provided: "Whoever, out of pure devotion and not for the purpose of gaining honor or money, shall go to Jerusalem to liberate the Church of God, let that journey be counted in lieu of all penance."

When individual confession became the rule, absolution was given immediately after confession (assuming the penitent was sorry for their sins and had a firm purpose of amendment) and lighter penances than those shown in the canons were assigned.   Secret confession goes back to the time of the Apostles but even in the days of Pope Leo the Great (440-461) he declares an abuse, “contrary to the Apostolic rule" the reading out in public of a written statement of their sins drawn up by the faithful.   Penance was said or done immediately after Confession.  Indulgences were a form of penance.  They could not forgive sins nor were they a substitute for true contrition. Rather, it was a remission of some or all of the punishment due from sins already forgiven granted by the Church to those who met all the conditions for the indulgence.  It was based on the Church’s “treasury of grace” earned by Christ for living persons through absolution and for the dead, as a petition.   The grace won by Christ is “God’s saving will in the fullness of love to individual human persons, which also includes purification and overcoming of the punishment due to sin.”   This is why the preconditions always include personal, genuine repentance by the sinner and the restoration of the damaged order in so far as this is possible. 

  The Church showed concern for the misuses and abuses of indulgences.  For example, Pope Boniface in 1382 condemned the practice of some religious who were claiming indulgences forgave sin and selling them for money.  In 1420 the Archbishop of Canterbury was reprimanded for initiating an indulgence by Pope Martin V.  In 1450 Cardinal Nicholas of Cusa, then Apostolate Legate to Germany, corrected those claiming that indulgences forgave sins. Pope Sixtus IV reserved judgment to the Holy See in cases previously delegated to the Holy See.  By 1500 the papacy reserved for itself the right to grant indulgences because of abuses by bishops or priests.  Nonetheless, the uneducated did not always make the distinctions between eternal punishment and temporal punishment and some comforted themselves by thinking they were buying their salvation thanks to abuses which found their way back into Church before the Reformation.

Initiated by Pope Julius II and revived by Pope Leo X,  a plenary indulgence was offered to all those who confessed their sins, received the Eucharist, and contributed according to their means to construction costs of the new St. Peter’s (which is still in use today).   Some papal indulgences were administered by local bishops.  For example, the young and ambitious Archbishop Albert of Mainz and Magdeburg was one who decided to foster the sale of indulgences in his territories in an effort, in large part, to pay Rome for a dispensation permitting him to rule two dioceses.  He enlisted the Dominicans to proclaim the indulgence, but some like Johan Tetzle did this, Luther alleged, in such a crude way it seemed like grace was for sale. Was the problem was the way they were administered by Tetzle and others? Yes, but perhaps Tetzle was not the villain Luther made him out to be.  Recently historians say he received unmerited odium.  For example, Luther in his 95 theses accuses him of using the jingle, “As soon as a coin in the coffer rings, the soul out of purgatory springs.”  This goes back at least to 1482 and Teztle denies it. In fact, he wrote in his defense, A History of Auricular Confession and Indulgences. He went on to get his doctorate in theology but retired to a monastery in 1518, broken in spirit by what was probably unjust criticism. Luther himself wrote him “that the agitation was not that of his creation, but that the child had an entirely different father.” But Luther, nonetheless, falsely charged that Tetzle had preached impiously against the Virgin Mary.

Whether or not Tetzle was guilty is not as significant as the fact that the Church was not sufficiently guarding against abuses in indulgences to preclude Luther using this issue as a springboard for his revolution against the Catholic Church. Certainly the Church addressed this problem and many other needed reforms in the Council of Trent, when they ended all selling of indulgences.  But a great irony is pointed out by Msgr. Patrick O’Hare in his book, Luther: The Facts About, when he notes:

What hypocrisy to roll up the white’s of one’s eyes in pretence of holy horror at the Catholic doctrine of indulgences, which is severity itself compared with their sweeping act of faith which alone suffices to wash all man’s sins away, and put him at once, without penance or purgatory, into the company of angels in Heaven.”


[1] “Indulgences,” Catholic Encyclopedia online.