St. Jude pray for us

Long recognised as the patron of one of the finest children's hospitals in the world, St. Jude is known to Catholics as a patron of hopeless causes. His novena is considered most powerful in a desperate situation. Having myself completed a novena to St. Jude, I wanted to encourage anyone in despair to seek the prayers of this near kinsman to Jesus.

Mercy, Mercy Me

You know the story of the publican and the Pharisee. The Pharisee thanked God that he was not a publican, and the publican beat his breast saying "Lord, have mercy on me a sinner". Jesus stated that the publican went away justified. Three things stick out to me. 1. The publican acknowledged his own guilt. One cannot receive mercy unless it is needed. 2. He showed signs of contrition, sorrow for sin. 3. He accknowledged that God is merciful, and sought justification on that basis rather than his own righteousness. That powerful prayer has been used by Christians for centuries, as a means of praying constantly, and the story serves as an excellent paradigm for understanding our justification before God, but none of these things are my subject. The question I wish to examine is "what is mercy?".
Mercy is an unmerited attitude of favor towards someone who has wronged you. In the old testament, the words for mercy and grace were synonymous. Mercy is similar to forgiveness, but goes even farther. Suppose a man, the president of a bank, is found to have embezzled a great deal of money. Forgiveness says "You are guilty, but we will declare you aquitted." The debt is paid by the one who is owed. Mercy says "You are aquited, and you may have your old job back. Welcome home." Wait, you might say. To put a known embezzler back in charge of a bank is not very intelligent. At least, have someone do a monthly audit for a while. That would make more sense. It would, but then it wouldn't be mercy. Mercy is radical. It's saying"your debt is forgiven" and making another loan. It is turning the other cheek. Not merely forgiving one blow, but allowing another.
Consider the prodigal son. He essentially tells his father he wants him dead. Wastes everything his father made, and when it doesn't work out, he disgraces his father even further by coming back home. To add insult to injury, he asks his father for help. Sure, he admits his guilt, but still expects his father to give him work. The father's response is scandalous. Not only had he been anxiously waiting for his son to return, but ran to meet him the moment he appeared on the horizon. Not satisfied with forgiving his son, in his mercy, the father restores the inheritance (the squanderer still receives a third of what his father leaves. Might explain why the older brother was so bent out of shape), restores his status as a son, and treats him as an honored guest. The father was the real prodigal.
Mercy is terribly unfair. Our merciful God paid our debt Himself, and allows us to abuse that grace. He who was without sin, became sin for us. It is scandalous, but the power of that mercy is transforming. Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a sinner.

correction

The feast of St. Francis is Wed. Oct. 4th. Mea Culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

Angels and ministers of grace defend us!

If you don't recognize the line from Hamlet, learn it and impress your friends. If you don't recognize Hamlet, shame on you.

Today is the feast of the Archangels, Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael. Yesterday was the feast of St.Wenceslaus, yes, that Wenceslaus, who did indeed go out on the feast of Steven. Tomorrow is the feast of St. Jerome, Bible translator, and general curmudgeon. He has been described as a disgruntled badger in a bunny-hutch. One of the most vitriolic of the Church Fathers, Jerome could easily give the wildest Pat Robertson-esque demagogue a run for his money. Rude and insulting, he reminds us that God can use anyone.
Monday, is a day to honor your guardian angel, Tuesday, the feast of St. FRancis, patron saint of animals. Francis was most well known for his preaching to whatever was at hand. People, animals, or most anything else. A good example of preaching in season as well as out of season.
All this is leading up to Friday, the feast of St. Bruno. I know nothing about him, but it's wonderful pipe tobacco. That's your liturgical calendar for the next week. God bless you.

Scars

If we have never sought, we seek thee now;
Thine eyes burn through the dark, our only stars;
We must have sight of thorn-marks on thy brow,
We must have thee, O Jesus of the scars.

The heavens frighten us; they are too calm;
In all the universe we have no place.
Our wounds are hurting us; where is the balm?
Lord Jesus, by thy scars we know thy grace.

If, when the doors are shut, thou drawest near,
Only reveal those hands, that side of thine;
We know today what wounds are, have no fear;
Show us thy scars, we know the countersign.

The other gods were strong; but thou wast weak;
They rode, but thou didst stumble to a throne;
But to our wounds only God's wounds can speak,
And not a god has wounds, but thou alone. -Author unknown (to me anyway)


A priest, a faithful priest (I thank God daily for having known this man.) used to say to me that we are all wounded. Being reminded of my own wounds this week, two thoughts came to mind as I worked on setting this text to music (my training is in composition).

1. We tend to be like wounded animals, lashing out at everything, even the hand that would heal us. How often we make our own wounds worse in trying to heal them ourselves. We are in great need of mercy. Compassion is feeling sorry for someone when bad things happen that is beyong their own control. Mercy is pitying someone for the trouble they create for themselves. I am very rarely worthy of compassion, but often need the mercy of those around me. This week, in saying some things I should not have and their effect being compounded through misunderstanding, an act which put at risk the most significant human relationship in my life outside of family, I was reminded of the preciousness of mercy. When a human relationship is damaged, making satisfaction is difficult, reconcilliation a slow, painful process, but the experience makes me all the more thankful for the satisfaction made by Christ for my sin, and the reconcilliation I enjoy with God because of it. The temptation to take God's mercy for granted is all too easy to give in to.

2. What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger. Nonsense. It can make you bitter. Or it can just hurt. I read a church sign once that said, "God doesn't count your degrees, but your battle scars." Well, I have many, and very few of those were won honorably. My only consolation is the great power of Christ's wounds, which give our wounds meaning. Even those we inflict ourselves may be redeemed. The wounds that weaken us have the promise that in our weakness, His strength is made perfect. I wonder if all of our wounds will survive death, or only those wounds of victory. Perhaps they may be transformed from evidence of failure to reminders of grace. That might not be a bad view to take. For the moment, they still hurt.

As I said, I've been setting that text to music. Quite sad sounding, really. One day I may set it again a tune that is a bit more...hmmm?... hopeful. We'll see.