Oct 3 Fri - Is it right to cry?

 

 Oct 3 Fri
Is it right to cry?
Pope Leo XIV explained that Jesus’ cry from the cross reveals the final stage of a love that is given up to the very end, and he encouraged us to view crying not as a weakness, but rather as an act of intense prayer.
Jesus shows us that crying out is not a weakness but an act of hope.

Jesus did not die in silence. He did not fade away gradually, like a light that burns out, but rather He left life with a cry.

That cry was more than the body surrendering, but the final sign of a life being offered. Before this, Jesus said: My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?

Thus, the Son, who had always been in communion with the Father, experienced silence, absence, and solitude in the difficult moments of His Passion. Yet, it was not a crisis of faith, but the final stage of a love that gives itself to the very end.

Jesus cried out on the cross, not in desperation, but with sincerity; it was the truth taken to the limit, and trust that endures even when all is silent.

Then, the sky darkened and the veil in the temple was torn in two—as if all of creation was participating in Jesus’ pain. But this moment of darkness also revealed something new: God no longer dwells behind a veil—His face can be seen now in the Crucified One.

That image of Jesus’ broken body on the cross manifests the greatest love. We see that God is not distant from us, but giving all He had left, He joins us in our pain, in our life journey to the very end.

At the foot of the cross, one man understood this. The centurion—a pagan—came to believe after witnessing how Jesus died. His first statement of faith after Jesus' death was not a momentary profession, but one that truly touched and changed his heart.

At times, what we are unable to say in words, we express with voice. When the heart is bursting, it cries. This does not signify weakness, but rather is a deep act of humanity.

Our cries become a prayer when words do not suffice.

Crying out does not mean giving up or resigning to one’s fate. A person cries out because they believe someone can still hear them.
Jesus did not cry out against the Father, but to Him.

In that act of faith, Jesus shows us that we, too, can cry out with trust and hope, even when things seem lost.

Crying out is a human gesture, the first gesture we make when we are born, and it is a means of staying alive.

A cry born of love, addressed to God, will not be ignored. Crying means rejecting cynicism and carrying on the belief that a different world is possible.

A cry can be the threshold of a new light, of a new birth for us.

Oct 2 Thu - Why do we sing the Alleluia in the Mass?

 

Oct 2 Thu
Why do we sing the Alleluia in the Mass?

After the second reading (if there is any), the acclamation before the Gospel or Alleluia follows. Unlike the responsorial psalm, it is not related to the preceding reading but to the Gospel, which follows. It serves as the assembled faithful’s greeting of welcome to the Lord who is about to speak to them and as an expression of their faith through song. The whole congregation stands up to sing or recite it. 

The word “Alleluia” is an ancient Jewish expression of joy; it means “Praise the Lord.” It was incorporated into the liturgy of the Church at a very early date and passed from religion into everyday life. Sailors, when they recognized another ship, used to greet each other with a shout of Alleluia. In the year 429, when the Christian Bretons fought the Saxons, they used Alleluia as their war cry. St Jerome heard the farm laborers of Bethlehem sing it while ploughing. 

The Alleluia was at first sung at Rome only once a year—on Easter Sunday. There was a proverb current in Rome in the fifth century: “God grant that I may hear the Alleluia!” This wish is similar to that which we make on New Year’s Eve, that we shall again be gathered and reunited as a family at the beginning of the next year. After Easter Sunday, the Alleluia was heard during the fifty days of the Easter season.

Nowadays, the Alleluia is sung in every liturgical season outside Lent. It is usually begun by the cantor or choir, and then it may be repeated by all. It ends with a renewed Alleluia acclamation from the congregation. 

The Alleluia is the song of people set free by God, our loving Father, people redeemed by the blood of Christ. This triumphal acclamation is linked to the cheerfulness of Easter.

“Cheerfulness is a necessary consequence of our divine filiation, of knowing that our Father God loves us with a love of predilection, that He holds us up and helps us and forgives us. 
“Remember this and never forget it: even if it should seem at times that everything around you is collapsing, in fact, nothing is collapsing at all, because God does not lose battles.”  

During Lent, instead of Alleluia, an acclamation is made before and after the verse before the Gospel. One of these is:

• Praise and honor to you, Lord Jesus Christ!

In the early liturgy, the singing of the Alleluia was extended with a long vocalization executed on the final vowel, resembling the joyful modulations of country people who, without using words, hum a tune on one isolated syllable. This was called the jubilus. In the West, words were soon placed instead of this vocalization. The texts that followed the official verses were called “Sequences.” Only four of these most beautiful Sequences remain: For Easter, an exultant dialogue between the cantor and the congregation, for Pentecost, for the feast of the Body and Blood of our Lord, and for the celebration of our Lady of Sorrows.

Oct 1 Wed - What if there is a hidden meaning in the Sunflowers of Van Gogh?

 

Oct 1 Wed
What if there is a hidden meaning in the Sunflowers of Van Gogh?
Known worldwide for their vibrant yellows and emotional depth, Vincent van Gogh’s Sunflowers have become symbols of joy and creativity. But is there more here than meets the eye? Could Van Gogh’s masterpiece also be read as a profoundly Christian painting — one that, like the flowers themselves, calls us to turn toward the light of God?

Far from a delicate still life, the paint is thick, sculpted, almost carved into blossoms that seem to grow from the canvas itself. What might it reveal about our faith?

Born in 1853 in the Netherlands, Vincent Van Gogh was the son of a Protestant pastor. Morning prayers, hymns, Scripture, and Sunday worship shaped him from the start. For a time, he pursued ministry, serving as a missionary among coal miners in Belgium. Though he later abandoned formal ministry, this pastoral calling transformed into something new: a conviction that he could speak of God not with words, but with color.

Encountering the Impressionists in 1886, Van Gogh replicated their revolutionary use of light and color. Darkness gave way to blazing yellows, swirling blues, and restless skies. His brush no longer merely described the world — it prayed. It wept. It proclaimed. This journey is traced through paintings like ‘Café Terrace at Night,’ where the luminous awning, like Christ’s cloak of the Last Supper over the everyday world, and the disciples shining in the sky, and ‘The Sower at Sunset,’ where the glowing orb of the sun, like a monstrance, takes on an almost Eucharistic radiance.

In 1888, Van Gogh turned to sunflowers. Devoting himself almost entirely to yellow, he created blossoms that pulse with life, each petal shimmering with energy. And if you think of an artist's paintbrush being the extension of the artist's soul, we can see that the paintbrush is trembling with urgency. And yet at the end of the day, well, it's just a painting of flowers in a vase. But what if he was telling us about our faith?

Van Gogh elevated ordinary subjects into radiant symbols of creation itself. Yet he struggled with mental illness, loneliness, and despair, dying at just 37. At his funeral, friends placed sunflowers beside his coffin — the flowers he once called “mine.”

Perhaps these flowers are more than flowers. Possibly the painting is a kind of prayer. A prayer, yes, without words, where each flower almost represents us. Some flowers look battered, some are drooping, some even have their backs turned towards us, some are fully flourishing, but each all uniquely shaped by God. And all of them are trying to find the light.

These luminous sunflowers remind us that holiness is not about perfection. Holiness is about orientation, like these flowers, trying to turn constantly towards the light of God. Even in this vase of fading blooms, we realize that God is present in the ordinary as much as in the extraordinary events of our lives. 

Sep 30 Tue - How can I begin again?

 

Sep 30 Tue
How can I begin again?
With the five paths of repentance.
Shall I list them for you? There are certainly many of them, and all of them may lead you to heaven. But begin with these:

(a) The first path is the path of rejection of sins. As Isaiah says, Tell your sins, and you will be forgiven. And the Psalmist adds: I said, 'I will accuse myself before the Lord, and you forgave the guilt of my sin.’ So, too, you must discard the sins you have committed. Get rid of them, and you will be excused in front of the Lord, since whoever repents of the sins he has committed will be slower to commit them next time. Stir up your conscience to be your accuser – so that when you come before the judgment-seat of the Lord, no one will rise to accuse you.

(b) The second path is in no way inferior in excellence. It is to forget the harm done to us by our enemies, to control our anger, and to forgive the sins of those who are slaves together with us. If we do this, our sins against the Lord will be forgiven. Thus, the second path is contrition for our sins. As the Lord says, ‘Yes, if you forgive others their failings, your heavenly Father will forgive you yours.’

(c) The third path of repentance is prayer: intense, sincere, and focused prayer, prayer coming from the depths of your heart.

(d) The fourth path, I will tell you: it is sacrifice and little mortifications. They have great power.

(e) And finally, act always with modesty and humility; make them part of your personality. This path is very effective in depriving sin of its central part: pride. Look at the publican, who had no good deeds to speak of. In place of good deeds, he offered humility, and the huge burden of his sins fell away.

So, now you have the five paths of repentance. First, getting rid of your sins. Second, forgiving the sins of those near you. Third, prayer. Fourth, sacrifices. Fifth, humility.

Do not be lazy, but advance along all these paths every day. They are not hard roads to follow. Poverty is no excuse for not setting out on the journey. Even if you are penniless, you can do all these things: put aside anger, carry humility in front of you, pray hard, and get rid of your sins.

Here you have learnt the right way to heal your wounds; apply these remedies. Recover true health and confidently receive the strength of Holy Communion. Thus, you may enter, filled with glory, to the glory of Christ’s kingdom, and receive its eternal joys through the grace, mercy, and kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ.
Excerpts from St John Chrysostom

Sep 29 Mon - Are all moral systems equivalent? The Madness of Moral Relativism

 

Sep 29 Mon
Are all moral systems equivalent? The Madness of Moral Relativism

Some field questions like: “What’s true for you isn’t true for me”; “Morality is cultural”; “There are no absolutes.” However, truth exists beyond our preferences.

Moral relativism is the belief that right and wrong depend on personal opinion or cultural perspective. It sounds tolerant. It flatters our desire for autonomy. But it crumbles under the force of its own contradictions. If all morality is relative, then there can be no condemnation of anything, anywhere—not genocide, not slavery, not rape. If morality is just a cultural costume, then the Nazi uniform is no worse than a business suit, and the gulag is no worse than a schoolhouse. Relativism, when stripped of its disguises, defends nothing and permits everything.

Consider the common defense: “But what about other cultures?” Yes, cultures differ. The Greeks practiced infanticide. The Aztecs performed human sacrifice. Do cultural differences make these practices acceptable? 

If you say yes, then you have abandoned all moral ground. You can’t condemn the slave trade or the Holocaust, because someone, somewhere, considered them culturally valid. 

If you say no, then you have already admitted a universal standard by which you judge. Either way, relativism collapses.

Relativism also pushes some excuses. Theft is treated as an expression of poverty. Assault is excused as a response to oppression. Murder is softened as the by-product of “different values.”

If morality is subjective, then the criminal is just an alternative moral agent, and punishment is nothing but cruelty. But when morality bends, justice disappears. Victims vanish into the background. Communities decay. And law enforcement becomes an empty display. A society that excuses crime through relativism abandons its citizens to predators.

Some others claim that morality evolves. This sounds sophisticated until you look closely. You can’t say we are better for abolishing slavery unless you assume a standard outside of shifting opinion. Without absolutes, moral progress is impossible. History becomes nothing but a string of empty costume changes.

Still, others retreat into empathy: “Can’t people decide for themselves?” That works until one person’s decision destroys another’s life. If morality is just preference, then a criminal’s desire is equal to his victim’s plea for justice. Try telling a mother whose child was murdered that the killer merely had “different values.”

Others insist: “I have my morality, you have yours.” But morality, by definition, governs how we treat others. It cannot be locked into private bubbles. If morality is private, then courts are tyrannical, laws are illegitimate, and the weak have no claim on the strong. If you believe murder is wrong only for yourself, you protect no one else. Society disintegrates under that logic.

The truth is this: moral relativism is never acceptable—not in theory, not in practice, not even a little. Because once you accept that morality is relative, you have no ground to stand on when the tests come—when a dictator crushes dissent, when a terrorist slaughters civilians, when uncontrolled immigration erases national culture. Either you say, “This is wrong”—wrong everywhere, for everyone, always—or you say nothing at all.

Excerpts from John Mac Ghlionn

Sep 28 Sun - What is wealth for?

 

Sep 28 Sun
What is wealth for?
In the Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus, the problem with the rich man was not his wealth. The parable does not say he became rich dishonestly (although he may have). His problem was that he didn’t “listen to,” that is, obey, and do the Will of God. He made wealth the goal of his life.

He did not repent of his sins, obey the law, and love God above all and his neighbor as himself. One example of this is the way he ignored his fellow Jew and therefore his neighbor, Lazarus, who sat at his door begging.

The rich man did nothing for those in need around him. God penalized him with torment.

Lazarus received during his life what was materially bad—poverty and illness. God rewarded Lazarus with happiness in the “bosom of Abraham,” not for being poor, but for his patience in accepting his suffering on earth.

If we won’t love God and neighbor, we won’t listen to Christ, even if He did something astonishing, like raising men from the dead or rising from the dead himself.

Christ showed a special love for people who were poor, oppressed, and outcast in any way. 
In Luke 4:18, Christ quoted Isaiah in saying He had come specifically to “preach good news to the poor … to bring release to captives … recovering of sight to the blind … and liberty to those who are oppressed.” 

This does not mean that Christ condemns wealth. 
How could He? Christ possesses every gift, and his intellect and will were perfect.
Even during his public ministry, He had wealthy and generous friends whom He loved.
Rather, He condemns the hoarding of wealth, making wealth the purpose of one’s existence, and neglect of the poor.

The misery that human beings experience can pertain to either the body or the soul. This is the reason for the traditional enumeration of two kinds of works of mercy, corporal and spiritual. These are acts of charity to help everyone because of their dignity as persons.

The corporal works of mercy are: 
To feed the hungry;
To give drink to the thirsty;
To clothe the naked;
To shelter the homeless;
To visit the sick;
To ransom the captive. Some ‘captives’ are prisoners of addiction.
To bury the dead.

The spiritual works of mercy are: 
To instruct the ignorant;
To counsel the doubtful;
To admonish sinners;
To bear wrongs patiently;
To forgive offenses willingly;
To comfort the afflicted;
To pray for the living and the dead.

Among the spiritual works of mercy, perhaps the most critical today is the first, to instruct the ignorant. Perhaps the most difficult, because we are most afraid of it, is to admonish, that is, correct, sinners.

What is my attitude toward all the material and spiritual goods I hold in my hands? Are my hands open or closed when it comes to helping others?

Sep 27 Sat - Should the power of the authority have no limits?

 

Sep 27 Sat
Should the power of the authority have no limits?
Pope Leo answered this question, following Saint Augustine, encouraging the members of the International Catholic Legislators Network “to infuse the earthly society with the values of God’s Kingdom” to allow for “authentic human flourishing.”

The Pope went further, asking, “How can we accomplish this?” After clarifying that human flourishing “depends on which ‘love’ (i.e., the world’s or of God’s) we choose to organize our society.”

He urged lawmakers “to work for a world where power is tamed by conscience, and law is at the service of human dignity.” One cannot help but hear resonances of “America the Beautiful,” in which, as a nation, we beg God to “confirm thy soul in self-control, thy liberty in law.”

Pope Leo’s reliance on the principle of limited government appeared previously while noting that the chief means for government leaders “to build harmonious and peaceful civil societies” is to “invest in the family... a small but genuine society, and prior to all civil society.”

Consequently, the aims of a political entity are not achieved merely by designating some authority to achieve them, but by supporting the “small societies” that the authority is appointed to serve, in the first place.

Pope Leo asserted that “an essential reference point is the natural law, written not by human hands, but acknowledged as valid in all times and places, and having its most convincing argument in nature itself.”

Thus, “if law is at the service of human dignity,” then human dignity can only truly be served when natural law places natural limits on positive law. Thus, the law should not go against the nature of things.

Pope Leo wants to draw attention to two possible transgressions of governmental limits.

The first is that totalitarian regimes are an affront to human freedom and an assault on human dignity.
The second is the flipside of the first. It’s that civil authority has a certain legitimacy of its own and does not only exist to serve the “small societies” – i.e., families – that are subject to it.

Earlier, in Quadragesimo Anno, we read that “government must not be thought a mere guardian of law and of good order, but rather must put forth every effort so that … both public and individual well-being may develop spontaneously out of the very structure and administration of the State.” 
Still, “a fair freedom of action must be left both to individual citizens and to families, only on condition that the common good be preserved and no wrong is done to any individual.”

Thus, the State also has a real, proactive role to play in pursuing the common good, but this power is limited (non-totalitarian). The State’s responsibility is not just a defensive role in ensuring that obstacles don’t get in the way of families pursuing it.

Sep 26 Fri - Should I strive to be preferred above the others?

 

Sep 26 Fri
Should I strive to be preferred above the others?
Let us allow Pope Leo to explain to us.
Jesus is invited to a meal by one of the leaders of the Pharisees. Inviting others to one’s table is a sign of openness of heart, while accepting such an invitation entails having the humility to be open to others and their world. These gestures that bring people together help foster a culture of encounter.

Encounter is not always easy. The Evangelist notes that the other guests “observed” Jesus closely; indeed, He was watched with some suspicion by the stricter interpreters of tradition. Yet the encounter takes place because Jesus makes himself genuinely present; as a good guest, He acts with respect and sincerity, avoiding merely polite formalities that preclude authentic encounter.

Consequently, as was his custom, He employs a parable to describe what He sees happening and invites those watching him to reflect on it. For He saw people rushing to sit in the places of honor, something that also happens today, not in families but on occasions when people consider it important to “be noticed”, whereby a moment for being together ends up as a competition.

When we sit together at the table of the Eucharist on the Lord’s Day, we too should be willing to let Jesus speak. He becomes our guest, and He can tell us how He sees us. We must see ourselves through his eyes: to see how frequently we reduce life to a competition, how anxious we become to obtain recognition, and how pointlessly we compare ourselves to others. Stopping to reflect, letting ourselves be taken aback by a word that challenges our hearts’ priorities, is to experience freedom, the freedom to which Jesus calls us.

In the Gospel, Jesus speaks of “humility” in describing perfect freedom. Humility is really freedom from ourselves. It is born when the Kingdom of God and holiness become our real concern and we allow ourselves to lift up our eyes and look ahead: not down at our feet, but at what lies ahead!

Those who exalt themselves generally think that nothing is more interesting than themselves; yet deep down, they are quite insecure. Whereas those who know that they are precious in God’s eyes, who know they are God’s children, have greater things to be worried about; they possess a sublime dignity all their own. Once we learn to take the last places, rather than striving for the first, that dignity will appear, and we will come to the fore simply and effortlessly.

Dear friends, today let us pray that the Church will always be a school of humility for everyone, a home where all are welcome, a place where rivalries are set aside and where Jesus still speaks to us and teaches us to imitate his own humility and freedom. Mary is truly the Mother of that home; it is to her that we now pray.

Sep 25 Thu - What is the Responsorial Psalm?

 

Sep 25 Thu
What is the Responsorial Psalm?
Our responsorial psalms are based on the Jewish liturgy; there, the readings were broken by the recitation of psalms. This helped keep away monotony while allowing the congregation to participate. 
In the Church, a trained cantor would sing the psalm while the people joined in the response, generally the first line of the psalm. 

Under the present regulations, the psalmist or cantor of the psalm sings the verses at the lectern or some other suitable place. The people remain seated.
 
There are two established ways of singing the psalm after the first reading. 
In responsorial singing, the cantor sings the psalm verse, and the whole congregation joins in by singing the response.
In direct singing, there is no response by the community; either the psalmist sings alone as the community listens or all sing it together. When not sung, the psalm is to be recited in a manner conducive to meditation on the word of God.

The Church desires that we have a great esteem for the liturgical chants because they are a sign of our heart’s cheerfulness. St Paul recommends that the faithful gathered waiting for the coming of the Lord sing together psalms, hymns, and spiritual canticles. The heart shows its joy by singing. Thus, St Augustine says, “To sing belongs to lovers.” And, “One who sings well prays twice.”

Perhaps we cannot sing to God as well as we would like to; nevertheless, we can be sure that our Father in heaven looks at things differently. We will do fine if we sing with the simplicity and spontaneity of children, after having rehearsed at least a little. 

“What is more pleasing than a psalm? David expresses it well: ‘Praise the Lord, for a song of praise is good: let there be praise of our God with gladness and grace.’ Yes, a psalm is a blessing on the lips of the people, a hymn in praise of God, the assembly’s homage, a general acclamation, a word that speaks for all, the voice of the Church, a confession of faith in song. It is the voice of complete assent, the joy of freedom, a cry of happiness, the echo of gladness.

It soothes the temper, distracts from care, and lightens the burden of sorrow. It is a source of security at night, a lesson in wisdom by day. It is a shield when we are afraid, a celebration of holiness, a vision of serenity, a promise of peace and harmony. It is like a lyre, evoking harmony from a blend of notes. The day begins to the music of a psalm. The day closes to the echo of a psalm.”

After reading this, don’t you think that, very often, we can draw our “password,” that is, our “aspiration for the day,” from the responsorial psalm of the Mass? That “password,” repeated during the day, will be liturgical, helping us to have presence of God, and it will give our day a more supernatural tone. 

Sep 24 Wed - Is there a vocation to marriage?

 

Sep 24 Wed
Is there a vocation to marriage?
Our Lord has wanted the universal call to holiness to resound with renewed strength in the ears of all Christians. By the Church, thus, through Opus Dei, He makes it clear that all states and upright situations in life are suitable for seeking and finding God. And for those who are called to marriage, their path as well is truly a DIVINE VOCATION.

St. Josemaría wrote: Since most of my children are married, their conjugal love and duties form part of their divine vocation. Opus Dei has been responsible for marriage being considered a divine path, a vocation… How frequently I have seen a couple's eyes light up when, thinking that their noble and clean love was incompatible with dedication to God, they heard me say that "marriage is a divine path on earth!"

We are not afraid of human love, of our parents' holy love, which God utilized to give us life. I bless this love with both hands. I don't allow any of my children to fail to have a great love for the holy sacrament of matrimony. Therefore, we aren't afraid to sing songs about clean, human love, which are ballads of divine love as well.

I ask you to love one another. Always have the eager love you had when you were first engaged. It would be a poor concept of marriage, which is an ideal and a vocation, to think that the joy is over when the difficulties and hard times that life brings begin.

Then is when love is strengthened, when it becomes stronger than death. Suffering and setbacks can never extinguish true love. For sacrifice shared with generosity unites you even more.

Ordinarily, your marriage will be very fruitful. And if God doesn't grant you children, you will dedicate your energies more intensely to the apostolic work, which will bring you a splendid spiritual fruitfulness. Our Lord usually crowns Christian families with children. Always receive them with joy and thanksgiving, because they are God's gift and blessing and a proof of his confidence in you.

The Archbishop of Santiago of Chile shared seven pieces of advice for young couples:

1. Understand life as a gift called to become a gift for others.

2. Your neighbor's garden is not greener than yours. Always be grateful for your own garden with all the good and not-so-good fruits it gives.

3. Live by your principles and according to your faith; otherwise, you will end up modifying your principles according to how you live.

4. Facing difficulties, ask yourself, What would Christ do in my place?

5. Remember that it is impossible to achieve happiness apart from the truth about the commitment you have made.

6. I have met many people who regret not having more children. I have never met anyone who regretted having given too many children to society, to the family, and to the Church.

7. The important things in life happen in humble settings and not in sumptuous ones that dazzle. 

Sep 23 Tue - Dating advice for young Catholic men

 

Sep 23 Tue
Dating advice for young Catholic men

According to my unscientific survey, which I have confirmed with many young Catholic women, here is how you can put yourself ahead of 97 or 98 percent of the rest of the crowd. It comes down to this:

- Get a job.
- Stop depending on your parents for all your material needs. Be self reliant.
- Don’t spend all your time playing video games.
- Don’t surf for porn.
- Don’t swear every other word.
- Don’t be a weird fanatic.
- Have some skill, whether it's working out, fixing things, or something similar.
- Be interested in something other than the one thing you think you know something about.
- Be a gentleman.

That’s it. Nothing expensive. You don’t need James Bond suits or cars. Being a “player” will not interest these women. You don’t need to be a CEO. But you need to show that you have the discipline to get a job and finish a task. You need to be devoted to something other than yourself. And you need to be courageous, willing to take some risks. When people call and need help, you need to be the one who goes.

Some of those things may annoy you. “What’s wrong with video games?” Nothing necessarily. Please don’t tell me: “I know a guy who met his wife playing video games!” I do too. One guy. Someone met his wife in a coffee shop. Drinking more coffee won’t necessarily get you a wife either.

“What’s wrong with swearing? I know women who swear a lot!” Are you dating them?

“Why do I need a job? If you’re asking me that, don’t continue reading. So too, if you say, “Don’t want kids – ever!”

Please understand. You live in a culture that has largely left young men and women systematically unprepared for courtship and marriage. That’s tragic. I wish things were different. But you must play the hand you’ve been dealt.

How about prayer? Do plenty of that.

But remember, wives don’t show up on your doorstep because you put in an order with Amazon. Courting a good woman is a gift and a task. The task is to earn her trust by becoming a person worthy of that trust. That’s also the gift.

I expect some people will be annoyed by this advice. I can hear some guys complain: Don’t women need to hear some of these things and get some advice? Perhaps. But that’s not my job. I’m a guy. That is a job for a wise, older woman who can advise younger girls.

Besides, my one other piece of advice to young men would be this: Don’t try to give advice to young women, and don’t complain about them. This is like when the park ranger tells you not to poke a grizzly bear. It can serve no good purpose. And whatever might make you think it’s a good idea, it’s not. 
Excerpts from Randall Smith

Sep 22 Mon - What is the odor of sanctity?

 

Sep 22 Mon
What is the odor of sanctity?
A Jesuit, who had arrived in what is today the United States and Canada, was in awe of all the new species of animals not present in Europe. One such animal was the skunk.

In 1634, he wrote that there was a “low animal, about the size of a little dog or cat. I mention it here, not on account of its excellence, but to make of it a symbol of sin.” He then concluded by noting its foul smell, which he equated with the smell of sin.

Once, St. Catherine related to her confessor that “the stench of sin” was so overpowering among some of those who came to see her that she could not endure it.

Padre Pio, when hearing Confessions, could smell mortal sin. It is reported that such sins smelled “putrid,” “foul,” like the smell of a “rotting corpse.” Conversely, when penitents made an honest and contrite Confession, Padre Pio would smell flowers. This was a manifestation of the “odor of sanctity,” a sweet fragrance of roses, violets, or jasmine.

Saint Thérèse of Lisieux, the “Little Flower,” is reported to have smelled like roses, especially upon her death. Likewise, the body of Saint Teresa of Ávila emitted a sweet perfume that filled her monastery when she died.

These grace-filled phenomena find their basis in the risen Lord Jesus. When Jesus came to raise his friend Lazarus from the dead, Martha pointed out that, since he had been dead for four days, there would be an odor. If this event had taken place in North America, she might have said that Lazarus would have smelled like a skunk. What Martha forgot is Jesus’ declaration: “I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and he who lives and believes in me shall never die.”

The raising of Lazarus from the dead was a prophetic anticipation of Jesus’ own death and resurrection. In dying on the Cross, Jesus put death to death, and in rising gloriously from the dead, He brought forth eternal life. The stench, the odor, of sin and death is now cast away by the odor, the fragrance, of everlasting life.

St. Paul declared to the Corinthians:
But thanks be to God, … For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing, to one a fragrance from death, to the other a fragrance of life to life. (2 Corinthians 2:14-16)

Christians should make Christ present among men. They ought to act in such a way that those who know them sense "the fragrance of Christ." Men should be able to recognize the Master in his disciples.

through their preaching and life, spread the fragrance of the living Jesus to all who are being saved. They radiate the aroma of Christ throughout the world and for all time.

Among those on their way to a sinful death, however, this fragrance testifies to their eternal condemnation.

Here, one finds the importance of Purgatory. Those who are in Purgatory are being purged of sin’s skunk-like smell, and they are taking upon themselves the aroma of the living Jesus in whom they will dwell as the Spirit-transformed children of the Father.
Excerpted from Thomas G. Weinandy, OFM