Transfiguration of the Lord

The feast of our Lord’s Transfiguration was celebrated in the East as early as the fourth or fifth century. Though the New Testament accounts of the Transfiguration (Matt. 17:1–9; Mark 9:2–10; Luke 9:28–36) do not mention the mountain where this singular event took place, nevertheless, tradition has taken it to be Mount Tabor, about six miles southeast of Nazareth. In the fourth or fifth century, a church had been erected on that mount, and because that church had been consecrated on August 6, that became the date for the feast’s celebration. The feast was then introduced in the West in the eighth century, but it remained for a long time only a local Roman celebration. Then, on August 6, 1456, news arrived in Rome that the Christian army at Belgrade (Yugoslavia), on the previous July 22, had been victorious over the Turks. In memory of this victory, and the fact that the news arrived in Rome on the feast of the Transfiguration, Pope Callistus III added (August 6, 1457) the feast to the universal Roman calendar so that it could be celebrated throughout the Christian world.

Transfiguration of the Lord—August 6 Year C

Lectio

    Luke 9:28b–36

Meditatio

“Master, it is good that we are here.…”

    Luke places this radiant event in the context of prayer. Jesus invites his closest friends to come with him up Mount Tabor. For Jesus, the mountains are significant places of encounter with God, places of prayer and preaching: Olivet, Tabor, Calvary. Clearly, we are in the presence of mystery as Jesus’ face and garments are made luminous and glory shines around him. Moses and Elijah, who similarly had mountaintop experiences of God, are seen conversing with Jesus. As the prophets are leaving, Peter and the others catch a glimpse of them. Awestruck and incredulous, they want to set up tents, as if in some way they might capture the moment and enter more deeply into it.

    Immediately a cloud (signifying the presence of God) casts a shadow over them and draws them within. The messianic significance of the cloud should not be overlooked. (See Ex 16:10; 19:9; 33:9; 1 Kgs 8:10–11). The privileged words the three disciples hear are significant for them and for us: “This is my chosen Son; listen to him.” Of all the recommendations or directives that could have been given, the disciples are told to listen!

    The disciples did not earn or deserve this experience. It is a gift meant to strengthen and support their faith. Trials await them as they follow Jesus into Jerusalem, where he will face his passion. Later, they will be called to witness to what they have seen and heard, but now they need only listen.

Perhaps we can recall certain graced moments of prayer when the Lord consoled or reassured us with his presence and peace. It is good to silence our hearts and enter fully into these experiences since, like the disciples, we too will have to come down from the mountain and face times of trial and temptation. It is encouraging to remember, however, that the Lord is near not only on the mountaintops, but in the highways and byways of our earthly journey of life.

Oratio

    Thank you, Lord, for the many ways you continue to reveal yourself to us. Your invitation to prayer and the gift of your divine presence dwelling in both word and sacrament, as well as in our hearts, continually renew and strengthen your Church on its pilgrim journey. Help me to listen more deeply to your inspirations. Let these illuminate and guide all my decisions and actions as I seek to conform my life to yours. May I enjoy the full vision of your glory one day in heaven with the angels and saints and all my loved ones!

Contemplatio

    “Listen to him.”

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ORDINARY GRACE Weeks 18–34: Daily Gospel Reflections (By the Daughters of St. Paul)

Friday of the Eighteenth Week of Ordinary Time

Lectio

    Matthew 16:24–28

Meditatio

“Whoever wishes to come after me must … take up his cross, and follow me.”

    Today, Jesus speaks to us, we who are his disciples. He explains that if we want to follow him, we must deny ourselves and take up our cross. Our cross includes the small and large sufferings we encounter each day. Suffering is not a uniquely Christian experience. Everyone suffers—those who are Jesus’ disciples and those who are not. What might distinguish us, however, is how we suffer. We follow Jesus in the way we carry our cross and in our attitude toward suffering. Perhaps Jesus is inviting us to carry our cross with the same intentions he had when he carried his cross. Jesus suffered, died, and rose to redeem all people. Can we offer our sufferings, even the smallest, for this same intention? We might also have many other intentions: for peace, for our family, for an end to all violence and abortion, for the needs of the Church and the world—the list is endless.

    Whatever suffering we encounter, we can turn to Jesus and unite it with his. This gives our suffering a redemptive value. In other words, joined with Jesus, our offering brings grace and salvation to others. When we reach heaven, a crowd of people might rush to greet and thank us for the graces we obtained for them in this way. Today’s Gospel encourages us, for we are not alone as we carry our cross. We are following Jesus. Gradually we come to realize that he is walking with us as our companion and friend. He obtains for us the courage and strength we need. Jesus describes that glorious day when he will come in the glory of his Father, accompanied by his angels. Then he will reward us for following him. What a wonderful promise! On that day we will know the infinite value of following Jesus. We will bless the opportunities we had to carry our cross with Jesus.

Oratio

    Jesus, you are my friend and teacher. You show me the value of embracing the crosses in my life. I want to take up my cross and accompany you. This is not easy. I do not like to suffer. Whether my crosses are small or large, enable me to unite them to your sufferings, and to believe that my sufferings have value. Remind me to renew the intentions for which I want to offer them. Give me the grace to continue to carry my cross, even when I feel pushed beyond what I can endure. Encourage me by reminding me of the reward that awaits me.

Contemplatio

    Help me, Lord Jesus, to take up my cross today and to follow you.

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ORDINARY GRACE Weeks 18–34: Daily Gospel Reflections (By the Daughters of St. Paul)

Dedication of the Basilica of St. Mary Major in Rome

Today we commemorate the dedication of the Basilica of St. Mary Major in Rome. This church is sometimes called “Basilica Liberiana” in a desire to identify it with a church built by Pope Liberius (352–66) on Rome’s Esquiline Hill. Pope Sixtus III (432–40) is said to have reconstructed Pope Liberius’s earlier church, and on August 5, as stated in the Hieronymian Martyrology (about 450), he dedicated (434) it to our Lady. The dedication was in memory of the definition of the Council of Ephesus (431) that Mary was indeed Theotokos, that is, the Mother of God. Sixtus’s church may have been the first church dedicated to Mary in Rome. The basilica is now called St. Mary Major, not only because it may be the oldest church honoring our Lady, but because it is the largest and most important of all churches dedicated to her. This feast, which was at first only celebrated in Rome, was at one time also known as that of Our Lady of the Snow. A legend going back to the tenth century states that the Virgin Mary appeared to a Roman patrician in a dream (on August 4) and told him to build a church on the site, where he would find snow the following morning. The next morning, he went to tell Pope Liberius of his dream, but the Virgin had also appeared to the pope on the previous night and told him that he would find snow on the Esquiline Hill, and there he was to outline the dimensions of the new church. The pope found the miraculous snow as our Lady had predicted, and on that very spot he built his basilica.

St. John Mary Vianney, Priest

St. John Mary Vianney is better known as the Curé of Ars. He was born at Dardilly, near Lyon, on May 8, 1786. Because the years of his growing up coincided with those of the French Revolution and its aftermath, he only had a few months of formal schooling. When he was eighteen years of age, despite the disturbed times, he began private studies for the priesthood, but such studies were difficult for one without a proper educational foundation. In 1809, he was called to military service, but due to illness he was unable to join his unit before it departed, and later when it was time to join a subsequent unit, he missed it because he visited a church on the way. While trying to catch up with this second unit, he found another young man in a similar situation and went along with him; but the young man, rather than looking for the unit, sought asylum in a small village, and there they remained until an amnesty was granted in March 1810. John then attended the minor seminary; in 1813 he went to Lyon for theology, but he had to leave the following year (1814) because of his inability to cope with the Latin language. After being tutored privately, he was finally ordained on August 12, 1815. In 1818, he was assigned to Ars, a small parish of 230 individuals, all of whom had become slovenly in the practice of their religion. He cleaned and restored the church, visited the families in the parish, and began catechism classes. Within eight years, what had been a dying parish was now vibrant with life. Fr. Vianney was known for his ability to read hearts and, thus, he became a renowned confessor, with penitents coming to him from all parts of France. He spent an average of twelve to thirteen hours a day in the confessional! He died at Ars on August 4, 1859; he had been there forty-one years. He was canonized by Pope Pius XI in 1925, and in 1929 the same pope made him patron of parish priests.

Thursday of the Eighteenth Week of Ordinary Time

Lectio

    Matthew 16:13–23

Meditatio

“… who do you say that I am?”

    Jesus asks a penetrating question: “Who do you say that I am?” It may seem like an easy question, and we answer enthusiastically with Peter, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” But when we let Jesus’ words permeate into the deepest core of our being, we realize that Jesus is asking about more than the words we say. He is asking about the message we speak with our lives. We declare with our lips that Jesus is Lord, but do we let him rule in every area of our lives? Do we obey, not only his commandments, but the inspirations to do good and avoid whatever would take us farther from him, even in small things? Or do we sometimes follow the voice of our modern culture more easily than that of Jesus?

    It is so easy to let the world’s voice drown out the Master’s voice. Even Peter falters when Jesus speaks of his coming passion and death. “God forbid, Lord!” he exclaims. Peter had been open to the revelation of Christ’s divinity, but he is closed to the revelation of his suffering. Jesus had also just said that he would rise on the third day, but Peter doesn’t hear or understand that part. Because of his fear, Peter can’t see ahead to Christ’s promise of victory over death. It is so easy to be deceived by the voice of the world, urging us to follow the safer, more convenient path. It is so easy to take our eyes off Jesus and start to reason humanly. It is easy to follow Jesus in good times, but when suffering comes, we need to trust that Jesus will lead us through it to eternal joy in his kingdom. Despite Peter’s faults, Jesus never took back his choice of Peter as head of his Church. This gives us reason to hope in the mercy of God.

Oratio

    Lord, I believe that you are the Son of God. You are my life and my hope. I place my life entirely into your hands—past, present, and future. Let me see with your eyes and love with your heart. Let me follow your holy inspirations in all I do. Let my actions be consistent with the words I speak. Give me the grace to resist temptations and the allurements of this world and to never take my gaze from you.

Contemplatio

    “My Lord and my God!” (Jn 20:28)

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ORDINARY GRACE Weeks 18–34: Daily Gospel Reflections (By the Daughters of St. Paul)

Wednesday of the Eighteenth Week Ordinary Time

Lectio

    Matthew 15:21–28

Meditatio

“Have pity on me, Lord … help me.”

    Jesus and his disciples have entered a non-Jewish territory and a Canaanite woman is following him, crying out for help. But Jesus doesn’t seem to notice. His disciples are annoyed because she keeps yelling after them and Jesus doesn’t seem to care. They ask Jesus to send her away. Jesus tells the disciples that he has to focus on the “lost sheep of the house of Israel.” This Canaanite woman exemplifies the virtue of fortitude. This mother pleads, begs, and insists that Jesus help her daughter. Jesus’ response to her is shocking! “It is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs.” My first reaction would be to run away sobbing, but this woman does not give up. She reminds me of Abraham bargaining with the Lord over the destruction of Sodom. Abraham walks along and tries to convince the Lord to spare the city for the sake of the innocent (see Gn 18:16–33).

    The Canaanite woman refuses to back down until she receives a hearing. She acknowledges her need for Jesus. Although she tells Jesus about her daughter, she pleads mercy for herself. She is distraught by her daughter’s illness and her own inability to help her. Her conversation with Jesus makes it seem as if he doesn’t want to help her. I don’t think Jesus would refuse anyone. Rather, I think that Jesus, knowing the desire of her heart, uses this situation to teach us a lesson. We may be tempted to feel helpless when facing a personal challenge or the illness of a loved one. We may feel we cannot ask for the Lord’s help. May the example of the unnamed Canaanite woman give us the courage to hold on to hope. Let us call out to Jesus for his mercy and grace, knowing he will surely come to our aid.

Oratio

    Lord, have mercy on me. Sometimes I feel so helpless in the situations that arise in my life. I am easily overwhelmed by the struggles and illnesses of my family and friends. May your living word give me the faith I need to believe in your love, to trust in your protection, and to hold on to hope.

Contemplatio

    Lord, increase my faith.

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ORDINARY GRACE Weeks 18–34: Daily Gospel Reflections (By the Daughters of St. Paul)

Tuesday of the Eighteenth Week of Ordinary Time

Lectio

    Matthew 14:22–36

Meditatio

“Immediately Jesus stretched out his hand and caught him.…”

    This moment in the life of Jesus calls to mind a painting by Sieger Köder called Stronghold. In the background, the disciples are in their little fishing boat, with the vast, tempestuous sea surrounding them. Very prominently in the foreground, Peter’s hands are visible, firmly clasping the hand of Jesus. In my life of faith, these clasped hands provide a firm and important reminder that God is our sure refuge, and that he is always in control. If I call to him in need, he has only to reach out his hand.

    It is a telling moment. We know from the Gospel that it is only when Peter takes his eyes off Jesus and sees “how strong the wind was” that he begins to sink. Perhaps you, too, can relate to Peter and have experienced dark moments when sinking felt inevitable. Yet, when I look over the darker moments in my own life, it becomes clear that when I fix my gaze on Christ, I have a very different perspective than when I focus on the people, events, or circumstances around me. Fear and panic only set in if I lose my focus on that fixed point of reference—the face of Christ. If I gaze at him, I can maintain a sense of serenity and peace, even in the midst of the storm. Peace is a gift of the Holy Spirit—and no person or event can take it away from us. Growing in this awareness leaves us with a choice and a growing freedom. Nonetheless, when it is dark, it is perhaps even more important to remember another lesson from the Gospel: “Immediately Jesus stretched out his hand and caught him.” Even though Peter takes his eyes off Jesus, Jesus never takes his eyes off Peter. He is with him, and for him, the whole time. Appearances can be deceiving. Like Peter, we, too, are always held safe in the hands of a loving God.

Oratio

    Lord, when I am going through the turbulence of emotionally intense times, help me to remember your lesson for Peter on the stormy seas. You are always with me—and if I can only keep my eyes on you, it is possible for me to walk on water. The wind and the waves are the illusion of a life out of control, while your presence is the reality that grounds me, giving me courage and hope. In moments when the waves look too high and the wind feels too strong, help me to recall your faithful love and to place my trust firmly in you.

Contemplatio

    I am safe in your hands.

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ORDINARY GRACE Weeks 18–34: Daily Gospel Reflections (By the Daughters of St. Paul)

Bl. Peter Faber, Priest

Bl. Peter Faber was St. Ignatius of Loyola’s first recruit. He was born on April 13, 1506, in Villaret, Savoy, and went (1525) to study at the University of Paris, where his roommate was St. Francis Xavier (see December 3), and later St. Ignatius (see July 31). Under the latter’s direction, Peter decided to become a priest. On August 15, 1534, he and six companions vowed poverty, chastity, and to go to the Holy Land to convert the Turks. When they arrived in Venice and learned that it was impossible to advance further because of imminent war with the Turks, Peter and his friends went to Rome and offered (November 1538) their services to Pope Paul III. The pope then appointed Peter to teach Scripture at Rome’s Sapienza College, and in 1540 the pope sent him to Worms and Regensburg (Germany) to attend the Catholic—Protestant dialogue. From there, he went (1541) to Spain where, by his sermons and missions, he made the young Society of Jesus known. Responding to a new papal order, he again went to Germany, this time as assistant to the papal nuncio. Then, at the request of King John III of Portugal, he visited that country and prepared the way for the Jesuits to work there. Because Pope Paul III had named Peter one of the papal theologians to assist at the Council of Trent, Peter traveled to Rome to see Ignatius before making his way to the council. While in Rome, he became ill, and he died on August 1, 1546. Pope Pius IX, acknowledging the cult that had been shown to Peter Faber in his native Savoy, declared, on September 5, 1872, that he was among the blessed in heaven.

St. Peter Julian Eymard, Priest

St. Peter Julian Eymard was born at La Mure d’Isère, a small town nestled in the French Alps in the Diocese of Grenoble, on February 4, 1811. From his earliest years, he thought of becoming a priest, but because his father did not enjoy the same vision as he, Peter Julian found it necessary to study Latin secretly. After his father’s death in 1831, Peter Julian entered the major seminary in Grenoble and was ordained to the diocesan priesthood in 1834. His first assignments were in two small parishes, but because he felt called to the religious life he received his bishop’s approval and entered (1839) the newly founded Society of Mary (Marist Fathers). For the next seventeen years, he held positions of authority in that congregation; he was spiritual director at the junior seminary at Belley (1840–44), then provincial superior of the congregation (1844–51) in Lyon, and finally rector (1851–56) of the College of La Seine-sur-Mer. During a visit to the shrine of Our Lady of Fourvière in February 1851, he was deeply inspired to found a religious society devoted principally to promoting devotion to and adoration of the Blessed Sacrament. Aware that no such religious congregation existed in the Church, he felt it his duty to found one. Because he was unable to organize such a group within the Marists—this did not fall within the scope of their apostolate—he approached, with his superior’s permission, the Bishop of Paris, and in 1856 founded the Priests of the Most Blessed Sacrament (known as the Blessed Sacrament Fathers), of which he was superior general until his death. In 1857, he founded the Pious Union of Priest Adorers and then in 1858 the Servants of the Blessed Sacrament, a community of cloistered contemplative nuns devoted exclusively to perpetual adoration. He guided these communities until his death in his native town on August 1, 1868. He was canonized by Pope John XXIII on December 9, 1962, and he is acknowledged as the “Priest of the Blessed Sacrament.”

St. Eusebius of Vercelli, Bishop

St. Eusebius was born in Sardinia sometime in the early fourth century. After his father’s death, his mother took the family to Rome, where he studied and was ordained a priest during the pontificate of Pope Julius I (337–52). He was subsequently appointed the first Bishop of Vercelli, in Piedmont, Italy, in about 345. He and his clergy lived in community, in a manner similar to that later developed by the Canons Regular. Throughout his years as bishop, Eusebius was a strong opponent of the Arians, who denied Christ’s divinity, and firmly supported the teachings of St. Athanasius (see May 2) at the Council of Milan (355), at which he served as Pope Liberius’s legate. Because of Eusebius’s anti-Arian stand, Constantius II (emperor 337–61), who favored the heretics, ordered him sent into exile to Scythopolis in Palestine (today’s Bet She’an, Israel). He was released in 362, after Julian “the Apostate” (emperor 361–63) came to power, but only after suffering much maltreatment at the hands of the Arians. He returned to his diocese, where he continued to oppose the Arians and their doctrines. He died at Vercelli on August 1, 371. The Mass prayer today aptly recalls that St. Eusebius affirmed the divinity of Christ in his long conflict with the Arian heretics. He is especially venerated today for his persistence in supporting orthodox teaching.

Monday of the Eighteenth Week of Ordinary Time

Lectio

    Matthew 14:13–21

Meditatio

“… give them some food yourselves.”

    By placing this rural event right after his flashback to the martyrdom of John the Baptist, Matthew achieves a stark contrast. Two banquets are portrayed—one in a fortress, attended only by the elite and featuring sensuality and death; the other in the open air, attended by anyone/everyone and featuring healing and life. The multiplication of the loaves is more or less the midpoint in a long trajectory that began with the manna in the desert and continued with the multiplication of barley loaves by the prophet Elisha. The scene in the hills of Galilee looks forward to the Last Supper and the Church’s Eucharist, as well as the heavenly banquet mentioned in Isaiah 25:6 and Matthew 8:11–12.

    Rereading this passage, I was drawn to Jesus’ command to his disciples: “There is no need for them to go away; give them some food yourselves.” The disciples show Jesus the little food they have. Acting in the role of the father of a Jewish family, Jesus takes the bread, says the blessing, breaks the bread, and hands it back to his disciples to distribute. Mysteriously, there is enough bread for everyone, just as in the future the divine-human presence of Jesus would be mysteriously multiplied in the Eucharist, so that all the faithful can be nourished with the bread of life.

    Thinking of the disciples’ role in this, I remembered reading or hearing more than once that our poor prayers, our half-hearted sacrifices, our small acts of kindness can be multiplied by the Lord, as if zeroes were being added to the number 1. We give our “little,” and the Lord makes that small contribution bear much fruit for his people. Jesus asks our cooperation, then he does the rest, just as he did with the disciples.

Oratio

    Lord Jesus, help me to remember the importance of my small contributions, whatever they may be. When overcome by “weariness in well-doing,” I want to keep in mind the disciples, who, until everyone had been fed, kept distributing the bread you had blessed and broken for the crowd. Help me to realize that the little I do has a much fuller meaning than I could ever imagine—a meaning I may never understand in this life, but will make me very happy in the next. Don’t let me get discouraged, thinking I’m not getting anywhere. Help me to move ahead with purer motives and a lighter heart. Amen.

Contemplatio

    “There is no need for them to go away.”

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ORDINARY GRACE Weeks 18–34: Daily Gospel Reflections (By the Daughters of St. Paul)

St. Alphonsus Liguori, Bishop and Doctor of the Church

St. Alphonsus Liguori was born into a noble Neapolitan family in the small town of Marianella, Italy, on September 27, 1696. His early education was under the care of tutors, and at the age of thirteen years (1708), he began to study law at the University of Naples. He graduated in 1713 with a degree in both canon and civil law. He then practiced law for several years, until October 1723, when he set his practice and the world aside and began to study theology. After ordination in 1726, he devoted his time and efforts to preaching and hearing confessions. In 1732, he founded a group of priests, which eventually came to be known as the Congregation of the Most Holy Redeemer, or more commonly as the Redemptorists. Alphonsus, being aware of the needs of the faithful of his time, directed his congregation toward preaching, giving missions, and instruction. In this way, he hoped to educate the people in the faith and win back those who had become lax in their practice of it. In 1762, he was appointed bishop of Sant’ Agata dei Goti; his interests now included the reform of the clergy and the upgrading of seminaries. As bishop, he put an end to certain abuses, restored churches, fostered good liturgy, and visited the many parishes in his diocese. In 1768, he was stricken with a rheumatic illness that eventually forced him to resign his see in 1775. He spent the rest of his life supervising the growth of his congregation and writing ascetical and theological books. His ascetical writings were the outpouring of his own rich spiritual life; he wrote on the mysteries of Christ’s life, the Mass, devotion to the Blessed Sacrament, on Mary, and prayer. In all of these, he opposed the then-current Jansenist teachings. He is especially remembered for his text in moral theology, which was used in seminaries throughout the world. He died at Nocera de’ Pagani, near Salerno, on August 1, 1787, and was canonized by Pope Gregory XVI in 1839. In 1871, Pope Pius IX declared St. Alphonsus Liguori a doctor of the Church, and in 1950 Pope Pius XII made him patron of moralists and confessors.

Eighteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time—Year C

Lectio

    Luke 12:13–21

Meditatio

“… life does not consist of possessions.”

    The story in Luke sounds all too familiar—relatives fighting over an inheritance. Sometimes it seems as if claimants think the money is owed to them. “I want what is coming to me.” Jesus calls it what it is: greed. Possessions are what we have, not who we are. In fact, even the poor can be greedy. Jesus reminds us that “life does not consist of possessions.” To illustrate his point he tells a story. A rich farmer (note the man is already rich) has a wonderful year with an abundant harvest. His only problem is where to store it. His solution: build a larger facility. “I’ll tear down the old buildings and put up bigger, better ones, and then I’ll take it easy.”

    Greed, injustice to workers, neglect of land, wasting one’s own productive years in laziness or by the idleness of an early and unproductive retirement—all of these are reflected in what the rich man plans to do, without realizing that his last moment is coming. “Your life will be required of you this very night.” The end is coming suddenly, so he can’t fudge intentions. He is caught in his greed and laziness. When there is no concern for others, the judgment will always come as a surprise. It is always so for those “who store up treasure for themselves but are not rich in what matters to God.” Jesus already said that God isn’t concerned with what we possess, and that we can’t take any of it with us to the Great Accounting. All we can take is who we are. That is what matters to God. What riches, then, is he looking for? God values one who is rich in love of God and concern for others. These unseen treasures are our only inheritance. This is what Jesus meant when he said that the poor in spirit are blessed (see Mt 5:3).

Oratio

    Jesus, Lord of all, you chose to give us a living example of the beauty and value of poverty, that true poverty of the spirit. Not only were you divested of the very glory and grandeur of your heavenly home, but you were born a poor, homeless child placed by your loving parents in an animals’ feeding trough. You were chased and harassed throughout your early years. For announcing the Good News, healing, and praying, your own people rewarded you with the death of a dispossessed criminal. Accept my humble gift of a heart bent on imitating your total self-gift, a spirit poor but blessed. Amen.

Contemplatio

    “Take care to guard against all greed.”

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ORDINARY GRACE Weeks 18–34: Daily Gospel Reflections (By the Daughters of St. Paul)

St. Ignatius of Loyola, Priest and Founder of the Society of Jesus

St. Ignatius of Loyola was born in his family’s castle, near Azpeitia, in Spain’s Basque country, sometime before October 23, 1491. As a youth, he served (1506?–17) as a page to Juan Velázquez de Cuéllar, King Ferdinand V’s chief treasurer, and there he learned his courtly manners. In 1517, he entered the service of the Duke of Nájera. Viceroy of Navarre, and while defending the fortress at Pamplona was wounded (May 20, 1521) by a cannon shot. He convalesced at Loyola Castle, and by reading a life of Christ as well as those of the saints, he experienced a conversion and resolved to visit the Holy Land and serve the Lord.

On his way to the Holy Land, he stopped at the Benedictine monastery at Montserrat, and there he made a night’s vigil (March 24–25, 1522) before the Black Madonna. He then went to nearby Manresa and spent about eleven months in prayer and penance. After a brief visit to Rome to request papal approval for his pilgrimage, he left Venice and arrived in Jerusalem on September 4, 1523. Less than a month later, he left to return to Venice. He then made his way to Barcelona to begin his studies “in order to help souls.” After studies in Barcelona (1524–26), Alcalá (1526–27), and Salamanca (1527), Ignatius went to the University of Paris (1528–35), and there he gathered a group of six like-minded men. On August 15, 1534, in a Montmartre chapel, the small band of seven took a vow to go to Jerusalem within a year after their studies, if this were possible, and work for the conversion of the Turks. After their arrival in Venice (1537), they learned that they could not sail for the Holy Land because of imminent war; hence, they went (November 1537) to Rome and offered (November 18–23, 1538) their services to Pope Paul III.

After Ignatius and his first companions decided to form a new religious congregation, their plan received Paul III’s approval (September 27, 1540), and thus the Society of Jesus was born. Ignatius was then elected general and accepted the office on April 19, 1541; on April 22, in a ceremony at St. Paul Outside-the-Walls, the six pronounced their vows as Jesuits. As general of the new order, Ignatius remained in Rome, wrote its Constitutions, and supervised the Society’s growth, not only in Italy, but in the other countries of Europe as well. He likewise sent missionaries to India. Because of the excessive acts of penance he had practiced while at Manresa, his health had been severely impaired. St. Ignatius died in Rome on July 31, 1556, and was canonized by Pope Gregory XV on March 12, 1622. His Spiritual Exercises had been first approved by Pope Paul III on July 31, 1548, and on July 25, 1922, Pope Pius XI named him heavenly patron of all Spiritual Exercises.

Eighteenth Sunday

First reading: Vanity of vanities (Ecclesiastes 1:2; 2:21–23)

This is the only Sunday reading from the Book of Ecclesiastes. The Book is dramatically attributed to King Solomon, but it must have been written several centuries later, even after Alexander the Great. This late book of Wisdom is full of disillusionment and restless questioning of all the old certainties, not even sure of the afterlife. It queries whether happiness is anywhere to be found, certainly not in hard work! In this, it partners the gospel reading about the rich fool, although the rich fool is condemned for his selfish hoarding, while the author of Ecclesiastes despairingly thinks that no toil can win any worthwhile result. Why is this Book included in the collection of the revealed truth? Perhaps because it is always useful to question our certainties again and make up our mind again. Certainly it blows away the assumption of earlier Israel that happiness is to be found in wealth and distinction, and that wealth is a sign of God’s blessing.

Question: Where do you place your security and happiness?

Second reading: Risen with Christ (Colossians 3:1–5, 9–11).

This final reading from Colossians is full of the hope of the Resurrection. Indeed, it is prescribed for reading also on Easter Sunday morning. The Pauline theme of being baptized into Christ and so sharing his risen life is familiar from the earlier letters. Adopted into sonship with Christ, we have cast off all the old ties, and there is no room for all the old vices. But there is a fascinating and inspiring change of viewpoint. In the earlier letters, Paul said that we were already reconciled to God but not yet saved. In the later Colossians and Ephesians, we have already been raised with Christ, but this risen life in Christ is still hidden in God and merely has yet to be revealed. Once we have been baptized into Christ, we have been taken on as his own, and can securely address God with intimacy as Father. This gives us confidence in our continuing struggle to shake off all evil and allow Christ to take control of every aspect of our lives. We still ‘are being transformed into Christ’, but the battle is already won.

Question: If my natural dwelling place is now with Christ ‘at the right hand of the Father’, what difference does this make to my priorities?

Gospel: The Dangers of Wealth (Luke 12:13–21)

Luke’s language and style make it clear that he comes from a reasonably privileged background. In his stories, he uses far larger sums of money than Mark. He understands about investment banking and rates of interest. This makes it all the more striking that he continually warns against the dangers of wealth. Jesus brushes aside a dispute about inheritance. The parable of the Rich Fool is perhaps the most condemnatory of all the parables; nowhere else in the gospels is anyone called outright a ‘fool!’ Salvation comes first to the poor, the shepherds of Bethlehem, through a baby cradled in a cattle trough. Only Luke says that the apostles left ‘everything’ to follow Jesus. In the ideal young community of the early Church in Jerusalem, he insists that everything was held in common. The guests invited to the Great Supper refuse the invitation because they are distracted by their new purchases. The only hope for the rich (for example in the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus) is to use their wealth to make friends in heaven.

Question: Would Jesus approve of my property situation and the use I make of my money?

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The Sunday Word: A Commentary on the Sunday Readings (Wansbrough, Henry)