A Leper for Christ: Saint Damian of Molokai and Solidarity
When Damien de Veuster arrived in Hawaii in 1864, he found an island-community beset by infections. Over the years, travelers and seamen had introduced diseases like influenza and syphilis. Yet none were as bad as Hansen’s Disease, more commonly known as leprosy. First reported in Hawaii in 1840, leprosy devastated people in many ways. First, because the disease was highly contagious and untreatable until the 1930s, people contracting it had no hope of recovery. This often led to deep depression among its sufferers. Second, leprosy caused a progressive degeneration of their skin, eyes, and limbs. It thus disfigured people and eventually immobilized them. Finally, few diseases isolated people from their communities as much as leprosy. Sufferers were seen as outcasts and cautioned to stay away from everyone else.
In 1866, to curb the spread of the disease, Hawaiian authorities decided to consign lepers to an isolated community on the island of Molokai. On three sides, the colony, called Kalaupapa, bordered the Pacific Ocean, and the fourth side featured massive, 1,600-foot cliffs. Once the lepers were out of sight and no longer a threat to the general population, the government turned a blind eye to their basic needs. Shipments of food and supplies slowed down, and the government removed most of its personnel. The result was a highly dysfunctional community marked by poverty, alcoholism, violence, and promiscuity.
Puritan missionaries became convinced that leprosy stemmed from the people’s licentiousness. But Damien knew that was not true. He believed the people on Molokai were basically good, not corrupt, and that sin did not cause the spread of the disease.
In time, Damien came to see the neglected colony as the answer to his boyhood longings for adventurous missionary work. He asked the local bishop for permission to go to Molokai, and the bishop not only granted approval, but personally accompanied Damien to the island. He introduced Damien to the 816 community members as “one who will be a father to you and who loves you so much that he does not hesitate to become one of you, to live and die with you.”
This introduction did not surprise Damien, who had no illusions about what his mission would entail. He knew working in the disease-ridden colony virtually guaranteed that he would become infected too. Yet he never wavered in his commitment.
At first, the conditions around the lepers proved overwhelming. Damien often felt as if he had opened a door to hell. Victims wandered about, their bodies in ruin and their constant coughing the island’s most familiar sound. Damien could hardly bear the stench:
“Many a time in fulfilling my priestly duties at the lepers’ homes, I have been obliged, not only to close my nostrils, but to remain outside to breathe fresh air. To counteract the bad smell, I got myself accustomed to the use of tobacco. The smell of the pipe preserved me somewhat from carrying in my clothes the obnoxious odor of our lepers.”
Eventually Damien overcame the distressing sights and smells. His superiors had given him strict advice: “Do not touch them. Do not allow them to touch you. Do not eat with them.” But Damien made the decision to transcend his fear of contagion and enter into solidarity with the Molokai lepers. He committed to visit every leper on the island and to inquire of their needs.
One early realization was that to show the lepers the value of their lives, he had to first demonstrate the value of their deaths. So he built a fence around the local cemetery, which pigs and dogs regularly scavenged. He also constructed coffins and dug graves, committing that each leper, even if marginalized throughout his life, would receive a decent burial upon death. This had a remarkably uplifting effect on the community.
Damien also devoted his attention to the sick. He brought the sacraments to bedridden lepers. He washed their bodies and bandaged their wounds. He tidied their rooms and did all he could to make them as comfortable as possible.
What surprised the lepers most was that Damien touched them. Other missionaries and doctors shrank from the lepers. In fact, one local doctor only changed bandages with his cane. But Damien not only touched the lepers, he also embraced them, he dined with them, he put his thumb on their forehead to anoint them, and he placed the Eucharist on their tongues. All of these actions spoke volumes to the dejected lepers. They showed that Damien did not want to serve them from afar; he wanted to become one of them.
Damien was careful never to present himself as a messianic figure, soaring in from a higher, more privileged position. He invited lepers to join in the work, turning his service to the community into an act of solidarity. He had them help build everything from coffins to cottages. When the colony expanded along the island’s peninsula, his leper friends helped construct a new road. Under his supervision, the lepers even blasted away rocks on the shoreline to create a new docking facility. Damien also taught the lepers to farm, raise animals, play musical instruments, and sing. Although the lepers were used to being patronized or bullied, Damien spread among them a new cheer and sense of worth.
This refreshing spirit impressed visitors to the island. “I had gone to Molokai expecting to find it scarcely less dreadful than hell itself,” wrote Englishman Edward Clifford in 1888, “and the cheerful people, the lovely landscapes, and comparatively painless life were all surprises. These poor people seemed singularly happy.”
Despite the idyllic community Damien had built through a decade of work, the moment he feared finally arrived in December 1884. One day, while soaking his feet in extremely hot water, Damien experienced no sensation of heat or pain—a tell-tale sign that he had contracted leprosy. The disease quickly developed, causing Damien to write to his bishop with the news: “Its marks are seen on my left cheek and ear, and my eyebrows are beginning to fall. I shall soon be completely disfigured. I have no doubt whatever of the nature of my illness, but I am calm and resigned and very happy in the midst of my people. The good God knows what is best for my sanctification. I daily repeat from my heart, ‘Thy will be done.’”
Soon, he also wrote home to his brother: “I make myself a leper with the lepers to gain all to Jesus Christ.”
Even before contracting the disease, Damien spoke of himself and the people of Molokai as “we lepers.” He identified closely with those he came to serve and thus, before and after the disease, offered a powerful, concrete expression of solidarity. And it was for that reason he become known not by his homeland, but by the island community he served—Saint Damien of Molokai, patron of lepers.
Brandon Vogt is a bestselling author and works as the Senior Content Director for Bishop Robert Barron’s Word on Fire Catholic Ministries. Reprinted with permission from StrangeNotions.com
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That day I was feeling desperate and lonely but, little did I know, something special was about to happen… When Pope Francis declared the “Year of Saint Joseph” starting from 8th December 2020, I recalled the day when my mother gave me a beautiful statue of this great Saint which I placed with deep reverence in my prayer corner. Over the years, I have prayed numerous novenas to Saint Joseph, but I always had a nagging feeling that he wasn’t really aware of my prayers. As time passed, I took very little notice of him. Last year, one of my friends who is also a priest advised me to do a 30 day Prayer to Saint Joseph which I did together with the 33 day Consecration to Saint Joseph (by Father Donald H. Calloway). On the last day of the consecration, I had no idea that something special was about to happen in my life. It was a Sunday. I was feeling very depressed, although it’s absolutely not in my nature to be gloomy. But that day was very different. So right after Holy Mass, I decided to go to Adoration, seeking some relief before the Blessed Sacrament, for I had confidence that anyone who prays from the deepest recesses of their heart will always find consolation there. Love from Above On my way, while I waited in the U-Bahn (the underground metro rail services in Munich), I happened to notice a lady crying uncontrollably. I was deeply moved and wanted to console her. Her loud laments had attracted attention and everyone was staring at her, which put off my inclination to go and speak to her. After a while, she got up to go, but left her scarf behind. Now I didn’t have any option but to go after her. As I gave the scarf back, I told her, “Don’t cry…you are not alone. Jesus loves you and He wants to help you. Speak to Him about all your troubles…He will surely help you.” I also gave her some money. Then she asked me if I could hold her in my arms. I was a bit reluctant, but pushed it all aside, gave her a warm hug and softly touched her cheeks. I surprised myself by this act because that day I was feeling very empty and low in Spirit. And truly I can say that love wasn’t from me. It was Jesus who reached out to her! Finally, when I reached the church Herzogspitalkirche for Adoration, I pleaded for God’s help and for a sign that He is in control. As I completed my Saint Joseph prayer and the consecration, I lit a candle in front of statue of Saint Joseph. Then I simply asked Saint Joseph whether he really cared for me, musing over why he never responded to me. The Big Smile On my way back to the train, a lady stopped me in the street. She looked like she was in her 50’s and that was the first and last time I saw her, but what she said to me still rings in my ears. As I looked at her wondering what she wanted from me, she suddenly exclaimed with a big smile on her face “Oh! Saint Joseph loves you so much, you have no idea.” I was bewildered and I asked her to repeat what she said. I wanted to hear it again so much and the feeling I had is beyond words. That moment I knew that I am never alone. Tears of joy rolled down my cheeks as I told her that I had been praying and asking for a sign. With a mesmerizing smile she replied, “It’s the HOLY SPIRIT my dear…” Then she asked, “Do you know what Saint Joseph loves the most about you?” I gazed back at her, bemused. Touching my cheeks softly (exactly as I had done to the lady in the metro earlier) she whispered, “It’s your soft and HUMBLE heart.” Then she left. I have never seen this nice lady before or since, which was unusual because mostly in our churches we know each other, but I can still vividly remember how sweet and full of joy she was. That day I felt so desperate that I really needed to feel that GOD really loved and cared for me. My worries were put to rest by the message from Saint Joseph who had been with me all those years even though I had often ignored him. I firmly believe that the incident at the metro earlier that day was very much linked to my own encounter with this kind lady. She gave me a word of knowledge. Whatever we do for others, we do it for Jesus, even if we don’t feel like doing it. Jesus is even happier when we step out of our comfort zone to reach out to others. Ever since then, I seek the powerful intercession of my dear Saint Joseph every day, without fail!
As a young boy growing up in Northern Spain, Francis Xavier dreamed of doing great things. At age 19 and full of ambition, he went to study in Paris where he met Ignatius of Loyola. A Scripture text Ignatius was fond of quoting had a deep impact on Francis: "What will it profit a man to gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" Francis took that Scripture to heart and came to understand the emptiness of earthly greatness while becoming powerfully drawn to the love of heavenly things. The humility of the Cross appeared to him more desirable than all the glories of this world. Eventually, he took vows as one of the first seven members of the Society of Jesus, or Jesuits, founded by Ignatius of Loyola. When one of the two Jesuits chosen to travel to Asia as a missionary became ill, Father Francis joyfully offered to substitute. Francis pursued his missionary work with great zeal. During one of his voyages, a terrible tempest so terrified the sailors that they gave themselves up for lost. But Francis immediately drew a crucifix from his breast and leaned over the side of the vessel to touch the waves with it. But the crucifix slipped from his hand into the raging sea. Immediately, the storm ceased, but Francis was much distressed that he had lost the only crucifix he had. The next day after landing on the coast of Malacca, Father Francis was walking along the shore when he saw a crab come out of the sea holding the crucifix between its claws. The crab walked straight to Father Francis and stopped at his feet. Francis kissed the cross and clasped it to his breast. He then bent down to bless the crab and, to his amazement, noticed a cross on the back of the crab’s shell. This miracle story was depicted on a banner that hung from St. Peter’s Basilica during Francis Xavier’s canonization ceremony. Even today, every Malacca crab bears the marking of the cross on its shell, a sign, perhaps, of God’s paternal love for Saint Francis Xavier, the greatest missionary since the time of the Apostles.
Are Angels real? Get to know the truth here... We often come across Angels as messengers of God in the Scripture. The Catholic Church recognizes the names of only three Angels, all of whom belong to the Choir of Archangels. Each year the Church celebrates the feast of these Archangels: Michael, Gabriel and Raphael on September 29th. Saint Michael the Archangel means, “Who is like God.” He is the patron of soldiers, police officers and firefighters. Traditionally, Michael has been referred to as the Guardian Angel of the people of Israel and he is now revered as the Guardian Angel of the Church. In the Book of Revelation, Michael is the angel who led the forces of Heaven to defeat Lucifer/Satan when he rebelled against God. We learn from Scripture and Tradition that Saint Michael has four main responsibilities: to combat Satan; to escort the faithful to Heaven at their hour of death; to be a champion of all Christians and the Church; and to call men and women from life on Earth to their Heavenly judgment. Saint Gabriel the Archangel means, “God is My Strength”. Gabriel is God’s Holy Messenger. He appeared to the Prophet Daniel to explain a vision from God. He appeared to the priest Zacharias to announce that he would have a son, John the Baptist, and he appeared to the Virgin Mary at the Annunciation. Catholic tradition indicates that Gabriel was the angel who appeared to Saint Joseph in his dreams. God entrusted Gabriel with delivering the most important message of our Catholic faith to the Virgin Mary. He is the patron saint of messengers, telecommunications workers and postal workers. Saint Raphael the Archangel means, “God heals.” In the Old Testament book of Tobit, Raphael is credited with driving the evil spirit from Sarah and restoring Tobit’s vision, allowing him to see the light of Heaven and for receiving all good things through His intercession. Raphael is the patron saint of travelers, the blind, bodily ills, happy meetings, nurses, physicians and medical workers. Angels all around us “Make yourself familiar with the angels, and behold them frequently in spirit; for without being seen, they are present with you.” Saint Francis de Sales. Have you experienced angels protecting you from apparent dangers? Sometimes a person knows deep down that Someone had come to their aid. Many of us have probably realized that angels have protected and helped them at times. One of my experiences of angels assisting me is etched forever in my memory. When my mom was being treated for cancer, we had to make a 240 miles round trip to the nearest cancer treatment center. On the way home one day, as we drove along a secondary highway, my car began to lose power while the engine started to bang and make all kinds of noise indicating that the car was about to die on the spot. My mom was exhausted and feeling ill, so I knew that it could be disastrous if we stalled on the side of the road in the heat of the summer. I began to pray desperately, asking the holy angels to come to our assistance, to keep the engine going until we arrived home. After chugging disjointedly along for about a mile or two, all of a sudden the engine started to smooth out, gain power and ran smoothly all the way home. We were thanking God for sending us angels to assist us. The next day, I brought my car into the mechanic shop to have it checked out. To my pleasant surprise the mechanic could not find a single issue with the engine. I felt thankful and amazed that our very own angel mechanic had fixed the car so that it ran even better than before. “The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear Him, and rescues them.” Psalm 35:7 From the moment God created me, He assigned me a guardian angel. “Beside each believer stands an angel as protector and shepherd leading him to life.” (CCC 336) Our human lives are surrounded by their watchful care and intercession. Our guardian angel’s task is to get us to Heaven. We will never know, this side of Heaven, how many times we were protected from dangers by angels or how often they helped us avoid a fall into serious sin. “The angels work together for the benefit of us all.”— Saint Thomas Aquinas. No wonder the Catholic Church has set apart October 2nd as a feast day to remember the Guardian Angels. Many Saints were privileged to see their angel. Saint Joan of Arc (1412-1431) was a young woman who was called by Saint Michael the Archangel and other saints to lead and inspire the French forces in numerous military battles against the English during the Hundred Year War. God used this courageous woman to do battle on His behalf. Pope Leo XIII who reigned during the latter half of the 19th Century, had a vision of Satan and composed the following Prayer to Saint Michael which is recited after Mass in many Churches today: “Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in the hour of battle. Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray, and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly hosts, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits, who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.” When we sing praises to God we are singing with the Angels. At every Mass, we are swept right up into Heaven. "The Mass as Heaven on earth …is a mysterious participation in the Heavenly liturgy. We do go to Heaven when we go to Mass, and this is true of every Mass we attend.” Dr. Scott Hahn. Heavenly King, You have given us archangels to assist us during our pilgrimage on earth. Saint Michael is our protector; I ask him to come to my aid, fight for all my loved ones, and protect us from danger. Saint Gabriel is a messenger of the Good News; I ask him to help me clearly hear Your voice and to teach me the truth. Saint Raphael is the healing angel; I ask him to take my need for healing and that of everyone I know, lift it up to Your throne of grace and deliver us back to the gift of recovery. Help us, O Lord, to realize more fully the reality of archangels and their desire to serve us. Holy angels, pray for us. Amen.
On a scorching afternoon she walked down the street. There was nothing left for the children at the orphanage, so she went begging. Upon reaching a nearby tea shop, she held out her hand imploring the shopkeeper to give something for her hapless children. The man spat into her palm. Without hesitation, she gently wiped her hand with the edge of her sari and held out the other hand. She spoke in an even low voice, “I am grateful to you for what you have given me. I request you not to spit on this hand, but give something for my children.” The shopkeeper stood astonished at her humility. He asked her pardon and the incident marked a tremendous change in him. From then on, he became a generous contributor to the welfare of the children in her orphanage. The woman clad in white sari with blue border was none other than Mother Teresa of Calcutta. Humility, according to Saint Teresa of Calcutta, is the mother of all virtues. She taught that “If you are humble nothing will touch you, neither praise nor disgrace, because you know what you are. If you are blamed you will not be discouraged. If they call you a Saint you will not put yourself on a pedestal.” Today humility is often misunderstood. Some take it as self-deprecation. But many Saints understood that humility is the way to hammer out good selfesteem by depending on God rather than oneself. Did Mother Teresa suffer from low self-esteem? Of course not. Otherwise, how could she have dared to speak against abortion at the National Prayer Breakfast in 1993 right in front of President Bill Clinton, Vice President Al Gore, and their spouses? Too often we rely on ourselves, and that becomes the greatest block to growing closer to God. By putting on the virtue of humility, Mother Teresa grew ever closer to God and became a living embodiment of Saint Paul’s pronouncement, “I can do all things in Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13).
He didn’t have much time left, but Father Hilton chose to thrive on the promises, inspiring millions and changing lives My journey through life has not been very smooth, but from the moment I decided to follow Christ, my life has never been the same. With the Cross of Christ before me and the world behind me I can firmly say, “There’s no turning back…” During my schooldays at Bede’s College in Mentone, I felt a strong calling from within. I had great mentors there including Brother Owen who inspired and fostered my love for Jesus. At the tender age of 17, I joined the Missionaries of Sacred Heart. After 10 years of study, including a stint at the University of Canberra and a Theology degree in Melbourne, I was finally ordained. Tryst with destiny My first appointment was in Papua New Guinea, where I received a practical grounding living amongst simple people with a great sense of living in the present moment. Later, I was sent to Paris to study liturgy. Doctoral studies in Rome were interrupted by tension headaches which prevented me from completing it. And soon it became clear that my calling was not to teach in the seminary. On my return to Australia, I got involved in parish ministry and had a taste of 16 parishes in several different states across the country. I was revitalized by my involvement with two fabulous movements which nurture and revive marriage and family life—Teams of Our Lady and Marriage Encounter. I felt content. Life was going very well. But all of a sudden, on 22nd of July 2015, everything changed. It didn’t come totally out of the blue. Over the past six months, I had seen blood in the urine on a couple of occasions. But now I was unable to even pass urine. In the middle of the night, I drove myself to the hospital. After a series of tests, I received alarming news. I had been diagnosed with kidney cancer which had already reached the fourth stage. I found myself in a state of shock. I felt cut off from normal people. The doctor had informed me that even with the medications, I could only expect to live for another three and half years. I could not help thinking about my sister’s tiny children. I would never see these charming toddlers grow up. Until this crisis occurred, I had loved praying the morning meditations but from then on I struggled. After a while, I found an easier way to meditate. Resting before the Lord’s presence, I repeated a mantra inspired by Dante, “Your Will is my peace.” This simple form of meditation enabled me to restore my peace and trust in God. But as I went about my normal day, I found it much more difficult. I was often distracted by thoughts such as ‘I wouldn’t be around much longer…’ The Best Advice After three months of treatment, tests were done to see if the medication was working well. The results were positive. There was significant reduction in most areas, and I was advised to consult a surgeon to remove the offending kidney. I felt a burst of relief because in the back of my mind I doubted if the medication was really working. So this was really great news. After the operation, I recuperated and returned to being a parish priest. This time around, I felt more energized towards evangelization. Not knowing how long I would be able to do this work, I put all my heart into everything I engaged in. Every six months, tests were done. Initially, the results were good, but after a while the medicine I had been taking became less effective. Cancer began to grow in my lungs and in my back, giving me sciatica and causing me to hobble. I had to undergo chemotherapy and start a whole new immunotherapy treatment. It was disappointing, but not a surprise. Anybody who is on a journey with cancer knows that things change. You can be well one moment and next moment disaster strikes. A beautiful friend of mine, who has been a nurse in the oncology department for many years, gave me the best advice: Go on living your life as normally as you can. Have coffee if you enjoy coffee, or have a meal with friends. Keep doing the normal things. I loved being a priest and felt excited by the wonderful things happening in our parish. Even though the journey was no longer smooth, I still loved what I did. I always loved celebrating the Mass and ministering the Sacraments. It is something I held very precious and I am always grateful to God for this great privilege. Beyond Horizons I had a strong conviction that we really need to make greater efforts to turn around the dwindling number of people coming to the Church by being proactive. In our parish we endeavored to make Sunday more engaging. Since I had always loved the contemplative side of our Church, I wanted to create an oasis of prayer and peace by bringing a little bit of the monastic spirit into our parish. So every Monday night, we held a contemplative, candlelit Mass with soothing contemplative music. Instead of giving a sermon, I read a reflection. One of the songs that touched me deeply is the GRAMMY winning single “10,000 reasons (Bless the Lord) by Matt Redman. Whenever I sang the third verse of the song, I almost choked up. And on that day when my strength is failing. The end draws near And my time has come Still my soul will Sing your praise unending Ten thousand years And then forevermore Forevermore I found it so moving because what we are ultimately trying to do is to give praise to God and develop our relationship with Jesus. Despite my illness, it was one of the most exciting times in my life as a priest. It reminded me of the words Jesus spoke, “I have come that they may have life and have it to the full.” John 10:10 "My husband who is not a Catholic and only beginning to learn about faith got to know Father John by chance. Later he said ‘From what I know about this guy, Jesus… Father John seems to be just like Him. To know you are going to die and continue to give of yourself more and more even though the people around you don’t realize that these are your last days…" - Kaitlyn McDonnell "One of the things John was very clear about was his purpose in life. He was an absolute driver and really made Jesus real in this world. I would often wonder what would have happened if he hadn't been that strong in terms of his faith and values. It might have been very challenging for him but every Sunday when we met him, he had the same energy. Regardless of what happened around him or with him or to him, he had a sense of serenity around him. It was an incredible gift." - Dennis Hoiberg "We had to remind him that he had limitations, but that didn't slow him down. He was such an inspiration because here's a man who’s been told you've got a limited time. Yet he still kept giving instead of getting overcome by his disease and thinking about it." - Shaun Sunnasy
Inevitably, others will do things that annoy us. But a heart that is bent on growing in holiness can learn to turn such frustrations into opportunities for growth. For a long time, Sister Therese’s assigned place of meditation was near a fidgety Sister who constantly tinkered with her Rosary or some other object. Sister Therese was extremely sensitive to stray sounds and soon exhausted all her resources for remaining focused. Though she alone had this hyper-sensitivity to the distractions, Sister Therese had a strong impulse to turn around and give the offender a look that would make her stop the noises. As she considered this option Sister Therese knew that the better way was to bear it with tranquility, both for the love of God and to avoid hurting the hapless sister. So she strove to keep quiet, but biting her tongue required so much effort that she would break out in perspiration. Her meditation turned into suffering with patience. With time, however, Sister Therese began to endure it in peace and joy, as she strove to take pleasure even in the disagreeable noise. Instead of trying not to hear it, which was impossible; Sister Therese listened to it as though it were some delightful music. What should have been her “prayer of quiet” became instead an offering of “music” to God. In the annoyances we endure in our daily lives, how often do we miss opportunities to practice the virtue of patience? Instead of expressing anger or dislike we can let the experience teach us generosity, understanding, and patience. Patience then becomes an act of charity and a moment of conversion. We are all engaged in a journey of faith where we discover Jesus more and more as the One who is patient with us!
Raymund Kolbe was born into a poor, Polish farming family in 1894. As a child he had such a mischievous nature that no one would have guessed he would be called Saint of Auschwitz, Founder of the Militia Immaculata, Apostle of Mary and Patron Saint of the 20th century! One day his mother was so frustrated with his behavior that she yelled at him in exasperation: “Raymund, what will become of you?!” This shook him to the core. Filled with grief, he went to a church and raised this question in prayer, “What will become of me?” Then he had a vision of the Virgin Mary appearing to him holding in her hands two crowns, one white and one red. She looked at him with love and asked him if he would like to have either. Raymund answered "Yes", he wanted both of them. The white crown of Purity came first, when he took the name Maximilian Kolbe and professed religious vows, one of which was Chastity. Back in the minor seminary, he often said to his classmates that he desired to consecrate his entire life to a great idea. Eventually he found the “Militia Immaculata” in 1917 with a goal to bring the whole world to God through Christ under the generalship of Mary Immaculate. In order to fulfill this mission, he sacrificed everything, and that brought him to the red crown of Martyrdom. In 1941 Kolbe was arrested by the Gestapo and sent to the Auschwitz concentration camp. A fellow prisoner wept for his wife and children after being arbitrarily chosen to be locked in the starvation bunker when a prisoner escaped. Hearing this, Father Kolbe volunteered to take his place. During those terrible days in the bunker, he led the men in prayer, and encouraged them. During every inspection, while the others lay on the floor, Father Maximilian knelt or stood in the middle, looking cheerfully at the officers. After two weeks nearly all the prisoners except Father had died due to dehydration and starvation. On the eve of the feast of Mary’s Assumption into Heaven, the impatient Nazis injected carbolic acid into Father Kolbe who raised his left arm to calmly take the deadly injection. In 1982 Pope John Paul II canonized Maximilian Kolbe as a Martyr of Charity and “patron saint of our difficult century.”
A priest was visiting Rome and had an appointment to meet Pope John Paul II in a private audience. On his way, he visited one of the many lovely basilicas. As usual, the steps were thronged with beggars, but one of them caught his interest. “I know you. Didn’t we go to seminary together?” The beggar nodded in affirmation. “Then you became a priest, didn’t you?” the priest asked him. “Not anymore! Please leave me alone!” the beggar replied angrily. Mindful of his approaching appointment with the Holy Father, the priest left promising, “I’ll pray for you,” but the beggar scoffed, “A lot of good that will do.” Usually, private audiences with the Pope are very short—a few words are exchanged as he bestows his blessing and a blessed rosary. When the priest’s turn came, the encounter with the beggar-priest was still playing on his mind, so he implored His Holiness to pray for his friend, then shared the whole story. The Pope was intrigued and concerned, asking for more details and promising to pray for him. Not only that, he and his beggar-friend received an invitation to dine alone with Pope John Paul II. After dinner, the Holy Father spoke privately with the beggar. The beggar emerged from the room in tears. “What happened in there?” asked the priest. The most remarkable and unexpected reply came. “The Pope asked me to hear his Confession,” choked the beggar. After regaining composure, he continued, “I told him, ‘Your Holiness, look at me. I am a beggar, not a priest.’” “The Pope looked tenderly at me, saying, ‘My son, once a priest always a priest, and who among us is not a beggar. I also come before the Lord as a beggar asking for forgiveness of my sins.’” It had been so long since he had heard a Confession that the Pope had to help him through the words of absolution. The priest commented, “But you were in there for such a long time. Surely the Pope’s did not take that long to confess his sins.” “No,” said the beggar, “But after I heard his Confession, I asked him to hear mine.” Before they departed, Pope John Paul II invited this prodigal son to take on a new mission - to go and minister to the homeless and the beggars on the steps of the very church where he had been begging.
You might be familiar with the centurion who pierced the side of Jesus as the Lord hung on the Cross. According to some traditions and legends that soldier was named Longinus, a name that first surfaces in the apocryphal gospel of Nicodemus. The soldier is not named in the canonical gospels. According to the legends, after enduring wounds in past battles, Longinus was cruelly mocked by his fellow soldiers for his near blindness. At the moment he pierced the Lord’s side, blood spattered onto his eyes. Immediately his sight was restored. In the Gospel of Saint Mark we hear him exclaim, “Indeed, this was the son of God!” Tradition also tells us that Longinus left the army, took instruction from the apostles and became a monk in Cappadocia. There he was arrested for his faith, his teeth forced out and his tongue cut off. However, Longinus miraculously continued to speak clearly and managed to destroy several idols in the presence of the governor. The governor, who was blinded by the demons that escaped from the idols, had his sight miraculously restored by Longinus. As Longinus was beheaded, some of his blood splattered onto the governors' eyes and the governor was instantly healed. Saint Longinus is one of the first martyrs of the Church. His spear is one of the many relics associated with Christ and can be found in one of the four pillars over the main altar of St. Peter’s Basilica.
Saint Francis of Assisi once had a great fear and abhorrence of lepers. He confessed that the sight of a leper was so repugnant to him that he refused to even approach their dwellings. If he chanced to glimpse one in his travels or pass by the leprosarium, he turned his head away and blocked his nose. As he became more serious about his faith and took on Christ’s admonition to love others as you love yourself, he became ashamed of this attitude. So one day when a man afflicted with leprosy crossed his path, he overcame his feelings of horror and disgust and, instead of turning away, leaped off his horse, kissed the leper and pressed money into his hand. But when Francis remounted and looked back, he could not find the leper anywhere. With dawning excitement, he realized that it was Jesus whom he had kissed. After gathering some funds, he went to the leper hospital and gave alms to each one, kissing their hands with reverence as he did so. What had formerly seemed distasteful to him—the sight or touch of a leper—was transformed into sweetness. Later Francis wrote, “When I was in sin, the sight of lepers nauseated me beyond measure; but then God Himself led me into their company, and I had pity on them. When I became acquainted with them, what had previously nauseated me became the source of spiritual and physical consolation for me.” Today, we often see people around us who are stricken with spiritual leprosy. Mostly we try to keep away from them, but we fail to realize that it has crept into our own hearts as well. So instead of judging and pointing fingers at others, let’s cleanse ourselves off the crippling mind and hardness of heart. In the first place, God bestowed His grace and mercy upon us though we are broken and wounded. Let’s reach out to others with this mercy and compassion which we received unconditionally.
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It is the little things that matter… Our long-anticipated visit to Denali National Park in Alaska was almost upon us. We purchased tickets for the following day's eight hour bus ride where we hoped to see the splendor of creation and an abundance of wildlife. Checking the weather forecast for our adventure, we were more than dismayed to learn precipitation was predicted to be 100% for the entire day! As disappointed as we might be, my husband and I decided it would be wise to change our plans completely, knowing there would be little chance of encountering anything but the inside of a bus on such a rainy day. Thus, it might be said that the next morning we ended up on a lark at Creamer's Field Migratory Waterfowl Refuge in Fairbanks. Perfection in My Hand The knowledgeable volunteer docent leading our small group tour began by telling us facts about the sand hill crane, one of the species of birds which depend on the Refuge to feed and rest each fall en route to their wintering grounds to the south. We were astonished to learn that the trachea of these cranes was seven feet in length, wrapped in a convoluted fashion, much like the coils of a French horn. This design resulted in a distinct call, unique to the mother bird’s offspring, which allowed both to remain connected amid the vast throngs of cranes flying in formation each season. Just then a rush of these sleek gray birds rose up in the distance as we watched quietly. Tramping over the dew-laden ground, we then headed toward a tent where both volunteers and an ornithologist were busily weighing, measuring and tagging various species of birds in order to track populations over a period of years. After each bird was identified and their information recorded, it was time to release them back into the wild. As a worker handed a songbird to a member of our group, a palm-to-palm transfer was made, at which time the captured bird quickly took flight. When it was my turn, reaching out my palm, a yellow warbler was laid onto its back as my fingers cradled its small body. Unlike the two birds before, this one seemed to settle in, allowing me to stroke it’s feathers as our eyes locked. Suddenly there was a palpable Presence, as the tenderness of the Creator in this less than three inches of perfection in my hand was evident. The tears began to flow as the refrain of a song began to play in my mind as if synchronized, “All are welcome in this place, here in God’s amazing grace, all are welcome, all are welcome.” Time stood still, yet it could not have been more than a few seconds before I was urged to help the bird roll onto its side. That was all the encouragement needed, as the bird made its way into the sky. Trudging back to the car, silence was my companion. A sacred hush seemed the only appropriate response to this moment of grace. Open Arms The second stop on our agenda-less day was to an assortment of buildings that had been moved to Fairbanks to recreate a pioneer village. Wandering among the cabins and shops, I came upon a simple church. Opening the door, I walked past the rough-hewn plank pews toward the carved depiction of Jesus hanging from the ceiling. Hands outstretched, as if inviting those who entered to come in, the song’s lyrics lilted once again in my head. “All are welcome in this place.” Again and again this day I had unexpectedly encountered evidence of the lavish love of the Author of life. The care with which a sandhill crane’s call was designed, linking mother and baby; the yellow warbler, able to fly and sing yet weighing less than an ounce; the open palms of caring folks that both receive to give care, then release in trust. Finally, the reminder as I looked up, of the invitation being extended through the hands offered to all who choose to enter into God’s amazing grace. Always, all are welcome...
Dr. Roy Schoeman, tells us how atheism dragged him into a pit of hopelessness and how he got out of it I was born and raised Jewish. I went to Massachusetts Institute of Technology where I lost my belief in God, and essentially became an atheist. I went on to Harvard Business School, and after getting my degree was invited back to join the faculty. So at the age of 29, I found myself as a professor of marketing at Harvard Business School. Although it may sound surprising, that's when the bottom fell out of my world. Ever since I was a small child, I knew life must have a real meaning, which I thought would come from entering into a personal relationship with God. I expected this would happen at my Bar Mitzvah (sort of like Catholic confirmation) at the age of 13. When it didn't, it turned out to be one of the saddest days of my life. Then I thought real meaning would come from success in worldly life, but as a professor at Harvard, I was already more successful in a worldly career than I had ever hoped, yet still there was no meaning or purpose in my life. Therefore at that point, I fell into the darkest despair of my life. Mystical Way Early one morning, I was walking in a Nature Preserve by the ocean, among the pine trees and sand dunes. I was just ambling along, lost in my thoughts. I had long since lost hope in believing that God existed. But all of a sudden, the curtain between Earth and Heaven disappeared, and I found myself in the presence of God, looking back over my life as if I had died. I saw that everything that had ever happened to me had been the most perfect thing that could have been arranged coming from the hands of an all-knowing, all-loving God, not only including those things that had caused the most suffering, but especially those things. I saw that I would have two great regrets after I died. Firstly, all the time and energy I had wasted worrying about not being loved when I had been held in an ocean of love, greater than anything I could imagine, at every moment of my existence, coming from this all-knowing, all-loving God. And secondly, every hour I had wasted doing nothing of value in the eyes of Heaven, since each moment contains the possibility of doing something valuable in God's eyes. Every time we take advantage of that opportunity we will very truly be rewarded for it for all eternity, and every opportunity we let slip and don't take advantage of, will be a lost opportunity for all eternity. But the most overwhelming aspect of this experience was to come into the intimate, deep and certain knowledge that God Himself— the God who not only created everything that exists, but created existence itself—not only knew me by name and cared about me, He had been watching over me, every moment of my existence, arranging everything that ever happened to me in the most perfect way. He had actually known, and cared about how I felt every moment. In a very real way everything which made me happy made Him happy, and everything that made me sad made Him sad. I realized that the meaning and purpose of my life was to worship and serve my Lord, God and Master who was revealing Himself to me, but I didn't know His name or what religion this was. I couldn't think of this as the God of the Old Testament, or this religion as Judaism. The picture of God that emerges from the Old Testament is of a God far more distant, severe and judgmental than this God was. I knew He was my Lord and God and my master, and I wanted nothing else but to worship and serve Him properly, but I didn't know who He was or what religion to follow. So I prayed, “Let me know your name so I know what religion to follow. I don't mind if you are Buddha and I have to become a Buddhist; I don't mind if you’re Krishna and I have to become a Hindu; I don't mind if you’re Apollo and I have to become a Roman pagan. As long as you're not Christ and I have to become Christian!” Well, He respected that prayer and did not reveal His name to me. But I returned home happier than I had ever been in my life. All I wanted was to know the name of my Lord, God and master who had revealed Himself to me, and what religion to follow. So every night before I went to sleep I would say a short prayer that I had made up to know the name of my Lord, my God and master who had revealed Himself to me in that experience. Beauty beyond Words A year to the day after that first experience, I went to sleep after having said that prayer, as well as a prayer of thanksgiving for what had happened exactly a year earlier. I thought I was awoken by a hand touching my shoulder gently, and was led to a room and left alone with the most beautiful young woman I could ever imagine. I knew without being told that it was the Blessed Virgin Mary. When I found myself in Her presence all I wanted to do was fall on my knees and somehow honor Her appropriately. In fact the first thought that crossed my mind was: “Oh my Goodness I wish I at least knew the Hail Mary!’ but I didn't. Her first words were an offer to answer any questions I might have for Her. Well, my first thought was to ask her to teach me the Hail Mary, so I could honor her appropriately, but I was too proud to admit that I didn't know it. So as an indirect way of getting her to teach me the Hail Mary, I asked her what her favorite prayer to her was. Her first response was, “I love all prayers to me.” But I was a bit pushy, and said, “But you must love some prayers more than others.” She relented and recited a prayer in Portuguese. I didn't know any Portuguese, so all I could do was try to remember the first few syllables phonetically and write them down as soon as I woke up the next morning. Later when I met a Portuguese Catholic woman, I asked her to recite the Marian prayers in Portuguese for me, and I identified the prayer as 'O Mary conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to Thee'. As perfectly beautiful as Mary was to look at, even more profoundly affecting was the beauty of her voice. The only way I can describe it is to say it was composed out of that which makes Music, Music. When she spoke the beauty of her voice flowed through me, carrying her love with it, and lifted me up into a state of ecstasy greater than I ever imagined could exist. Most of my questions simply flowed out of my being overwhelmed by who She was. At one point, I stammered out, “How can it be that you're so glorious, that you're so magnificent, that you're so exalted?” Her response was just to look down at me almost with pity and shake her head gently and saying 'Oh no, you don't understand. I'm nothing. I'm a creature. I'm a created thing. He's everything'. Then again out of a desire to somehow honor her appropriately, I asked what title she liked best for herself. Her response was, “I am the beloved daughter of the Father, Mother of the Son and Spouse of the Spirit.” I asked her several other questions of somewhat less significance, after which she spoke to me for another 10 or 15 minutes. After that, the audience was ended and I went back to sleep. The next morning when I woke up I was hopelessly in love with the Blessed Virgin Mary, and I knew I wanted nothing other than to be as fully and completely Christian as possible. From that experience I realized, of course, that the God who revealed Himself to me a year earlier had been Christ. In Search of There was a shrine to Our Lady of La Salette about 45 minutes from where I lived. I began to go there three or four times a week, just to walk in the grounds, to feel the presence of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and to commune with her. The shrine was owned by the Catholic Church and so, sometimes, there would be a Holy Mass taking place. Whenever I was in the presence of a Mass, I was filled with a tremendous desire to receive the Eucharist, even though I did not know what it was. Those two things led me without too much of a detour into the Catholic Church—knowing who the Blessed Virgin Mary is, and wanting to receive Communion, daily if possible. On entering the Catholic Church, I not only did not stop being Jewish but, as I see it, became more Jewish than ever, since in doing so I became a Jewish follower of the Jewish Messiah, rather than a Jew who had not recognized the Jewish Messiah and remained in “pre- Messianic” Judaism. As I see it, the Catholic Church is post-Messianic Judaism and Judaism is pre-Messianic Catholicism: two phases in one and the same plan for salvation for all mankind. I am infinitely grateful that I received these experiences. I was brought into the fullness of the truth, into a personal relationship with God beyond anything I ever imagined could exist, into knowing the answers to all the questions about Man, about God, about the meaning of life, about what happens after you die, and so forth that tormented me growing up. Most importantly, I gained a well-founded hope of an eternity of unimaginable bliss and love in the presence of God. ARTICLE is based on the inspiring testimony shared by Dr. Roy Schoeman for the Shalom World program “Mary My Mother”. To watch the episode visit: shalomworld.org/episode/mary-my-mother
En route with the three Magi and be amazed! The Epiphany is a feast of light. We hear from the prophet Isaiah, “Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you” (Isaiah 60:1). We look to the actions of the Magi to guide our journey to the Lord Jesus, who is revealed as the light and salvation of the world. If we want to encounter Jesus too, we should pay attention to what the Magi did. What did they do? Three actions: they looked up to see the star; they realized what it meant and left their homes and activities to set out towards the light; and, they brought valuable gifts to worship Him. Look Up This is where the journey begins. Have you ever wondered why the Magi alone saw the star, and realized its significance? Perhaps few people were looking up to the heavens, because their gaze was focused on the ground with their own immediate concerns. I wonder how many of us look up to the sky? How many of us are like the Psalmist who says, “My soul looks for the Lord more than sentinels for daybreak...” (Psalms 130:6), or are we more like, “Hey, it’s enough that I have good health, a solid bank account and stock portfolio, access to a 5G network, and a little entertainment, especially on Sunday in which I can watch wall-to-wall football games!” Do we know how to long for God, to expect the freshness that he brings to life, or do we let ourselves be swept along by the frenetic pace of our lives? The Magi understood that to truly be alive, we need lofty goals—we need to dream big!—and we need to keep looking up. Get Going The second thing the Magi did, which is essential to finding Jesus, is to get up and begin the journey. When we stand before Jesus, we have a disconcerting either-or choice: is he Emmanuel, God among us, or is He not? If He is, then we have an obligation to give Him our total, uncompromised commitment so that our lives revolve around Him. Following His star is a decision to move towards Him and to advance steadfastly on the way He laid out for us. Although our journey is often two steps forward, one step backwards, the key is to keep our gaze on Jesus, pick ourselves up with His aid when we fall flat, and keep moving forward. However, we cannot do that without getting off our couches, detaching ourselves from our comfort and security, and setting out instead of standing still. Jesus makes demands: He says that we are either for Him or against Him. In the spiritual path, there are only two directions: we’re either moving towards God or away from Him. If we want to move towards Jesus, we have to overcome our fear of taking risks, our self-satisfaction, and our laziness. Put simply, we have to take risks, to let go of our self-referential lifestyle if we are going to find the Child. But, those risks are worth it because when we find the Child, we’ll discover His tenderness and love and rediscover our true identity. Bring Gifts At the end of their long journey, the Magi do as God does: they bestow gifts. God’s ultimate gift is His divine life, which He invites us to share for eternity. They offer what is most valuable for them: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. These gifts represent what St. John Paul II calls The Law of the Gift: we abide in an authentic relationship with God when we live how God operates with self-giving love. The best gift you can give to Jesus is your very life! Give freely, without reservations—don’t hold back, keeping something for yourself. Give without expecting anything in return—including the reward of Heaven! This is the truest sign that you have found Jesus in your life. For he says: “The gift you have received, give freely as a gift” (Matthew 10:8): to do good towards others without counting the cost, even when unasked, even when you get nothing in return, even when it is unpleasant. That is what God wants of you because that’s how God relates to us! Look at how God comes to us: as a Child—He became small for our sake. As we celebrate the Epiphany, let us look at our hands: are they empty of self-giving or are we offering the free gift of ourselves without expecting anything in return. And, let us ask Jesus: “Lord, send forth your Spirit that I may be renewed; that I may rediscover the joy of giving.”
Last week, I had the great good fortune to sit down for a Zoom interview with Jordan Peterson, Jonathan Pageau, and John Vervaeke. As I’m sure you know, Peterson, Professor of Psychology at the University of Toronto, is one of the most influential figures in the culture today. Pageau is an artist and iconographer working in the Orthodox Christian tradition, and Vervaeke is a professor of cognitive psychology at the University of Toronto. All three of these gentlemen have a powerful presence on social media. The topic of our conversation was a theme that preoccupies all four of us—namely, the crisis of meaning in our culture, especially among the young. To kick things off, Peterson asked each of us to give our definition of meaning and, more specifically, of religious meaning. When my time came, I offered this: to live a meaningful life is to be in purposive relationship to value, and to live a religiously meaningful life is to be in purposive relationship to the summum bonum, or the supreme value. Following the prompts of Dietrich von Hildebrand, I argued that certain values—epistemic, moral, and aesthetic—appear in the world, and they draw us out of ourselves, calling us to honor them and to integrate them into our lives. So, mathematical and philosophical truths beguile the mind and set it on a journey of discovery; moral truths, on display in the saints and heroes of the tradition, stir the will into imitative action; and artistic beauty—a Cézanne still-life, a Beethoven sonata, Whitman’s Leaves of Grass—stops us in our tracks and compels us to wonder and, in turn, to create. To order one’s life in such a way that one consistently seeks such values is to have a properly meaningful life. Now, I continued, the perceptive soul intuits that there is a transcendent source of these values: a supreme or unconditioned goodness, truth, and beauty. The fully meaningful life is one that is dedicated, finally, to that reality. Thus, Plato said that the culminating point of the philosophical enterprise is discovering, beyond all particular goods, the “form of the good”; Aristotle said that the highest life consists in contemplating the prime mover; and the Bible speaks of loving the Lord our God with our whole soul, our whole mind, our whole strength. Jordan Peterson, echoing Thomas Aquinas, put it as follows: Every particular act of the will is predicated upon some value, some concrete good. But that value nests in a higher value or set of values, which in turn nests in a still higher one. We come, he said, eventually, to some supreme good that determines and orders all of the subordinate goods that we seek. Though we articulated the theme in different ways and according to our various areas of expertise, all four of us said that the “wisdom tradition,” which classically presented and defended these truths, has been largely occluded in the culture today, and this occlusion has contributed mightily to the crisis of meaning. Much has contributed to this problem, but we put emphasis especially on two causes: scientism and the postmodern suspicion of the very language of value. Scientism, the reduction of all legitimate knowledge to the scientific form of knowledge, effectively renders claims of value unserious, merely subjective, expressive of feeling but not of objective truth. Combined with this reductionism is the conviction, baked into the brains of so many young people today, that claims truth and value are simply disguised attempts to prop up the power of those who are making them or to sustain a corrupt institutional superstructure. Accordingly, these assertions have to be demythologized, dismantled, and deconstructed. And along with this cultural assault on the realm of values, we have witnessed the failure of many of the great institutions of the culture, including and especially the religious institutions, to present this realm in a convincing and compelling manner. Far too often, contemporary religion has turned into superficial political advocacy or a pandering echo of the prejudices of the environing culture. So, what do we need for a meaningful life? From my perspective, I said, we need great Catholic scholars, who understand our intellectual tradition thoroughly and who believe in it, are not ashamed of it—and who are ready to enter into respectful but critical conversation with secularity. We need great Catholic artists, who reverence Dante, Shakespeare, Michelangelo, Mozart, Hopkins, and Chesterton, and who are also on point to produce fresh works of art, imbued with the Catholic sensibility. And we need, above all, great Catholic saints, who show concretely what it looks like to live one’s life in purposive relation to the summum bonum. We can and should blame the culture of modernity for producing the desert of meaninglessness in which so many today wander, but we keepers of the religious flame ought to take responsibility too, acknowledging our failures and resolving to pick up our game. For people today will not enter into relationship with values and with the supreme value unless they can find mentors and masters to show them how. --------------------------- © ARTICLE originally appeared at wordonfire.org. Reprinted with permission.
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