Confessions

On this his Feast Day, some of my favorite Confessions from Augustine:

What return shall I make to the Lord for my ability to recall these things with no fear in my soul? I will love you, Lord, and thank you, and praise your name, because you have forgiven me such great sins and such wicked deeds. I acknowledge that it was by your grace and mercy that you melted away my sins like ice. I ask, too, that by your grace I was preserved from whatever sins I did not commit, for there was no knowing what I might have done, since I loved evil even if it served no purpose. I avow that you have forgiven me all, both the sins which I committed of my own accord and those which by your guidance I was spared from committing.


A statement is not necessarily true because it is wrapped in fine language or false because it is awkwardly expressed...An assertion is not necessarily true because it is badly expressed or false because it is finely spoken. I had learnt that wisdom and folly are like different kinds of food. Some are wholesome and others are not, but both can be served equally well on the finest china dish or the meanest earthenware. In just the same way, wisdom and folly can be clothed alike in plain words or the finest flowers of speech.


Men love the truth when it bathes them in its light: they hate it when it proves them wrong. Because they hate to be deceived themselves, but are glad if they can deceive others, they love the truth when it is revealed to them but hate it when it reveals that they are wrong.


...evil is nothing but the removal of good until finally no good remains.


The man who serves you best is the one who is less intent on hearing from you what he wills to hear than on shaping his will according to what he hears from you.


Give me the grace to do as you command, and command me to do what you will!

Armed vs. the un-Armed

As I prepare to walk with thousands of my brothers and sisters next week in Washington D.C., I am reminded of Christ's passion: the unstained handed over to the stained.

I've been reading and meditating on Saint Thomas More's The Sadness of Christ, written as a commentary on the Passion while More was awaiting his own execution by the stain of King Henry VIII. More commentary than exegesis, More presents profound insight into that cataclysmic event that re-opened the doors to heaven for all of us lowly beings.

More offers the following comments on the "darkness" that handed Jesus over to the guards by all who were threatened by him:

This is the mad and ungovernable power which brings you armed to take an unarmed man, which brings the fierce against the gentle, criminals against an innocent man, a traitor against his lord, puny mortals against God.

The irony of all innocent blood participating and united in Christ's passion. The unborn, the sick, the dying- all of the unarmed. The abortionist (and the legislators and commonfolk that support him) murdering the child by unspeakable means and weaponry. He who is to defend and heal the sick as doctor, is now the aggressor. Under the natural law, written by God, this criminal who sins against the natural law.

The safest and most intimate place for any human being, has become a battleground.

Gentle is Jesus

"Gentle is Jesus in his looks, and in his words and actions." The face of our loving Saviour is so serene and gentle that it charmed the eyes and hearts of those who beheld it. The shepherds who came to the stable to see him were so spellbound by the serenity and beauty of his face that they tarried for many days gazing in rapture upon him. The three Kings, proud though they were, had no sooner seen the tender features of this lovely child than, forgetting their high dignity, they fell down on their knees beside his crib. Time and again they said to one another,"Friend, how good it is to be here! There are no enjoyments in our palaces comparable to those we are experiencing in this stable looking at this dear Infant-God."

When Jesus was still very young, children and people in trouble came from the country around to see him and find comfort and joy. They would say to each other, "Let us go and see young Jesus, the lovely child of Mary." St John Chrysostom says, "The beauty and majesty of his face were at once so sweet and so worthy of respect that those who knew him could not prevent themselves from loving him, and distant kings, hearing of his beauty, desired to have a painting of him. It is even said that our Lord by special favour sent his portrait to King Abogare. Some writers tell us that the Roman soldiers and the Jews covered his face in order to strike and buffet him freely because there was in his eyes and face such a kindly and ravishing radiance as would disarm the most cruel of men.

- St. Louis de Montfort

Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta

I saw Mother's Joy Before Her Death

The excitement bordering on hoopla generated by the publication of Mother Teresa: Come Be My Light (Doubleday, 2007) causes me to want to let people know that there was clearly another side.

I knew Mother Teresa for more than 30 years — half my life — and always found her to be a deeply prayerful, gentle and extremely compassionate person. She also had a wisdom that was not of this world, and it was obvious to me that she was inwardly directed in the work she did.

The darkness she experienced is part of the mystery of God’s dealing with human beings, but my opinion is that that darkness made her one of the strongest people I ever knew.

The general secretary of the United Nations referred to her as the most powerful woman in the world.

What makes a person powerful? The ability to struggle long and hard through difficulties.

There is another side. A few weeks before her death, Mother Teresa was in New York. The sisters very kindly invited me to offer Mass for her the day before she left for Calcutta. It was obvious that she was dying. She attended the Mass lying on a cot, unable to stand.

After Mass, I met a person I had never known. She was bubbly, exuberant, joyous, and telling Father Andrew Apostoli and me of the wonderful growth of the Missionaries of Charity. She was not bragging, but triumphantly rejoicing in the Lord. It was most remarkable, and we talked to her for quite some time.

As we were leaving, I commented to Father Andrew that we would never see her again, that she was obviously beginning to go through the gates of eternity. This is not an unknown phenomenon in the lives of certain mystic saints. They begin to enter eternal life while they are still in this world.

I want many people to know of this triumphant exultation of Mother Teresa in the last days of her life. Why did God permit her to experience his absence while she was profoundly motivated by his presence? Why did he permit her to be in darkness while she gave so much light to others? These are questions that we should perhaps not ask.

How do we know how God deals with his most chosen souls?

But it is perfectly obvious to me that Mother Teresa was not only a saint but a prophetess. She was given to us like the prophetesses of the Old Testament to remind us of the absolute transcendence of God, whom we must follow obediently wherever He leads us.

Father Benedict J. Groeschel, Franciscan Friar of Renewal.

A Mother's tears

What a marvelous couple of days the Church has given us. On Monday, She gave us the memorial of St. Monica and today we were given the memorial of her son, St. Augustine, Doctor of the Church.

You have to wonder if Monica, in her years and years of praying for Augustine's conversion, ever pondered Psalm 56 (especially verse 9), You have kept a record of my tears; are they not written in your book?

She couldn't rest until her son was "home."
It reminds me of my own Mother's tears, praying to God that I'd be open to His grace in "coming home." And it happened.
Ironically enough, my Mother called me the other night to tell me that she was going through some old notes and found her recollection of a phone call I made to her on August 30, 2005, when I said "it was time."

So I thank my Mother now for all of her prayers while I was away at college and I thank all mothers for the prayers of God's lost sheep. May their tears be turned into dancing.


Saints Monica and Augustine.....

....Pray for us!