A Knight's Walk in the Kingdom

theophilus August 28th, 2010

A few months back, I went to my first Mass in the Extraordinary Form (i.e. the Mass as it was before 1969).  I went more out of curiousity than anything else.

I was taken by two things during the course of the Mass.

The first thing was how devout it all was.  My focus was on Christ and the priest; my attention drawn to the altar at all times.  I was lost at times, but God’s holiness permeated every word and action.

The second thing that struck me was how much of the Mass is audible only to the celebrant.  A great deal of the Mass is said by the celebrant to God alone.  It is truly he standing in the person of Christ offering a sacrifice to God for our redemption and salvation.

Nevertheless, for the first time, I began to understand why the Mass changed.  The congregation didn’t feel part of what was going on.  They felt like bystanders, especially as the celebrant and servers went beyond the threshold of the sanctuary closed off by the communion rail.  They didn’t feel unified as a body; but instead were left to internally pray and worship.  Heck, even responses were sung by the choir, not the congregation.  The Mass was an obligation.   Too many just didn’t get it.

Of course, all of that was supposed to change with the current Mass.  We sing and respond together, not just listen to a choir.  We hear and respond in our venacular language, not Latin.  We hear and participate with the celebrant throughout the Mass.  Our modern churches are designed for us to be part of the sanctuary and to catch the eyes of our neighbors.

And to many, the Mass is still lost on them.  They are still empty come Monday morning.  Mass is still an obligation to be endured or avoided.  It doesn’t hold their attention.  They just don’t get it.  Heck, our pastor felt the need this week to remind parents of first graders that Sunday Mass was indispensable to their child’s preparation for First Communion in second grade (he even warned that the Church would postpone a child’s First Communion if the family was not attending Mass on a regular basis).

The Mass is meant to transform; not leave us the same walking out as we were walking in.  The Mass is meant to lift our mind, heart and soul to heaven and the divine; not entertain.  The Mass is meant to help us on our pilgrimage to our eternal life; not be a checkoff box on our daily task list in this life.

I’ve been pondering all of this for the past month or so.  And I keep coming back to one thought.  Is a large part of the problem (then and now) that the Mass isn’t really explained?  What exactly is going on up there?  What is the purpose of everything?  Why should we care? From talking to my parents and their generation, I know it wasn’t adequately explained to them.  And, speaking from personal experience, I know that it certainly wasn’t explained adequately to my generation.

It’s a shame that it took me until my forties to get the Mass.  What changed it for me was something very simple.  I bought a Missal and read through it, even using it sporadically in Mass.  And then, over the course of the past two months, I have been going to Mass every day.  For the first time, I am starting to really get it.

Over the next few posts, I think I’m going to write about what I’ve learned from my Missal and daily attendance about the Mass.  I don’t care whether people have a preference for the Extraordinary Mass or the current Mass.  I personally would love to alternate between the two.  Too me, the important thing is that people GO to Mass, not bail on it; and that people WORSHIP at Mass, not just show up.

I want Mass to be as indispensable to people as breathing and eating.  It is a gift, a grace, a mystery – all given to us by Christ through his Church.  We need the Mass and we should want it with every fiber of our being.

• Liturgy
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theophilus August 15th, 2010

We went to Mass last night for the Feast of the Assumption.

Our church is large with the congregation forming a semi-circle around the sanctuary.  Behind the congregation are large clear windows.  There are also two large stained glass windows on each side of the church-one of the Blessed Mother and the other of St. Maximilian Kolbe, our patron saint.

During the Mass, a huge storm blew in. Looking outside, I noticed sheets of rain pounding the windows.  Darkness covered the sky.  Trees withered in the wind.  Thunder resounded all around us.

It was then I had the strange sensation that I was at sea. I called to mind that the Catholic congregation sits in the “nave” of the church.  Nave is from the latin word, “navis” or ship.  When we are in church, we are to remember that the church (i.e. the structure) and the Church are there to protect us and guide us during our journey through the storms of life, bringing us safely to our eternal home.

I don’t like storms – I’ve lived through too many tornadoes; seen too much destruction.  But, last night, I felt totally at peace sitting there in the safety of the church under the protection of Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

And as I looked over at Mary’s window, I realized that she lived her life with this peace, knowing she was under the protection of God.  And the protection that I felt in the church was the same protection that she provided Jesus in her womb and the protection she provides us all as the Mother of the Church, as our mother.  It’s because of her special role in our redemption and salvation that she was assumed into heaven and why we venerate her and love her as we do.

I then looked over at St. Maximilian’s window (whose feast day was yesterday).  He lived his life through personal and geopolitical storms.  But he always kept a peace about him brought about by an unquestioned faith in Christ and a undying love in the Blessed Mother.  Even in the most frightening of circumstances, he knew the Blessed Mother, the Immaculata, was with him.  It was this peace that he kept right up until the end in the starvation cell at Auschwitz; giving his life for another, sanctifying so many throughout the world, going to his eternal reward in communion with all of the saints and angels in heaven.  All for his Lord; all for his lady; all for his Church.

The Church provides us protection in so many ways. Christ gave us his Church and makes us part of his Church as a gift to us; a grace that will lead us in building a personal relationship with him and being sanctified so that we too can look forward to enjoying eternal life with him.

But it’s not that easy for us, is it?  Christ makes it pretty clear-he tells us to follow him, obey him, love God and our neighbor.  While these may be hard sayings; the choices can be made simple if we just follow the Church; if we stay within the protective framework provided us by the Church.

It’s gets difficult for us when we step outside the protective walls and try to go it alone.   Too many of us focus on ourselves-our enjoyment, pleasure, convenience-and not on Christ and others.  We endanger our souls and our salvation because of our feelings.  We ignore thousands of years of study, thought, questioning, faith and reason, so we can rely on our feelings formed by a modern culture focused on today and not on yesterday or tomorrow or the eternal.

We don’t inquire into the intellectual framework for certain Church teachings; we just assume the Church is wrong without reason or faith.  While God gives us the ability to think for ourselves, we use this freedom in ways that make it appear that we are smarter than the thousands upon thousands of theologians, philosophers and scholars who have lived and breathed Christ and the Church throughout the millenia, following the Holy Spirit, listening to Christ, pondering deeply the meaning of man and the story of salvation.

But we have been given examples through the ages of those who made the right choices.  Mary perfectly obeyed.  St. Maximilian Kolbe perfectly obeyed.  They stayed within the protection of Christ and his Church, and they bring so many souls to Christ, yesterday, today and tomorrow.  They call each of us to live our lives in perfect obedience to God; an obedience whose framework has been laid out through the past two-thousand years through the Church.

So, ask yourself, do you try to do it yourself?  Are you trying to go it alone?  Instead of seeking answers, do you rebel and reject out-of-hand what the Church teaches about things with which you disagree?  Are you afraid to make those choices that are made easy by the Church, but hard by modern culture?  Are you willing to be counter-cultural if that means following and perfectly obeying Christ, but making yourself and others uncomfortable?  Do you deny the existence of evil or truth?  Is life all relative to you?  Are you willing to look beyond the imperfections of the people who make up the Church to look instead at the beauty, mystery and dignity of what is universally the Church as a whole?

Your answers to these questions determine whether you desire to stay within the protection of the Church, or step outside of it.  One way leads to peace and joy no matter the state of your life and world; the other way leads to you being buffeted by the storms of our modern culture, being left exposed as the storms of destruction pass you by.  One way leads to eternal life with our Father, his Son and the Holy Spirit with all of his angels and saints; the other way leads to a much harder road to your salvation.

It’s your choice, your freedom.  Our Blessed Mother and St. Maximilian Kolbe made one choice.  What will your choice be?

• Church , Culture , Faith , Liturgy , Mary , Saints , The Battle
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theophilus August 11th, 2010

It’s Wednesday and I still can’t get Sunday’s Gospel out of my head.  Quite frankly, Luke 12:47-48 just plain scares me.

“That servant who knew his master’s will but did not make preparations nor act in accord with his will shall be beaten severely; and the servant who was ignorant of his master’s will but acted in a way deserving of a severe beating shall be beaten only lightly.  Much will be required of the person entrusted with much, and still more will be demanded of the person entrusted with more.”

I have been given many wonderful gifts from God.  He has blessed me with a solid faith, a loving family, decent health, the ability to provide comfortably for my family and our needs.  He has also permitted me to see his love and his glory, especially through the people he has brought into my life and the experiences I have had.

Much has been given to me.  And Luke 12:47-48 reminds me that much is demanded of me.

But, I don’t think I’m quite measuring up to these demands.

I too often squander God’s divine gifts through sin, indulgence and inattention.   There are days that I offer to God my daily prayers, work, joys and sufferings in my Morning Offering and then go and waste the day on my own preferences and pursuits.  I then find myself penitent and sorrowful at the end of the day, lamenting another wasted day in my service to Christ.

And then God, through his divine grace, gives me another day to get it right.  Every day is a new beginning when I’m given the chance to do what he wants me to do.  He keeps on me; reassuring me that my redemption and salvation can be mine; that the fate of my soul in eternal life lies simply in my living my faith in him-each day, each moment.

We are children of God.  He has given his children much; each of us.  It is up to us to use these gifts in ways to meet his expectations.  His demands aren’t difficult.  We only make it difficult on ourselves when we try to go our own way.

Living God’s will for us in service to Christ is not that hard; unless we make it so.

• Divine Filiation , Liturgy
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theophilus August 10th, 2010

Last night, I kept mulling over the homily I heard yesterday at daily Mass.

Yesterday was the memorial of St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, a Carmelite nun who was sent to Auschwitz during the Nazi Holocaust Persecution.  She was a Jewish convert to the Faith who made her name as a world-renown philosopher, Edith Stein.

While her life is extremely interesting and inspiring, what struck me yesterday at Mass during the homily was a certain progression that the celebrant laid out for us.

As we all know, Christ has utilized St. Paul to call many to conversion.  St. Augustine of Hippo, a hedonistic youth bent on getting the max out of the pleasures of this world, read St. Paul and was immediately converted.  St. Paul’s life meant something soul-changing to St. Augustine-literally made the difference on how St. Augustine was going to spend his eternal life.  But the progression doesn’t stop there.

St. Augustine’s Confessions was the catalyst to get St. Teresa of Avila going in her vocation.  Again, life-changing influence.  In turn, St. Teresa’s Autobiography led directly to St. Edith Stein’s conversion to Catholicism.

A direct link from St. Paul to St. Augustine to St. Teresa to St. Edith Stein.  An ongoing progression of sanctification.  The Holy Spirit using each saint’s life to inspire, influence and move another potential saint.  And, maybe, probably, there is someone in the future (or now) who will read St. Edith Stein and answer their call to sainthood and holiness.

Which is exactly what the celebrant was getting to when, at the end of yesterday’s homily, he asked us, “if your autobiography were to be read, would it call anyone to conversion?”

Great question.

Would my autobiography call anyone to conversion, today or tomorrow, a hundred or thousand years from now?

I simply don’t know-which is why I better get busy.  Listening to God, following Christ, serving my neighbor, allowing myself to be sanctified.  I must get busy trying to be a saint.

Before you think that I’m being all high-minded, keep in mind that we are all called to be saints.  It’s just that only a small part of us answer the call; the rest of us give up or don’t make the effort, leaving us tied to the forces of this world.

I want to inspire others to follow Christ.  I want them to look at me and see such joy and peace and zeal that they say “I want some of what he’s having.”  The forces of this world offer so much empty busyness to us that souls are crying out for something real, something substantive.  Christ and his Church offer this substance.  But, he offers it through us.

Think about it in the progression illustrated above.  Christ got to St. Paul, asking him point-blank-”Saul, why are you persecuting me?”  Offering him the substance of the New Covenant.  St. Paul in turn got to St. Augustine, offering him the substance of divine love to counteract an empty lifestyle.  St. Augustine in turn got to St. Teresa, offering her the substance of divine direction to water a dry vocation.  St. Teresa in turn got to St. Edith, offering her the substance of divine truth to fill a void created by an atheistic intellectualism.

So, think about who you have been influenced by in your spiritual life.  Who has Christ tried to use to reach you?  And how is he using you to reach others?

Are you answering the call to conversion-the call to give yourself totally to Christ and his Church?  Are you inspiring others to do the same?

Isn’t it time you start to try and become a saint-within your homes, families, workplace, communities?  Isn’t it time to answer the call to conversion alive in each of our souls and in turn inspire others to answer this call?

Isn’t it time to carry on the progression?

• Culture , Saints
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theophilus August 6th, 2010

There are times that Christ tells you to take a break from whatever it is that you are doing.  To listen to him as he chooses to speak to you.

This summer has been one of those times.

I have always been an avid reader.  But, this summer, I have set records.  I got led to one book and then another and then another.  Last week, I listed them in the order that I had read them.  I noticed a pattern.

The Ascent of Money – Niall Ferguson (the history of our capital markets and money; the engine and the power of our secular world).

Rules for Radicals – Saul Alinsky (the political playbook for our current secular rulers).

Ugly as Sin – Michael Rose (how many of our churches were stripped of their Catholic identity by those inside and outside the Church).

Something Beautiful for God – Malcolm Muggeridge (Mother Teresa at her simplest and saintliness; following Christ with her every breath; never caring what the secular world thought).

Rome Sweet Rome – Scott & Kimberly Hahn (a searing conversion story of devout Presbyterians who found Christ in the Church and defied all that they thought was true, facing up to their family and friends).

Abandonment to Divine Providence – Fr. Jean-Pierre de Caussade, SJ (live for the moment and do so in Christ, doing whatever he tells you to do).

Invisible Kids – Holly Schlaak (a horrowing story of the kids, God’s children, stuck in intolerable situations, with solutions on how each of us can help).

No Turning Back – Fr. Donald Calloway, MIC (drug addict and societal dropout turned priest; the Virgin Mother worked overtime with him and got her prize).

Be a Man – Fr. Larry Richards (no excuses; we have to rise up and be true men of God for our families, our communities, our Lord).

The Long Loneliness – Dorothy Day (a true believer; from aethistic communist to worker in the Catholic vineyard; she learned to live Christ every moment of every day, forsaking all that she knew and loved; that is until she found a new love).

The Fountainhead – Ayn Rand (yes, she was an aetheist, but her message in this novel rings true – do not care what other men think, stay true to yourself; my extension of this message is to stay true to Christ and not man and you will stay true to yourself).

Fatherless – Richard Gail (a fictional account on how our Catholic generation was left adrift and the damage inflicted on families and clergy alike by our culture and expectations of success; thoughts on how we can reclaim our Catholic identity and strength in Christ).

The reading hasn’t ceased.  I’m on a roll.

Check out some or all of these books.  Listen to Christ as to what he wants you to read and learn.  Allow him to take you where he wants you to go.

And, if you are wondering what immediate benefits that these books have had on my life.  Mother Teresa, Scott Hahn, Fr. Calloway, Fr. Richards and Dorothy Day all had one thing in common – they all promoted daily Mass.  I haven’t missed a weekday Mass in a month and I have to tell you – the experience has been transforming, rock-my-world kinda of stuff.

I can’t wait to see where Christ takes me next.

• Culture , Eucharist
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theophilus July 8th, 2010

As I’ve mentioned before, I sometimes go to weekday Mass at St. Gertrude in Madiera, Ohio (a suburb of Cincinnati).

Today, I went to Mass at St. Gertrude, and I got confused when the celebrant prayed the Opening Prayer and mentioned a saint.  I try to check the feast days for the week and I don’t remember a saint being mentioned for today.  I thought it was just an “Ordinary” day.

I really got confused when I couldn’t understand the name of the saint.  But he preached his homily on this saint, so I figured I better find out about him.

In his homily, I heard that this saint was somehow tied up in the persecution of Catholics in England during King Henry VIII’s tragic snit against Rome.

Later, I did some research and realized that this saint was Bl. Adrian Fortescue (1476-1539).  It now made sense that our Mass memorialized him because Bl. Adrian was a lay Dominican and St. Gertrude is a Dominican parish.

This is Bl. Adrian’s story – he was a relative of Anne Boleyn and nobleman.  He had riches and status.  He was a devout Catholic.  He was married and a father of five.

He was also opposed to his cousin’s marriage to King Henry VIII and refused to take the Oath of Supremacy, which asserted that Henry was the head of the Church of England and Catholics should look to him and not the Pope.

Bl. Adrian was not tried, but was condemned by the Parliament for “sedition and refusing allegiance.”

He was beheaded in July 1539.  He was beautified by Pope Leo XIII in 1895.

I call him a “Serendepity Saint.”  We don’t know much about him; most of us have never heard of him; but he followed Christ and gave his life for him and his Church.    He gave his life for us-his fellow travelers in the Faith.

Bl. Adrian, ora pro nobis!!

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theophilus July 4th, 2010

May God shine his face upon America!

Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception, Patroness of the United States, pray for us!

God Bless America!!

• U.S.A.
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theophilus June 29th, 2010

Today being the Solemnity of Sts. Peter & Paul, I made a special effort to go to Mass.  Specifically, 11:30 Mass at St. Gertrude’s in Madiera, Ohio (a suburb of Cincinnati).

St. Gertrude is in the charge of the Dominicans.  They have a priory there and teach in the school.  They always have a large class of novices; all of whom seem to have great voices in chant.  When they celebrate their daily community Mass with the parish community, the Mass never disappoints.  Orthodox, thoughtful, focused; you can’t help but lift your eyes to heaven.  (It also helps that the Church, while built just before Vatican II, hasn’t been “restored” to fit the “Spirit of Vatican II.”)

Today, the Mass lived up to everything God intended it to be.

Full chant from the novices, incense, truth, beauty.  Mass went an hour and yet I was left in my pew at the end wanting more!

I needed to get back to the office, but I just didn’t want to leave.  Christ had shown his full majesty to me and I didn’t want to go back out into the world.

And, yet I finally stumbled out, having been reminded that we are charged with taking Him out into world (a concept incidentally that Sts. Peter and Paul lived every day of their ministry).

But, all I could think about as I drove back to the office was – how can anyone walk away from this?  Tuesday, 11:30am, not even a holy day of obligation, and yet the Mass was able to rouse me to divine heights; lifting my eyes, ears, heart, soul and mind towards heaven in full communion with Christ and his Church throughout the world.

How awesome!!

And I was able to acheive this level of worship in between my work – reviewing a new contract and some old regulations.

Who else, what else, can offer so much?

And yet, people walk away.

I met an incredible woman last weekend in some classes that my wife and I are taking.  She grew up Catholic; she married a Baptist.  He is a wonderful guy.  I can see us being friends.  What bemuses me is that she left the Church and was “rebaptized” as a Baptist.  She walked away from the Mass; she walked away from full communion with Christ.  She is still a Christ-like person; but she walked away from Christ himself, offered in the Real Presence of the Eucharist.

And, she probably doesn’t even realize what she left behind.

She will go to Sunday services and weeknight Bible study.  She will do good works.  She will memorize Bible passages left and right.  She will witness and listen to great sermons delivered by men of God.  She will live her life in accordance with the moral principles of the Gospel.

But, she will not fully have Him; she will not be in communion with Him; she will not be united to Him in the way that Christ has offered and intends.

How could we have let her get away?

There was a moment in Mass today, at the beginning of the Liturgy of the Eucharist, when the attendent blessed the celebrant with incense, and then the concelebrants, and then the novices, and then us.  As I bowed, I felt drawn to the altar in a way I’ve never felt before; not while in the pews, not while lectoring, not while serving as an extraordinary minister.  I was pulled to the altar, uniting myself to the Eucharistic Prayer, offered through the celebrating priest.  My soul leapt knowing that this was Him, truly Him; and that I, the lowly sinner that I am, was going to come into communion with Him.  My heart and mind raced as I approached the steps of the sanctuary to receive Him.

No one could walk away, if they truly knew what was being offered to them.  Not just on Sunday; not just a couple of times a year; not just in symbolic form; but each and every Mass of each and every day, everywhere throughout the Church.

This is Tuesday; just an ordinary end of June day; hot, sunny, lazy.  And Christ united himself to me, in majesty, beauty and truth.

What a Lord; what a faith; what a Church!

• Eucharist , Liturgy , Saints
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theophilus June 23rd, 2010

It was a rough week at my parish last week.

We buried a 6-year old boy who drowned at a pool birthday party.  We heard about an infant girl who died.  Both of these coming on the heels of another 6-year old who died a couple of months ago.  She had suffered a stroke a couple of years ago during a routine surgery and was confined to a wheelchair.

Tough stuff.  “Why God?” type of stuff.

What was interesting though is that, out of the three kids, the one that struck hardest for most of the parish was the 6-year old boy who drowned.  People throughout the parish were talking about him.   Parents and kids either knew him or knew someone who knew him.  Red ribbons went up on mailboxes throughout the community.

And I had to really try to figure it out.  Why the reaction to this kid, but not the others?  I didn’t know the family, and my 6-year old son didn’t know him.  But, I was having the same reaction as others in my parish.  It was really disturbing me and I couldn’t figure out why.

Then it came to me.

When we hear about tragedy, especially involving kids, we look for the “cause.”  This tragedy happened because _________ (fill in the blank).  And then we take that cause and apply it to our own lives.  In most cases, we assume that we could never succumb to this cause, and so we presume that this tragedy can never befall us.  It gives us a sense of comfort, no matter how false it may be.  We figure whatever happened could never happen to us.

But, in cases like the 6-year old boy, the “cause” is straightforward.  He was a normal, healthy 6-year old boy who attended a pool birthday party and drowned through a freak accident.  He didn’t hit his head, he wasn’t goofing off.  Lifeguards were present.  Period, end of story, no other cause or reason.

So, I am left to ponder the following – I have a normal, healthy 6-year old son who attends birthday parties quite regularly.  One of them has even been a pool party.

In other words, this boy could have been my boy.  I can’t explain it away.  I can’t presume that it could never happen to him; to us; to my family.  I look at the grief of this boy’s family and I see us.  There is no shield; no guard; no way to explain it away.

And that is why it upsets me and the rest of our community the way it does.  We mourn the death of a child; we mourn with his family.  For those who knew him, they mourn in a special way.

But we also come face-to-face with our own fears.  We are a young parish; we have a lot of 6-year old boys running around.  We cannot prevent harm from coming to them and our other kids.  We can try to keep them out of situations that can bring them harm, but we can’t protect them from all harm.  It could just as easily be us facing an empty bedroom, chair at the kitchen table, seat in the car; missing voices; shattered dreams; phantom hugs and kisses.  It could just as easily be us trying to comprehend a vast void blown into our lives.

So, we have to make an extra effort to give our kids over to God.  We have to ask Christ Jesus and our Blessed Mother to watch over them.  We have to call on their guardian angels to be by their sides.  And we have to do our duty as their parents to love them, raise them, and protect them as much as we can.  We have to ask God for help and follow his will for them.  We must appreciate them each and every day, for they are a divine gift and blessing.

We must always keep in mind that our kids belong to God and are given to us by him.

I don’t know why God took these three children, but my faith tells me there is a reason, and that has to be enough comfort for me.  And I guess I’ve been finding myself praying that my faith will not be put to so great a test.

So, I bless my children every morning and I pray that God will keep them safe.  I thank God for them every day.  And then I leave the rest in his hands.

• Catholic Dads , Family
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theophilus June 16th, 2010

What if one of your parents was an honest-to-goodness saint?  Not the “my mother was a saint to put up with all of us” type of saint, but an actual canonized saint-a holy man or woman honored by the Church until the ends of time.

Columbia is the monthly magazine put out by the Knights of Columbus.  This month’s issue is devoted to fathers.  One of the articles has three adult children writing about their father, who just passed away on Holy Saturday at the age of 97.

The children’s names are Gianna, Pierluigi and Laura.  They write glowingly about their father, Pietro.

In reading their testimonies, you can’t help but be struck by the words they used to describe their father . . . . . loving, dedicated, patient, a treasure, affectionate, strength, firmness, humility, untiring willpower, help, role model,close, generosity, enthusiasm, cultural and intellectual richness, guide, support, care, sensitivity, counsel (never imposed, always available), great example of love, constancy and faith, thirst for knowledge, inspiration, whole heart, diplomacy . . . . . .

There were two passages that especially struck me, both by Pierluigi, his son (who is 53, married, with a daughter) -

“Papa always wished to offer and model for us principles, rules and personal and religious customs that showed us how much these were at the core of his being.”

and

“He lived and passed onto us a fatherhood that was characterized by responsibility, good example, and a sense of duty.  He first lived those qualities in his daily life, and dedicated himself to work, to family and to God with a deep respect for his neighbor.”

If you really read and re-read these descriptions and these passages, no other commentary is necessary.  Pietro Molla’s fatherhood is a model for the rest of us.  This is how Our Father expects us to father our children; the children he has entrusted to our care.  It is our vocation; it is our calling.

Chances are that Pietro will not be canonized or even declared a Servant of God (the first step to sainthood).  But, in reading the reflections of his children, he was a saint.  He was a saint to them and to the others with whom he came into contact in his life.  He was a holy man who followed God’s will and made his love for God interchangeable with his love for his neighbor.

And his lifestory reminds us all that WE are called to be saints; all of us; to our children, to our wives, to our neighbors.  No recognition can be expected (just see today’s Gospel from Matthew 6).  Sanctification is our calling; it must be our life purpose.

It is good for us to start with examples like Pietro.  Also, take a good look at St. Joseph, St. Thomas More and Blessed Louis Martin (the father of St. Therese of Lisieux).

Mothers also have their role models; St. Monica, St. Elizabeth of Hungary, Blessed Marie-Azelie Guerin Martin (the mother of St. Therese of Lisieux) . . . . .

and . . . .

St. Gianna Berretta Molla (1922-1962), the wife of Pietro and mother of Gianna, Pierluigi and Laura.  She was a holy woman living in our times.  Already living an exemplary life as a physician, wife and mother, she was diagnosed with a benign tumor when pregnant with Gianna.  She had essentially two choices – her life or Gianna’s.  She chose Gianna and died a week after Gianna was born.  She was canonized in 2004 by Pope John Paul the Great, with her husband and children present in St. Peter’s Square.  She was the last saint canonized by the Holy Father.

Fathers . . . . Mothers – we are called to be saints.  Our children need us to be saints.  God expects us to be saints.  He has given us an awesome, divine, eternal responsibility to be parents to the children he has entrusted to us.  We WILL be called before him to account for how we have done with this most important of responsibilities.

Pietro and Gianna’s children knew they lived amongst saints.  Let our children be able to say the same of us.

• Catholic Dads , Family , God's Call , Role Models , Saints , pro-life
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